Special, Albeit Necessarily Anonymous, Messages, #2

I’m about to perform this. A beautiful Cuban girl on piano. Me on guitar. Tears involved.
I know, you’re sashaying. I can only say sash: Sash. Talk later. Enjoy!!
I keep my heart broken. But at least it’s always by exceptional women. <sigh>
____

Happy Birthday!! xoxoxo
See ya!
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Hey Michael. I wrote this while a bit drunk. I still stand behind it, but, the thing is, don’t know if you remember what I’m referring to. Share it if you want to, or not. This is what I was inspired to write: Ok, none of the following makes sense, cuz I’m a bit drunk… but I’m trying to spell out what Michael Martin means to me (as I told him, I can’t sashay, bay I can say “sash”: etc.)… I erased at least five entries from this, before landing on the following. I first met Michael Martin around 1991. Didn’t really know him, and I’ll skip the whole “”this is how I got introduced to the Chicago theatre scene” story, cuz those are not [not sic] a dime a dozen. I treasure those days, when I first met Beau and Danny and Michael…those were wonderful, rare times. I remember hanging out with Dianne Izzo singing, and discussions and rehearsals, and William Coelius eating his phone. I remember helping Michael Martin move apt’s for the first time. His basement apartment full of vinyl. Much of it country, which was quite ahead of his time. And i remember this, the ifirst thing I remember Michael Martin saying (before the first three shows that got cancelled due to I do and don’t know what reason): (1) “… something… despite the best efforts of the woman who loves him…(in the back of a van)” and (2) “why won”t D– W—— compose music for me?!?”
That’s it. Happy Birthday Michael. I Love You XOXOXO
____
Holy crap was I drunk last night. Man. I barely remember writing that. Anyway, glad you had a nice birthday!
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