sleeping, skateboards, short term memory loss, the super mega metal awsome ramp, murderface.
storm troopers, devil worshipers, hometown heros, david cross, big redfish, and a real life hippo. forever....... one of the greatest cd's. dopesick...
all the nola hometown heros. crowbar. down. zydepunks. va va voom. eyehategod. man maam'. also other things.
psychomania. best movie ever.
everything extreme.
Young in New Orleans, starving there, sitting around the bars, and at night walking the streets for hours, the moonlight always seemed fake to me, maybe it was, and in the French Quarter I watched the horses and buggies going by, everybody sitting high in the open carriages, the black driver, and in back the man and the woman, usually young and always white. and I was always white. and hardly charmed by the world. New Orleans was a place to hide. I could piss away my life, unmolested. except for the rats. the rats in my dark small room very much resented sharing it with me. they were large and fearless and stared at me with eyes that spoke an unblinking death. women were beyond me. they saw something depraved. there was one waitress a little older than I, she rather smiled, lingered when she brought my coffee. that was plenty for me, that was enough. there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many others needed. it let me alone. sitting up in my bed the llights out, hearing the outside sounds, lifting my cheap bottle of wine, letting the warmth of the grape enter me as I heard the rats moving about the room, I preferred them to humans. being lost, being crazy maybe is not so bad if you can be that way undisturbed. New Orleans gave me that. nobody ever called my name. no telephone, no car, no job, no anything. me and the rats and my youth, one time, that time I knew even through the nothingness, it was a celebration of something not to do but only know.
transient houseboat swamp dwellers.