Post-Party Albums

Whenever I'm cleaning up I listen to Doolittle or Double Nickels On The Dime. If I'm lying on someone's couch with a hangover, I wish I could be listening to nothing at all.

when i, brendan o'henesey, have coke banquets at my castle in the swiss rocky mountains, my boy-servant - jean-luc-barnacle-pants - does the cleaning. he is always on his toes. they twinkle and skitter accross the floor with such nimble and poetic innocence. he boy-servant, yes, but in his soul and in his toes, he is a dancer. this much is clear to me. but i cannot allow him to ply his gift for lift, for his parents, the royal duke and dukelle of thimble cheese, presented him to me as a gift upon the grand opening of my 500th hard cheese and barnacled kitten pants pub in westerly east asia-land. "he is a boy-servant. he is not to dance" they said in such a clear and commanding tone that it caused my nose to bleed. i nodded and cradled the boy in my arms. he is so lonely. we are all so lonely.