He had his moments. The occasional feeling of the cheesiness of a canned schtick crept in now & then, but mostly he was his irreverent self, in a marvelous brown checked suit & laceless beige Chucks, and a good bit of B-more made it into the evening. I laughed aloud throughout. There were some freaks in the crowd, too---more than you meet in the street on the average night in this berg, anyway. Perhaps the best part, though, was the near-palpable glee of my most irreverent co-worker, a.k.a. Dark Mark, in pink scarf and all, delighted that Waters mentioned the (comparatively rare, I'd venture to say) hallucinogenic use of Morning Glory seeds. Yet another thing they have in common.
I'll be interested to see if the (speaking of cheesiness) guy who writes for the Current about (movies and) his encounters with celebrities uses the photo he had taken of himself with the Prince of Bad Taste. That guy and his companion arrived very late & sat behind me & squirrelykat, where their chat revealed, to put it kindly, ignorance. In all its not-so-glorious connotations.
Exchanged text messages with shmizla, heading home from Morrissey at Exit Fest. That's a brush with fame, of a sort, i'n't it?