5th and Pinnn's.

The lights of the city look much brighter than normal. They spin, almost unattached above the streets. It must’ve rained earlier, I don’t remember that. Oh yes- the clickity clack clack. Yes of course. My left hand won’t stop shaking. Stop. Some loose piece of metal rattles around the inside; no one notices but me. Last stop. My first step out releases that simple fraught immediately. It’s a good thing. To the left (still, the place will probably be standing there erect as ever in 200 years): the Persian smoke shop. They sell a goddamn SINGLE pack for over $5; how do they get away with that? Two grown men roam about inside, no doubt one or both of them are stoned. The figures are hard to make out through the reflective glass, what with the next door titty bar neon and all. This place thinks of itself as “high class”. We both know that’s some shit though. I smell coke and eucalyptus lotion. A hat wearing chap is pounding a smoke directly in front of the doors. Is he running with the nats of this terribly glitzy place? Security normally looks more menacing than this: a skinny white pole emerging from this by-all-means scraggly beard. Nothing wrong with that. Thin thin air tastes so good. Crossing the street brings back some nerves. Folks get hit by cars a lot more than you’d think. Not just dogs and cats and deer and frogs. Hop up, almost step in someone’s very orange puke. Find a fucking trashcan. Plant. Something. Someone’s signed a deal to turn this Prohibition-Era brick complex into a theatre. Completely fine with me. Who the hell has beef with theatres? Pork. Blue upon blue upon blue approaches quickly. A darkened shoulder knocks mine and I somehow snicker and laugh all together. I wonder if they’ve got blue in that place? I could eat a blue with blue. Maybe throw on that song from the 60′s San Fransisco scene “Blue”. What a time that was… mercy. Blue history won’t go away. Every event tarnished, every person drenched in it. The scar in my arm keeps dripping transparent fluids. The revolution, the blue revolution, is long gone. And not in the chronological sense, but it feels even more distant than the blue Reganomics. It shouldn’t… ever, but it does. I’m in it NOW though! The establishment of today spawns the same frustrations of the boomers; however, the ballgame has been severely overhauled. Even pseudo-revolutions aren’t possible anymore. Blue revolutions ignore the base camp. Speaking of blue- I’m here. Someone better find me a glass of water, keep that whiskey away from me…

-Sonny