Bill, Billie, and the Weather

I don’t usually drive my son to school, but a few weeks ago, I did. The day was unseasonably warm and foggy, with a light rain.

Lately, I’ve been a little obsessed with Bill Evans. So after my son disappeared into his headphones, I put on Undercurrent. I won’t attempt to describe the music, because I doubt I’d do it justice, but let’s just say it was one of those moments when what you're doing, slowly driving through Lower Manhattan in the rain, syncs up perfectly with what you're hearing. Watching people trudge to work, hoods and umbrellas up, the sounds of the music blending into the city—it was probably the third-best movie I’ve seen in a year. That moment stayed with me. It’s the kind of experience I chase but rarely capture when I’m actively looking for it. Sometimes it just happens.

I remember another time, years ago, walking home from a bar in Brooklyn, listening to Titus Andronicus as loud as possible. I was almost in tears, not for any particular reason, just because the music and the moment aligned perfectly (also 3 or more Maker’s Marks).

Now skip ahead to this past weekend. I was in Lake Placid with my family, and over a foot of snow had fallen while we were there. I decided to try recreating that magic, this time, wandering through an unfamiliar neighborhood, taking photos in the snow.

I chose Billie Holiday, who I’ve also been listening to a lot lately, inspired by a photograph I recently came across. My new favorite live music photo. I love everything about it.

But like I said, when I try to recreate that kind of magic, it never quite works the same way. This time, I came close, but I didn’t fully get there, partly because I kept worrying about snowplows suddenly sneaking up behind me on the otherwise quiet streets.

Here are my favorite photos from my walk in the snow with Billie.

I really like a few of these, but I’ll need to check back in a few weeks to see if any rise above. It usually takes me some time to figure out where they’ll land.

I feel like there might be a Japanese word for this kind of moment I’m describing. I tried coming up with one myself, but they were all pretty terrible. If you have any ideas—or if you just want to share a time when you experienced something similar—I’d love to hear about it.

Also, my book is still a few months out, but I’m starting to think Substack might be one of the better ways for me to let people know about it, so any help spreading the word about my newsletter or soon, the book, would mean a lot to me. I’m not great at marketing myself, and I’m even worse at asking people for things—so just know that every mention or share is deeply appreciated.

I have to remind myself that I’m not asking anyone to help me move, but somehow, it still feels that way.

OK. Thanks, Travis

While writing this I was listening to: