Noise! at St. Marks
So now, Irvin's birthday falls on Michael Jackson's deathday the same way my mother's falls on the day the terrorists came to town. And all they'd play at the bar was Jackson Five songs, which are a mite better than straight MJ songs. Except for the one where he was in Pharoah's court. That was great. But Irvin treated me, in essence anyhow, to a real great meal somewhere great meals come freely to those who'll pay. I love this whole goddamn marrygoround and yes, I'm un petit drunk.