![Channeling Spirits with V.D. Cards, or, Why We Didn't Make It to the [Medicinal] Cannibus Cup in L.A.](/images/c/channelingspiritswithvdcards.gif)
I was reading a section of David Foster Wallace's The Broom of the System and sipping my black mango tea in relative silence across from Lindsey, who had a better eye's view of the band, but still did not catch their name. The unknown couple with the devil's ukulele and beelzebub's standing bass—singing about falling from ladders and leprosy. I was reading about a morally-diminutive bureaucrat devouring 9 whole steaks in a matter of minutes (in order to expand to the size of the planet and all of existence). The idea was grossly fascinating. The music was frighteningly ironic, and somehow relaxing. The food was a fucking Godsend.
"Hey." Lindsey pointed out. "There's a show tonight at Burt's Tiki Lounge. Like 4 bands. Wanta go?"
"What time does it start?"
"Late. 10 it looks like. Chris and Colleen might be there."
"Maybe... Let's see how the night goes."
The Cannabis Cup was no longer an option...
