Public streets are designed to be confusing.
“There are implied stops intended to create confusion,” Wheeze L. told me.
“Where did you hear that,” I ask?
“On the local, public radio station,” she responds.
She gets inked up while I take photos of the murals and street art.
Everyone is young. Thank God I wore black with leather boots. Everything is in color except what is fashionable here.
But, I am not being fair.
I have not eaten.
I feel quite unhip in this neighborhood. Like I am not trying hard enough to not care. You know, where non-conformist fashion becomes uniform. I am cool but not cold cool.
” ‘Course this ain’t Wilkes-Bashford either, so fuck fashion in the face of… and fuck it anyway just in good general principles.” (Not Fade Away. Jim Dodge)
I walk into the local vinyl shop. Stocked with just as many cassettes and CD’s.
Hey. How’s it going?: I say when I enter just one foot from the shopkeeper, and become the only browser in the shop.
He says: [nothing]. Looks up, then looks down.
I find this cassette called Cassette by an old fave.
Public Image Ltd.
You all set?: he says when I walk back to the counter.
Yeah, unless you have [insert band and album name here], in any format.: i say.
Yeah. No. I am not a CD seller.: he says.
I think: do what now? I bought a cassette and asked for any format. This album was pressed to viynl, too. Also, one third of your store is CD’s.
I feel old though I wager he and I are about the same age.
These are the dullest punks I have seen.
I find a hole in the wall pub.
Two men talk pinball strategy re: one of the three machines.
So, the Dark Knight story means…: I overhear.
I snag a draft from a sweet, little bartender. He was sharing his struggle, with anxiety and depression, with one of the Pinball Wizards.
Here is where I would frequent, were I to stay in this neighborhood. It is a haven.
An isle for misfit toys. Rankin & Bass, Christmas claymation-style.