How nice to spend a Sunday doing little.  For the first time I spent the entire day with a surfer just hanging out - and that is all we did, from 1pm til midnight we just boozed and chatted.

We returned to the downtown area, Beale St again, to catch more music without the crowds.  In a public bandstand was playing a blues band who, as we arrived, were in the process of inviting youths up to join them for a jam.  Sadly the youths all sucked, and it was painful to listen to them.  They knew no blues, only college rock, had no sense of rhythm, played the same damn four chords ad nauseum, and were just terrible.  Luckily the band were skilled enough to carry them and I was grateful when the drummer decided to wind the numbers down.  After the kids got off stage the band themselves could really shine and were a pleasure to watch as well as to hear:  I love watching a guitarist who plays with his face as much as with his hands. 
One guitarist in the BB King bar, an 87 year old black gentleman, was playing a Dean flying-V.... not exactly known for being a blues instrument, more famous for being Darrell "Dimebag" Abbott's choice of axe for wielding in heavy metal circles.

Several more bands and bars later we went for dinner in Midtown before heading home with a bottle of wine.  A friend of my host came over for a drink.  He was a Furry.  That means he gets his kicks by dressing as an animal.  In fact this guy, delightful as he was, was the king of the Memphis Furries, being the organiser of some kind of anthropomorphic animal character festival in the city.  I don't think it helped my understanding that Simone's real name, her Native American totem name, is Raven.