Dear Boys of Washington Square
Yesterday, a number of you tried your best to make me leave and you failed.
Try that again. You who sat down next to me and played almost directly in my face. Your crappy coffee shop crooning.
For at least twenty minutes, you played as loud as you could.
After I showed you up with "No Sleep till Brooklyn", Mr Guitar Cocksucker, the mosquitoes got to me and then, I left.
The next time you're gonna eat that guitar.
Notice how I didn't return the favor when I saw you sitting there later, ripe for strafing?
I wanted to prove to myself that I could hold back from scaring you away.
That goes for all of you men.
I don't care what your tactics are. I can thrash you. Intellectually and physically and artistically and whatever other ways there are.
So bring all your dumbass guy friends and try your best. All the girls will watch you get slaughtered. I'll be back on Saturday.