Curiosity about the comic and the three poets drew us in a little closer, all enjoying the inside joke of watching those arriving after 7 thinking that there might still be open blocks of seats. Parental disrespect and racial frosted Christmas winter mourns feed a bitter wind of self imposed exile, transforming it into a gambling day neither better nor worse than any other. Daphne broke the gloom by singing a wistful song longing for younger days. It was that sort of night.
Misotopaniac sagas showed you could not stop the madness and the pain… now it is our turn. Sit back, relax, and take aim. Lets kill John! What a moment. Win or lose, America, it is dance time.
(You know, with such a gloomy first half I wonder if turning down the lights was such a good idea. To eat while pissed off is not good for you.)
A big Juan lead the search for the girl from the north country and spend the summer in the city. In contrast, Mike winders in Chicago, straight from a cave near washington township. Bully for you, Mike. Model and tool, the culture goes on, even for the counter culture cat. For Mike's sake lets hope it is a hot day, he can chill behind Ogg's wheel. Calling all cars! Poor Ogg, he always has to steal his kiss from you. Does quantum theory apply to this relationship? It seems like a chocolate milkshake. I'll have one, please.
You know, with these summaries a story is built that somehow models the outside inside, but really it was just another critics review. These are my memories, don't cut them down.