And there was Maxwells. For those who live elsewhere, Maxwells is...well, hard to describe. The New Yorker calls it the best club in New York, and it isn't in New York. It's in Hoboken. Some of us used to drink there. Some of us used to work there. Some of us used to live there.
It had been an awfully long time since I'd visited.
We started, of course, with a reading. Because that's what you do at these things.
And then it was time to strap on.
I should have stuck with the reading, but...what the hell, man.
A quorum of the Camp...for the first time, I think, since The Bottom Line, 1998.
Kids and drunks. Gotta love it.
Carbone is impressed.
Moments after the picture below was taken, we strolled off-stage and decompensated into a vicious fight over blue M&Ms.
Many, many thanks to Annalee Van Kleeck for the photos. And huge thanks to all of you who came out and packed the joint. It was the most fun I've had this decade.
