The Pains of Being Impure At Heart

There are times when I love being out by myself, temporarily liberated from the prison of my public identity. I thought tonight would be that sort of occasion.But now that I'm sitting here at Club Congress I feel terribly isolated and desperate for company. I really miss the days when every visit here was guaranteed to yield several reunions with smart, funny acquaintances as in love with music as I am. I'm sure some of the people here are the precise sort I'm desperate to find, but I no longer have the means of making that sort of context-dependent friend. As down as I currently feel, though, I suspect that The Pains of Being Pure At Heart will sound all the better for the stormy weather presently drenching my spirit.