lemonkid

Some days one feels entirely oneself and no feeling that I have yet experienced is its match.

Crashing through 40 cm on snowy sidewalks, like some kind of transplanted punk rock yeti, the Main was entirely roccoco in Christmas decorations and heaps upon heaps of utterly fantastic snow - I felt fast and loose like a character who's just trashed narrative constraints and broke free of an otherwise tightly plotted novel. Small loudspeakers were attached to the lampposts and Christmas music and the streets were like wet white beaches singing to the balmy rhythms of -3 degrees.

As I was walking I started dancing to the Beach Boys, whom I cranked so as to psychically transmit to the sweating sons and daughters of the great state of California the cool winter bliss that they were missing out on.

I lept over tall snowpiles in a single bound. I spent a small fortune on fine Italian porcelin. I danced. I made beautiful women smile in the street.

I get around
Get around, 'round, 'round, I get around
From town to town
Get around, 'round, 'round, I get around
I'm a real cool head
Get around, 'round, 'round, I get around
I'm makin' real cool bread
Get around, 'round, 'round, I get around

Just try to stop me. You'll only end up somewhere you didn't even think possible.