I'm running for president blah.
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I'm running for president blah.
the internet killed culture
IRL Seattle has a lot of Death
God am I tired. We went driving through Aurora at around 6:am the other day on my way to the dentist. My gums were bleeding. I found an old bottle of Promethazine when I was packing my stuff and shared it with the folks I met the night I got to Portland. The next morning I bit into a cookie and it felt like my teeth were going to shatter if I tried another bite. I few good brushings though and they got back to being usable. Though fragile.
I told John about how this was where Cobain spent his last days. "Really?" he said sounding impressed. "Yea man. He went out with style." All the hotels were tagged and boarded up. It looked deserted for the most part. Places that use to have historical noise shows now looking like hide aways in a third world country.
I got to the dentist and they dropped me off. There's a grayness about Seattle. A never ending shadow cast by the clouds. I like it. It suits me. I got in and signed myself in. Signed abunch of paper working stating I wouldn't skip out on the bill. Sat down and read a decent article in Harper's about the president not having control over the military. I thought of Eisenhower and Grant and sort of laughed at the writer for carrying on with such a naive representation of things.
A black guy came in after me but they were quick to tell him he couldn't be seen. Something about him being in a meeting today. "Oh I must have made a mistake." he said trying not to be upset. They didn't contest my seeing of the dentist at all though. I watched him walk out and felt glad that I wasn't him. Pain makes you greedy.
I got in and did the best I could to get comfortable in the torture chair. When the dentist rolled over. "Hello, I'm doctor Manson." He said it like he'd heard every Manson joke ever told and was just waiting for the next person to say one so he could punch them in the face. I just looked away. Not mentioning that my blog was the number one source on all the web in 'how to write Charles Manson a letter'. Better to have him trying to be my friend.
He sprayed some cold shit on my teeth. once he hit the bad one I shook like I was being electricuted. "ok that's normal." he said. I growled.
We made an appointment for a later date for some basic cleaning and a re-filling. I agreed to be tortured again and then quikly made my escape. While I was waiting at the bus stop I couldn't help but notice the inordinate amount of pawnshops all within viewing distance from each other. The longer I waited, the more people showed. A good looking woman in sweat pants and a jacket helped me figure out the schedule. Some bald thugs with their beat up girl friends showed up later. We all huttled in and I sat down in the only seat available. Everyone looked worried. I did my best not to feel or look lost. With each stop the bus got more and more full.They all looked dirty and desperate. There was a young girl in fron of me in her pajamas. With cow pattern slippers on her feet. The girl across from her looked rough. "I just trade shit for it mostly" she explained to the woman sitting behind her. "It's The Methadone. I Dropped Like Forty Pounds. I Used To Be Like 140. Yea. Yea. It's The Methadone." Some woman said loudly from the back of the bus.
I got to downtown and called a friend. He was just getting up but invited me over since I was in the neighborhood. We had coffee and smoked some grass. I showed him a few of the songs. He picked up on them pretty quickly which was a relief. It lifted my spirits some. A little bit of progress. We watched an unreleased documentary on the MC5. It was a fun movie. He couldn't tell me exactly why one of the band members refused it's releasal. I guess the MC5 formed over a fist fight. Which only made sense.
He loaned me a couple bucks so I could make it the rest of the way home and I used it to get some get some lunch. The place I picked was god awful. completely empty except for the flies. But the meat looked good so I tried it anyways. "I want some Meat." I declared as I walked in the place. "You don't want no Rice, or Noodles." the chinese lady said acting prepared to give me just a big plate full of meat. I rethought my order and got some noodles with it. I gobbled it down. But as soon as I finished I regretted my purchase. It sat like a weight in my stomach. greesy and rumbling. I went down and walked around Pike and first to check out the junkie scene some more. A chic begged me into going along with her the day before so she could comp without it being depressing. It's a lively scene down there by the water. Everyone looks half out of their mind and ready to riot. I started to feel right at home. It was like San Francisco. But without pretending to be a city Not filled with Junk.
I bought some cheap tobacco and made my way to the bus stop to head home. When I got there Angelo was out front working on his truck.
"What you fixin on her?" I asked.
"Oh. hey what's up man. Oh it's where the radiator hose connects. It's leaking a little bit." he explained. "Did you get your teeth fixed?"
"Naw I got to go back. Thanks for giving me a ride though. I would have had trouble finding that place on my own. But now that I know where it is, it'll be no problem. Hey let me give you a couple bucks gas money." I said.
"OK." ang responded.
He'd asked for a few bucks when giving me the ride but I didn't even have enough for bus fare to get back home. "How much do you need?" I'd said that morning, sounding worrisome. "If you don't really have it that's cool." he said as he gave me a ride. "OK." I responded happily putting my wallet away. "That's what I like. Clear precise answers from people." he said without much fret.
"Man. on the way back though."
"uh huh" he said still working on the engine.
"I've never seen so many Junkies in my Life!"
"Oh yea? Oh, I think there's a methadone clinic down there."
"Yea. I knew I was in the heart of Something."
We both grinned a little.
I went up stairs and grabbed him the three bucks I had left over from the money I bummed off my friend in the city.
"here's three bucks. hope that's cool"
"That's Perfect." he said putting the money in his pocket.
"Is Johnny home? I want to use the glass room." I asked.
"oh I'm not sure. you'll have to go check."
I went down the drive. there he was. Dancing in his room to some kind of egyptian krautrock. Putting hair growth medicine on his head and cooking noodles. I asked him to lift up the front window of the glass room so I could throw a couple bottle. He agreed and went out back and set it up. He built a room. But it was more like a crawl space. Not connected to the inside of the house. Just an outside closet sort of. People in the house were bitching about him breaking bottles in the back yard because of the classic cars and the cats. So he turned the room into a glass bottle breaking room. He hung a pan from the ceiling as a target. I winded up and through a classic coke bottle side arm and it nailed the fucker. Shattering into a million pieces. I felt better. I went up stairs and listened to some Bach and went to sleep.
IRL No Place Like Home. old story of mine about when my dad pulled a gun on me. wino days video.
"psycho babble" - Old Hack ...wrote this this morning. probably do a better recording of it when I get to seattle.
irl no standing still
I got kicked off the sidewalk today. "You mean this isn't Public Property?" I said to the guy ushering me off the steps. Black stocky dude wearing an ushers suit. "All I know is these people rented this square so.." I yea yea yea'd the guy and stood up and we went and sat at the bus stop.
"Choose your battles wisely" Ester noted.
"This battle chose me!" I said feeling insulted.
"You know that's what's wrong with this country? Too much private property. They used to consider People Private property." I said loudly as we left the premises.
"yea whatever happened to that?" Ester said laughing.
I was tired. We had just walked the entire city of Oakland. unwillingly.
"yep that just happened." Chase said as we came to an abrupt stop going up what must've been one of the steepest hills in Oakland.
"what just happened?" Pete asked seemingly shocked by Chase's naivete'.
"I just ran out of gas." He said. Almost proudly.
We all opened the doors and started to climb out when he let off the break and it through us all back inside of the vehicle. "DUDE? Let's not Kill all four people in the process of you parking your car!" I yelled from the back seat.
"Let me out! DON'T MOVE THE CAR I'M GETTING OUT NOW!" I yelled profusely as I did my best to get out as fast as i could.
He parked it. Ester told him to leave a note so he wouldn't get ticketed. Which didn't seem like any incentive to a cop to me. They live to ticket people in this city. One time I was riding along with someone and we got pulled over. and I GOT A TICKET! for not wearing my seat belt in the front seat. Which seemed absolutely insane to me. But the girl I was with explained to me that that's how it is out here. So I blurted at him once he got finished writing it "Your friend, Chase"
Ester laughed.
"Love always," she added.
"Your friend and confidant." I continued.
so there we were. a guy with his right arm in a sling. and a guy on a cane. being sent to walk back what would at least end up being 20 blocks. Chase is really good at things like this. I told him if he could make money off of manifesting shitty circumstances he'd be rich.
"Hey are you getting gas? I need a jump! I'll pay you!" some black guy said to chase as we were hoofing our way to the gas station. He went one way but I kept walking. Ester stayed with me and we chatted our way to the pot club. Her ,mostly about her inequities in life. and me about the girl I can't stop blabbing on about.
I got home to find out our neighbor upstairs had called the landlord on us for playing drums. when we haven't even practiced here in over a week. She called the cops on us on my birthday Cause me and Justin were laughing too loud. The very next thing someone tells me NOT to do, I'm going to do it,.. no matter what it is.
PS fuck you people. Hate being human! IF I were a dog I'd just kill it. whatever it was. and no one would mind. they'd say "that's nature."