Sunday, March 15, 2009

Highway to Hell

Sis took me out to the Van Houten clubs and we ended up at Dingbatz. She may not have known to what extent I was holding myself together and what I wanted but if there was someone who would know, I think it would be her. My sister always knows even if we don't connect audibly about it. I stood and watched the band sipping expensive beer from a plastic cup. J-Moto danced with her though she looked visibly perturbed and in general done with him. I've watched her patterns and knew what the poor guy was in for. At this age who knows what love is although I had a pretty good idea. I tend to choose relationships with women who love the idea of providence but can't or aren't willing to provide it or really hear it.
Jerry sat in the corner making out with the 300 lbs biker babe. Tonight he was being sponsored by Coup. Sponsors are the guys who help a dude have a good time when he's down on funds. Many of those cats end up in the sponsorship program, the ones that survive. The rest are dead. Next door to the place is a leather shop that we hang in, full of jackets, pant, bras and belts. All black, all leather. D, the owner, sits behind the counter sipping beers and smoking cigarettes when not entertaining guests. There's always guests so D doesn't get much rest. I kept eying up a black belt with snake skin veneer and a faggy, no frills plain leather number.
Oh, that's Louis Vuoton, only a hundred fifty or we have lay-a-way my man.
Damn, I want to but seeing as I'm nearly in sponsor category I'll have to pass.
Well we're here for you Rose my boy.
Of course, of course. There'll come a day.
Always a new day risin'.
And then we're off to watch the AC/DC tribute band, Rock-it coughing through several packs of camels making the rounds.

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