We're roaring up the freshly paved road to the nation's capital at first blush tomorrow. With Dean Moriarty's rapacious desire for incessant 80 miles an hour in his beat green jalopy, we'll arrive quickly and dangerously. When fatigue overcomes us, we'll crash some sordid character's sleazy apartment in the Red Light District to rescue some princesses.
Nextly, we'll pour down Quebecois Avenue to Montreal and emote care for the French heritage and likely emulate Jean-Luc Godard for kicks. We'll subsequently dig the streets for ripe antelopes and enigmatic dharma bums until the ebbing of the sun --when we punch into poetry jam sessions and gone jazz blasts.
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Post-Industrial Wandering
3 comments:
hahaha
eccentric as ever..so u really off to discover ur nation's capital? and with who's jolly crew?
Thanks confrere! Of course we're hitting up the beatest, sleazy places in Capital City. I'm travelling with my house mates. I appreciate your support.
If I lived in your general vicinity right now I would burn you some Chet Baker. Unfortunately, however, I do not have six years to spare for this purpose. In short, jazz is swell.
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