Closed on the warehouse...dimes became dollars and everything came together. No insurance yet, no loans. Friends and confidants landed at the right time. The ping-pong table will be 3rd floor southwest corner. The drum set is not in the basement anymore, probably near the bar now. Those chickens won't jump off the roof, right? Ride your bike to the warehouse and bring your tube amp and practice away...lock the doors...and call me if you need me. Everyone is invited. The club is open. Smoke got thick, walked to the Purple Martin for a Purple Martin and walked home safe.
(Bohemian warehouse dreams continue in Fox Park...)