I walked to Dupont Circle on January 20th. The air was weird in the city – there wasn’t much traffic on my walk, vehicular or pedestrian. The calendar said Friday, but the atmosphere was more like the one that settles in a room when someone tells a joke in a crowded room and stillness fills the space where there should’ve been laughter. Everything smelled like weed. Continue reading “The World Today? Pure Comedy.”
The World Today? Pure Comedy.
Father John Misty’s Pure Comedy could end up being the most vital piece of art this year. What would that entail?