Say it loud, say it plowed. So sayeth the two-day bachelor. My head hurts and Racer 5 ain't healing, but Fran Lebowitz is. Scorcese directs Franny in an HBO special and this place ain't so lonely, cuz Public Speaking tells it like it done is. No democracy in the arts and stop oozing self-esteem because you draw breath and second-hand smoke as killer is a lie. Let the Jewish woman speak. I don't know why an androgynous 60-year old crone speaks more truth to me than all the white men in Piedmont, but there it be. Drake's Jolly Roger is an 8% monster to seek in local pubs, friend, so get out of that musty, ironically named living room and enter the ether. Buy local and get plastered on your neighbors' righteous brew. I sold sixty records to the local shop for 250 buckos and 16 more to Amoeba for 12 solid in trade. I wandered around the hallowed rows of the Telegraph staple and felt the emptiness swell inside, quelled barely by two Raleigh's Green Flashes and a bacon cheese chicken sandwich, so named as such. Bartenders so svelte and young and dumb the cold sore on my lip almost cracked their toothy grins. Doesn't a used Gene Clark record count for anything in this town? I scared off a potential mugger with a growl- can't I get an amen old man for that? Two days ago I left the gentle confines of Oaktown, CA through the Webster tube to purchase a turntable from new bud Michael V from craigslist, whose home address was really a Subway sandwich shop (oh sandwich motif I need you doctor) and I reparked the car and opened the door and boom that door got smacked because city planning is an art in which Alameda city planners are not versed and now both our vehicles are shop bound and after two middle-aged dudes are trying their civil best not to throw down on the street corner I'm handing five twenties to a nervous Chinese guy in the Subway sandwich shop parking lot for a turntable that comes so he tells me with manual and I'm driving home with the wind tickling my side through the hole in my door and wondering whether dignity is just another fabricated notion like god.
2 comments:
Go cat, go. Love the Beat stream of consciousness. Sorry to hear what happened to your car. That's a crime. Also sorry to hear about your LACK OF FAITH.
I thought of you last w/e when both of my daughters were baptized and became SOLDIERS OF CHRIST. My half jewish friend the Ruehler was a godfather. I told the priest R was a baptist and Father believed it! Imagine. Then again the priest was 86 and hard of hearing.
There will be a period of time when I am free for an Oakland romp. Are you around in Dec, Mr Non-believer?
yea, sure, just let me know availability, etc.
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