Don’t ask this bit: we were driving to the Rosales memorial at around 9 and this chick walks over to us and tells us some thing like: “which way to Best Theater” or some shit. So we said to her, Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nat no, but seriously now, Harriet Ward Beecher said that. And as though that wasn’t weird enough after that we were taking the bus to the May Cinema at around 10:30 when this girl shouts out at us from the other side of the avenue, saying to us some thing like: “give us any change” or some shit like that. So we replieded to her: is the whole town batty en masse? Hoot, can’t a dude travel through the city without all of Italy driving you potty? Oh man…
