somebody put something in my drink: February 2009

-i found most of this in my david bowie sketchpad the next morning. i decided to elaborate because it amused me and my train didn't come for another 45 minutes-

South street at 2am is not a happy place. The best part is that i didn't even have to be there. One, because i could have easily banged a right immediately after exiting the apartment and saved myself a hike. Two, all seats were vacated in aforementioned apartment so i could have my pick of any one of those wonderful, comfy couches. I, however, chose to do neither of these things. Mainly because I have the undeniable urge to move...like a lot. And pacing circles in someone's place who does not know me might make them nervous. So as my mind is melting into paranoid, antsy oblivion i follow the party out the door. Not quite sure what my next move is gonna be. People are dispersing. I hope i said farewell, but i cant be sure because my head is swarming with dinosaur jr and most normal thought process left me hours before when i stared a the 4 floors of dark abyss blowing spit bubbles for awhile. I got this awesome case of vertigo and decided i had my fill of bathroom fun and went to go be a vegetable in public (note: to everyone i met this night who will probably never see this i just wanna throw out there that i think your rad and im sorry you had to witness me as doo doo brain for a few hours. i will make it up to you one day). Yeah, beer was dumb tonight. I confirmed this while wandering somewhere. Myself sober would have been far more pleasant to the people around me. I round the corner to south street because that is where those from jersey feel safe in philly. Here I am assaulted by a million things i want to kill. I text owen and tell him this as i walk in front of a moving vehicle. Johnny Rocket's is not blasting their usual dookie wop, fifties mix and i am thankful for this at the time, until i see a bike punk. I consider just attacking him kamikaze style then lighting his bike on fire. I try not to kick people in the shins who are waiting for pizza. I have eaten two sad pieces of sweet and sour chicken today, a wad of stupid rice and a vat of fruit punch. (If i puke now, it'll look like i puked neon blood. I'm a little stoked about the chance of that happening) I hate chinese food, the only good part about it is the names of some of the food. I spent a good ten minutes giggling at "gizzard dumplings". There is no such thing, i just took all the words i thought were funny and started combining them. Anyway, two nasty chicken things and a vat of kool-aid is not enough to satisfy this fat kid. I was being a bitch to burger king tonight. Feeding my face was too much work. Beer to mouth, yes. Food to mouth, too lazy. Pizza is the only food i will work for. And these assholes are in the way of my pizza. I get distracted from my hunger by a girl dragging her friend's drunk-about-to-pass-out body down the sidewalk. The body is wearing a tiara and complaining about her lack of footwear. I want to yell "What're you the princess of anyway...RETARD LAND!!!" crush her tiara, and punch her in the gut so she pukes. She'll thank me later. By this point, south street is over. I decide i will meet AM at D&B. Instead of taking the bridge constructed for pedestrians, I pretend i'm a car and walk in the road. Now is when my bladder decides it's got a letter to send to the complaint department. I see steps and bushes which are adequate cover while a desecrate the stone circle (possibly monument?) that looks like it was actually supposed to be nice. Oh well. I also managed not to pee on my shiny space shoes that Ace Frehley probably has and wears on his morning jog. Or that's what i like to think. My adventure is dull now. There is no one for me to hate for no good reason. I am focused on my goal. I pass by some on ramps to some highway that makes me think of a Dr. Suess story. I pass penn's landing and reminisce about magical rain, fireworks and capes. Magical MMJ. I made an MMJ shirt, I have a Dead Milkmen shirt. Jubilation...Enthusiasm. I consider jumping into the freezing cold water to commemorate this moment. But my right shoe is untied so i can't. I can't deal with this. I walk around the D&B parking garage looking for AM's car. I can't find it. I walk up every set of fucking stairs. Trying to open random doors. Amazed that the security guard whom I keep passing hasn't asked me what the fuck I was up too. Because i'm sure i didn't look like i was selling girl scout cookies. Paranoia has set in at this time. I fear that the security guard is working for Jigsaw and imagine a digging a key out of my eye hole and freak the fuck out. Evacuation from parking garage in effect now. I call AM, I text AM, I watch a car stop in the middle of the highway so a girl can lean her head out the open door and yak. I openly stare at her the entire time. My face stone cold stupid, dumbfounded while in my head i see the taco bell dog. Instead of saying "Yo Quiero Taco Bell" he's just screaming "HA!! SUCKER!!! PUKE BITCH, FUCKIN' PUKE!! HAAAHHAHAHAHA!!!".
Guess I'm sleeping on concrete tonight. Finally, that bitch walks out the door right by me. I must look homeless. Or just so pathetic that i don't exist. I follow her too the car like a complete creeper. I have given up yelling "faggot" to get her attention. I only wish she was as paranoid as me so i could get her to shit herself a lil bit. She laughs at the fact that i walked here. She is on the phone with her sweetheart wishing them a happy valentines day. So I scream "HAPPY VALENTINEZZZ DAI JESSE!! I DUNNO YOU BUTTTT I THINK YER FUN!!!"
This ends the phone conversation. I get attention and more smokes. As well as the shakes later on because i haven't eaten in a year. I have missed calls/texts from people who i invited to hang out then forgot about. I lay paralyzed on a futon only screaming at the cats that i'll murder their souls if they don't knock it off before i finally crash.

Some people say I've been wasting my time. Letting many a golden opportunity slip by. But I don't believe in waste or regret. My time is just spent like money. And when it's all used up, at least I had a few laughs. But the lazy days don't pay the bills. And I got a bottle of of gin for some cheap thrills. Still I hop in my shitty car, not of age for a single bar. But when it's legal where's the fun in that. Plus I'm just here for a cruise and good tunes. Don't have the gas money, and I'm burning oil. Fast forward shuffle, but it's all miss and no hit. Cuz I'm only one of the millions, looking for Alex Chilton. So take me away Westerberg, my foots to the floor. Driving to someplace that I pretend is home. Because I've never been a regular anywhere. I wandered around Jersey and Philly both. A few people take me in. And for awhile I pretend I don't exist outside these scattered beer ash trays, and dirty floors we sit on. If you gotta go I'll keep your spare couch company. If you kick me out I can just curl up on your steps. Wait for you to miss me hanging around again. All my fucking "wasted" time. Piercings, tattoos, and cigarettes. Loud guitars, and obnoxious conversation. Long drunken walks. I miss the city lights. I miss feeling gloomy and dark when I follow the R7 tracks. I wanna lay in the middle and practice feeling numb. My arms out the window, and I can feel every hair move with the wind. My stomach is twisted. And I ride back to the house I stay at. Where they all think I'm off balance. Another car ride unanswered. Just as nostalgic as when I walked out the door.

EVERYBODY GET DANGEROUS!!!! BOOOOOO-YAH!