Because I felt like it.. and bc I live in the past… an old journal entry from ‘05.
I think I might have made plans for today, but I can’t be certain. On mornings like these, after a big Friday night blast, (=me, a bottle, and a bag of moldy bread, feeding the birds at 3 am.) I usually like to wake up around 9 and let the hangover guide me through the day. I woke up on the couch with my face all smashed against the small tv that I’d stolen from upstairs and my hand in the vcr. I don’t know what I was trying to watch last night, but the screen was blue at around 9am, when I came to. When I rolled off the couch, I walked to the shower unit and got ready like I had some place to be.
Leaving my bike and my backpack down in the dungeon for the cats to claim, I grabbed my wallet and walkman and stepped outside into the sun. And the bird shit. I walked up Grand, past the hobos and the Arby’s to the bus station, bits and pieces of broken glass from beer bottles leading the way. I stood at the bus stop with about 10 other Saturday morning go getters, some of them carrying bright orange and blue plastic grocery bags. There is an Aldi’s across the street, but most of these guys haven’t been to the store, they use the bags as suit cases, or swag bags. The man next to me rifles through his bag and pulls out a nail clipper and begins to groom while he waits. When the bus pulls up we file on and I find myself between the man with the clippers and a young girl who holds a baby doll. No it’s a real baby, who by the third stop has his head in my lap and fingers in my hair. We’re two stops from my stop when the driver slams on the breaks. Someone’s bag falls over and contents spill out. A bottle of cheap vodka, a shower radio, plastic figurines probably from the dollar store. An opened can of malt liquor rolls toward my feet.
.Grand Station. 11:46 am
I exit the bus one stop before I had originally intended. My feet are wet from malt liquor and I think there’s snot in my hair. I cross the bridge and take the elevator down to Grand station.
Where I am reminded. The Final Four tournament is this weekend and the entire basketball jock world with its neon t-shirt over turtleneck wearing, miller high life drunken, obscenity screaming species has blobbed together as one bright, multi colored serpent slithering towards downtown St Louis. Its taken over the metro link and guts spill out onto the sidewalk when the train comes to a stop. …
Because I felt like it.. and bc I live in the past… an old journal entry from ‘05.
I think I might have made plans for today, but I can’t be certain. On mornings like these, after a big Friday night blast, (=me, a bottle, and a bag of moldy bread, feeding the birds at 3 am.) I usually like to wake up around 9 and let the hangover guide me through the day. I woke up on the couch with my face all smashed against the small tv that I’d stolen from upstairs and my hand in the vcr. I don’t know what I was trying to watch last night, but the screen was blue at around 9am, when I came to. When I rolled off the couch, I walked to the shower unit and got ready like I had some place to be.
Leaving my bike and my backpack down in the dungeon for the cats to claim, I grabbed my wallet and walkman and stepped outside into the sun. And the bird shit. I walked up Grand, past the hobos and the Arby’s to the bus station, bits and pieces of broken glass from beer bottles leading the way. I stood at the bus stop with about 10 other Saturday morning go getters, some of them carrying bright orange and blue plastic grocery bags. There is an Aldi’s across the street, but most of these guys haven’t been to the store, they use the bags as suit cases, or swag bags. The man next to me rifles through his bag and pulls out a nail clipper and begins to groom while he waits. When the bus pulls up we file on and I find myself between the man with the clippers and a young girl who holds a baby doll. No it’s a real baby, who by the third stop has his head in my lap and fingers in my hair. We’re two stops from my stop when the driver slams on the breaks. Someone’s bag falls over and contents spill out. A bottle of cheap vodka, a shower radio, plastic figurines probably from the dollar store. An opened can of malt liquor rolls toward my feet.
.Grand Station. 11:46 am
I exit the bus one stop before I had originally intended. My feet are wet from malt liquor and I think there’s snot in my hair. I cross the bridge and take the elevator down to Grand station.
Where I am reminded. The Final Four tournament is this weekend and the entire basketball jock world with its neon t-shirt over turtleneck wearing, miller high life drunken, obscenity screaming species has blobbed together as one bright, multi colored serpent slithering towards downtown St Louis. Its taken over the metro link and guts spill out onto the sidewalk when the train comes to a stop. …
Posted 3 years ago Notes
