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There is an absolutely outrageous amount of stuff here to remind me that it sucks not living in New York. A solo Dave Burrel gig, Connors, McPhee with Corsano, Mcphee and Vandermark, No Neck Blues Band, Micheal Morley, Thurston... Fuck. I love the Stone every time I visit there, but it doesn't half make you feel bad about living in the North East of the UK sometimes...
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The toothaches got worse, she dreamed of disembodied voices from whose malignance there was no appeal, the soft dusk of mirrors out of which something was about to walk, and empty rooms that waited for her. Your gynaecologist has no test for what she was pregnant with.
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