tearing away sewn dissent
The late-night debauchery boiled down to deafening vibrations from PEAVY speakers and enticing skeeball machines that were seemingly stolen from a garbage heap. Heavy, loud cries to Operation Ivy, The Misfits, with Def Leppard videos playing on screens. "This so feels like Boston." raising pint of ale, drinks it, remembers the cold night of a woman falling and crashing, biking and falling.
"There was a plane crash in New York recently....sometime last September....have you heard of it?
The fear of things unfamiliar, pests not fathomed nor imagined. A dead cockroach brings the cute to their knees in perturbation. Calming education.....failed. Hit the pub, to the Boston bar, and finally a lounge from 2001 that plays Bauhaus in back of Devo. "i thought this was a downbeat gay bar at first."
Dreaded lingering, potluck finale of January stay. Greed of strangers, alms from friends; the livelihood of alcoholics changes with the weather. Hastening back home, the idea of danger seemed to soak up my will. As i reached the end of the park, i realize that the danger had been buried under the newly renovated facade of the school, the place of substitute legacy. Drek. Sauntering intoxication from the rowdy nest of turkeys congregate outside by the new red and greens shining on the pale white faces of the transients and locals. They mingle inside and out freely. just about closing time.
About to round the corner for the warmth of the linens:
Eye a white van with club music blaring form within
"Oh dude, that's the like, the party bus...or, the bang bus. Dude, check it out. whoa...look at that!"
Bang the head with a mallet or a sharpened piece of schist. Arrowhead or not, the shell should at least be packed with small boomerang razors. Tearing away sewn dissent.
"There was a plane crash in New York recently....sometime last September....have you heard of it?
The fear of things unfamiliar, pests not fathomed nor imagined. A dead cockroach brings the cute to their knees in perturbation. Calming education.....failed. Hit the pub, to the Boston bar, and finally a lounge from 2001 that plays Bauhaus in back of Devo. "i thought this was a downbeat gay bar at first."
Dreaded lingering, potluck finale of January stay. Greed of strangers, alms from friends; the livelihood of alcoholics changes with the weather. Hastening back home, the idea of danger seemed to soak up my will. As i reached the end of the park, i realize that the danger had been buried under the newly renovated facade of the school, the place of substitute legacy. Drek. Sauntering intoxication from the rowdy nest of turkeys congregate outside by the new red and greens shining on the pale white faces of the transients and locals. They mingle inside and out freely. just about closing time.
About to round the corner for the warmth of the linens:
Eye a white van with club music blaring form within
"Oh dude, that's the like, the party bus...or, the bang bus. Dude, check it out. whoa...look at that!"
Bang the head with a mallet or a sharpened piece of schist. Arrowhead or not, the shell should at least be packed with small boomerang razors. Tearing away sewn dissent.
posted by rada at 12:15 AM
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