Collin wants to draw together sometime, so we plan to meet up at a friend’s house I’ve never been to.

I knock on a door, but its the wrong house. Middle aged couple slams the door in my face.

Collin and Noah are outside smoking when I find the right place. Banter. Nobody says anything for a while.

Collin offers me a cigarette. I decline.

We go down into the basement where Phurpa breaks my ears. Throat singing that vomits out of old Peavys.

Collin and Noah talk about Astrology. I sit on the couch and sketch a face from a photo on my phone. I wait an appropriate amount of time before asking if they want to listen to my friend’s band that had just released a new album. They say yes.

Gibson comes in, inturupts by playing on a shitty drumset that sounds like trash falling down a cliff.