Sunday, January 02, 2005

2.1

damn im already back. bet you wont see me for a while though. not like you are anybody but nobody, still at least nobodys listening. got the trees so right now the forest is burning. BURN BABY BURN!. shit. i got loose tobacco and crazy bamboo's to back me up.

so i was just about to switch on the simpsons. because it delivers, especially when there is nothing else to do[fuck trying to find that angle. fuck that spot on shit. fuck that shit and bury it in rambling. a slow and serpetine rambling]. when i thought of this one unique episode way back when......

so im like 11 years old right? im on the corner in the middle of the city. the dirtiest, seediest, maddest middle of the city. its san franciso and its the tenderloin and its 1986 and in 1986 the center of the tenderloin was crackin for real. corner liquer stores [bodegas for you yorkers] with porno peep booths and atari video games. candy and crack pipes. what do you want, now n laters or a glass 4"? trannies patroling the perverts, crackheads patrolin the dealers. dealers patrolin the street. cops somewhere patrolin something but no where near the corner im standing. i got one foot up on the wall. one foot flat on the cement. posing like a dealer but really trying to sneak a peek at the porno. im gettin my spy on too, mind you. i got my eye on the trades. im checking the score. one dealer, the one i leant closest too, had to be at least a year younger than me. he kept his crack in his nutsack [a practice long gone from the game since it was too risky when getting patted down] and serviced about two 'heads every ten minutes. most were just your average raggedy destroyed by the system and addicted to the doom black crackhead types but there were some that were different. i saw this one cat walk up with his eyes all darting, shifty and nervous. he looked out of place. from a safe neighborhood. middle class. black cat. dressed conservative yet trendy. jeans. adidas sneakers. clean denim coat. baseball cap. his head faced the ground. the kid asked what he wanted and, catching a bit of warning, who he wanted it for. the ball cap muttered something about his friend. the kid handed him two rocks, collected some loot, and leaned back against the wall.
then some crackhead bitch gets up in my face.
'you a cop?'
i looked around. was this lady talking to me? do i even look OLD enough to be a cop? jesus christ im 11!
'No.' i answered. she looked me up and down then smiled and said with her eyes aimed right into mine: 'oh. ok. you kinda look like one though.' then she walked away towards a small cluster of crackheads on the opposite corner. i heard her say, when she got close enough to them and with a wave of her hand: 'he aint nobody. he just a pervert.'
i shrugged. the kid next to me told some freind of histhat walked up to him, a plump chick in her mid teens [hair all did. jeans outfit all creased] that in 30 minutes hed have enough to go to Great America, and that they could get on all the rides. he added 'but first, i gotta sell the rest of these,' and reached into his crotch then pulled out a damp few squares of toilet paper which when unfolded revealed three small yellow chunks of crack rock.
i stood on the wall for a little while longer, not more than 15 minutes though becaue the kid started eyeing me and i could tell he felt some warning.
i meant no harm and changed locations. eventually dusk came and i headed back home. it didnt occur to me until just now how absolutly absurd it was for that chick to think i was a cop, when CLEARLY i was a pervert.
fuckin crackheads.

1 Comments:

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3:19 PM EDT  

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:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at downtownalleys.blogspot.com.