call me John if this would be a juke box in half a dollar at a time, and that any one Jack, one of my neighborhood, I grew up as a kick in the ass and stars and stripes, baby, sweet and fuck you mum. But
called Gianni kill the issue in the bud, the other cheek in principle, does not admit that in the epic weekend. James
Camparino smooth smooth hands me another, let me slip effortlessly into the night to arrive late today: I see him get in front of me trembling coward, a virgin on a first date with expert depravity of my throat sanded by dint of cursing and elbow grease. I was in the pub more than merdosissimo merdosissima square at this time I would see him meet me at the steps, simply, and lick my tongue How long until the field of miracles that I've got in my body, down the bottom, where I buried a few nights and I found myself climbing trees for years that I have stuck around the eyes and mouth.
And do not give fruit.
Rutto. The darkness of
seven has no equal, with that neon starts to overheat and is mixed with dust and heated warmth of the partition, the last, what the workers and their world have honestly disgusted and left just for me, baby artichokes and bottom of the barrel. I allow myself the
amarcord and order a cocktail vintage, clean the face of these faces that are beginning to grow Audible unto tickling around and behind the ears with their feathery tails of the eye: they want something, they know how to get it, they get it. But not yet: I want to raise a bit 'of tips to the bartender, so I can buy some colored crap to the daughter and a carton of cigarettes as it should.
With the tip of the stool beside camperos gnawed to my: James calls it "one of the hosts" ec'ha reason, because between me, him and the pot of beer, there is a coexistence of mutual loathing and need, a movement of repulsion and gratitude when we gather together to remember really a family.
'Move'
say a couple of my camperos gazelles, which obviously does not fit the brand and the stool with a rubbed with mud that had not yet congealed in the cut away view of the wedge for such situations: the gazelle left its plant on the strip while the other leans against the counter steel mirror.
"It works the juke box?"
"Enough"
"I make a smooth vodka? "
'Mh'
" Do you have a cigarette? "
" Not a woman "
" Here. I'll pay the vodka and a cigarette like a man. Spicciami the rest »
He had a leather jacket, short waist, studded and fell on his shoulder, her hair scraped back of the neck, indefinable, the voice of an electronic toy that has taken water. Swam in the aquarium of that Friday night with unusual trajectories, with a few strokes of dried fins and irregular, against the current, obviously accustomed to fast so as not to bite the bait.
"You want fries with that?"
"You metal music?
" Boh, see "
" There is a black cover torn, but you do not read anything, "
" I've rented as you see 'The long note
initial raised his head, preparing to mosh, but the embroidery of the incomprehensible syllables chilled the neck, in a stiffening laying plastic whip: sitting on the stool, back arched, head raised, arms outstretched to touch the counter.
Sometimes distinguished men shouting down "Chirieleison" Chirieleison "and not get a response, and drowning under a wave of tambourines and violins and resurface more tired and desperate, and always ask and always drowning.
She left before the end, without a cigarette, and looked fondly the streak of my father's mud greet every two steps.
was almost two, the evening could begin.
