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
Letters From A Tapehead
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