CONCEPT
I left the apartment this evening with a large envelope inscribed to “Mr. Billy Corgan.” I returned home empty handed. Well… not quite… but regardless of whether or not he actually lays hands on the thing, I sent him a letter. A letter. I’ve kept this promise to my seventeen year old self, in Mr. Nelson’s class, writing so hard I could die.
Now I’ve a bit of a story to tell, and it spans from the generous thick trombone rock arms of Doris Henson to Billy himself. Sean Conley and Connor Coyne… we truly pixellated the night, tonight. But I’ll have to tell you later. I have a wedding a plan. A move to orchestrate. And a show to prepare.
By tomorrow…
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