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a time for fear
 
Friday, July 11, 2003  
Speaking of Daria Brit, she's currently rocking a wife beater on the streets of Brooklyn. How is it, d?

>N train, pumping stagnant air conditioning, reeking of old sweat and failed
>deoderant products. man staring at my chest. one flourescent light
>flickering on, off, out and buzzing. Train: an impossible location to
>maintain any sort of real conversation: "the one sitting next to the one
>with the gold stuff, look at those nasty toenails." "the one with the ugly
>baby- her shirt stained with breast milk, I feel so horrible for her, blah
>blah" man staring at my legs, women staring at my toes to see who's got the
>better pedicure. (me, of course, I picked a shade called champagne which
>contrasts very nicely with my pink brazilian flip-flops and my smooth TANNED
>legs)
>The conductor-guy on the train smiled and waved to us as we departed at
>Pacific Street saying, "you are beautiful people, all of you are just
>beautiful."
>"Finally, someone sane, " I thought.
>We walked up the subway stairs, out into the street- nasty 4th avenue
>brooklyn. A salty cluster of "no pork halal", charity shops, and churches:
>1. The church of the holy redeemer
>2. The church of the holy virgin
>3. Jesucristo es el senor (my favorite "Universal" Church where they annoint
>worshippers with oils from jerusalem and babylon.)
>
>Did you know Brooklyn used to be called the "City of Churches". Everywhere
>you look there's a steeple. I should be repectful to the church and describe
>the view from my window as ³overlooking a sea of phallic symbols² fuck that,
>it¹s a city of cocks popping up with bells in place of balls.
> I used to live in this neighborhood when it was truly ghetto, the deep,
>honest kind of ghetto- burned out vans on corners smoking for days, stray
>dogs,
>robberies. I abandoned that ship when the boys from the corner with the 40s
>in the brown paper bags started following me home, then eventually climbed
>up the fire escape and knocked on my window. (Flattery will get you
>nowhere, boys, but it will get my sweet ass packing to the fancy
>neighborhood.)
>
>so I gave up the ghetto for a life in late-night chic restaurants, eating
>shellfish in the early morning hours as the church cocks toll.
>
>So, I¹m not legitimately poor, but I am unmistakably careless with money- I
>drink it away in those candelit corners, not those dark alleyways. But I
>miss the dark alleyways. And the secrecy and quietude that comes with living
>a life in filth. So, getting wasted on Veuve Cliquot gold label and being a
>slut has nothing to do with debauchery. true debauchery has nothing to do
>with any material pleasures- there is no material involved just my fuckt
>brain and my shaky body. And of course my animal¹s mouth. Grrrrrr. I think
>I¹d feel a greater amount of satisfaction and accomplishment waking up after
>a morning of fucking in a pile of garbage than making drunken love on calvin
>klein sheets- which I am currently lying upon while my sweet toes savor the
>luscious blend of egyptian cotton and that ready-made giddiness that comes
>with knowing you can smear your cum all over designer sheets and no one will
>know except the washing machine. (or the neighbors, if you leave the
>curtains open like I do).
>
>So where was I? Brooklyn is a dirty fuckhole will some lovelier-tasting
>regions. It was to one of these sweet spots that our group was heading the
>other evening.
>I love the Spanish language because I can¹t understand anything except
>foodnames. Our Brazilian waiter- looking too much like Johnny depp- I even
>got a little slick in the seat. He called me senorita and sang to me
>flamenco-style. (the table was shocked, it was pretty comical, but at least
>he has a different approach than these ³I will stare at you until you
>acknowledge that I am staring at you then I will lick my lips at you² kind
>of men that lurk suspectingly in halfway-lucid subway cars on the short ride
>to work in the mid-morning.)
>
>It was the most beautiful kind of food orgy because the people around me
>disappeared and all I could fathom was my own selfish pleasure sucking on
>olives marinated with orange peel and red pepper flakes. I wanted to roll
>those olives across my body, hide them in my armpits and stash them between
>my toes.


9:21 PM

 
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