Friday, March 11, 2005
I knew it was going to be a strange night. Sometimes you smell it in the leather and you just know things aren't going to be right side up.
There was him, and he was standing on the corner wearing a black cape, one of those vampire capes, and a big, black top hat. He was holding in one hand a gargoyled staff and in the other he was sipping a milkshake.
She had called me around noon, and told me that they had taken her identity. We never knew who they were, but that's not unusual. She spent most of the day trying to get it back.
And I was besides myself most of the day, not quite feeling like I was quite there in any sort, my head pounding from the pressure. I must have choked back a litre of coffee as I tried to numb the pain.
Meanwhile, in the background of it all was Miles Davis's horn, screaming out its prayer. Thinking back on it all, it was like the glue that held us all together.
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