Last night's Astral Knife performance was overtaken by chaos, and not of the sort we were masters of. Not that Chaos has ever given a blanket promised to anybody of any such thing. It's just not how Chaos rolls, any more than the sound system at Otto's rolls with cooperating with one's cables and gear when you need it to. And to be honest, never fully has, I can recall that all the way back from my Mz. Pakman days. That unpredictability is just part of the place's charm, you know?
I remember smiling unflinchingly as a headband-clad former Mars Bar employee swung nunchucks inches from my face, but melting away into a screaming psychotic episode when Clown Kong began popping balloons. Which I suppose for art's sake only enhanced the dada-esque madness ensuing, but from the standpoint of my schizoaffective diagnosed well-being is probably not a Good Thing.
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