Archive for the 'brooklyn' Category

thank God for cops.

I dosed up some acid one night last summer. I was in Brooklyn. Funny story that goes along with it: I’d completely forgotten that I even had the stuff. The cops found it for me.

I had just wandered — absolutely innocently — through the city housing projects in Brooklyn’s Red Hook neighborhood. The projects just happened to be in between where I was and where I was going. But when I turned the corner I encountered two plain clothes NYPD detectives who assumed a white boy like me must have been in the Projects for drug related purposes.

“Whatcha got?!” They demanded.

“Nothing.” I said.

My smart ass was sorely tempted to follow my response up with a question, along the lines of:

“Why — do they got some Good Shit in there??”

But I held my tongue. A wise move? Perhaps. Though it went against my Policy; to fuck with the police in any way possible as long as I got nothing on me. Still, I felt vulnerable — being a country boy homeless in New York City — and smartly fearful of the NYPD. So I asked for directions to Van Brunt street and left it at that.

They gave me directions but shook me down first. An almost empty bottle of Sweet Breath “mouth drops” was uncovered while they ripped through my bag. The cops thought nothing of it but — wearing my best poker face — I was all thinking, like:

“Woo HOO!!

For once! There’s actually a cop around when you need one.

A couple hours later — near sundown — I was kicked back on the grass in this bad ass little waterfront park in the same neighborhood. Digging this view:

red-hook-statue-of-liberty.jpg

Awesome dudes.

The red ball of sunfire sank low over & then directly behind Lady Liberty’s torch.

Way awesome. I popped the top off my Sweet Breath vial. Poured in some water. Swished it around to dislodge whatever dose molecules were clung stubbornly to its’ side. Deposited the contents into my mouth & swigged them down the hatch.

It was a powerful brain whack. I tell you that.

Too powerful — for most people. That’s why the stuff is parceled out in hits maybe a tenth of the size of the one I estimably took.

A powerful brain whack; especially for a good old boy from Vermont — way out of his element wandering the night away on the streets of Brooklyn. Homeless. Utterly penniless. Unable to afford those distractions — ie BEER!! — so critically essential to the Drug Cosmonaut who needs, in cases of Brain Emergency, to reliably return to Earth.

The escape hatch as it were.

I had none of these things. Not even a cigarette. And anyone who smokes them knows how crucial they are when you’re tripping.

I am a daredevil. What can I say?

One thing I did have was a Friend. That helps incalculably. A friendless man may be forever lost. But Absynth Eve was with me. We were living in her car. Actually it wasn’t her car. It was an inadvertantly stolen Toyota Prius hybrid — but that’s another story.

Absynth Eve is about my best friend on all planet Earth. But it happened that on that night — she declined to trip with me — Absynth Eve was so entirely sick of the very sight of her best friend that I, for most of the night, was shall we say excused from her stolen hybrid car.

You’ll unavoidably have that when you live with your best friend in her car.

I wandered the streets alone. Far, far gone out of my skull on no less than 10 solidly potent hits of LSD.

It was the kind of trip that distinguishes the casually suicidal — we who may occasionally consider taking our own lives for pragmatic reasons — from someone who truly wants to scale a 5-story building then jump off head-first and die.

I obviously fall into the former category. But I guess maybe I wasn’t sure — and it’s good to know. For that reason the Trip ranks among my more productive drug experiences.

For most of the night I amused myself by looking for hundred dollar bills on the ground. No $20’s, please. Um-k? I’m too broke to find a twenty dollar bill! Hundreds only.

And I was amused. What the hell? Here’s what life is to me: I make stories. I listen to stories. And I tell stories. Now obviously I hoped to tell you guys the one about the time when I found that loose Hundie floating down the street in Brooklyn. But I tend not to have that kind of luck.

But again: what the hell?

Hunter S. Thompson about once wrote something smart about his Hero:

Muhammad Ali was not a lucky man. He was Fast. Very fast.

I slurped in a gigantically pulsated breath of New York City air. Scanned the pavement. Shrugged my shoulders & sighed.

And wished I had a frikkin cigarette!!

I tried to bum one from strangers all night — to utterly no avail. Until morning, when I passed a man who’d just stirred from his slumber. He was still halfway under his blanket. Outside a church, where he’d slept on a cardboard box.

He was rolling a cigarette out of a pouch of Top Menthol tobacco. Cosmically fine luck; Top Menthol happens to be my 2nd  (after the more costly American Spirit menthol) favorite brand. In fact I am smoking one right now, out of the pouch that Absynth Eve just sported me $1.26 to buy from Wal Mart.

Trouble was he did not want to give one to me. Why should he? $1.26 is literally a lot of money to a homeless man. I asked. He shook his head no. But took a closer look at me, and by my grungy appearance he concluded that I was homeless.

Then he let me roll two.

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the Hybrid Thief

Some static started
In the pool hall

Hit
A motherfucker’s FACE
Wit’ D Q
Ball!

Then I met this girl
she
Tried to gank me
Says I got to buy her lobster
Now
Since she took me Bu’ger King?!

So I smacked her in the booty with a plank bee

Then me & my
Crew
Were out breakin

Windows

Play the Daily Double
When I know who’s gonna win
Both.

Cause you know I love to win
Love to win
Love to Love

To Win Win

Whoa!

Possession
is half the law
I had my routines
Before all ya’ll!!

You’re whole life is coming
Apart
At the seams
You ain’t nothin but a Car Thief
Bitin Routines.

Yeah I’m a city slicker
I ain’t no Townie

As your next President I
Solemnly swear
To spike a spansule of Dexedrine
Into every Hash brownie!

Better Run
Dick & Dubuya
You Better Run
Fast.
Beatsie Boys gon’kick you’re motherfuckin
Asses!

Cause you took what isn’t yours
Like two-bit tyrant rats

Another Stop Loss
Soldier
Killed
By a road side blast.

Yeah & leave it to
Democrats,
right?
They made it worse!
Got our hopes up
& let us down
Now my feelings
are Hurt.

That’s why
I speak on behalf
of America’s youth
When I tell the Democratic party
to go eat a douche

Cause that’s how they roll
that’s how they like to snack
Now now it’s good to recycle
Plus there’s zero grams of fat!

See. I,
I personally
I wouldn’t even wanna Go Out Like that!

I’m a writer. A Poet.

A genuis.

*takes bow*

I don’t buy cheebah
I GROW it.

People always trying to
Get next to me.

I had a beautiful experience on Ecstacy!

Cooked up a breakfast
Batch
Of kitty cat tranquilizer
Turn the party
side wayz
Cause
We couldn’t go no Higher.

Now
my brain is drool
Roley Poley mush
Had to snort some crystal meth
Just
To stand up

Toot a straw load of
Ha Ha
On the Casey Jones mirror
Voice of Reason
Begged me not to
But
I pretended not hear it.

Now there’s Trouble Ahead
Oh Lady In Red
Cocaine wore off
Now
I wish
I was Dead!

That’s so annoying.

WaaaaaaaaA AAAAY!
BOY!!!
God man.
You know what I would really enjoy?
Now
I
Am waiting for the
Dwark with some opioids!

You can’t deny
me
you
Always wanna try me

Yo you just gonna get your girl dicked!!!

Pop quiz:

By who?

Hint: