walk among stars
sam's on the porch, dancing us a tune
she'll be taking her clothes off soon!
first thing in the morning, i call delores at the temp agency and ask about work.
"do you drive a car?" she asks. every time i call her, she asks me this.
"yes," i say.
"i have a job for you," she always says. "it's in buttfuck egypt and pays jack shit. are you interested?"
of course, she doesn't actualy say buttfuck egypt and jack shit but you get the picture. it might cost more money in gas to get to work and back than i'll actualy earn while working there.
and then i'm free for the rest of the day. as free as a broke and unemployed guy can get!
marty knocked on my door as soon as i got off the phone with delores. he's finnished moved out and up the street. it's not going to be the same without that cat around. and even tho he tells me that he'll still be around, he won't be. not like he was, anyway.
we smoked a cigarete and stood nervously around in my kitchen. marty's almost always uncomfortable in my room. if i offer him a seat, he usualy says he's just on his way out. so we stand and we smoke and i look at my computer monitor and all the nonsense i left undone, sitting out.
that's why we usualy hang out at marty's. less distractions for me. no big record collection to burry our heads in, no guitars to strum me away and no computers to fry the conversation.
later in the afternoon, tiffany and kyle got lost walking afew hundred blocks north of here. i had to go pick them up. the beautiful thing about seattle is that the streets make sense. if someone gives you an adress, you can figure it out pretty quickly. you go north a big and go east a big and north some more and then hang a west until you're there.
those kids are easy to excite. you should have seen their happy faces when i showed up, finally.
lucy makes all sorts of growling and clanking noises that bother people. she's always been kind of growly and clanky. she goes thru cycles depending on the weather and the air pressure. and sometimes, i swear her health is intertwined with my mood because she clanks even more when i'm stressed out.
"she sounds sick!" tiffany noticed, when we pulled into the parkinglot behind the house.
"oh, she's just old," i told her.
when brian came home, we decided to go see marty's new place to score grass. and on the way to the car, we ran into harmony. so she came with us.
"you're going to go score some grass and you're inviting me to go with you?" harmony squeeled. goddamn she's cute. little curly haired blonde with a gheto booty.
marty's new house is about fifty blocks away. it's a dump. the new mannagement is working on kicking all the tweakers and junkies out.
marty's new room is larger but it has no electricity or air conditioning. i can make myself comfortable just about anywhere, but there is something about this house. perhaps it's the italian manager, making deals over his cell phone on the front porch. maybe it's the dark narrow hallways and the red paint in the walls.
of course, sam shows up at my house while i'm away. so i rush home. and on my way out the door, i run into the mannager again.
"who are you?" he asks. "i'm the mannager of this house!"
"i'm with marty," i told him.
i know who he is. he's peaty. he's got a thick italian accent and he's everything you'd expect from a slum lord.
i climb up the stairs to see tiffany and joe and andrew and everybody circled around my friend sam, impersonating that little flame in everybody's life.
we turned up the bob dylan and we roll up spinellos and we kiss on the face. because we are happy to see eachother again. and when the immediate excitement is over and all the smoke settles into the carpets, we sit on the porch.
sam told me that she was jealous of my life and my world. all the people that come in and out of my world. it's true, i never have a dull week. i never have a boring night. of course, it would be nice to have a more stable source of income and it would be nice to be able to be alone from time to time. i'm always connected and i'm always in the middle of the excitment.
it's true, sam. i have a terrific life. but i wouldn't be able nearly as enjoyable if it wasn't for you.
at some point, we had to return to marty's house. after all, i abandoned brian and harmony there. it was taking a lot longer to score some grass than expected.
marijuana teaches patience in so many ways. scoring grass always takes longer than exected. and when you smoke it, everything feels different. atleast to me, i find it so much easier to become entertained. every thought is brilliant. every scene is opertunity for a masterpiece photograph.
sam and i aproach the house and beccon everybody onto the front porch. harmony and brian are still waiting on the man with the grass. so we just stand around and we talk.
"why the fuck is the door open?" called peaty, "that door should always be locked!"
so we close the door, already.
the porch is nice. just like any house in the gheto, it's accostomed for social activity. it's got a swinging bench and an ashtrey.
while sam and i stood on the porch and talked nonsense to brian and harmony, i watched a tall and very gothic girl emerge from the house and roll a cigarete on the bench swing. she looks at me and i just watch her.
her name is seth. she used to be dating michael but i think they're still sleeping together. i don't know anymore. she has an authentic british accent. she's crazy. she once gave michael a black eye. in the process, she broke all the bones in her own hand.
when she looks at me, i think she is fantisising about having sex with me. she is a beautiful and errotic creature. when she is not wearing her tastless trench coats or gel shirts, she is quite stunning in a dirty and painful way. she has short black boy hair and black around the eyes like a bandit.
i take a seat next to her on the bench and we make nervous talk about how things are better now than they were before. and i wonder if this is the first step in the direction of stealing a kiss. or maybe a quick lay. but then she got up and left me. she went back inside and i think it was probably for the best.
i stayed on the porch by myself for a long time. michael came and everybody went back inside and i just sat there, thinking about my life. thinking about the swing. thinking about all the simple meaningless scenery. i just kept on thinking until marty came and reeled me back in.
"i was worried that somebody came and kidnaped you and took you down to mexico to sell your ass on the street," he said. and although it was a joke, you could tell that he was dead serious when he said "there ain't nobody around here but savages."
in marty's room, the night crawls right in thru the windows. there is a single bare lightbulb in the corner of the room. there are harsh shaddows and silloetes of everyone in the room. unpacked boxes are scattered throughout the room.
"that's going to be floyd's bed," marty points to the closet.
of course, marty brought everything. he brought all his furniture, so why not floyd? they need eachother in this world. everybody needs a roommate.
"this place makes me nervous, boys," marty told us. "there are too many guns and not enough people who know how to use them."
it's one of those moments where you are still laughing but nothing is really funny. marty told us about the people he lives with. everybody is packing a weapon. the guy next door collects guns.
"that's why floyd's sleeping up against that wall," he said, laughing.
"okay," floyd said.
"i'm just joking, man," he said. "i've seriously considered getting some kevlar curtains to hang up against that wall."
"or maybe some kevlar bedsheets," i said.
and we all painted the picture of that crazy man next door, firing his weapon in thru the wall. little rays shooting thru the bulletholes and marty hiding under the covers.
"of course, i'll have to be able to shoot back at the fucker," he says.
"look what i'm sleeping with tonight!" floyd laughs and he pretends to shoot a rapid fire machine gun.
and we go right from that to marty saying "we should cut the glow stick open and spray it all over the room!"
that was a brilliant idea. within moments we were transformed from the cave of marty's room and into the infinite of space. we were sourrounded by little green stars. we splattered the glowing glue all over the ceiling and the walls and it fell all over the floor. it got all over the bed and the mirror and it covered our clothes.
we were so entertained.
and to close the night, brian played us afew songs on the guitar. afew songs i've never heard before. some songs i just havn't heard in a while. i really wish brian would record music more often. or atleast get all his recordings together so i can listen more easily.
sam and i passed out in brian's bed and brian slept in my bed. at some point, sam went home. and i was in some strange state of mind where i'm not really stoned but real tired. and i just don't want to think about anything. so after sam left, i just stayed in brian's bed.
it was only awkward in the morning when andrew came in and asked, "where's josh?"
"he's in my bed!" brian said.
yeah. brian stole my bed again so i slept in his.
"that's love," andrew said. "i'd sleep in joe's bed but he smells bad."
yeah. that's love.
i called starbucks today and talked to taya. she basicly told me that starbucks wasn't looking for people like me. whatever that means.
she'll be taking her clothes off soon!
first thing in the morning, i call delores at the temp agency and ask about work.
"do you drive a car?" she asks. every time i call her, she asks me this.
"yes," i say.
"i have a job for you," she always says. "it's in buttfuck egypt and pays jack shit. are you interested?"
of course, she doesn't actualy say buttfuck egypt and jack shit but you get the picture. it might cost more money in gas to get to work and back than i'll actualy earn while working there.
and then i'm free for the rest of the day. as free as a broke and unemployed guy can get!
marty knocked on my door as soon as i got off the phone with delores. he's finnished moved out and up the street. it's not going to be the same without that cat around. and even tho he tells me that he'll still be around, he won't be. not like he was, anyway.
we smoked a cigarete and stood nervously around in my kitchen. marty's almost always uncomfortable in my room. if i offer him a seat, he usualy says he's just on his way out. so we stand and we smoke and i look at my computer monitor and all the nonsense i left undone, sitting out.
that's why we usualy hang out at marty's. less distractions for me. no big record collection to burry our heads in, no guitars to strum me away and no computers to fry the conversation.
later in the afternoon, tiffany and kyle got lost walking afew hundred blocks north of here. i had to go pick them up. the beautiful thing about seattle is that the streets make sense. if someone gives you an adress, you can figure it out pretty quickly. you go north a big and go east a big and north some more and then hang a west until you're there.
those kids are easy to excite. you should have seen their happy faces when i showed up, finally.
lucy makes all sorts of growling and clanking noises that bother people. she's always been kind of growly and clanky. she goes thru cycles depending on the weather and the air pressure. and sometimes, i swear her health is intertwined with my mood because she clanks even more when i'm stressed out.
"she sounds sick!" tiffany noticed, when we pulled into the parkinglot behind the house.
"oh, she's just old," i told her.
when brian came home, we decided to go see marty's new place to score grass. and on the way to the car, we ran into harmony. so she came with us.
"you're going to go score some grass and you're inviting me to go with you?" harmony squeeled. goddamn she's cute. little curly haired blonde with a gheto booty.
marty's new house is about fifty blocks away. it's a dump. the new mannagement is working on kicking all the tweakers and junkies out.
marty's new room is larger but it has no electricity or air conditioning. i can make myself comfortable just about anywhere, but there is something about this house. perhaps it's the italian manager, making deals over his cell phone on the front porch. maybe it's the dark narrow hallways and the red paint in the walls.
of course, sam shows up at my house while i'm away. so i rush home. and on my way out the door, i run into the mannager again.
"who are you?" he asks. "i'm the mannager of this house!"
"i'm with marty," i told him.
i know who he is. he's peaty. he's got a thick italian accent and he's everything you'd expect from a slum lord.
i climb up the stairs to see tiffany and joe and andrew and everybody circled around my friend sam, impersonating that little flame in everybody's life.
we turned up the bob dylan and we roll up spinellos and we kiss on the face. because we are happy to see eachother again. and when the immediate excitement is over and all the smoke settles into the carpets, we sit on the porch.
sam told me that she was jealous of my life and my world. all the people that come in and out of my world. it's true, i never have a dull week. i never have a boring night. of course, it would be nice to have a more stable source of income and it would be nice to be able to be alone from time to time. i'm always connected and i'm always in the middle of the excitment.
it's true, sam. i have a terrific life. but i wouldn't be able nearly as enjoyable if it wasn't for you.
at some point, we had to return to marty's house. after all, i abandoned brian and harmony there. it was taking a lot longer to score some grass than expected.
marijuana teaches patience in so many ways. scoring grass always takes longer than exected. and when you smoke it, everything feels different. atleast to me, i find it so much easier to become entertained. every thought is brilliant. every scene is opertunity for a masterpiece photograph.
sam and i aproach the house and beccon everybody onto the front porch. harmony and brian are still waiting on the man with the grass. so we just stand around and we talk.
"why the fuck is the door open?" called peaty, "that door should always be locked!"
so we close the door, already.
the porch is nice. just like any house in the gheto, it's accostomed for social activity. it's got a swinging bench and an ashtrey.
while sam and i stood on the porch and talked nonsense to brian and harmony, i watched a tall and very gothic girl emerge from the house and roll a cigarete on the bench swing. she looks at me and i just watch her.
her name is seth. she used to be dating michael but i think they're still sleeping together. i don't know anymore. she has an authentic british accent. she's crazy. she once gave michael a black eye. in the process, she broke all the bones in her own hand.
when she looks at me, i think she is fantisising about having sex with me. she is a beautiful and errotic creature. when she is not wearing her tastless trench coats or gel shirts, she is quite stunning in a dirty and painful way. she has short black boy hair and black around the eyes like a bandit.
i take a seat next to her on the bench and we make nervous talk about how things are better now than they were before. and i wonder if this is the first step in the direction of stealing a kiss. or maybe a quick lay. but then she got up and left me. she went back inside and i think it was probably for the best.
i stayed on the porch by myself for a long time. michael came and everybody went back inside and i just sat there, thinking about my life. thinking about the swing. thinking about all the simple meaningless scenery. i just kept on thinking until marty came and reeled me back in.
"i was worried that somebody came and kidnaped you and took you down to mexico to sell your ass on the street," he said. and although it was a joke, you could tell that he was dead serious when he said "there ain't nobody around here but savages."
in marty's room, the night crawls right in thru the windows. there is a single bare lightbulb in the corner of the room. there are harsh shaddows and silloetes of everyone in the room. unpacked boxes are scattered throughout the room.
"that's going to be floyd's bed," marty points to the closet.
of course, marty brought everything. he brought all his furniture, so why not floyd? they need eachother in this world. everybody needs a roommate.
"this place makes me nervous, boys," marty told us. "there are too many guns and not enough people who know how to use them."
it's one of those moments where you are still laughing but nothing is really funny. marty told us about the people he lives with. everybody is packing a weapon. the guy next door collects guns.
"that's why floyd's sleeping up against that wall," he said, laughing.
"okay," floyd said.
"i'm just joking, man," he said. "i've seriously considered getting some kevlar curtains to hang up against that wall."
"or maybe some kevlar bedsheets," i said.
and we all painted the picture of that crazy man next door, firing his weapon in thru the wall. little rays shooting thru the bulletholes and marty hiding under the covers.
"of course, i'll have to be able to shoot back at the fucker," he says.
"look what i'm sleeping with tonight!" floyd laughs and he pretends to shoot a rapid fire machine gun.
and we go right from that to marty saying "we should cut the glow stick open and spray it all over the room!"
that was a brilliant idea. within moments we were transformed from the cave of marty's room and into the infinite of space. we were sourrounded by little green stars. we splattered the glowing glue all over the ceiling and the walls and it fell all over the floor. it got all over the bed and the mirror and it covered our clothes.
we were so entertained.
and to close the night, brian played us afew songs on the guitar. afew songs i've never heard before. some songs i just havn't heard in a while. i really wish brian would record music more often. or atleast get all his recordings together so i can listen more easily.
sam and i passed out in brian's bed and brian slept in my bed. at some point, sam went home. and i was in some strange state of mind where i'm not really stoned but real tired. and i just don't want to think about anything. so after sam left, i just stayed in brian's bed.
it was only awkward in the morning when andrew came in and asked, "where's josh?"
"he's in my bed!" brian said.
yeah. brian stole my bed again so i slept in his.
"that's love," andrew said. "i'd sleep in joe's bed but he smells bad."
yeah. that's love.
i called starbucks today and talked to taya. she basicly told me that starbucks wasn't looking for people like me. whatever that means.