Written yesterday:
After an afternoon of laboring over French conjugations, H and myself drifted over the Kitty Kat Klub, where we arrived just in time to have The Daredevil Christopher Wright explode whatever preconceptions about male vocal chords we may have had:
It was quite a good show, though as is often the case when you get more than two high-voiced men in a confined space, they couldn't entirely escape the danger of castrati-chipmunkism. But no matter; the staggeringly hirsute leading men more than compensated for whatever loses they may have sustained in the masculinity department.
P.S.
In the future I will omit more unneccessary words, I swear by God.
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