Monday, October 22, 2007

From stage to stage we flew, a drink in every hand.

Saturday: coming off the Metro I saw Ian MacKaye grabbing a Citypaper (supposedly he's also supposedly a big fan of Vace and also related: this); I drank multiple pink drinks ("Just like Sex and the City! And I'm Charlotte!"); told a story about Travis Morrison that, technically speaking, had no beginning, middle, or end; must have saved a wood nymph from a bear trap and been rewarded for that heroism, because only that could explain my blessed pockets that were never without cigarettes (seriously, every time I reached in: more cigarettes. Never-ending. And like, different brands, too. It was like something out of the Bible and what it must be like to hang out with Joe Camel at a jazz club); went to bed at 6 a.m., but not before buying two breakfast sandwiches from McDonalds.


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