Nothing Is Meaningless

I dropped by Nickelsville today hoping to get Aaron Stephen Beaucage reading Nothing Is Meaningless, the spoken word piece he did at the Nickelsville benefit last month, on video. Needless to say, things worked out. He recited the thing from memory, fast. Apparently he's been practicing. Sadly, slam poets and social critics are notoriously underappreciated and underpaid. Afterwards, we went back to his car so he could write down his email adress. As the sidepanel of the white Dodge van slid open, there was his computer and printer sitting on a makeshift desk. His car was a lot cleaner than mine, and he lives in his. What's my excuse?