and the smell of felt came from Fat Cat, a live jazz club and pool hall on Christopher St. in NYC. Sink into one of those couches older than you and I combined and try to tell me you don't know what love is. Slip in and out of orgasmic pleasure as the sound proof walls bounce sound waves into your chest cavities. Feel your heart almost come out of your chest as the musicians (no one was playing to get famous) played until their fingers bled. Closing between 4 and 5 AM was a suggestion.
Taking a break a few times for some cloves, a hot dog and a pint . . . as long as you had that stamp, heaven was just a door away.
We Real Cool.
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