i was a freewheelin' Miss P with the optimism of Oscar, leaving responsibility to live a little. We, dressed in our modern day lace and crochet filled to the brim with the finest karma traveled down to my whiskey a go-go to sweet talk the Henry-est of Chinaskis.
Armed with gifts of marlboro reds and personalized mints he accepted andthanked us as if we had handed him a hundred dollar bill and a bag of diamonds. "These were expensive", he said as he bashfully slicked back his already greased mop. He had a kind toughness to him, he would have looked like elvis when he was younger and would always pull a lady's chair out. It began to rain but instead of feeling phony I felt inspired like it was really about to happen.
You can tell a true gentleman by how he holds an umbrella, and that Holden on the curb surely was not one. As we hid beneath a loosely knit awning of our own creation the rain poured over us washing off the cynicism and egos leaving only the great elan of a child. our good deeds rewarded us and poof we were in.
after decades of waiting and reapplying lipstick and margot-like stares, they took the stage, and I was captured in the visuals of geometric molecules and particles zapping across the faces of the fine musicians i was lucky enough to be in the presence of. An hour reduced down to a thick rue of sensory satisfaction, he spoke right to me, and i understood him for just a moment. i left with a body high and the optimism of Charlie in the haze of a stoner.
Its nice to know that some chains of events feel truly fated. Maybe it's that we can control our destiny with a little effort.