Spring '05: I swung a drunken loop from
the warehouse space back into the Highwire
Gallery itself— throngs of hipsters milling
around, whiskey, wine disappearing from
the little island space situated near
windows picking up western sun-
light, as night descended on Cherry
Street, with an ambiance of anticipation.
When anything can happen in human
life, nothing usually does— what coalesced
here, art mania, was manna to us. Avalon established
eye-contact; off we pranced to the stairwell—
Mike Land grinned lasciviously, as usual,
& polished off a beer he'd received gratis.
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