Singing at a cigarette-burned piano

A flawless, haunting song. In the 70's I dressed like her bowling boyfriend sans 'stache in my pink cords and white platforms (size 13) and danced at a disco called "The City" here in the city to the Three Degrees. I rocked the boat. Like Tracey, Pet Clark knows where the boys go when they are lonely. The lights are much brighter there (they are? maybe she means strobe lights). You can forget all your troubles...forget all your cares and go...DOWNTOWN. Rip Taylor appeared downstairs at the City. I didn't see his act, but Larry dragged me to meet him. I think Lar' was trying to tell me something. Let the confetti fly! Most of the time instead being my flamboyant self on stage I feed punchcards into a machine. There's gotta be a way out of this place if it's the last thing I ever do. Maybe a get-rich-quick scheme like in the noirs (don't miss "Gun Crazy"). Speaking of bowling, the original Road House is a bizarre movie but entertaining, thrilling and fun. Both men can certainly fill a pair of of bowling slacks, shoes and argyle socks. Ida Lupino's profile reflected in the shimmering boards of her lane is not to be missed. She plays a tough club singer who wows them singing at a cigarette-burned piano. But the real action is between the sultry brunette Cornell Wilde and the blond, Richard Widmark.