Journal

The 2 Street Chronicles: No One Takes The Piss Out Of Me

It was the start of another shift at the 2 street bar. I walked in and tapped out John the day bartender. I looked around. An old rummy nursing a mug of beer, a couple of construction workers with five empties in front of them, flirting with a bored neighborhood housewife who was decked out in a purple velvet track suit. In the corner there was a kid playing the video golf game in a tee shirt three times too big and his cap pulled to the side of his head. Just another shift. As John was leaving, he pointed to the farthest booth back at a body propped against the wall. "So uh, when that...

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Street Zombies, Lost Gods and A City Full of Ghosts: All You Have To Do Is Look.

I relinquished my car after the nasty breakup with my first fiance. For the last eight years I haven't had the insulating sanctuary of my own four wheels to escape the crush of urban humanity and I'm glad. Public transit and long urban hikes have been my primary form of transportation, this has allowed me important moments with the cities most alien underbelly. Urban denizens have always fascinated me, the homeless, street walkers, loitering drug addicts, the mentally ill and abandoned low income elderly. All unwanted and turned out to wander the streets with nothing to do but let time...

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Tales from the Land of Entrapment: The Holy Triumvirate of the Freshly Baked Perspective III.

Part III: Vic If there ever was a person who truly qualified as Freshly Baked, it was Vic. Vic already held legend status amongst the crew before I met him. He was 5 years older than everyone else and had moved away to San Diego. He had returned because of an unfortunate PCP incident. (that's all anyone knew) The first time I saw him was at Lance's mother's house months after I had met the others. He was sitting on an exercise bike wearing a sun visor. They were watching a beat up video tape of the notorious footage of Bud Dwyer blowing his head off at a press conference. Every time...

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Tales from the Land of Entrapment: The Holy Triumvirate of the Freshly Baked Perspective II.

Part II: Lance His full name was Lance Steele. I shit you not. He was given that name at birth. But in sharp contrast to Louie's sloppy rock n' roll Otis the drunk vibe, Lance Steele looked like he would be named Lance Steele, except perhaps that he was as short as Louie. He had rugged, chiseled Fabio pretty boy features and matching long blonde hair. He was in amazing shape considering I never once saw him exert any energy and he always seemed to be shirtless; showing off his gen X style matching tribal tattoos that accented his ripped body. I used to describe him as Anthony Kiedis...

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Tales from the Land of Entrapment: The Holy Triumvirate of the Freshly Baked Perspective I.

Part I: Louie People always thought Louie was drunk. His whiney voice sounded like a gene spliced version of Barney from the Simpsons and Tommy Chong. He was a hispanic stoner rocker who always seemed to be hiccuping. His tough 90's punk/grunge attire did nothing to off set his short, stocky, unshaved droopy dog features or his busted up coke bottle glasses. Police would stop him while he sat quietly at a bus stop, threatening vagrancy charges while demanding he produce an open container. Bartenders would would cut him off before he had his first drink. You might think this would be an irritating...

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Never Knowing You Were Left Behind

I had the same reoccurring dream for nearly a decade. For the entire time I lived in Albuquerque, it wasn't just a dream, it was THE dream. The only one I ever remembered upon waking and it viciously tortured me at least three times a month for eight years. I was informed that I HAD to go back to high school. The school changed every time but the scenario didn't. My transcripts were wrong and I was forced to re-attend. Suddenly I was trapped, an adult amongst teenagers. I would wander aimlessly through the halls, frustrated and embarrassed that I had been sent back by some unknown...

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Tales from the Land of Entrapment: Everyone Takes a Beating Sometime III.

Part III. Never execute a smart plan with a dumb man (finale in red) I leaned into the front door and grabbed Alex by the collar and drug him into the doorway. "Dude, you have got to get these guys out of here. It's going to be a bad scene." "Yeah. Uh, no, no they seem alright.... Don't they?" "Alex, use your head. Look." We turned into the doorway and looked into his living room. One had popped himself onto the couch with his feet on the coffee table, a nervous teenage skater sandwiched on one side and a cowering dyed haired betty on the other. The second one was in the kitchen hunched...

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Tales from the Land of Entrapment: Everyone Takes a Beating Sometime II.

Part II. Alex the Pacifist After Alex's wounds healed he never looked quite the same. He was never an attractive man, but like the post car crash Mark Hamill, he just looked kinda.. not quite right. With the fight beaten out of him, Alex discovered his sensitive side. His hair slowly morphed from Dee Dee Ramone to a tame Robert Smith. Still dirty, still dyed black but it slowly took on a mushroom form. While the guys were sitting in the yard drinking 40's, Alex began hanging at the kitchen table with the girls, quoting Smith lyrics and listening to the Cure. This new kinder and gentler...

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Tales from the Land of Entrapment: Everyone Takes a Beating Sometime I.

Part I. Alex the Bully "Everyone takes a beating sometime." That's a statement that everyone in Lost Cauces New Mexico understood. Living in a desolate desert, in the suburbs, in a college town close to the Mexican border bred boredom, frustration and anger in a cultural environment of extreme machismo. Everyone got their ass kicked eventually. In my late teen's and early 20's, fights were readily the nightly norm, and they were never fair. Being a skinny 140 lb. loud mouth shit talking punk rock kid scored me plenty of beatings and I learned after a while not to open my mouth unless...

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Baseball Desperate

There is something attractive about desperation. I don't say that regarding individuals, but in collective wholes. Philadelphia is an amazing study in desperation. A city with a historical importance but major self esteem issues. It's regularly voted the fattest, the ugliest, the least cultured. It's hyper violent and is surely one of the dirtiest. But when a desperate city with low self esteem has even a moment to be proud, a moment of hope, it'll take that moment and act... desperate. Visitors of Philly are always confused by it's skyline. For one of the largest cities in the country...

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