Archive for August, 2014

We whack, weaselin’ it away werrily, all merrily marmot.
On the black-top, bossing brothers to pull over to the curb left and right, pouring ourselves into the neon ticky-tacky night.
Don’t reach too far or we’ll roll over, Rover. Cracklin’, Jackie.
Sapphires and emeralds, sprack-a-sparklin’ out in the dark, diamond-trails all red and cherry, scarlet berries all a-garnet.
Stroll down West to the bottom o’ the Quay, shinin’ chrome and glass all slidin’ by. Passin’ Sally and Darla workin’ over some Joe, Darla looks, scales all shivery, hackles a-risin’ high and that looks clear as day;
“We don’t pass up no opportunity, don’t ya know? Not here, down low where the oily streets are littered and riddled.
Life or death, Lucille, so lick it up.”
Most people I know back home think I’m the whole bag o’ God-damn nuts, but I found my place here, with the crooks and the thieves and the crass, painted sluts and the whorin’ gold-diggers. My chips are cashed, coins ship-shape and safe in the bank, everything’s all Secret Squirreled.
Not long before I found a soft touch o’ my own. Yoo hoo!
Only gave me a little, gotta take my chances when I get ’em. Tell’ em “Gimme some more. I need a little more.” And if Joe walks away with his fists snug in his pockets then it’s “Well, God-damn you!”

There is a photo floating around of me being silly (I know! Shock-horror, right?) and kicking a leg out to one side.


A friend enquired who the Russian bloke was, har-har, siting the Cossack-dancer-ish move and the t-shirt I had on; as well as a large skull it has a crossed hammer and wrench printed on it, not dissimilar to the hammer and sickle of Soviet Russian fame. (more…)