It's Friday and the radio's reporting a current temp of 83 degrees. Your Datsun's dash clock is busted but your Casio wristwatch reads 7:39 p.m., which means this trip is still on schedule, but barely. You're bored, sick of the public airwaves and things like the weather, so you press play on a mixtape you made this morning. The first three songs slip by unnoticed while you negotiate tight traffic at the Beach end of the MacArthur Causeway. Shit's clogged.
A bit after 8 p.m., you roll up across the street from Sweat and "Desolation" starts for the sixth time. You listen, but if your friends were here right now, they'd scowl and roll their eyes. Your out-of-control enthusiasm for this song has burned them out. The song ends and you lock up the Datsun and jog across the street to join the short queue at the door. Matt's there and you give him three dollars to get inside, plus two more for tapes, one Curious Hair and the other Flux Forces. Music for your return trip home.
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