the fool’s back pocket…

Fantastic journey of the highest caliber. Exhaustion that feels akin to finding something that might have been lost in a town I hadn’t seen in over a decade. Too many interwoven reasons, each insignificant on the face, but combining to formulate the same hysteria and alacrity missing these last few months. Being able to participate at a level of coordination between audience and performers was the light of the frenetic sun.

Now, with the beginnings of a brief period of freedom before acquiescing to the most necessary of recoveries from the exertions of the last 24 hours. Too fucking tired to be this fucking tired. Will we meet again in West Virginia on Friday? Not a goddamn clue. Let’s see what BAC has to say, and from whence to eternity. Fucking A. Every great while we blunder into something so perfect that any explanation will only cheapen the vibe and memory of this kind of happiness. Thanks to the gang back where i used to be, and thanks to the two gentleman who deigned to share a few moments helping out a stranger and making a friend. That is all.