Missing My Friends, The Black Hollies, Playing Live at Maxwell’s Because I’d Rather Stay Home on a Friday Night and Listen to Smog and Listen to Diane Cluck and Listen to
I just want to sit here and be alone and think of her and drink Brooklyn Lager and listen to music and feel the cool new autumn wind blow through my open window—as soft and as right as her hand pressing mine—and forgive me, please friends, forgive me, but I’m tired and I’m happy and is there anything so wrong with that really?