Weapon of Choice Follow Up

The initial decision to spend the next 15+ hrs on my plane ride back to the state began with a stop at the local duty free where somehow I had convince myself that purchasing a bottle of single barrel Jack Daniels to share with my co workers while on the plane would be a good idea, I sort of did some recon on the way in from the flight from Chicago casually passing the duty free taking a stroll through the liquor section planting the seed in my mind that I would buy that bottle for the ride home, make things more interesting, did not figure on the fact that I would have to wait till after boarding the plane to get the whiskey. Second assumption was the fact that I would be able to drink the whiskey on the trip back, no one questioned why a run on cups filled with ice had become so readily necessary but they did and this is how Weapon of Choice was born, after looking at the multiple hours of writing found it very hard to believe so much writing could be done in one sitting, like Keroauc, just banging away on that typewriter in a time warp. The story revolves around a three day bender in NYC, reasons partially due to my self indulgent nature, a delusional thought of romantic involvement with a woman, and the live up it late night lifestyle of NYC that is so much more rewarding than the usual affair of Las Vegas.



They had a music section on the plane, Fatboy Slim, Peter Weller, Radiohead, and who knows how many other cool recordings were in the Western music section, but these sounds sort of brought out Weapon of Choice, a song by Fatboy Slim and for those not too into music, most of my posting titles are lifted from something music related, so here is part 2, probably part 3 tomorrow, finally have some time off to write and a fairly clear head to get it down, not that it is key but sitting at this keyboard with some electronic music in the background never seems to hurt either.



Part 2 Weapon of Choice:

Higgins agrees as he tries to force the Ottoman couch out the window, luckily they don't open that far and he has yet to figure how to wedge them open any further. No time to waste on those who are not fully committed. Yes! Exactly, while Higgins pulls the screwed in lamp from its wooden foundation the lampshade comes flying off, he's preparing himself for his usual ritual of destruction, chaos, and self induced walking coma, he is a dowsers wand for mischief, reckless abandon, and a carefree spirit long since abandoned from it's last heyday during the late 60's, a living midway fun zone. 12 pack of Stella is gone, medicated, back down to the store, buy a case this time, it should hold. KGB intelligence has an entire liter of Vodka set aside for them, as well as some narcotics, time to hit a bar. Friday night crowd, spent from the work week, nothing now but sports, alcohol, and the Monday morning wakeup call. Not an ideal setting but close to homebase, to end up on the outskirts of town so early would only result in imprisonment. Better to stay where I can see enemy traffic approaching, quick retreat to the Jim Morrison suite, tune up, reload, for later tonight, forget dinner or any formalities at this point, half attempts are made with KGB intel but why generate any further false illusions. Previous collaborations with the Red Army have only resulted in false leads, band intel, and words of manipulation, the kind of stuff that drives HQ crazy and will have me soon looking for new work, so nothing left but go dark, offer nothing, then see how she plays her hand.



Still, former trips have bared character studies that have offered more useful results, so HQ says conjunctive exercises shall continue, off the books of course. No official clearance can be liberating, like an unlimited fun pass, no budget, no real superior to make me account for behavior during an assignment, that's all I need, other worldly forces shall take over from there. Basic juvenille free for all, crowd of white collar suits, sports fans, and the ocassional single woman are regions well charted in this town, nothing left to do but drink, wait a while, then head back up to Moonbase Alpha. Moon Patrol style, shooting at anything that moves, obliterate into cosmic dust, don't be afraid Mrs. Robinson that wart on the inside of your vagina means nothing. Battle scars, lens tissue, all is well, fire fight from the front. S.O.S., Mayday, plead the fifth and eat the cyanide capsule if apprehanded by foriegn officials. With that settled, time to take off the weights, the reins, and the shackles, leave nothing but a blazing trail of fire, saddle up, as Higgins attempts to parachute empty beer bottles from the 21st floor. Dark now, traffic lights, work spaces yet to be cleaned, townhouse condo dwellers burrowing in from the excess of activity happening outside their door. All I can do is sit in my writing chair, calm, braindead, soaking up city life, no cars to drive to work, lawns to mow, or suburbanites to make me question why I should ever leave NYC in the first place. More expectations from the NYC branch, official channels of course, more regional benefits, but a much higher bar to jump over, right now I only answer to the Feds, in a consultant kind of way for some reason life has afforded me more opportunity to navigate these Manhattan streets. A big giant welcome mat, roll out the red carpet, when Johnny Comes Marching Home Again, Hurrah, Hurrah, nice break from the West yet extended stays tend to wear out the quality of my results.



Turnaround on documentation must be swift, now, in order to relay new intel to field agents, should probably be filing right now this moment but drugs have sent me off to Shaman house, awaiting the gatekeeper to usher me through the passage to pool of knowledge, there sit well used soda bottles, dipped in, filled up, capped, just hope they make it back in one piece, what's left of my sanity as well. Trade must be made to secure what is needed, no prob, put rational thoughts on the shelf for a few days, pulling it down once and a while when appropriate, otherwise no need for it. Looks like Higgins has lost some drugs, he's searching around the floor for something, by this point it no longer matters. "There is plenty left." I said, no matter Higgins is focused, pulling out couch cushions, turning over tables, rifling through the empty cabinets in the kitchen, paper bags with empties, and finally his wallet to then search the carpet on his hands and knees. I can barely see at the moment and am not completely sure what we are looking for, fatigue has taken temporary hold of me. Higgins says, " What matters is that it must be found." with a sort of forceful determination reserved for meth addicts and obsessive compulsives. So I join Higgins in his futile search for some missing narcotics and this is the state KGB intel finds us in.



These American hedonists, no style, manners or well thought plans, just jump right in and figure it out along the way. It takes a minute to realize KGB has arrived, I snapped out of drug limbo, grab a beer, regain some form, sit back and wait for Red Army, whose is a bit late as usual, fairly unconscious now, nothing making sense, perfect, music cannot get loud enough. I am sure they can hear it at street level 21 floors below. KGB bides time by ingesting some of the stash, Vodka cranberry, case of Stella already half gone as I open up the refridgerator door to get the things to make the drink. Words barely legible, mostly noise, gutteral, primitive, a collection of narco cocktail already shaken for mass effect. The only thing going through my mind is Bar 13. What is Bar 13? Why does it resonate through my inner skull, nothing more, nothing less. Red Army finally arrives and all I want to do is leave the room and get out into the NYC night, so damn impatient, probably drives Red Army crazy, Soviet Intel sort of begins to fade into the mist of the evening, can't remember why, they sort of just vanished, no real goodbye, no real anything, maybe they just hung in the shadows observing Higgins and I like scientists with a lab experiment or anthropologist studying a primitive species. No clues had been left behind, only my imagination could filled in the details until we crossed paths possibly tommorrow night, so until then it was a mad scramble to Bar 13 in a taxi, who hailed the taxi down, gave the driver directions? Who Me? I have no fucking clue where Bar 13 is, you are the taxi driver don't you know?



Not really sure we ever got there, just remember about a minute when I looked over at Higgins, yeah he was still around, both of us in disco coma, nightclub, music, got all that, only brief flash that was it, how long we stayed, if we went anywhere else, got kicked out due to our usual or unusual bizarre infectous nature of diving down into the club music like some abyss determined to find the other side, compelled to not quit, soon enough there is an entire dancefloor going bezerk and at the beginning of it Higgins and I who are somewhat responsible for the entire fiasco, I meet many people, always have tons of emails, business cards, and names to Facebook, but why bother I don't even remember meeting them and when I do reply they never reply back, with that said the next recollection is waking up at 7am in my clothes on, in bed, somehow got the sheet over me, there is still music playing on the soundsystem, all the lights are on, the door to the balcony is open. Sun is up, no shelter, get up start recovery routine. Hot shower, clean up, brush teeth, fresh clothes, carrot, orange juice, vitamins, then a beer.



Higgins is wrapped up like a coiled snake, wearing his overcoat, straight up homeless style, there are still a few lines of zombiedust left from last night, check the fridge, the case of beer is gone should have noticed when I got the juices out, but overlooked it, must have bought more on the way in last night, more trash piled up to my waist in the kitchen, none of this matters, music from last night, ambient soundtrack stuff, perfect anything with heavy beats will send my brain right over the edge into loony land, time to reel it in a bit gather some of that so called sanity, this is how you get through the dark moments, the time on the edge looking over into infinity, it can suck you in so fast, once lost it is tough to get out, there are so many avenues like the Matrix, just go with these new realities much more interesting than life outside these windows, yeah Empire State Building is still there outside so things are not that bad. Did half of the Zombiedust, left the other half for Higgins who was slowly coming around, his only concern was catching the early morning English Premiership game, give him credit always ready to rumble. He had his track shoes on as he snatched the carrot and orange juice from my hand like a person marooned on an island for a decade seeing his first real tastes of civilization, he munched down half a sandwhich and did the rest of the Zombiedust, thirty minutes to kickoff, about time to get started toward Hell's Kitchen where the closest of the Irish bars would be located. Could have taken a taxi, not sure why we did not, rolled out of Moon Base Alpha in long coats and dark shades straight rock and roll style, not out of character for this place, not even the mothers with their children and the middle aged couples out for their morning walks made a double take, this is NYC, bitch, casualities will be registered I doubt if we were the only walking wounded right now, maybe the only ones with about 2 hrs of sleep heading back out toward the front for more battle. Addicted to the firefight, surrounded by gunfire on all sides unconcerned, just reach the objective, defeat the enemy and find a new target, this was our program, possibly the only program either Higgins and I have ever known. But why walk around with medallions of past triumphs, did not matter, just the next target we never got there the same way twice which feeds part of the addictive nature, base jump right into plume of gasoline explosions like Bruce Wills Die Hard style, who cares, Stage Fright, Come Let Us Blow It Up, is our motto.

8am why sleep, none the difference, sieze the moment, no deposit, no return, that's life, refund not guaranteed, this is what I wanted. Taxis pass by, why not take one, probably got thrown out of a variety of clubs last night, no memory so far, just space, then void, now back at it this morning looking for time clues. False start at the first bar, it's closed, really 8am? Thought every bar would be open this early, sort of puts a brief downer on the fact the two of us have to walk a few blocks back and then up to get to this other place Higgins has still left in his memory which is usually not that big of a deal but in Manhattan a block is a half a mile long, damn early morning marathon, where is my pinned on number 00, blank running toward infinity and nirvana at the same time with no chance of reaching either one, this whole concept is futile but must continue like samlon swimming upstream, something genetically ingrained beyond any willful control ultimate wisdom must be achieved even though it might take some time to weed through all the visual, audio, and emotional clues, straight cerebral helps too, like videotaping an acid experience from the perspective of the brain; it is gonna go way over everyones heads except a few, these are the people I am concentrating on. At this point feels like am gonna die and if it wasn't for the handful of downers I ate fifteen minutes ago as well as the intense fear of dying like some junkie, anonymous in the middle of these New York streets, my body would have laid down like a wounded animal and wait for death's arrival, but were are not quitters, were are champions, metallic terminators walking through aftermath, pestilence, and apocolyptic destruction, does not even register anymore staying up for days at a time with no real goal except to get as fucked up as possible with a remote chance of getting laid.

Fear of idling might set in cardiac arrest let's get going to the next bar, somehow Higgins and I find the place, need a beer immediately to settle down all these thoughts in my head, the streets, the early morning people out for a jog, the tourists wandering the city aimlessly, some person going for the paper and a coffee, others like myself cascading into the next morning without fill, searching for meaning by watching garbagemen piling trash into truck, shipping clerks dolly large boxes into dirty worn inconspicous brick buildings posing as portals to other dimensions, step inside these place to never return, off into another expansion of the universe, good bye earth, it was good while it lasted. Young couples walk their little dogs embracing the city culture, front lawn, no back yard pool, no long stretches of multi hour commutes back to suburbia, this is it, room service right at your front door to the pleasureland of all pleasurelands, some of these locals probably consider midtown more of high end piece of art or geological artifact from the future and here are myself and Huggins treating the place like as if we were throwing a clothes optional, open drugs and bar rave at the Louvre, just burn the joint down, punch threw walls, show no mercy, none shall be given, survival of the fittest at this point as the bartender sets down a couple of beers, Higgins inhales his and asks for another, life of a degenerate, here were are. My arm subconsciously reaches for a menu, Irish Breakfast, translation, greasy, white trash breakfast, oily, fatty, just right, kill this hangover, until the buzz settles in properly. Beer taps in front of me as some Enlish trasnplant goes on about the crappy food and service at this particular bar. He is tolerated, though not drinking, complaining of a severe wine hangover, well Higgins and I are still drinking. Higgins looks at him like a predator sizing up his prey, he does like him or his talk, the Englishman's mere presence has Higgins appearing if he might jump up, pull the guy's shirt over his head then whale on him hockey style and finish by throwning him threw the front window. I can sense this, so only option is to keep putting more beers in front of Higgins, mellow him out, he is hard to read, think he is okay then he has someone by the throat, ninja like, other times Higgins checks out and it looks like his return might be out of the picture, roasted, ready for the rubber room, yet somehow Higgins finds his way back to earth, not sure of his methods but style is up there with the best of them.

Sort of paying attention to my favorite soccer club team on tv, they are demolishing the other side so it gives me some time to wander in my mind, look about the place, nothing too impressive about the bar, just your run of the mill Irish movie look shit hole, plenty of booze but not many takers, the sober crowd, except for the few at the end of the bar who are hitting the whiskey and giving the Englishman a ton of shit, no one else is really paying attention to all the banter between these guys. Higgins orders a cheeseburger and when it arrived on the bar I was sure there was no way he would even be able to get more than two bites down, so off he went into food land, destraction set in once more as the Englishman continued on with his impromtu one man comedy act and for him, no one had bother to throw anything in his general direction so he was holding water, not that anyone really cared for the performance, the guy was about the equivalent of a jukebox playing the background his voice sort of faded after a few moments in the general noise of the tv's, street sounds, and general clatter heard in a bar.

Who knows how many beers Higgins had gulped down by now 8, 10, 14, who knew? That cheeseburger was toast, appeared to be a couple bite marks in the plate as well, a brief sort of flicker had return to Higgins eyes as if to say, "Let's get on with this day, you really too kill? Son, the is war, bodies will burn, cities explode, he looked at me and ask if I had ever seen the movie Cloverfield? "Sure." I replied, "We'll that is what Manhattan will look by the end of tonight. I could see it, Higgins, swatting away F-18's, missles fired, karate chopping the Chrysler building down with one hand, using the Statue of Liberty as a baseball bat, nothing was beyond his reach at the moment. He is a sea of burning napalm cresting over any port on land, no destination, hide all the virgins, sanctified, and innoncents, if not, they will all be transformed into his disciples. He collects souls, plasters his walls with them, an affeiciando of fine arts, lives his life accordingly. Experience shall not be cheapened, he brands victims, scars them like ebola virus.

This is what's called down time, no art galleries, trips to central park, statue of liberty, forget it, only bars, bars, bars. Early NFL playoffs don't start till 4pm, it's about 11am right now, the late game in English soccer is under way which shall last till about 1p, no worry as long as I drink, gonna pass out soon, planet earth, gone, in hyperspace now, only refuge. Higgins tells the Englishman to shut the fuck up so he can concentrate, on what exactly I am not sure, so at the moment it is all a waiting game, clubs are closed, women asleep, daylight tourists, laborers, and normal people rule the streets, don't get caught, we are exposed, obvious, amongst this mix, cops pull us right in and throw away the key, have to stay huddled down. Next thing I know we are walking the street in Midtown, traffic sounds, liberty, humans, old buildings, towers, surround us, one horse town, maybe, shelter, retreat for Moon Base Alpha. 2pm, passout on floor then out on balcony, 6pm, awaken to setting sun, music overmodulating, pull cover over my head, unforgiving sandpaper floor of balcony is rubbing away skin. Still not sane, maybe never again as we pull it together, walk back out into the world, sunglasses on in the evening, no one notices our exit, can't believe it, just usual NYC behavior, lifestlyes of the rich and famous, please, no more photos, the trails are killing me, autographs, sure, what? Yeah, that's my signature, looks like a fourth graders handwriting while on acid, yeah, so what's the problem?

Back to the Hockey Puck, outpost, the outside perimeter, high tower, catch the first flaming arrows and prepare for battle before the main legions arrive, no doubt Higgins and I are in rare combat action form, five empty barstools in either direction, close the place down, VIP, rope this area off for these two, wide birth, might contract some sort of terminal hallucinagenic disease if you stand too close, they look like wolves who have contracted rabies, mange, and flesh eating virus, as long as they drink, they will not go off, cover the building, lock down the block, send in the military, copters, tanks, high end firepower, get the nukes on standby. Nuke Manhattan Sir? What ever it takes! the Puck is not so crowded tonight, Sat. night most honest folk are in front of the television, no such luck for me, wired into this strange design, a cobra in a mink fur, deadly, exotic, high end, quick exit.

KGB/Red Army give glastnost another shot, not much left in the drug department, have lost narcotics again, hidden in something, decide to drink till we remember, a solid plan. Think I hid the rest of the drugs in the back of a cd case, have to remember which one. Saints/Cardinals, not much else, clubs don't open till 10p. Meet up with KGB intel to fill us in on our antics on Friday, scared them off but no such thing tonight, they have come prepared, Soviet HQ must have put the screws and batteries to them, saying such things as "You are geting close to what drives this American machine, we must have the inner most details, we need blueprints, have to win this race of arms into the 21st, the ultimate propaganda machine, don't leave anything out, down to body language or the most inaudible, incomprehensible dialouge, record everything, leave to us here at the Soviet think tank to make sense of it all. So here was KGB/Red Army at our doorstep once more, maybe against their initial will but after a bit of good old American brainwashing, they'll do whatever we tell them to do, it is all part of this global community, nothing more than lab rats in a maze, I know this, if only from my inferences, in too deep, drawing my own conclusions, Higgins knows, he never lets on, cool, insect cool, he could take over the world if he felt like, but still can't get pass the constant destire to ride on the fast track, Tron style, he is Tron, driving around that grid at light speed cutting off all the other drivers, slowing ascending through the Tetris like main CPU to tear the entire cyber network to shreds. He walks in small company, very few can stay at such an insane level without eventually turning into a lobotomized freak. These are dangers out here on the periphery,that's all there is, unknown at all sides, constants do not exist, twilight zone, doors of perception, fear is not an option, jet test pilots, moving through constellations, galaxies, paraell universes. This is our domain, interdimensional, do not follow, you will not return, evening turning back quickly will change your life forever. One night in Bangkok is nothing, one night on the fastrack with Higgins for the average person is a straight suicide trip.

Lower East Side, Soviet Intell is honking down the narco stash, have teleported into taxi heading to some club, lost in all the buildings, the new Mcmalls that have spread throughout the region, a virus, consumers must shop, no choice, this is their lot in life, to go work, get laid, get drunk, buy clothes, foods, and other usless things, nothing else, no real field work, takes a certain mind to get on that train. Whole Foods, Starbucks, and American Apparel are putting the neighborhood business concept to rest. Set up the funeral march, goodbye mother and father, you served us well, bodegas and clothing botiques, gone, internet rules, corporate sales rule, can you buy your goods from China? We can and sell them cheaper, go down to the docks, buy there, I get my shit shipped right to my front door, Megaopolis, take that Italian deli that has been in the hood for four generations and hit it with the recking ball, the youth of today have no room for tradition, it is only MORE, MORE, MORE, followed by NOW, NOW, NOW, all the rest is window dressing, tradition, HA, that's for old people and the ship called the United States sails off the edge of the world. Goodluck, ye old soulless nation, better start learning Chinese, take some internet lessons.

Harm myself much easier than others, yet sometimes my fallout leaves a radioactive residue, causing much pain, terminal cancer, distance from me, only cure, I make no qualms about this, sort of like that crying child on a plane, everyone else on the plane wondering why you would bring a newborn infant on a 15hr flight to listen to that kid crying the entire trip as the other passengers who as first laughed at the cute kid, now only wish the kid's rapid demise, same goes with my behavior, a tidal wave drowning all rational thought, wave after wave as the receding tide sucks everyone back in until complex algorythims become simplified and basic arthimatic evolves into unsolvable solutions. At club, Higgins, KGB, and Red Army all wiped clean, total information erase of hard drive intel, demagntized we say in the industry, defrag for repurposement later back at HQ, not so much for me, talking to a few hipster warm up DJ's, acquaintences online, Higgins, business as usual. I remember more tonight. Higgins special guest host for the club, introducing every available woman to the found stash of narcotics, no one denies his offering. Time does not exist, stepped outside, DJ in house, bringing those beats, sexy women shake their asses as would be male stalkers attempt to get their attention. Higgins has conformed most of hot women into his personal entourage by now, all too familiar, KGB has attracted a few guys, Red Army checked out on an inner mind mission, communication completely cutoff, no words, just slight body gestures, she is held up by her own will power. Music plays on through the night, engulfs club, time travelers on a mystic journey far from the cruise ships and prepackaged vacations.

We have liftoff, I am alone now, the three of them content to entertain themselves at the expense of frying some braincells. This has become the new frontier, the new high art, mental dissolution, hiding it from others at the workplace, secret agent, the general public can have their monthly or quarter yearly night out of alcoholic excess followed up with the ocassional line of coke, X tab, whatever, then it is straight back to reality, but for these people in the club tonight, they are harden vets who have turned their back on society, reality, and all the so called moral fibers that govern this nation. It is about exploration, man on the moon, dissecting the atom, and Bermuda Triangle, linear equations are out the door, too simple, give me something to fry my brain, discover that other 90 percent the scientist say we still don't use, well by the looks of everyone around me, they are using a great deal more than the 10 percent, this place has no more concrete surrounding, could walk right through the walls into who knows what. We are the astronauts of the mind, Star Trek, Jedi style, no turning back now, keeping this from becoming the main talk around the water cooler on a 9 to 5 job would seem impossible. "Did you see Bill last night, his damn arms turned snakes like Plasticman, did you see that woman's face melting, or those three women in the back having an orgy, topped off with, you know guys I finally understand, us, the world, and the universe, now only if I could remember what the hell I was thinking." Not sure any of that dialouge would result in anything but the firing of everyone on that building's floor, just too heavy, general public will not compute that sort of stuff, rather stick to the movie theater and tv, get a small glimpse through those channels, watching some dosed out clubber go so deep, checked out for so many hours, or spontaeously start dancing like some whacked Indian on Peyote, laying down dialouge that Einstein would find compelling, only results in HQ ordering an airstrike on the club, no need for that, burn down the crucible, for HQ it's like killing first new born, don't want to do it, but word of these experiments can never become public knowledge, who wants a society of drugged up dopers babbling government secrets without the slight coheresion, dangerous stuff, be afriad, so you won't hear much about these Think Tanks. " How was that club Jenny?" "Cool." "Really? Heard that place was goddam 60's acid test all over again. Jenny replies, " No, nothing but innuendo, tame, chill, wine sipping spot." "Hmm...." That is how agents are programmed the words just come out of their mouth, like Jenny for example. Being a chosen one is fun, but a hell of a lot of work and at the end of the day, completely denied by HQ and the powers that be, these sort of experiments do not exist, never have existed, never will exist, then Wooosh, all current agents, retired, like myself, done, deactivated, unpersoned back to the general population, this the only reason I can write this and get away with it, general public would not believe such crazy ideas, government generated, "Yeah right."Sucks for you, deactivated, we are going to get our hip hop, shot taking, and menthol party smoking on, holla!" End of Tape Part 2