PEOPLE OF WHOM TO BE CAUTIOUS, pt. 1
The energy vampire. The angry man. The complicator. The harpy. The failed perfectionist. The mumbler. The overcompensator. The messianic small business owner. The dishonest addict. The gloomy child. The prissy, who iron their jeans. The rumbling drinker. The suffering spouse. The stubborn highbrow. The evil preacher. The neat freak. The gross, gross man. The duplicitous itinerant musician. The succubus in the witness protection program. The martyr. The unemployed cousin.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
REQUIEM FOR THE BRAIN CELLS I KILLED ON THE WEEKEND OF MAY 18TH AND 19TH, 1997
Love. A birthday. A wedding. The passage of time. The swing of delight. Was I smoking a cohiba in a waterfront strip joint? Did I dance a slow tight swing in a black suit with a catholic schoolteacher? Was I shaky like Frank Sinatra on Sunday morning? The beautiful shoes. The spring dresses. The universal dancefloor appeal of Swamp Thing by The Grid flushing the young and old from their tables. The midnight snack. Did the lights of the city swirl and bleed on freshly rain-streaked streets? Pre-party, party, afterparty, after-hours heroin addict art-glam speakeasy. Everybody’s hips. Everybody’s voices. Everybody’s bright hopeful faces. The night. The air. The stars. The river of tragedy temporarily dammed by youth, by beauty, by love.
