
I solo-trecked over to park slope last night. Union Hall: Drink, play bocce, hear tunes, all inside an old yellowed photograph. A quick first look around and I spot a man holding an old-timey mustache-on-a-stick above his mouth. He didn't fool me. No, sir.
Tonight's line up: Casey Dienel and the Flapjacks, and openers These United States and Laura Gibson. They are genuine and made of gold. I only wish there had been rocking chairs. Subtle toe-tapping in my folding chair had to make-do.
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