5. Contrived Gonzo Journalism at the “Pub” (in three parts)

Feb 22, 2004 01:26

I.
When the door shuts you’ll hear the music muffle
”That’s ah good laddy.”
Shrieking obscenities intertwined with the delightful, it’s only minimalized
“Sit up hear Next ta’ me. I’ll be exhuming for you some entombed truth
[…be told, be it otherwise, more or less bold].”
By the bar-room barrier
The battleground of an art form
“Ya’ know laddy, it’d be really lovely to know once again such a phenomenon as one would absorb in an Irish pub.”
You could “walk-about” in the span your eye has traveled
“A real Irish pub I mean m’ boy. I’m not to be meaning one of those slipstream and collect $200 type joints, don’cha know?”
Gather your focus like flies to Sol
On the channel of streaked blue stretched over the martini shaker
“Bar-room, Phwah [could have also been: ‘bah’, or ‘phbbbbbbbbbbbbbt’ or even ‘phshyuu’]! In me day you’d calling a place like this a ‘ladies luncheon’.”
As it flares and flails like the rocket ship of a Commander Cody
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