Gabriel was playing outside of a gallery and people passed him as his trumpet blared.
“Do you know what happened to the walls of Jericho? I blew them down with my horn.”
“Are you the angel Gabriel?”
“Just call me your gay cousin Gabriel.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. It certainly was something to say if you wanted to make an impression.
– April 4, 2009. Downtown Los Angeles, outside the Hive Gallery.
Then in 2012 I hear a trumpet player in Old Town Pasadena. The man is much thinner than Gabriel, but he has the same sombrero, the same beat up trumpet. It sounds deflated, like the brass is no longer pristine. He smiles when I pass him on the street.
“Did you used to play in Downtown?”
“I’ve played everywhere. Thank you for noticing.”
– Pasadena, 2012.