Before frappuccino , there was Marty's on Sansom St east of Broad where you got 2 eggs, bacon, toast and coffee for 99 cents. The year's irrelevant as is surmising this is a good ol' days emetic. If I ever knew then that I'm no more your mother Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow Effacement at the wind's hand." was ever conceived, I just might have avoided the part where black hash in Tita's 3rd floor was too potent and the vomit and the misspelling of George M.Cohan in dayglo ink never would have happened. But then I'd have missed hearing "Cowgirl in the Sand" for the first time and who knows where that entropy would have lingered instead of bringing me to her. And Vanilla Fudge "You keep me hangin on" - Bickley, ye hardly knew me. So back to he Holstee Manifesto once again - If you are looking for the love of your life, stop; they will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love. When Marty soup-nazied me for requesting partially done eggs, I bowed my head and shuffled backwards to the cashier instead of crying out "I'm just looking for her". No mirror distilling going on there - when I finally made it to here I skipped the part " Hello woman of my dreams This is not the way it seems" and went right to bonding with perfection. It was the bad acid Pat but it doesn't matter anymore.