Feb. 19, 2010

Some people call it spring cleaning, I shift chaos. Things fit a little better, nothing belongs. Temporary, change is necessary. Ghosts of Modern Man plays and I go back to that show at the Waldorf. The weed, the beer, the tiki and the hidden bamboo bathroom door. Dreamlike, lowered stage, packed floor, passion and fervour. Their intensity had always dragged me in. We watched and then drank more in the tiki lounge, pretending to lounge standing upwards, each and everyone shifting and swaying in what we believed was the humidity and heat of the night and what actually was the investment and indulgence of time.