Art, Colt 45’s, and Shoulder Muscle.

Well, Crazy 4 Cult was good…or at least I remember it that way. We showed up, skipped the line, and made our way through the 108 degree studio. The work was amazing. I definitely should have brought the camera.

Next, we wandered next door to find a comic book shop where a marine was handing out Colt 45 tall-cans (they gave me 2 because I had “donor” written on my ID. “So they can’t have your liver,” one of them chuckled.

The backyard atmosphere of the comic shop gathering was one of anxiety, distraction, and cheap thrills. We settled our debts on the 45’s and continued off, but not before having a photo moment with the beloved girl and having an upstream alley accident with a homeless man.

We ended our travels at Footsies, where the girls were flexing their shoulder muscles on lightly hustled pool games. I lost my appetite for polite drinking at some point and came down with a case of the hiccups. looking around in my disconnected and gulping state I found that the bar had closed, our friends remained: kissing, pushing, playing, drinking, stumbling, and quite so…last resorting.

Somehow, I came to. All clothes still on, the crisp morning air creeping in through the closet window, bad headache, and above all…a serious and threatening craving for pancakes. Despite, that I am still left without a romantic ending, I found the bisquick to be a spiritual healer of sorts.

On to the soiree…