Despite a paucity of black lace in my wardrobe and a distinct preference for mail-ordering 5.11 garb to crawling consignment shops for vintage clothing, I've been listening to a lot of old stuff by The Cure lately. Must be a combination of the season (cool, bare branches on the trees, nostalgia wafting by on the chimney smoke) and the fact that I'm trying to bear down on my unGreat American Novel again, which seems to be largely set in a lot of smoky nightclub nooks around the
fin de last
siecle.
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