it's friday i'm in love

he says, so your show on tv should finish after eleven?

yes i say with glee because i know what that means.

and he comes at eleven thirty. where shall we go, he thinks aloud and we decide on the airport. listen to this music, i want you to have a feel of what chick corea's sound is like, he can be quite heavy listening - as preparation for the mosaic concert in march at the esplanade my boyfriend gives me a lesson in the rudiments of chick corea. listen to this part, it's his signature tune, he explains and talks about the difficulty in syncopation for the band back in year two - oh ya i remember, i cut in. so this is chick. i tap my feet and want to dance.

you can always trust verve.

the roads are paved with diamonds (rain-painted) and in the dark the siloutte of the palm trees in the middle of the road make like a screen back lit by the light of the faceless cars on the other side. the molten spots of the street lamps that look neckless in the dark - hey the lights make everything look so yellow suddenly, he says. i mumble something about photoshop saturation. he holds my hand. the bass in this song always makes me feel very emotional, he says. i ask him why. it really drives the piece, he replies. i track the bassline and feel the sculpted veins of his hands.

we have macdonald's. we talk and i forgot what about, but i am very happy as i dip my mcnuggets into my curry sauce and admire him from across the table. my boyfriend of detail. he loves me in great detail, i think to myself.