This past Friday I was driving toward Decatur to attend an art opening at my friend Elliott Boswell’s gallery, an opening featuring nudes. The hook? Naked models being body painted and free “nude” martinis. As I navigated the twisty turns of Ponce from Atlanta toward Decatur I called a few art department people I expected to see there, to see what time they expected to make it… you know, driving chatter. Of course none of them answered so I left one of my trademark annoying fake messages for each of them, cranking up Album 88‘s 400bpm dance music show on my car radio and pretending that I was already at the gallery, well into my 18th free vodka. As it turns out, that little bit of theater was fairly accurate insofar as far as the pulsing dance music went…. by the time I got there it was fairly well a rave!
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