Smoke Stays In Your Lungs
Our first Buried Folderol Week concludes with this rare gem from 1996. When asked in college what my ideal job was, I would often reply (and still do), "lounge lizard". Sadly, the closest I've ever come to realizing this dream, aside from that time I played piano at that one bar in Brugge, was when I would lug my keyboard to the Not Another Cafe in Ann Arbor, Michigan, or to the monthly Intervarsity Christian Fellowship Coffe-House Night at Hillsdale, College. Becuase I had a keyboard and no one could stop me, I would often perform there. I would usually start off with this tune, much to the bewildered stares of the three or four people who'd gathered there, which left me with only 179 additional minutes to fill with my own unique "musical-wallpaper"... until Casey showed up with the rum, at which point the rest of the mucial ambience would kind of degress into mediocre Charlton Heston impressions (and the bewildered stares turned into vacant chairs).