And I am un chien andalusia.
So much debauchery that my drinking has suffered this week. As has my sleep. And I ache all over.
No C. Dale. No nobody. Just Tony, Joe, Betsy, and Andy.
Yes, yes, there are great photos, mostly involving the poet of Eureka Slough. However, I have promised not to reveal them to the public.
*
We ate well. Thanks, A. Mister. We spent some time standing in a copse. We talked a bit about poetry, a bit about metal. Andy wore his Slayer hoodie.
I committed acts of impropriety in a closet.
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