Andrew Bird.

Secret Andrew Bird concert at a speakeasy converted house. I have a ticket, there is one more on sale. A friend, "Dylan" and I race to the locative-art box office. He drives. We pull into a hotel overhang. He gets out. I back out to park the car. Free parking just around the corner. When I switch off the engine and step out, the car turns to a solid white bike. I think "oh great, I don't have my bike lock. I'll have to put it in the trunk, but I don't think it will fit!" Conveniently, the back wheel disappears. So I carry the bike towards the B.O. Dylan has purchased his ticket and he looks at the bike confusedly. I think, "where's the car?" Then I realize the car is the bike is the car and it disappears completely. We make our way to the speakeasy converted house.

When we arrive, there are very few people there. No Andrew Bird sighted yet. The main performance chamber is littered with a few couches and chairs. There is futurist art hanging on the walls, alongside classical distortion images of the International Pantheon. "Our seats are not here." We trek out the back patio, across some train tracks to a couch-table set up. Dylan heads in for a drink while I watch trains go by. I wait, and decide to head inside. NO one is in the main performance hall. I hear noise emanating from the "living room". I head in. Food, Drink, Hookah! The room is hot and smoky. Alcohol seems to flow like a river in the air. Dylan is talking with Andrew Bird. I join in. We bullshit and talk about the times. Then Bird decides it's time to perform. The lights go down to blue. A cool white washes into it. "Fits and Dizzyspells". When the song ends, the world fades to black.

Red lights aglow. Large columns surrounding. I follow the row of red. They curve around corners and corridors. An old theatre. In each viewing room is an empty space. Nothing of which to note. The roof peels back. The sky is cloud and blue. I fall and I fall.