tonight in SF my wife was holding an event at the gallery that is showing her work this month. the event was a conversation with Judy Irving, the filmmaker who made the Wiid Parrots of Telegraph Hill (and Pelican Dreams) and one of the upper level dudes of City Lights Bookstore (iconic SF bookstore - the baby of Lawrence Ferlinghetti... if you don't know who he is, google is your friend) so one of the people who attended was a british poet who'd read at City Lights last night, (whose name escapes me at the moment) and who was accompanied by an (in my wife's words) "older gentleman with a white ponytail" also british, named Jimmy... he said a few things about her work and made a few comments as an audience member and complimented the guitar part of one of my wife's things, a film of a scroll she made... a guitar part i composed and played. after the evening ended someone came up to Laura and told her who he was - that that Jimmy was the "great guitarist Jimmy Page" whether or not he was being genuine, it's just plain weird to think that Jimmy Page has listened to me play. also, you never know who is hanging out in SF at the moment, doing perfectly ordinary things like going to a gallery to hear an artist's talk with a poet they're seeing. here's the thing he saw/heard at the exhibit.