| We all immediately began drinking vino left over from last night whilst reading some copies of Barely Legal, the porno mag that purports to present only fresh young 18 year old snatch. |
woke up still wearing my shoes. A plastic tupperware container of vino lay nearby. The pattern was soon established. We all immediately began drinking vino left over from last night whilst reading some copies of Barely Legal, the porno mag that purports to present only fresh young 18 year old snatch. Matthew Hart was interested in making music. He had some punk rock lyric ideas in mind. These were for love songs that qualified the smarminess of the love with references to theft. One lyric described stealing beer to be drunk with an anonymous girlfriend. Matthew and I set out in the Dodge Dart to pick up my four track which, much like my mail server, has been at Comet.net (@comet.net) of late. But unlike most of the stuff at Comet, my four track is marvelously analogue.
| Matthew, like many youths in Waynesboro, was, through the years, a frequent visitor to CJ's apartment, where youths can drink alcohol free of parental carping and law enforcement. |
atthew's friend CJ was scheduled to arrive from Waynesboro. CJ is in his mid-forties and speaks with an extremely thick Waynesboro accent. It's comical to hear in the context of the bland Generation-X non-accents of my friends. Matthew, like many youths in Waynesboro, was, through the years, a frequent visitor to CJ's apartment, where youths can drink alcohol free of parental carping and law enforcement. We thought it would be amusing if CJ met Steve Weiner, our favourite local fartsy-old-man lunatic-about-town. So on the way back home, we picked up Steve at his basement home on King Street. His apartment is a dingy affair with linoleum floors and dark paneled walls. It reeks powerfully both of urine and cigarettes. On the wall are numerous photographs of Jessika, the girl who rules his heart. Steve insisted that Matthew eat some blueberry preserves straight from a can. I fled before I could have the appalling thing thrust in my face. Moments later Matthew emerged from the house spitting blueberries and wiping his mouth. He'd been too polite to refuse. At 129 Observatory, suddenly CJ arrived. We all gathered around and amused ourselves watching Steve and CJ swapping stories. Certified lunatics that they are, they hit it off rather well. Every now and then Steve would ask me to let him suck my dick. Then he'd say various words of praise. I've never seen Steve drink alcohol, but today he chugged down several Mickeys Ices. This all took place on the porch because Steve and CJ are both chain smokers. Steve claims he smokes four packs of cigarettes each day. He's horribly wasteful though. He's flick a half-burned cigarette into the grass and immediately light another one. Then he begged Peggy to fix him a sandwich which he didn't touch. Every now and then he'd clear his throat or fart. The sounds were unimaginably disgusting and the associated smells were even worse. I could only take him in limited doses; his smoking alone was making the outdoors unbearable. Many of our interactions with Steve were preserved for all time on videotape.
| By this point I'd taken one of the little blue prescription morphine pills that CJ gets for his aches, pains, and Hepatitis B & C. |
Eventually there was another mission to the Corner. By this point I'd taken one of the little blue prescription morphine pills that CJ gets for his aches, pains, and Hepatitis B & C. In concert with the alcohol and marijuana, this left me feeling an unfamiliar sensation throughout my body. I was empty-headed and had a little difficulty walking normally.
n the evening, Shonan, one of Leah's male friends, came to visit. We all sat around watching my favourite movie of all time, Bad Taste. Matthew, Leah and Deya cruised around with me later in the Dodge Dart. I was fairly sober by this point. Then we noticed a cop car behind us as we approached Observatory on JPA. My blinker had stopped working today, so we had to drive straight so as to avoid showing my car's failing. We doubled back once the cop had been lost.
