Before they all left me to walk home alone, I had a lovely time listening to Leiderhosen Lucil and Carolyn Mark tear it up at the Grad Club. I never did get LL to sign my panties. Damn.
And we all had dinner and much wine at Laura's. I made rum-fried bananas and ate many of Carrie's cocoa-lishious brownies.
And now the lovely songstresses, and the 'I got left behind' blues have got me, guitar in hand, singing a few songs of my own.
Maybe I should write about the boys of yore whom I keep running into, with no worse than affectionate pleasantries between us now. Or the lonely blues of not being much of a number one. Or the velvet warm glow that tickles the front of my brain when I'm bathed in red. Or wishing for it to be my birthday (or at least summer again), so I can run around naked, dripping in cold lake water and lamp-light.
Or maybe I'll end this endless night listening to Kathleen Edwards, my newest aural crush.
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