rocks

I went out last night, to the club over by the tracks. Marx was playing and I really felt like I should go see him when he’s in town and besides, I needed to talk to him about Razor and stuff. That didn’t happen but it was good to hear him play again. He’s gotten better. Still the same old Marx.

I haven’t been out in ages. The club was crowded, more so than I care for. Everyone looking down at their phones, even when they’re dancing. A hypnotic glow radiates the space. Most people hardly even seem there.

I ran into Allison. She seemed happy to see me. I don’t think her date was going well. She kept tugging at my sleeve. I tried to be friendly but the club wasn’t good for conversation so I nodded while she shouted brief phrases toward me. I don’t think she knows Marx. I thought maybe her dude did. He looked the type, dressed in black, pierced and tatted, raising his lip at random intervals. Black Marx rocks!

I saw Tasha across the big hall, just a glimpse, just long enough to be sure it was her. I don’t think she saw me. She ran off with Marx right after the show ended. So I didn’t get to even say hello. He saw me and waved with a big smile. I guess that will do for now. At least I know he isn’t mad at me.

I’ll call Evelyn. She’ll know how to reach him.

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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