I have a stutter. In 1992, I decided to become a writer. That means at age 7, I was already storing adjectives in my pockets for later use. Now that I talkalot, my tongue trips me up less. I can tell you’re lying, cause when you’re replying, you stutter, stutter, stu-stutter, stutter…

This Shit Is Hallucinogenic

Put yourself on the back streets of Port Richmond, where a labyrinth of abandoned factories and Puerto Rican house parties will empty you in front of Adventure Island. BYO loose juice and don’t bother dressing fresh, the older your sneaks, the better they fit. Laser lights strike your face and strung out kids try to figure out where each ray comes from. The floors are strewn with hula hoops that meet plenty of hip the longer the noise music warps in the ears. When you’re not looking at the visual projections on the wall, you’re eyeing the space needle hanging from the ceiling in lieu of a disco ball. This is a lil’ bit of West Philly in a whole lotta North Philly, and Saturday morning is nigh.

I close the night at Sal’s. We park for twenty minutes, I make as much as I can out of the dance floor with the time that I have, find Conrad in the mix. There is a flood where the bathroom is. I’m going to finally accept this about Sal’s. If Adventure Island is Six Flags, Sal’s is Dorney Park & Wildwater Kingdom.

After I realize I’m not making it to Dice Raw’s rooftop party, I go to whateveryawannacallit Time and look at all of the pussies holding the railing as they ascend/descend stairs. I count clits all night. Scene points if you didn’t touch it once. Nicemoves.

I end up having flashbacks the whole time because of Transit’s high school bathrooms and feel extremely isolated, like there is no one in all of steaktown who can understand, even if I never drop a stutter in again. So I dust the scene with a cab and fall into a deep coma until someone calls me at 3:59 am to request that I come over. Sleep VS You. That’s so easy.

Do you need another remind of what you did last night? Philthy.us lives to serve.

Another helping of Crescendolls? As you wish, Sep. 14th at Fluid. I swear Jay said something about dancers. Fig it out.

DO WANT/DO NOT WANT

Bipsters/Buppies/Pussy Ass White Boys Who I Can Run Circles Around
Summer III/Halo 3
Cornel West/Kanye West

TrendFucking

GrafFREEti

Mix dumpster diving and graffiti for a high that that’s not lawless. If you graf up trash, like pizza boxes, cardboard, and miscellany garbage, they can’t touch you for it, and you still get some kinna kicks. Olly olly oxen free. Dust tags are making a comeback, there’s a serious dust installation behind the Aramingo Wawa that you may want to field trip. It’s a lengthy series traced on garage windows of brand new housing that was just thrown up there. I think that’s a way of saying DNW. Well-played.

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 16th, 2007 at 12:41 pm.