Pat Sky has died, and I'll miss him even though it's been over fifty years since I last saw him.
If you were me in the '60s and early '70s, you always walked with one shoulder higher than the other.
Tourist busses were a frequent sight on the streets of Greenwich Village.
Life in the Village was not just about playing at the coffeehouses. It was about understanding the intellectual and artistic background of life. You'd be sitting with a fellow habituate listening to a discourse on Proust one day, Aristotle the next, and Steinbeck the day succeeding.
I couldn't see a future in which I acted like the responsible adult they expected. So the end.
" Wes, what's a 12 letter word for an idiot who endlessly natters on about uninteresting topics?"
It is pleasant to just for a moment, step back, and realize that some things have not yielded to either technology or years.
Same old Same old made some money.
The adventure in all this was finding the time, and sometimes the place, to sleep.
Well, here it is. It took about an hour of digging around to locate. It's a list. A setlist. It contains a listing of the songs that I regularly performed when I composed the list. It's very late, probably around 1977.