You Got Yourself A Stu

by thoughtsonthedead

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After one of the Chicago shows (either the first, second, or third; I’m sure about that), Chris, Martin, and I went to an after-party that Stu Allen was playing at. It was in a warehouse that had been turned into some sort of theater in one of those Arts District tax schemes cities are always trying; they presented the kinds of plays that featured people being impaled on stuff, and not in a Titus Andronicus-staged-by-Julie-Taymor way, more in a Bob Flanagan kind of way. (Dare you to look him up.)

Stu and his band were playing, and well, but the venue had large ice buckets full of water and there were many couches. Coca-cola was also available for a very reasonable price, and while I rarely drink soda, there are times when a cold Coca-cola is the only option. My two friends boogied and the music was at just the right volume: it filled up every patch of space in the room and you could feel it massaging your potato salad.

Stu may or may not have been wearing a hat.

Anyway, this is to say that Mr. Allen, along with some friends and a Phriend, will be celebrating his birthday over at Terrapin Crossroads starting at 8 o’clock Marin County time; if you’d like to hear what all the hubbub is, then perhaps you should click here.

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