the true debate
it all came together this evening. it was a beautiful --- unity, diversity, and a celebration of the evolution in cooking a chicken. to watch the beginning of the debates between bush + kerry, the people spoke + came together with our symbolic gesture of fried chicken.
we represented all enthnicities: popeye's, church's, and the steadfast resolution of old relable, fentucky fried chicken. to see us come together, sharing original recipe, with spicy dark meat, mixing 4 piece family combos with 8 piece $5 manager's specials was a truly moving moment, reminding us of the will of the american people.
the bisquits + gravy were present, but as a mere bystander to the true path that we sought to take on. it was a tour de fource, a testament, to the will, of the human spirit, if you will.
we mixed + matched, sharing honey covered bisquits from church's with those offering a bit of themselves in a thigh of dark, spicy, fried goodness.
america, i still believe in you, yo.
midi-giggin
after doing my laundry (yes, ladies, i'm 28 and use a laundromat --> totally hype) i drove to the store and saw a car with a bumper sticker i thought said "i (heart) my shoulder", but was disappointed when i noticed it said "soldier" instead.
came home to see luigi drinking oe-800 + watching 'cobra'. does it get any tougher? although he was listening to italian rock/pop when i came home, which is about the worst organized recording of soundwaves i've ever heard. would you call it wop-rock?
i'm starting to feel the tension, but we'll work on through it. i still feel it's just an adjustment he's making. german's don't leave home till late in their life. he's approaching his mid-20s and has never lived away from home. he's having trouble doing some things for himself + i have serious trouble helping with stuff that i feel could be solved on his own with just thinking about it; maybe it's just an impulse? we'll work it on out...
14 yr olds + a cadillac
as a youth i partook in many an illegal activity. the only explanation i had was a curiosity of the adventure involved and the level of control you feel when you take things into your own hands.
there was a time when a group of us were into 'car hopping'. now this isn't the kind of car-hopping jim cook was into, we weren't looking to run on a car, starting at the trunk and ending up stepping off at the hood. we were semi-geto youth and wanted to get finances + possessions that we were after. some friends of mine had been doing this in the rich neighborhood, they'd get into unlocked cars + check things out until something of value was found. we were out roaming around, more bored than anything, + decided to do this one evening, yet the 2 i was rolling with brought up that there was one house that they hit up a few weeks back and got some $ out of this dude's golf bag. they said that he left his car open and the keys in the trunk last time, the house was around the corner, and that we should check it. to be honest, i was always scared shitless and wasn't too down for going into cars or garages. i did do it a few times, but would usually have hyper-anxiety attacks and imagine the worst possible situation, some dude catching us in the garage and shooting me with a shotgun, or getting busted in some dudes ride + getting beaten to a pulp. i didn't think much of the legal ramifications, more what sort of terrible things could happen to me at the hands of the victim.
i was weirded out that they wanted to go check out the same ride again, i assumed the guy was wise and would have his stuff locked this time anyways, no way he didn't know some kids ganked cash out of his bag.
when we got there, it was a brand new cadillac parked out in the back driveway of this nice house over in the fountain park subdivision. it was night and behind the house was the high school, which sort of weirded me out even more, it felt like we were in the open for all to see. when 'langdang' checked the driver door it was open. how in the hell could this guy leave his car unlocked again, i believe i had thoughts of a drunk business guy, coming home after playing golf, and stumbling out of his car, and into his home. a normal routine that he'd been doing for years, he hated his job, he hated his family, + he drank the time away. that's at least the cynical view of a 14 yr old thief, i believe that would of been a good time to self-reflect.
after going through his stuff, langdang found the guys keys in the ignition. the next logical step for 2 14 yr olds and a 15 yr old would of course be to decide to put our socks on our hands, push the car silently down the driveway and continue down the alley, where we proceed to get in, crank it up and go on a joyride. we were bright boys, i tell u whut.
i remember being both scared shitless + so psyched at the event taking place. i was in the back, langdang at the wheel, and s "so, what are you guys gonna do, leave?" varella in the passenger seat. we were crusing around town in some guys brand new cadillac. what. in. the. hell? so of course the next logical move would be to ride to the next town to a skatespot. we used to rely on rides from parents to spots all over the place, they'd take us there, drop us off for the day with some $ for food, and we'd skate all day until they picked us up. i'm not sure i would trust my kids like that, but that might be with the knowledge of things we got into in those days of true freedom.
when we got to tom thumb banks, we skipped the skating and took to the banks in the car. we jumped it a few times back there, total fools, no thought about what we were doing, then we jumped some islands in the parking lot (like sheffey, but in a cadillac), and decided to roll back to allen (represent!).
on the way back, we were on a deserted suburban road, driving by all of the disguisting sights of strip malls and fast food, when we came to an intersection that was turning yellow. "punch it!", "we can make it!", "aaahh!" and we gunned it through a red light. somehow, as if beamed from another dimension, as soon as we make it through the red light of the intersection of the light we just ran we notice a cop right in front of us. it must of beenthat we sped up, were distracted, or that we had yet to legally drive an automobile, but somehow we didn't see the cop at all. from there we freaked, slammed on the brakes and decided it was time to beeline home.
when we drove the car back, we were once again scared out of our minds, i had visions of returning the car to the driveway to see the owner standing there. we putted down the alley and decided to pull in the driveway with the car on, rather than push it back. we were on high alert, pulling up fast, turning the car off, and making a break the hell outta there.
as we ran down the driveway, and down the alley past the next driveway we noticed a minor detail that passed us in the insanity of it all. we had parked the car in the neighbor's driveway! we laughed our asses off, running through the neighborhood for a good mile, high off adrenaline, and thinking about what the guy would think when he found his car in his neighbor's driveway. somehow i made it to where i am, i think it was an ability to walk the line of serious law-breaking and having some delinquent fun, coupled with a healthy dose of luck. i'm still dealing with karma, though.
p.s. check the era-freshness.
insane
americans are idiots.
listening to...
the pink mountaintops.
good night.
"...for '88, you suckaz..."
"Come walk with me through endless time.
See what has been and what the future sees.
Share the wisdom of the old world that has passed,
Step in a life that's yet to be born..."
(liquor of preference) on the rocks
i got a beer poured on me tonight. granted, i've deserved to have a beer poured on me about 1,458 times, but tonight was completely unwarranted (name of my first warrant covers album). the only thing i said to this crazy bitch was when bryan was talking shit to her, i busted the 'spiel fertig' (game over in german for all uni-linguists). she replied 'i'm biligual, what about you?'.
either she was being semi-witty in a deadpan style, or she was completely fucked out of her mind; i'll goi with the latter after a 20/20 post-view of her antics. she came back like 10 minutes later, out of the blue and threw a full beer on me. what the hell. where did that come from, i sorta snapped and almost retaliated, but homegirl must have some probs in her head if she's doing shit like that. plus she was drinking 'sparx'.
plus she was a closet lez-bee-on. plus she had melanin. plus she had a weight problem. let me state this, all those things are fucking fine, i DON'T GIVE A SHIT about that stuff, but the problem is that she has issues with it. jay told me bry gave her a nice lecture on her violent behavior + general beligerance.
anyways, i got a beer poured on me for the first time ever, probably long overdue, but didn't deserve it tonight. it made for good conversation at least.
street hassle
the mom + sis are coming down today, should get here in a few actually. i will try my best to entertain, yet it's not my forte. i'm pretty bad at the family stuff, more specificall with my family. not sure what it is, it's just difficult. or i coudl be the difficulty. it is what it is, we'll go to alamo drafthouse, maybe go watch the game somewhere, + then i'm rolling out tonight.
never mix family + partying; never.
"gangster sidewalls, sunroof in the back..."
there isn't a single sleep drug that can fuck with me. i am the king of rocking throught this shit. how can i not fall asleep on prescription meds, it's nutz. i guess i have done alright with falling asleep, but then i wake up a few hrs later...mostly from allergies.
went out drankin bushmills with some oldies. jay van jay, lisa lisa, d-scott, depart, el remo, some russian girl named massa? anyways, so now i'm testing out my skills --- bushmills vs. sonata; right now, d has tagged in + the ref didn't see the shank i just pulled outta my tights. aha, rake across the eyes, can't stop this chit, i'm truly takin it to sonata, though i am starting to feel a little woozy, maybe it's gonna win, cause i'm having trouble staying on my chair, thinking about...nothing.
it's kinda fun on hypotics cause you don't think about anything, they won't let you, it's sort of a calm flow, yr body waves around as you listen to yo la tengo covering curtis mayfield's 'be thankful for what you've got'. ladies, i am very thankful.
good night.
All the Assholes in the World and Mine
"When my mind cleared it was 4 a.m. All the lights were on and everybody was gone. I was still sitting there. I found a warm beer and drank it. Then I went to bed with the feeling that all drunks know: that I had been a fool but to hell with it."
hard times (not blockhead)
i'm straight broke.
what kind of music does a starving artist play?
.
.
.
.
.
.
baroque.
it's all gravy, it's kind of nice to have hard times every now and
then. it's easy to adjust to your means either way, i think i've had
the same standard of living since college, regardless of my income along
the way; if i make more, i spend more. payday's tomorrow so i'll be
back, "livin' like a hustla" s by 5:00 pm Friday.
cinema texas is this weekend, so i'm gonna check some films. art show
at galerie lombardi tonight, party on the east side Saturday, and i
think i'll get in contact with jody's alcoholic azz + kick it this
weekend.
allergies are bad right now, i'm waking up even with the help of my
hypnotic of choice, sonata. you ever tried hypnotiq? add hennesey +
you got yrself a hulk; hip hop drinks, like whoa.
i still need to finish those stories too.
no values
not sure what's going on, i'm currently rocking:
black flag, ice cube, roxy music
+
medicating with sleeping pills
+
ruining my eating habits with cold cuts (turkey varieties), kraft cheese singles, taco bell (last night), jack in the box (this morning)
+
not running in 5 days
+
telling girls i can't visit, cause chit is over, even when they beg
+
being broke as hell till friday
+
getting ready for cinema texas this weekend
+
excited to go to the game saturday
+
stressing about my mom + sister coming to visit this weekend
+
not keeping up with the news
+
being lazy on my stories i said i would explain
+
getting off the computer to go to sleep....
interim
purple leaves + a doghouse
this story involves a young boy + his experimentation with lysergic acid diethylamide. this was around the time of driving permits + first legal experiences behind the wheel. must've been a Friday night + drew decided to sneak the van out for a little hallucinogenic cruise. we took the doses late in the evening, waited for things to get going, + then he picked me up to go over to brent's house, where we would grab him + rendevois to who knows where. we'd had several such experiences + it didn't even seem to be a big deal to take the car out at 11, just after the parents crashed, driving; high on lsd.
this adventure took a wrong turn when we pulled into brent's allyway + saw a cop standing there, questioning him. we tried to back up, but the lights quickly swung our way, next thing you know they have drew's dad on the phone, letting him know 'we have your son + his friend in your van' + of course he's driving on his learners permit.
so things have already kicked in + we're starting to freal about the ramifications of the situation and having to deal with parents about sneaking out, taking cars, no license, all that fun stuff. they release me to drew's dad who says he'll give me a lift home. i'm rambling as we drive, probably apologizing + concurrently convincing his pops to just drop me off, i'll let myself in + then address the previous night with my parents as i go in; or the next morning, no need to wake them up, right? somehow i pull it off, with no intention of turning myself in unless he initiates it that night or the following morning.
i slowly walk to the door, waiting for the car to be out of site + then give it a shot to sneak back into my window. except, damn, my window's locked somehow. i forgot to mention that the night started with me staying the night at drew's, i just remembered that + i guess when i got back to my house, being dropped off by drew's dad, my window was locked + i had no way to get in. not wanting to wake my parents and explain the situation at 1 in the morning, i began to walk around the neighborhood, trying to figure out my next plan...with the acid in full effect by now. i remember seeing some folks across the street that i knew, older dudes who were hanging out + telling them the story which got a not so reassuring 'that sucks', which didn't really give me any options. to make matters worse, it began raining, first a drizzle, then a standard rain, followed by a downpour + nowhere to go for the 14/15 yr old on lsd. i began hanging out on the porch of this abandoned house on the corner, staring at the purple sky, morphing shapes, changing colors, pulsating. i looked into the massive willow trees, rain was falling pretty heavily, + all of the leaves were in the shape of purple roses. the feeling of being lost definitely began to kick in and i needed shelter. i was thorouhly confused at this point and came to the conclusion that i was gonna find a dry place in the backyard of my house, i walked back and scouted it out, only to find my german shephard in her god house. cut to 14 yr old on hallucinogen in a fairly large doghouse, but doghouse none the less, a full on downpur, being kept company by his dog.
i'm not quite sure how i got to this point, though it was quite the lucid experience, and calming too, to be in such a small area with the rain coming down. then the cramping set in and i knew it wouldn't work with sleeping in there and it probably wouldn't look to good with my parents if i came out of the doghouse in the morning.
next stop, paul olson, lived a few houses down, mr. reliable. i knowckec on his window at about 4 in the morning, told him about the situation with drew and that i needed to crash. i finally passed out, but when i got up in the morning, i took a peek out the window, since i was about to head home, as if i'd spendt the night at drew's, when i saw a police car in front of my house. great, i'm super busted. i waited till the cop left and walked down the block + went home. my parents tried to figure out what happened, the cops came by because drew's parents called mine in the morning, it seems drew ran away that night, hopped on a greyhoud bus + went to tc bacon's, who had recently moved down there. i guess since i was gone, my parents too had thought i'd run away. i talked about how we snuck out the car, but they had no idea about the drugs. i still don't believe they have any idea i was messing around with stuff like that back in the day.
sorry about the delay on the story, i planned on doing one daily, but got sidetracked. acl festival is this weekend, jvh is in town, and i'm gonna have some fun. over + out.
check yr (head) windshield
well, this one's kind of bizarre and may show my age a bit. it all went down at bill's records + tapes in dallas for the beastie boys - check yr head release party.
i remember being psyched for that album, pass the mic was the hottest chit i'd seen in a while when it first came out, and they played it as people were waiting in line...every damn track was nice.
so we hung-out, they were giving away shirts + other gay chit + we decided to roll. me, juan, chuck, drew at the wheel in the 86 citation (oh the irony).
-----------------
ok, so i just took a pill of sonata + i have no idea how long it takes to kick in.
i looked at the drug book at wallgreens and it was listed under 'hypnotic' as a drug. bitchin.
-----------------
so when we decided to leave, not sure what the fuck we were thinking, just the punk rock, up to no good spirit in us came to + we had the bright idea to take some tapes outta this dude's jeep, i swear it was somethign shitty too, i don't know what we were thinking, it was pretty wack + i don't remember who actually grabbed the tape. so this guy sees it and starts rightfully getting pissed, yelling as we roll off like the kids we were. so he hops in the ride after letting others know + the chase is on like the 1st 30 minutes of this charles bronson flick i once saw. we were all over spring valley road, weaving in + out, crazy shit that woulda made remy julien proud (aside from the thievery).
we roll through this apartment complex hubcaps are flying from speed bumps + we get pinned. folks surround the ride, yelling, we're pretty worried, stupid prank to steal a wack tape as a joke gone wrong. we toss the tapes out + this dude goes awol, gets on the hood, + kicks in the windshield, some watts/la type chit. drew says fuck this, puts his chit in reverse and guns it....SLAM! we nail this fucking mini-truck behind us. not sure if my 2 readers know what a mini-truck is, but it was all the rage with the kings/raiders crowd in the day.
ahh, the custom mini-truck with stickers on the back such as 'ride-n-lo', 'caught-ya-lookin', 'n-2-deep' + the like...but back to the action. we freak + gun it the fuck outta there.
chitty tape prank now has caused a broken windshield, a smashed mini-truck, + a hit-n-run.
we're flying down the highway, lose those motherfuckers, everyone gets dropped off, we think up some story for the windshield, + think all is cool. well, 1/2 and hr later drew gets the call from the fuzz on the hit-n-run + the story ends with him somehow paying for the damage...i think insurance + we helped some (i believe, this may be the drugs kicking in + me trying to make myself feel better about this).
i wanna add pics, but am too tired. damn this shit is strong. good night.
the (almost) 1st bj
so now that i'm trying to think back on the details/dates, things are getting blurry, i swear it must've been either the summer before 9th or after, maybe juan (in a million) can help me out. the days of skating in the tx heat all day, watching ohio skateout and savana slamma and langdon's, eating all of his cereal. reminisce.
so we'd crash at langdon's on a regular after fucking around town all day, me pretending to be good at skating, rocking some jimmy z's and a blockhead i'm sure. i wasn't bad, just a puss on big stuff. the days of ray barbee, public domain.
so myself, scott v., and langdang were hangin out in his room and his little sister has this weird little chick staying the night. she was a few years older + that destined-for-smalltown-whore look on her face. so this chick starts acting all slutty around 3 young + impressionable skaterats, and i believe there was already a rumor swirling around the crib that she was indeed a hoe.
so we crash out, bunkbed style + this little bitch comes into the room, talking to us and shit. real strange, ultra slut mode, talking about how she wanted to suck our dicks. what the fuck?! not only are we in general shock, we barely had seen any legit porn, but for this to come up, from a girl that must've been 2 yrs younger than us (you do the math) and on top of none of us having yet gotten anything from the ladies (skaters were trash back in the day). anxiety rushin throughout the room, 3 horny dudes, one early blossoming whore, and no lights on.
of course being the bitches we were, none of wanted to do that, we were scared out of our minds. i swear, that was some heavy shit back then, i sure as hell didn't have those playa skills as i do today (it's a good thing no one reads this shit). so all of a sudden they try to get me to fuck around with her, she's eggin it on, they're eggin it on, d's saying fuck no, no way, fuck that bitch. verbally, with her in the room, calling her all sorts of nasty shit.
so she stays in the room and is persistent as fuck, after a while, just sitting there, waiting, waiting. so i give it a fuck-it and say alrighty then. i hop outta the bed, dark as hell, not seeing anything and go over into the corner with this lil superfreak that'd make ol' rick (rip) proud. of course i'm scared, of course i don't know what the hell is going on, and of course i've got a damned piece of teflon in my pants.
so she's on her knees, backed up against the wall and i finally get the full courage + take out my wiener, grabbing her head, getting ready for some 2001 space odyssey type shit, the new frontier when all of a sudden she starts pushing it away. what the what?! wait a minute, yr gonna say no after all this ding-dong you've been begging for, getting me ready for some life changing event + now you wanna back out? i'm like 'here, just stick it in yr mouth' (so smooth) + she's not budging. i start insisting, saying why the hell did you want to and not now? my shit is about to explode, i'm tense, freaked, and it all comes to a halt when i say 'fuck you then' + forcefully push her head backwards into the wall behind her.
now i knew that was some fucked up shit after i did it. my homeboys heard it, they knew what happened, and you heard 'whoa' and laughter in the darkness. i just stepped off that shit + told that hoe to split. it wasn't right, but her shit wasn't right neither. street justice as they say. man, i can't believe i did that, she's on her knees + i just pushed her head back into the wall for fuckin with me.
she leaves the room, we laugh a bit, langdon ends up messing around with her in the van outside, + i'm still not sure what happened, what her name was or anything. i do remember hearing of her doing the rounds as the local fuckbag a few months later. pretty messed up actually, how does that shit happen sop early...maybe from getting yr head rammed into a wall?
story telling
i'm going to have a series of stories on here about some of the things i've been involved with in my life that are questionable pertaining to morality + the ethical treatment of other humn beings. it sort of came to me when i was telling one of these tales to bry + high on coffee today, i decided to have a theme for a few entries about these incidents...maybe as a way to see how well i can recall what went down, some form of reminiscing these humorous/horrendous events, depending on how you roll.
in order to make sure i follow through, i'll list the titles + hope that will hold to my word. i am a hell of a procrastinator, so...
1. the (almost) 1st bj
2. check yr (head) windshield
3. purple leaves + a doghouse
4. langdon's last days in apparel
5. 14 yr olds + a cadillac
6. highway baseball (with an orange)
7. the colt, a bowl from wendy's buffet, + a mustang
that's it for now, i guess 7 is good to have a week's worth of material.
el histamino
i think i almost killed luigi already. he was having some allergies with gusto (aka. gutso) the cat + i offered him some clarinex. friggin broke out in itchy hives?! that's the indication that clarinex is set up for, strange. we just rolled the dice + took some benadryle to get rid of the hives.....we'll see in a bit. tig said to go for it + he's the pharmacist, so i'll place the blame on him if lui dies on day 2 in america.
d
scampers
wow, so luigi conigliaro comes in tomorrow. 3 months, he's gonna have a good time. things will be a little hectic for about the 1st week, he's gotta get settled, oriented, and will be living in my room like a refugee till sam splits.
work is interesting at the moment, things are just wild, trying to figure out behaviors + how to work on em. pretty much on the fly behavioral research put to practice in the heat of the moment, but it's good + i kinda like being tired as chit at the end of the day.
i need to go see a movie soon, maybe that bukowski doc should be playing here by now.
bye; now.
fireman cruiser
A crisp saturday evening, rain looming, friends travel to the evil-east side to have some late-night backyard beverages. This was scheduled to be a holdover visit between parties, a pitstop before returning to the night's original destination. The soiree, which is our setting, is on the tame side: bottles are present, people are quietly discussing the state of things in general and a character is taking a digital snapshot of his friends belly squeezed together so as to resemble a woman's vagina. with all the 'excitement', our hero is confronted with the evening's true dilemma around which this story takes place: no ice.
El Daniel: Say man, is there any ice in there
Poppa Large checks to fridge.
Ah man, this is the last of it.
El Daniel: Shit, I'm not drinking warm whiskey + coke.
Go check the keg outside, should be some out there.
Our hero heads out back, where the keg is not on ice.
El Daniel: Shit, man, I need to get some ice.
Well, being that the glow of this 7-11 sign behind the fence is like the parting of the skies as the lord appears, it may well be a sign that you should walk the 20 feet next door...they have have ice in those stores, ya know.
El Daniel: Oh yeah.
Cruising out of the backyard, El Daniel yells to Lakshmi.
El Daniel: Hey, I'm gonna roll on yr bike.
Don't get my shit stolen.
Hoping on the cherished cruiser of Mrs. Lakshmi Asokan, our hero rides approximately 30 seconds around the block to the local 7-11, laying the bike up against the trashcan by the door.
Hey, man, how are you?
El Daniel: Alright, what's up.
Hey dude, do you think....
The attendant comes out of the 7-11.
You gotta go man, you gotta get outta here.
El Daniel proceeds to the back of the store, has a quick internal debate over which cup to get, opting out of the initial styrofoam cup he grabs, deciding it's more eco-friendly to grab a plastic cup that you can leave at the party and they'll reuse it some day. Our hero constantly finds himself engaged in these internal struggles, having the utmost moral + ethical standard to which he is completely conscious of, yet adheres to with grossly varying degrees depending on his personal mood or state of intoxication. Grabbing the plastic cup and filling it with ice, our Hero looks to add some coke to the cup and becomes confused with the super-dispenser, offering him choices of Vanilla Coke, CHerry COke, Lemon Coke. THinking to himself, he presses the "Coke" button, hoping for standard coca-cola. Cherry coke goes in the cup.
El Daniel: Shit.
Our Hero, who 10 seconds prior internalized the ecological impact of his choice of cup material, upset, throws the plastic cup in the trash and grabs a new one, fills it with ice, and carefully plans his next move, staring at the dispenser.
El Daniel: How in the hell does this thing work, you've got 3 choices of flavored Coke, but no original, there's no way.
Giving it a 2nd try, he presses the button and tastes the liquid coming out, letting it drip onto his finger and tasting the drink.
El Daniel: Shit, Cherry Coke again.
Turning around, half-perplexed by being outwitted by a soda dispensed and half-agitated in the standard way our hero easily gets worked out about small issues, to which he is fully aware of this "issue" and works on it as he is able to.
Now speaking to the attendant.
El Daniel: Say man, how the hell does this thing work, I just want some regular coke and it only lets me do these other flavors.
Having a keen sense of his surroundings (and a tad of neurosis), our Hero looks out the window from the back of the 7-11, looking for the handlebars of the bike which he had layed down in front.
THinking to himself.
El Daniel: Hmmmm, I don't see those bars, I better walk up front, the view's probably just blocked by the trashcan.
Walking with a semi-concerned pace to the front of the convenience store, it quickly becomes more and more evident, that the bike is not where our Hero has last placed it. The reality of the situation does not sink in until El Daniel actually opens the door, looks at both trashcans outside and realizes that the bike is gone.
El Daniel: What the fuck?! That fucking homeless dude ganked Lakshmi's bike and the damn attendant didn't say shit, how the fuck did he not see that shit??!!?
El Daniel: Where the fuck did the bike go?
Random lady: What?
El Daniel: There was a bike here and someone stole it, did you see anyone?
Random lady: Yeah, it's over there. Is it your bike?
SO our Hero pans to the left and just outside of the parking lot of the 7-11, in the street, he sees a few people standing next to the bike, which is laying down, and a man on the ground, face down in the middle of the street.
[Running to bike + scene]
El Daniel: WHat the fuck?! (picking up the bike and looking at the guy)
Standard Austin vagabond: He got hit by a car, you gotta leave the bike here, he just got hit.
El Daniel: Fuck that, that fool just tried to steal this bike.
[Taking the bike inside the 7-11.]
El Daniel: Say man, homeboy who stole my bike just got hit by a car, better call the ambulance............
Arlight, so I'm tired of trying to type this up. What ends up happening is I take the bike aroudn the corner, tell the story to the crew, we roll back and the dude is finally sitting up + conscious. His homeboys get all pissed cause we're talking to the cops, they're saying "awe, man, he was just goofin'", whatever the fuck that means. Don't be goofin on someone else's bike or yr liable to be goofin face down on the concrete.
The fuzz took a report, the bike was fine, so we didn't press charges...the cops called it 'street justice', i call it a story too long to tell the way i wanted to....
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