closing time

Last night was an odd assortment of bizarre occurances. It definitely made up for a dull Friday. There was piano bar drinking, visits with ice cream men, and much intoxicated interpretation. It all started at number one fern, where there was much hash to be smoked, and shit to be shot. After; tracks were made to an Amphitheatre where the Like of three teenage waifs whispered a strange concoction of weezermeetsportishead, followed by a tour of the bluegrass, nostalgic rock-like (and surprisingly awesome) world of the Ditty Bops. They wore hats and flapper dresses, and carried red balloons with them onstage.

The world was then shattered by a fiery piano goddess. I slipped through a crack, but managed to recover in time for the next installment. Fireworks and exhibition lights followed us to a back alley party where we met an aging pornstar named pickles and rubbed elbows with the Korean Mafia. Much beer and love was consumed. We left at 4 in the morning, piling and laughing into a cab, smelling of free alcohol.

This morning hurt, but the memory of a beautiful and strange night eased hangovers.