““but being over’s no problemo, it’s the getting there that’s a bitch or a boor or a bother, to that small apresbellum, the birth of the universe in reverse, the door unshut after the party’s over and the guests uncoupled on the floor. In Las Vegas in the ‘50s, there were parties on hotel-tops, parties that went on all night long, everyone swinging to the sounds of some sassy swinging-hair’d sister backed by the brassy cool combo, and the show-stopper was the morning’s nuclear test, sponsored by the US Army, the white light skirled across the shar Nevada desert, blotting the sun, they called them dawn parties because they done broke the day.””