gallas13

you tossed a blanket from the bed
you lay upon your back, and waited;
you dozed, and watched the night revealing
the thousand sordid images
of which your soul was constituted;
they flickered against the ceiling.
and when all the world came back
and the light crept up between the shutters
and you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
you had such a vision of the street
as the street hardly understands;
sitting along the bed's edge, where
you curled the papers from your hair,
or clasped the yellow soles of feet
in the palms of both soiled hands.
from preludes
t.s. eliot

tall tale i.
a foreward: you can imagine what something like the superbowl of hardcore would entail. loud music. sweaty men. its not entirely clear to me that any of them had ever kissed a girl before. wait, i retract that statement. the irony is that based on title and descriptives alone, my leather bottom roommate might have actually trekked out to the depths of brooklyn to see what all the fuss was about. sadly the eagle is the last place a young hot stud can find the kind of hardcore hes talking about. anyway, the night before we met up with the kids at manitobas to relive the good old days (an aside, but has anyone noticed how much bling dick is wearing these days? i love the man, but when did he become some sort of balding middle aged. . .well, i should stop myself right there before i offend any of his relations. not that theyd be reading this, but one never knows. . .). the missus knew everyone it always feels good to be in the presence of the missus in these situations. on the one hand id like to think her old crew sees me as a bullwhip a scrawny kid that could bite through a nail. especially when you consider the gladiators shes dated in the past. but my gut tells me everyone says, meh. shes in that date-the-geek phase. i can live with that.

the event: inasmuch as they existed we were v.i.p.s. or something like that. are there v.i.ps for punk shows now? a sign of the times i suppose; even the hells angels are cashing in. there were any number of tribes from all around the country everyone bashing into each other like furious little bees in a hive. it was a sight to see, and made me pine away for days when i cared to bounce around furiously. as a friend of mine now says when hes bumped into, hey ive got a cocktail here (thick donnie brasco accent to be added for emphasis).

epilogue: it was good to see chelsea-that-lives-in-chelsea-but-Im-not-gay-dominick. one feels vindicated no thats not the word legitimized when entering a polish mafia run club, and has his rough-and-tumble polish friends there in attendance. his woman was there somewhere he claimed, although i saw absolutely nothing wrong with the young german woman to whom he was talking. she was entirely bangable, as the kids say. we had a few stiff adult bevvys afterwards, and tommy (not my schizophrenic twin, but florida tommy) grabbed my nuts. it was terribly unpleasant.

later that night tommy told me that were i to ever break up with the missus he and his band of miscreants would find me, hold me down, and take off each pinky finger. joint. by. joint. he also said that I had the choice of a cigar cutter or a ball peen hammer. i have no friends like this.

define loyalty.

tall tale ii.
last night justone had that look in his eyes, and so i just asked him straight out, are you stoned? why do you ask? he replied. well, because you look like you know something I dont know, says i. maybe i *do* know something you dont know, says he. indeed.

justone and i are to see the locust play in a few days.

tall tale iii.
last night i dreamt i was, ehem, manually stimulating my friend ######. oh hell, her name is ingrid. what does she care if i dreamt that? anyway, we were taking care of business as it were on a putt putt green back in georgia, and she was eating a soft serve ice cream cone - the vanilla kind with sprinkles like you get from mister softee - while i rather clumsily rubbed her clitoris (dreams often imitate reality im afraid). her vagina was fleshy and wet almost like one of those fake ones at babes in toyland. it was vaguely erotic more like an arthouse film plot that you cant quite figure out. once i recognized that i was dreaming i of course woke up, thankfully to a glorious shaft of morningwood. i attempted feverishly to re-create the scene in my head so as to play out this bizarre scenario, but i became too frustrated by the apparent lack of plot. so i quickly shifted gears to lil kim in a naughty lil kim goes to jail for obstruction of justice fantasy. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. that does the trick, doesnt it?

note to reader: what? you think its a cheap gag to talk about my fantasy under the guise of being hip and liberated? well it is. take it up with the security council and have me sanctioned you silly goose.