Thursday, March 15, 2007

It's like that and that's the way it is

Isn't Run DMC just the coolest?

Now that I've got the 14-year old girl from 1985 out of my head and onto the breakdancing cardboard, I can get right down to it.

Every now and again, I like to repost comments I made on someone else's blog here. For me, the fun part is that the comments are read out of context, as well they should be. And it gives the very few of you who read my blog, but not the random blogs I read and comment on, the opportunity to see how fabulous I really am. With comments.

Here's one I left recently:
for ed, it was the very beginning of a late-winter saturday. he'd stepped out of his apartment, sure he'd double and tripple and even four times checked that he'd locked the door, put his wallet in the back left-side pocket of his carefully and fashionably torn jeans, and that he'd grabbed his wool cap from the coat rack.

he stood in the hallway, running through this checklist in his head (door . . . wallet . . . hat . . .). hearing tomwaits, his cat, faintly and furiously scratching at the bottom of the door, he looked down. one paw, sometimes both, made itself small enough to fit through the space between the door and floor. ed wondered if tomwaits wished for his quick return, or to run out with him into the mysterious world outside the apartment. was tomwaits on the other side of the door wondering if would it be a world of sunshine and mousing; or of laying snuggled against ed's chest in a field of long, soft grass; tomwaits didn't and soon realized he wouldn't know, and stomped away from the door.

ed boarded the elevator and pulled the wool cap low over his brow.

outside his building, he tried and failed to get a cab. he looked up at the sky around him, then down at his feet. were this mere months and 12 steps earlier, he'd have had the comfort of a cool, perspiring metal flask pressing almost osmotically against his chest through the inner pocket of his jacket. now, however, he was alone. he looked back up at the sky and pushed a finger over his brow and under the edge of the wool cap. he feigned a smile and walked toward the metro, mustering more and more strength with each step.

the train pulled into the station so quickly, the rush of air as it went past nearly knocked him over. his eyes were glazed over. he seemed unphased. he boarded the metro and sat by the door. again he pushed a finger over his brow and up under the edge of his cap. he stared down at his feet, remembering the steps. the steps. he looked up and right, pointing a finger at the woman sitting next to him.

extensions, he thought.


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Meanwhile, back at my own blog . . .

Every now and again in my head, I hear conversations between Latin people living in Brooklyn. I'm guessing that I'm not the only one with such thoughts.

The last version drove a chopped, red hoopty with chromed out rims and twice pipes right out my left ear in the form of three separate, one-sided rants:

1. "Like, oh my god, he was all, like, 'yeah, so, what are you gonna do about it,' all gang-banga, and shit. So, I says, 'I'm gonna kick your fucking ass, guapo, if you don't quit it. Right. Fucking. Now.'"

two. "Churlindo was so pissed off when I says to him, I says, 'yo! you couldn't give it to yourself hard: you're not a man, you're just a little Puerto Rican bitch'."

3. "Uh-uh, oh no he di-int!"

5 comments:

furiousBall said...

Churlindos are delicious, especially with a side of refried guapos.

All your Puerto Ricans are belong to us.

Crashdummie said...

with comments like those, its a strange thing that you haven't gotten more blogging admirers...

cheers!

le bruce bruce said...

.

Lord Fondleberries said...

furiousball: the last time i was at taco bell, they told me they were out of meat. i'm still not sure how to respond.

crash: i'm gardening at night.

bruce bruce: what would you have done, had i not thus named you? i'm seeing a legal changing of the name in the future: i am sensing that sir period of the virgin tampon will either suit or fit in you, whichever comes first.

kris said...

I'm honored that this particular comment was left on my site!

So glad you have joined Indie Bloggers; without a doubt you will be a stellar addition to the IB community!!!