A wooden stage & a wooden dance floor. Standing almost circled, shoo-be-doo'ing a Rock & Roll chorus towards a Bottom Shelf Country night-cap. Drums, Guitars; Vice, no Guilt; Velveteen & Wool. Tending little forest traps for one another, blurring the line between negligence and agility, like an old drunk, elegantly riding the waves of Live Oak roots in the brick sidewalks, almost home.