No. Instead he found his mind hanging, suspended in music, replaying a Brahms intermezzo, Sinatra singing Gershwin (he loved the line, “There’s a somebody I’m longing to see”), Louis Armstrong’s trumpet, “Good Vibrations.” He was amazed at how all the other memories of the night simply sloughed off and he lay there at perfect ease, melodies spooling, separating, coalescing. He felt lifted into a place of no time, no space–where a melody vibrated the universe like a single but infinitely various string.
Scott lives, writes, reports plans
Much later, Shelley loved to urge Scott to tell her the tale of “that first meeting.” The first time she asked, he launched into that miraculous “Gavin” morning in Holmes. She cut him off. “Now don’t be coy. I meant us–you and me.” But she did not mean th
