Ajax Bell

Hocine bibo aut in eum digitos insero?

dancing with the women at the bar

2 Comments

Indie Rock Boy and I went to a show at a bar that I’m not entirely convinced didn’t give me the black plague just by being there. Seriously, old skool Oly people, imagine the 4th Ave Tav combined with pre-gentrification Brotherhood, but with concrete floors and a few skeezier people. Yeah, like that. Somebody actually got a PBR which the whole can seemed to be covered in kerosene or propane or something. Just touching it was enough to make your hands smell like gas. It was fucking great, though it made me a little homesick.

I woke up to the sound of rain this morning. And you know, how it sucks to start of your day going out into the rain? But for some reason waking up to the sound of it is one of the greatest things ever. It is a lovely lovely lovely fall rainy kind of day. Well lovely if you aren’t out walking or driving in it, which I am currently not. Actually all I’m currently doing is having an internal war with myself as to whether I should be productive and useful today, or spend the entire day reading a Richard K Morgan book and living outside my own head a little bit.

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2 thoughts on “dancing with the women at the bar

  1. Ah, Peebers. Black Rock City wouldn’t exist without ’em….

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