Reunions are swell, aren’t they? On Sunday I met up with my old pal Matt Houston. We met in 1999, at a time when I was very ANGRY, and we laughed so hard for 5 days straight that we didn’t sleep. I tried to get him to come with me to Berlin, but at least he let me take his sweater. He was “my new gay boyfriend”. So finally after some years in Holland, he met me in Boston, and after a drive in which we ignored all traffic laws (laws, piffle!) we landed at the B-side purely for their fine bloody marys. 5 marys and 3 martinis later, we parted, and I woke up face down on my floor at 10pm, feeling like Brian Jones on a lucky day. But that’s what love is, folks, that’s what love is.
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