Scottish guy. From his de butt album, These Streets. MP3s on Amazon here.
Today in incredibly fortunate winter weather I walked down to the main city Post Office, so it is real official-like with letters spelling out the place over the doors carved into whatever that material is, to send off a card to a farmer in a near isolated portion of southwest Nebraska. The PO two blocks one way and four blocks another, and I could feel every single footstep hitting perfectly on the heel and rolling properly and pushing off with ease and the whole thing felt excellent. I owe it all to good shoes.
I did not realize there is parking on the roof.
It faces this police building across the street, 14th.
There is not even a word for that in my vocabulary. Foreboding. Uninviting. Retentive. Insecureish. It strikes me as almost the least of everything at once; post modernistic, neoclassic, Brauhaus, decorative, armorial, brutalistic. If I were to sign it I would use the word "building" + "punch" and not the drink kind of punch.
