Showing posts from December, 2020

12.21 — Happy Birthday, Frank

80 candles… (just set the cake on fire at this point). Oh, Frank, if you could only see us now. I can't imagine how our current age of absurdity could be distilled and articulated: as an expletive-riddled satire, or as depressing instrumental requiem? Either way, we could certainly use your wisdom. Happy Birthday, Frank. Sincerely, Letters From A Tapehead