But Sons Are A Different Matter To

On The Bowery, In The Ornate Carcass Of A Formerly Grand Vaudeville Theater, A Dance Marathon Limps Along. The Contestants, Young Girls And Their Fellas, Hold One Another Up, Determined To Make Their Mark, To Bite Back At The Dreams Sold To Them In Newspaper Advertisements And On The Radio. They Have Sores On Their Feet But Stars In Their Eyes.

Feast For The Fisherman, The Ultimate Emo Band. Said To Be Sold With A Complimentary Prescription For Antidepressants And A Free Flatiron.

Its So Daunting To Walk Into A Classroom Or A School Auditorium. Its Like The Worlds Weirdest Blind Date. I Know All The Students Are Thinking, Who Is This Tool Standing Up In Front Of Us?

Around Us The Night Creatures Have Their Say. We Are Surrounded By A Symphony Of Crickets And Frogs. Neither Of Us Feels The Need To Speak, And I Suppose That Is One Of The Qualities I Find Comforting In Kartik. We Can Be Alone Together.

Because It Is Morning, It Is Morning, And There Is So Much To See.