In about 23 years, when I have a midlife crisis, I'm going to have a really funky experimental punk garage band. My kids are going to be incredibly embarrassed. My third or fourth husband will leave me. I'll lose my job and have to move into a grungy basement apartment, but I'll be happy mixing the sounds I collect from the pigeons cooing for scraps in the park with the roar of airplanes taking off and the cool rhythm of coins falling into a vending machine.
I'm going to call my band Elyse and the Landlords. I'll send you my demo.
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