Bart left us off at a pizza joint near Berklee and Ziggy’s apartment. I got myself a spinach pie that was too hot to eat without burning my fingers and Ziggy got a couple of slices of pizza that were too cold to let sit around for very long. When he was done inhaling them, though, he said “You know, for two guys who spend so much time together, I don’t think I know you very well.”
I was going to say ‘likewise’ but didn’t want to draw attention to any secretiveness there might have been on my own part, so I didn’t want to imply it on his. “What do you want to know?”
“I dunno, where you’re from, shit like that. You aren’t originally from Providence, are you?”
“Fuck no. It’s much worse. I’m from New Jersey.”
(Read the rest at Daron’s Guitar Chronicles.)
Talk Talk
