THE COLD NIGHT AIR

As you know, I am a sensitive man and thoroughly hate karaoke. Yet I expose myself to it several times a month, because I enjoy hobnobbing with the little people, and showing an interest in their purile entertainments. Oh, the joy.

[Translation: I am a sick man much given to self-abuse.]

A long time ago, people sang in the shower.
It was a kinder, gentler era.


I'm trying to imagine the bearded ape with the loud voice singing a sprightly air from the from the forties, in the style of Yao Lee, who made it famous.

In the old days you could smoke in bars, and there was no karaoke.

This singer was full of himself. We sank deep in funk.

Fortunately I was whacked on caffeine.

We left before his next air.


So all in all it was a short night, since we forwent the beer hall, it being entirely too crowded for civilized conversation there. Perhaps next week.
Smoked cigarillos while walking.



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