It's a good thing I don't have the proverbial fork in my hand right about now. If I did, rest assured it would get stuck in the most unexpected of places.
My sixth consecutive outing at Back Street last night will not be spoken of here in any great detail; let's just say last night's excursion was F.U.B.A.R {and no, I do not mean Bobby Fancher's fine club of the same name in Midtown}, and leave it at that. The only other comment I will make is this: my drum-proteg`e Sheila had a ringside seat for the entire evening, and got a lingering upclose-and-personal look at how things can go very wrong - for no good reason at all. The entire fiasco reminded me of Ellen Sander's famous quote about Led Zeppelin:
"If you walk inside the cages at the zoo, you get to see the animals close up, stroke the captive pelts, and mingle with the energy behind the mystique. You also get to smell the shit firsthand."
Nothing more needs to be said.
What will happen next is anybody's guess; I still have too much of a rotten taste in my mouth right now to speculate on the future. There will be more news here when the time is right. I still have many other irons in the fire {for once}, and I'm not about to get hung up about this particular bump in the road - but from now on I'm gonna make like a bloody STEAMROLLER, dig?
More shortly.
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