My social hour coin is spent. A middle night of power-and-sail about the hills of kernel Austin to swim into heated bodies, burning neon and slim rye for a folded $10. I lurk about these shows once monthly, curious whether I demand to much... whether I demand it at all or only wrinkle my nose when found out of place at a brainless stint.
It ain't all gotta be lecture and cello but, goddamn, a bit of holy from the folk taking stage is so nice.
Lord, I don't know. Some way to start, but I'll cheer. I've got a while yet.
It ain't all gotta be lecture and cello but, goddamn, a bit of holy from the folk taking stage is so nice.
Lord, I don't know. Some way to start, but I'll cheer. I've got a while yet.