Firstly let me adjust my Patagonia heritage jacket. I won't take it off, even if it's 95 degrees at the loft party. I wear it open. Totally insouciant that way. There's a hint of plaid underneath. Not in my outfit. That's entirely plaid. The hint of plaid is on my skin. I've never been outdoors in the daytime, so I'm sort of sallow, and my plaid shirt, T-shirt, tie, and underpants are starting to leave little checkerboard patterns directly on my skin. Must be all the Fair Trade dye. I'm not wearing sunglasses, of course. That would be silly. I'm wearing mountaineering glasses. Inside. At night.
Anyway, I only listen to Nepalese Dave Brubeck cover bands. You probably haven't heard of them.
When I can't find Nepalese Dave Brubeck cover bands on vinyl at my locavore Greek yogurt stand/independent music store, I'll settle for these two deck cronkites laying it down in an unheated hovel. It's Western Maine, but at least it isn't midtown. They make me want to bust a polyrhythm moby. Peace out.
[Update: Many Thanks to Kathleen M. in the Nutmeg State for her constant support of my boys' efforts via the TipJar. We greatly appreciate it.]