All over my neighborhood there seems to a be a rash of thirty something guys who walk their little foofie dogs, you know the kind of dogs their girlfriend/wife/ boss tend to buy when they go out of town to nuture that lingering maternal instinct yet to be satisfied with their current male counterpart.
Everyday I see these guys on various forms of social stratification, yesterday there was the cool skinny alt rocker with the stringy hair, tattoos, and child size jeans taking the little pooch out for its afternoon piss break, another knob supported by the lady. There is also the overweight, ex jock, and the pretty boy band reject with the Backstreet Boys hairdo, all fallout from 2000, where their 20 something looks got them what they need without any thought, any effort, girls would go down on them, they did not need money or fame, just that little pubscent teen boy look, but now that era is over and these guys have no skills, education, or talent to support themselves, so now they lay up in the condo resort where I reside, these guys are everywhere, at least ten a day walking those little shit dogs around, I mean this a damn epidemic where I live, all sort of kiss asses who do not have a set on them, where are all the women at, probably the only ones employed. There is a couple who live across from me, have seen the girlfriend twice, but the guy always seems to be milling around, driving her car to where ever he spends his time during the day, possibly job hunting, more than likely heading over to some other woman's house to walk her dog inbetween bouts of sex, could also be participating in a collective male dog walking club while spending the day stoned. Ran into some guy while checking the mail one day who was from New Zealand, his wife happen to work at one of the local taverns I tend to frequent, did not want to know who she was, cause this guy looked like his family fucked each other for at least since the beginning of human evolution, possibly mom drank during her pregnancy, anyway, most of the women who work at the bar are a fair bit attract, so I could not understand how this jagged tooth, missing link replica, tenth generation inbred could possibly make any head way with a cocktail waitress, but there he was taking poochie out for a quick shit, of which very few people in my neighborhood bother to pick up, unless you catch them, then they seize up like a bolt of lighting hit them, running toward the nearest plastic poop bag dispenser of which there are scores of them throughout the subdivision, wrapping up that turd like a chirstmas present, yet most go undetected so I have to walk around turd after turd to check the mail, kicking the dry ones out into the street.
I have no problem with the dog crap, just these weak bitch ass guys who bend over backwards for their women, role reversal has hit the 21st century, now hubby can stay home, feed the kids, change the diapers, walk the dog, and become Mr. Mom. Secondly, those small little dogs like the ones you see Paris Hilton trying to stuff up snatch are typically the most annoying, paranoid, and obnoxious dogs of all, but this does not deter their popularity, maybe it has to do with all the bubblehead twenty something women of reality television who are constantly seen strolling to restuarants, airports, and red carpet premieres with their tiny rat looking dogs, so why not follow the trends, out go the masses of women purchasing these so called exotic dogs, could be cats as well. When I see a guy walking one of these small dogs, I know he is whipped, has reached way above his level in getting a woman and will do anything to hold on, money, sex, her good looks, and the ability to brag to friends, most men today have no sack anymore, complete slaves to the will of their girlfriends, not even a give and take, more like sure I'll go pick up some dogshit, while you go rub on cocks at the local strip club, just as long as I don't have to get a job and can lay up, work on my writing, and be an artist, it takes time baby to write that Great American Novel, screenplay, or whatever other load of shit these douchebags have made themselves believe to avoid the failure looming in reality all around them. Total twats, when you see them out in your neighborhood let them know, expose the male dog walker legion, trying to hide behind the scenes, this dark little secret of cutting off the balls for the illusion of security, a facade crumbling into fine dust.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The Cretins of Karen Ave
Nothing out of the ordinary to a man wearing sunglasses and sombereo walking down Karen Ave at 5 in the morning or the senile old man crusing the midnight streets in search of lost memories. The cops seem to have either hit or miss attitude to the street. Sounds of angry husbands beating on their wives during a backyard barbeque echo from the nearby apartment complexes, reminds me of the old days as a child when I lived in such rundown locations, full of broken homes and adults who spent more time getting high than paying attention to their kids. This particular moment was no exception, just an act of violence that is all too ready accepted in such places, the old school beat down shouting match, no cops around to stop this one so the hostilty continues, as small children munch on hot dogs and hamburgers never really understanding that this type of behavior was anything less than normal in the general public. Other nights, there will be a ten car squad staked out on every corner, looking to flush some fugitive out from the catacombs of apartment complexes that make up a large vacinity of the Karen Ave gauntlet. The street that leads to one of the entrances to where I live has been, barred, gated, and made impassible, not sure of the reason, maybe to keep random fools from driving at high rates of speed through the guard gates, the barrier has been there as long as I remember.
No one really appears to care about the nightcrawling transsexuals up the street who use the Las Vegas Lounge as their homebase to ply sex trade to the conga line of vehicles that drive through the small strip mall on any given night. At times, it looks like a freak show car wash, as the ladies gyrate, intice, and expose skin to help drive customer traffic to the little one lane entrance where a small cluster of trannies wait for curious johns to pick them up in tinted window cars. A few of the ladies will take the walk down Karen Ave toward the Hilton hotel, maybe to go home, like throwing a chum line of blood and guts out into shark infested waters. The police drive right by the entire lot of them with no desire to inquire what all these trannies are hanging around looking to be solicting themselves. So much for cracking down on prostitution, maybe there is some sort of prearranged agreement between the trannies, the Las Vegas Lounge, and metro, what the common thread may be is beyond me, but drive past on any weekend night, jeez, any night after dark and the party will be well under way. At other times, the cops pull almost anyone over regardless of the time of day, most of those pulled over will be out of the car, against the hood in cuffs, the woman might be sitting on the sidewalk or in bracelets herself.
There does not seem to be any consistancy of letting this stretch of Karen Ave become totally lawless or overly patrolled, flashing lights can occur at any moment and just the same the street can transformed into sexual solicitation extravaganza. Plenty of characters passby, massive overweight woman in a two piece bikini, junkies dressed in black on a summer afternoon slowly withdrawing from their last and possibly final fix. The dawn patrol makes the rounds now that the weather is nicer, usually women who will do anything for a negotiable price, they linger like shadows in the bush ocassionally revealing themselves to passing cars like a cat with the mange looking for a home, but different things turn on different people, a market for everything exists in this town with this street, a microcosm of low grade indulgence at affordable prices where pleasure is a boardsword containing a bookend edge of STD's. Danger exists here but it is packaged in such a disgustingly base way, like a Francis Bacon painting, a John Waters movie, or song by Tool. Filth,need, disfigurement, and imperfection which may be the driving forces to the large amount of middle aged men cruising these streets as I pass by on my way home after working out at the gym. Fleets of high priced luxury sedan sailing in like ships in the night, discreet, with detection, stealth perverts who have crossed so many lines in their lives that doing drive bys on transsexual hookers seems like sunday church. This is my neighborhood, no children play here, only adults with a strong sense of release endorphines in their body, crack, smack, and sex are the invisible forces that drive this hurricane circling Karen Ave where boarded up half burnt down apartment buildings are home for scores of squatters who brave the hundred plus degree temperatures throughout the day, ten foot fences keep them in, the grass is dead, trees fallen over, long alleyways leading into eternal darkness where anything is available, but only for those resigned to the horrors that call those paths their home.
No one really appears to care about the nightcrawling transsexuals up the street who use the Las Vegas Lounge as their homebase to ply sex trade to the conga line of vehicles that drive through the small strip mall on any given night. At times, it looks like a freak show car wash, as the ladies gyrate, intice, and expose skin to help drive customer traffic to the little one lane entrance where a small cluster of trannies wait for curious johns to pick them up in tinted window cars. A few of the ladies will take the walk down Karen Ave toward the Hilton hotel, maybe to go home, like throwing a chum line of blood and guts out into shark infested waters. The police drive right by the entire lot of them with no desire to inquire what all these trannies are hanging around looking to be solicting themselves. So much for cracking down on prostitution, maybe there is some sort of prearranged agreement between the trannies, the Las Vegas Lounge, and metro, what the common thread may be is beyond me, but drive past on any weekend night, jeez, any night after dark and the party will be well under way. At other times, the cops pull almost anyone over regardless of the time of day, most of those pulled over will be out of the car, against the hood in cuffs, the woman might be sitting on the sidewalk or in bracelets herself.
There does not seem to be any consistancy of letting this stretch of Karen Ave become totally lawless or overly patrolled, flashing lights can occur at any moment and just the same the street can transformed into sexual solicitation extravaganza. Plenty of characters passby, massive overweight woman in a two piece bikini, junkies dressed in black on a summer afternoon slowly withdrawing from their last and possibly final fix. The dawn patrol makes the rounds now that the weather is nicer, usually women who will do anything for a negotiable price, they linger like shadows in the bush ocassionally revealing themselves to passing cars like a cat with the mange looking for a home, but different things turn on different people, a market for everything exists in this town with this street, a microcosm of low grade indulgence at affordable prices where pleasure is a boardsword containing a bookend edge of STD's. Danger exists here but it is packaged in such a disgustingly base way, like a Francis Bacon painting, a John Waters movie, or song by Tool. Filth,need, disfigurement, and imperfection which may be the driving forces to the large amount of middle aged men cruising these streets as I pass by on my way home after working out at the gym. Fleets of high priced luxury sedan sailing in like ships in the night, discreet, with detection, stealth perverts who have crossed so many lines in their lives that doing drive bys on transsexual hookers seems like sunday church. This is my neighborhood, no children play here, only adults with a strong sense of release endorphines in their body, crack, smack, and sex are the invisible forces that drive this hurricane circling Karen Ave where boarded up half burnt down apartment buildings are home for scores of squatters who brave the hundred plus degree temperatures throughout the day, ten foot fences keep them in, the grass is dead, trees fallen over, long alleyways leading into eternal darkness where anything is available, but only for those resigned to the horrors that call those paths their home.
The Motherland
The Stone Roses played on the jukebox at 4:30am, someone had noticed I was wearing a Stone Roses shirt and dragged me over to a larger group of English blokes who were probabaly in their early to mid fourties like myself, no one could believe the sight, especially some yank who looked like he had not slept in some time who appreciated acid house music, much praised was offered up, even seventy bucks for the shirt, but I had already been teleported back to the late eighties while a tidal wave of Charlatans UK Spronston Green reverberated in my head, I heard that on the jukebox and had to inquire who the hell would play such a track at this early morning hour, of course it was this crew of middle age thugs who happen to be on their tenth or fourteenth round of drinks at the moment and they had maybe been at the pub for no more than an hour or so. This was to be the first wave in many, a sort of reverse storming of the beaches at Normandy, here came the English, many tourists who some how got wind of The Crown and Anchor being the place for where all British had as much equal privledge as the rest of the territories under the monarchy of England. By the minutes fresh reinforcements entered the front door and within no time the chants of God Save the Queen could be heard echoing throughout the entire pub and it is only 5am. World Cup soccer, the reason everyone is here this morning, England is playing Germany, which basically equates WWIII, as far as the British and Americans are concerned who have congregated for the match which starts at 7a, only 5a now, have been here for 2 hours already, had to get a good spot cause by the time the game starts, it will be elbow to elbow full of surley football fans who are bent on getting as wasted as possible in some primitive ritualistic idea that will help propel the English national team to victory.
Scores of Brits continue to arrive, I turn around and a couple college friends happen to be in the building which is cool considering they are usually in marriage lockdown, complete surprize, adds to overall mood of insanity developing now that these guys are double fisting beers at such an early hour as they did so many years ago. The bartenders are going mad, must tip them heavily, even though I am quite a regular, have to appreciate the hustle, beers going out twenty at a time, plastic cups now to insure the medivac stays at the hospital, glass would only incite fights, hostility, and a general sense of eye for an eye, so the plastic cups stay. The old geezers in the back are keeping the acid house tracks in full effect, the place is shoulder to shoulder now, odd strangers handing me beers, just keep drinking, gave someone sixty bucks for beers a while back, that is gone, nothing but our small tribe gathered, college days all over again, brits on all sides begin singing again, almost like in a greek chorus, seeking blood, searching for answers , for redemption, for the invisible ancestors who live amongst us that weigh judgements on our overall desire to seek an audience with the ominscient, Dues ex Machina.
There are a few German fans and the English are giving it to them properly, yet these German are pretty wasted, feeling good about their team's chances on the match today. Shirts have come off, too bad it is only the guys, there are a few woman, one behind me with dyed magenta hair raidating the lucid cool of a person who has seen one too many Katy Perry videos, but who cares, she is bugging me for Charlie, like a hungry underfed buzzard, lurking over my shoulder, desiring satisfaction, maybe at half time of the game, move now and lose your spot forever, crowd surfing is underway, arm in arm, people more wasted than me sing songs of the homeland, bringing a sense of life in England to Las Vegas today, constant drinking, not giving a fuck, and vicious loyality to an outdated belief in an empire that has long since its glory days pass by. Still this did not stop the red shirted and white jerseryed fans of the English national team from beating on the bar, pouring drinks on their heads, and breaking out into spontaneous song, the comraderie this morning is something you'll never see in America, random strangers with a sense of national purpose who were not in anyway uptight about having a good time, making an ass out of themselves, to be highlighted with the ocassional trip to the toilet to throw up, cigarettes, plastic cups filled with water serving as ashtrays, a party has broken out, must talk to more people, get the lowdown, it is casual just start talking, been eating pills all morning, sandwhiched with some Charlie, hooked up a few of the Brits who are always happy to snort a bit down, loosen up the motor a bit, get in the proper mood, nothing but chants now as the teams walk out onto the pitch as the English national anthem comes on, God Save the Queen as flags swing to and fro, there is anticipation, a manic swell looking to crash on this crowd the second the game starts, this is what the World Cup is all about as I sit back and absorb the hysteria of this battlion at the gates awaiting the call to battle.
Scores of Brits continue to arrive, I turn around and a couple college friends happen to be in the building which is cool considering they are usually in marriage lockdown, complete surprize, adds to overall mood of insanity developing now that these guys are double fisting beers at such an early hour as they did so many years ago. The bartenders are going mad, must tip them heavily, even though I am quite a regular, have to appreciate the hustle, beers going out twenty at a time, plastic cups now to insure the medivac stays at the hospital, glass would only incite fights, hostility, and a general sense of eye for an eye, so the plastic cups stay. The old geezers in the back are keeping the acid house tracks in full effect, the place is shoulder to shoulder now, odd strangers handing me beers, just keep drinking, gave someone sixty bucks for beers a while back, that is gone, nothing but our small tribe gathered, college days all over again, brits on all sides begin singing again, almost like in a greek chorus, seeking blood, searching for answers , for redemption, for the invisible ancestors who live amongst us that weigh judgements on our overall desire to seek an audience with the ominscient, Dues ex Machina.
There are a few German fans and the English are giving it to them properly, yet these German are pretty wasted, feeling good about their team's chances on the match today. Shirts have come off, too bad it is only the guys, there are a few woman, one behind me with dyed magenta hair raidating the lucid cool of a person who has seen one too many Katy Perry videos, but who cares, she is bugging me for Charlie, like a hungry underfed buzzard, lurking over my shoulder, desiring satisfaction, maybe at half time of the game, move now and lose your spot forever, crowd surfing is underway, arm in arm, people more wasted than me sing songs of the homeland, bringing a sense of life in England to Las Vegas today, constant drinking, not giving a fuck, and vicious loyality to an outdated belief in an empire that has long since its glory days pass by. Still this did not stop the red shirted and white jerseryed fans of the English national team from beating on the bar, pouring drinks on their heads, and breaking out into spontaneous song, the comraderie this morning is something you'll never see in America, random strangers with a sense of national purpose who were not in anyway uptight about having a good time, making an ass out of themselves, to be highlighted with the ocassional trip to the toilet to throw up, cigarettes, plastic cups filled with water serving as ashtrays, a party has broken out, must talk to more people, get the lowdown, it is casual just start talking, been eating pills all morning, sandwhiched with some Charlie, hooked up a few of the Brits who are always happy to snort a bit down, loosen up the motor a bit, get in the proper mood, nothing but chants now as the teams walk out onto the pitch as the English national anthem comes on, God Save the Queen as flags swing to and fro, there is anticipation, a manic swell looking to crash on this crowd the second the game starts, this is what the World Cup is all about as I sit back and absorb the hysteria of this battlion at the gates awaiting the call to battle.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Great Fake Society
The new age artist, their billboard Emergency Artist plastered on the wall of the new artist colony across the street, maybe the state of creation is on life support, cause the only thing I see tonight at this so call hipster bar is bunch of people who shop to look cool and learn enough to make others believe their individuality is a microcosm of substance in their words and behavior, from which nothing can be further from the truth, pour me another overpriced five dollar microbrew and wonder about the miracles of idealism bookended with the reality of being in a shitty job, unemployed, and or maxed out on credit. There is movement tonight even with the overplayed recycled eight generation indie rock playing on the jukebox at the moment, everyone here is waiting to die, in their own manner of course, sure, I am doing the same it seems, as the bartender in her sleeved tattooed arm serves me another beer, she could have easily just have been some arm trophy of a white collar slave while shaking her tits at one of the many local hotel ultra pools on the weekend, but not to pick on women, the guys here too, look like urban cowboys and poster children from the diluge of punk rock kids who live through Urban Outfitters and light socialist literature, blinded, the entire lot, who survive on more than I could ever wish for, even though I have more, it bugs me, does not make me feel complete, probably less than that, a tide receeding, forgetting, human nature, instinct, found cause, the real raw material not to be ignored.
This is what there is not enough of in the world right now, the just cause, the absolute answer no one wants to comprehend or acknowledge, the party was too much fun, please do not let it end, keep pumping me full of things, ideas, and dreams void of substance, wisdom is obsolete, littering the street in large piles like cow shit, fertiliziing abstract ideas that blossom in grotesque thorn like plants with beautiful petals but are sharp to the touch so everyone stays away. The delicate blossoms are gifts with no takers, only a few who ramble the streets beyond comprehension, speaking in tongues of the future, the edge walkers who have already made sense of the 22nd century, but who wants to listen, much easier to sit at a bar and talk amongst like minded people no matter how cool the crowd seems, cooler the crowd, deeper the meaning, right? Sure, that is what the clever children of alternative america want you to think, at the base they are still the outcasts that turned around and made their own status quo, only to annhilate everyone else, so what is the point, dissolve slowly, praise the next hip thing, disdain the next thing that is a bit too close to the point at exposing them for their obvious middle class traits, different wrapping, same results, like a christmas present wrapped in toilet paper, still a turd under all that packaging.
This is what there is not enough of in the world right now, the just cause, the absolute answer no one wants to comprehend or acknowledge, the party was too much fun, please do not let it end, keep pumping me full of things, ideas, and dreams void of substance, wisdom is obsolete, littering the street in large piles like cow shit, fertiliziing abstract ideas that blossom in grotesque thorn like plants with beautiful petals but are sharp to the touch so everyone stays away. The delicate blossoms are gifts with no takers, only a few who ramble the streets beyond comprehension, speaking in tongues of the future, the edge walkers who have already made sense of the 22nd century, but who wants to listen, much easier to sit at a bar and talk amongst like minded people no matter how cool the crowd seems, cooler the crowd, deeper the meaning, right? Sure, that is what the clever children of alternative america want you to think, at the base they are still the outcasts that turned around and made their own status quo, only to annhilate everyone else, so what is the point, dissolve slowly, praise the next hip thing, disdain the next thing that is a bit too close to the point at exposing them for their obvious middle class traits, different wrapping, same results, like a christmas present wrapped in toilet paper, still a turd under all that packaging.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Where Did All the Thin People Go?
Spent sometime recently attempting to count all the thin people who walked passed me or were in my field of vision throughout the day. The number was not that great, in fact while eating a small piece of baked eel, a large lunch time crowd had gathered at the local food court inside the Venetian where the weekend tourists had decended from the skies of debauchery to continue their gluttonous ways at the fast food sector of the hotel. I have decreased my consumption quite dramatically over the past few months, just because I am getting older, cant carry the weight, and have used this opportunity to look at my surroundings a little bit different, to realize how sucked in and used up the entire nation of the United States has become, victim to an overdriven need to consume, it sits on all the guts of everyone sitting around me, even the young guys and girls in their 20's are over weight, chomping down on greasy burgers, fries, washed down with a soft drink, where an hour later they are standing in line by the throngs to get into Tao Beach where advertisements for Tao Beach of young slender model like women having a good time in the place are plastered throughout the casino, reality tells such a different story, I am sure there are a fair cross section of good looking people, but the masses must be there as well to worship those who don't eat, do drugs, and still find time to workout.
While watching the USA soccer match in front of an adult slurpee shop, frozen alcohol drink place, I observe about twenty people buy oversized plastic tubes of frozen drinks, completely normal, calm, not out of place, go for more, excess to success, but in this post excess world where the economy is in decline and job opportunities constricting, it seems very weird that people will not or cannot stop indulging themselves in all sorts of consuming behaviors, the bill is due, no one cares, the fat has been put on like a second skin, it will not come off or dissapear, an ugly reminder of brainwashing, of accepting the concept of the fourth meal, and 24 fast food restuarants, the fridgerator, buffets, and cater meals, something I deal with all the time in my business, all to easy to head over to the free meal, load up on a couple plates, three times a day, like a prisoner, watching all these stagehands around me at work today who are all overweight, relish in the ability to get free meals on the job, now they can spend their money on drugs and booze or whatever, internet porn, comic books or strip clubs. The stagehands leave their residue of McDonalds packaging on a table in the back with a smattering of half empty sport drinks and coffee cups. This is their grand painting, their life work on one table, sitting in line waiting for slow death to be served to them, no escape, sign the contract then get out there and feed, all else means nothing, forget higher thoughts, politics, and all the other savvy bullshit you talk to each other about grinding the hours away, the hog pin is closed, soon comes the slaughter, I'll be watching.
While watching the USA soccer match in front of an adult slurpee shop, frozen alcohol drink place, I observe about twenty people buy oversized plastic tubes of frozen drinks, completely normal, calm, not out of place, go for more, excess to success, but in this post excess world where the economy is in decline and job opportunities constricting, it seems very weird that people will not or cannot stop indulging themselves in all sorts of consuming behaviors, the bill is due, no one cares, the fat has been put on like a second skin, it will not come off or dissapear, an ugly reminder of brainwashing, of accepting the concept of the fourth meal, and 24 fast food restuarants, the fridgerator, buffets, and cater meals, something I deal with all the time in my business, all to easy to head over to the free meal, load up on a couple plates, three times a day, like a prisoner, watching all these stagehands around me at work today who are all overweight, relish in the ability to get free meals on the job, now they can spend their money on drugs and booze or whatever, internet porn, comic books or strip clubs. The stagehands leave their residue of McDonalds packaging on a table in the back with a smattering of half empty sport drinks and coffee cups. This is their grand painting, their life work on one table, sitting in line waiting for slow death to be served to them, no escape, sign the contract then get out there and feed, all else means nothing, forget higher thoughts, politics, and all the other savvy bullshit you talk to each other about grinding the hours away, the hog pin is closed, soon comes the slaughter, I'll be watching.
Getting Around in the Summer Heat
I like to drive without A/C Unit on during the summer, of course if there is someone else riding along in the car I will turn it on, but for myself, it really does not matter, reminds of all the cars previously owned that did not have air conditioning or moreover the fact there was not enough money and personal income to afford such a luxury. A luxury, not too most who have to commute to work in the midday Las Vegas traffic where the temperatures can reach 115, but there are a section of people in Las Vegas who do not own cars, they have to walk everywhere no matter what time of day, right in the midst of the sweltering heat, people develop their own dance, their own flow, a delerious pace where heat exhaustion and sunstroke set in, but what relief is there, maybe a big giant Pepsi or Slurpee, for the more harden types nothing beats a cold tall boy of beer, maybe two, shit why not an entire 18 pack, just like some of the locals the other day, some pisans who were finishing up lunch at one of the more regional mexican restuarants in the city, by regional, I mean, you mostly get people from a certain Mexican state who eat there cause the food is made by people from the region, just like home, who would not like that, I like the place as well, can rap some Spanish, hangout, place is call El Alacran de Durango, it's off of Valley View between Flamingo and Spring Mountain, same shopping center as Green Valley Grocery, anyway, the pisans have the 18 pack with them as they head back out to the portable car wash outfit located off to the side of the Alacran, sipping away on beers as they detail a fleet of automobiles, no one is shocked or concerned about the quality of work due the flowing beers, it is just part of the deal, a deal I can get behind.
Drove through Twain and Sands today, where not too many people have cars, there is a man who has long since lost the battle with cheap local drugs who is manuevering in sort of a slow motion halfback/pinball carefully plotting each step to stay clear of other pedestrians, he waves to me as he passes temporarily stepping out of character as if to let me know, hey, I see you get all this, pretty crazy shit, glad you understand this, now go out and share it. Across the street there is a guy on the phone, holding it in a manner when one talks to another on speaker phone, ala Star Trek style, like a walkie talkie, his other hand has a large plastic Mountain Dew, he strolls along in a semi pimp walk with his long with t shirt and khaki shorts, the weather has him knocked a few pegs as he screeches to a halt at the crosswalk barely alert enough to see the oncoming traffic intersecting in front of him. A family is walking with their young baby in a stroller who is cover with a light white blanket, it has to be a challenge to get everyone around without some sort of major bit of frustration developing, from making sure the baby is cool enough, not hungry, hydrated, to pushing the stroller around in the sun, I imagine things could get frustrating, no car, no dependable public transportation, the lucky ones ride around on bikes to get to their destinations a lot faster but for most around these parts, they are not so fortunate, just have to start walking and get over the heat, the large amount of insane people walking the neighborhood around you who might have lost all their sense from being out in the sun too long, dodging the drunks and the addicts up against the liquor store walls hiding from the sun with cheap alcohol in hand, a liquor store where the counter is covered wall to wall in two inch thick Lexan glass, the bulletproof shit, how do I know this, went in a while back to buy some zags, that place looked more fortified than most banks, but doing business in that area, those types of measures seem mandatory. So as the hot breeze blows my hair into a bigger fro and dries the skin on my face, I am not really bothered, especially after spending decades of my younger life like all the people mentioned above, journey to the sun, the sun never loses the battle, today I sat in an air conditioned hotel, made some money, and spent the day relatively comfortable, so driving around without A/C is not much of an inconvenience and moreover reminds me of how so many people get by on nothing, something I need to rediscover. Later
Drove through Twain and Sands today, where not too many people have cars, there is a man who has long since lost the battle with cheap local drugs who is manuevering in sort of a slow motion halfback/pinball carefully plotting each step to stay clear of other pedestrians, he waves to me as he passes temporarily stepping out of character as if to let me know, hey, I see you get all this, pretty crazy shit, glad you understand this, now go out and share it. Across the street there is a guy on the phone, holding it in a manner when one talks to another on speaker phone, ala Star Trek style, like a walkie talkie, his other hand has a large plastic Mountain Dew, he strolls along in a semi pimp walk with his long with t shirt and khaki shorts, the weather has him knocked a few pegs as he screeches to a halt at the crosswalk barely alert enough to see the oncoming traffic intersecting in front of him. A family is walking with their young baby in a stroller who is cover with a light white blanket, it has to be a challenge to get everyone around without some sort of major bit of frustration developing, from making sure the baby is cool enough, not hungry, hydrated, to pushing the stroller around in the sun, I imagine things could get frustrating, no car, no dependable public transportation, the lucky ones ride around on bikes to get to their destinations a lot faster but for most around these parts, they are not so fortunate, just have to start walking and get over the heat, the large amount of insane people walking the neighborhood around you who might have lost all their sense from being out in the sun too long, dodging the drunks and the addicts up against the liquor store walls hiding from the sun with cheap alcohol in hand, a liquor store where the counter is covered wall to wall in two inch thick Lexan glass, the bulletproof shit, how do I know this, went in a while back to buy some zags, that place looked more fortified than most banks, but doing business in that area, those types of measures seem mandatory. So as the hot breeze blows my hair into a bigger fro and dries the skin on my face, I am not really bothered, especially after spending decades of my younger life like all the people mentioned above, journey to the sun, the sun never loses the battle, today I sat in an air conditioned hotel, made some money, and spent the day relatively comfortable, so driving around without A/C is not much of an inconvenience and moreover reminds me of how so many people get by on nothing, something I need to rediscover. Later
Friday, June 25, 2010
On The Take
There are those who will sell you an agenda over and over again for their personal benefit, as long as the same sucker buys into some potential possibility, the repetition of the con will continue. I have a friend who has been trying to dupe me on a bill of goods he has no leverage to deliver, some long drunken circus ringleader who steps up into the singular spotlight clutching a bottle of rye whiskey long ago over romanced on well rehearsed words looping through his brain on auto repeat. Everytime this person gets his wives friends around he drudges up some great scheme to get me all excited about the possibility of screwing either one of his wives friends. A story which I reluctantly bought into a few years ago resulting in a series of trips out of town to party with my friends and his harem of whores who only pretended to be loose when in fact, my only purpose their was to serve as drug conduit, my friend is in on it, he probably would not admit it, but the obviousness wreeks in perverse acknowledgement on his part. Today would be a great example for some reason, I got conned into being party to a Las Vegas weekend getaway where I would cough up some flier miles to get one of my friends sexpot bitches out. I have already gone through the paces with this leech, this opportunist, this user, the classic manipulator, via multiple trips back east, this woman has such an over inflated self perception it is surprizing her head has not flown away.
After relcutantly agreeing to getting the leech out to Vegas, I decided no more, they could figure out whatever else they might need here and if they wanted any narcotics or favors they would have to pay retail. Once the word got out that I was cutting them off, this was about the time when the routine started up again. The routine consists of my friend calling or texting, probably half drunk, more than likely drunk, talking about how his wife's friends are running around in little booty shorts, how he is getting them all worked up about the trip, it is going to be a fucking orgy when the girls come out, on and on. Next, are the little phone pixs that look like cold war era teen pornography, not too flattering, nothing to really get me excited about them coming out in the first place to the point where I would rather not be part of any of the bullshit at all, by why let's this deliberate attempt to scam me, slow me down, the fact they collude to do this over and over again pisses me off, so now they are cut off, fend for themselves, makes me feel much better, this will make the Fourth of July weekend all the more enjoyable, so now I do indeed have something to look forward to beside the next of overhyped phone texts telling me how my friend is in a heated foursome with all the women, sure, more bullshit, retread information, why bother when I can go out on a weekday in Vegas with more chance of getting laid then with any of my friend's female acquaintences, gotta love Vegas just for that one thing.
After relcutantly agreeing to getting the leech out to Vegas, I decided no more, they could figure out whatever else they might need here and if they wanted any narcotics or favors they would have to pay retail. Once the word got out that I was cutting them off, this was about the time when the routine started up again. The routine consists of my friend calling or texting, probably half drunk, more than likely drunk, talking about how his wife's friends are running around in little booty shorts, how he is getting them all worked up about the trip, it is going to be a fucking orgy when the girls come out, on and on. Next, are the little phone pixs that look like cold war era teen pornography, not too flattering, nothing to really get me excited about them coming out in the first place to the point where I would rather not be part of any of the bullshit at all, by why let's this deliberate attempt to scam me, slow me down, the fact they collude to do this over and over again pisses me off, so now they are cut off, fend for themselves, makes me feel much better, this will make the Fourth of July weekend all the more enjoyable, so now I do indeed have something to look forward to beside the next of overhyped phone texts telling me how my friend is in a heated foursome with all the women, sure, more bullshit, retread information, why bother when I can go out on a weekday in Vegas with more chance of getting laid then with any of my friend's female acquaintences, gotta love Vegas just for that one thing.
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