A Break from that Paper (Don't Tell Henry James)

My life has gotten a lot more interesting, ever since they legalized crack. And it's the good shit now. I mean, I wasn't a user when it was still a street drug like weed, but I've got friends who never went a day without a hit. They say Uncle Sam's new blend is miles above the usual junkie crap.

One minute, gonna set a little fire, just picked this stuff up at the store on the way back.

Holy shit that shit is delicious.

I just came back from like a two hour shower. It's funny, the tips my fingers are so pruned up it's like the wrinkles are creeping all the way down to my palms.

There's a pretty good palm tree outside. We, my roommates and I, live in Detroit, so I didn't really expect the tree to grow when the landlord planted it. I remember arguing against the tree in certain harsh terms, and I think I threatened to kill his dog, but we were sharing a pipe, so it didn't really come to anything.

Goddamn crack is great.

But I had read on Snopes or something about these parasites which were native to palm trees, basically little red dots that spread like chicken pocks after getting into you.

My fingers look like wood.

I actually have a few Stiff Little Fingers songs - they're pretty good. Plus, they were playing before punk kids knew what to do with themselves at concerts, before gobbing or moshing I mean. So basically, in any given video, the band will be in some one's basement, and start playing, and these kids, who are wearing punk gear they've actually made themselves, or repurposed at least, like spiked dog collars, these kids are standing around like an American Bandstand crowd, and the music keeps playing. For Stiff Little Fingers, just think Greenday or any other poppunk, then replace the singer's voice with a real voice, add some musical ability well seasoned by a suitcase of beer between the four members, and you've got something like their sound. It's good. Being in a basement helps.

Looks like the wrinkles are fading, guess I don't get to call in sick tonight.

And finally the kids realize they're listening to music. And someone decides that they'll start dancing and see if anyone joins in (I don't know if the guy who starts dancing is as drunk as I'd have to be, you never even see a flask in these basements). The one person starts dancing, and the amazing part is that soon it spreads, and even more amazing is that Stiff Little Fingers have been dancing for the last three minutes, and it's like the audience can't bring themselves to imitate the band until some one guy starts bouncing.

I'm gonna see if I can bum some coke down on Park Place. I'll be back.