I once went to a museum exhibit with my friend MaryAnne and warned her that I had a three hour limit for the museum. The first couple hours, I am like, cultured and shit and I LOVE the museum. At about the two hour mark I start to feel the itch for the outside world, a drink and some fresh air. Nine times out of ten this is when people want to visit the Modern section and pretend like they understand the sweaty box. At this point, I have to leave the museum.
MaryAnne replied, ‘That sounds like my relationship with jazz.’
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