Screaming Cellos Of Doom
Well, the last thing I remember, certainly the last thing I trust, was The Hurricane, and I say screaming cellos because the only time I ever heard the song played live was with a cello. More likely the original used screeching violins. No matter, it was an episode and half, capping rather cruelly what had the makings of a fine night out.
I'd like to go into more detail here but 1) I can't remember much and 2) I think that not even anonymity gives me enough leeway to describe activities of questionable legality. Suffice it to say that I am rather grateful to the organisers, one of whom had the unpleasant task of nursemaiding this ambulant paranoid round downtown. I blame the jetlag but I ask their forgiveness.
The following day was a tad more sedate, an afternoon spent sweating at a Bania in Borough Park. We followed this up by crashing the wedding reception of avant-garde folk musician Dave Rick at Commonwealth. Congratulations Dave and Colette, I wish you much good fortune together. Thanks for the wings.
Still, all the excitement means that I did not put together a column for Sugarzine, even though I could probably have put together a dEUS review without too much in the way of effort. But I did not. I apologised profusely to the editrix, and she was sweet enough to think that my list of current bands of interest would be of interest to her readers. Certainly has more nutritional value than threatening real estate developers with fisticuffs.
Time for a nap. Meanwhile, take a moment to marvel at the moment when Britain led the world in perpetrating war crimes.