Today in my neighborhood...

[Thompson]

We need to ask you a few more questions, said the first cop. The cops had come back to Thompson’s apartment.

I can’t offer you fellas a beer because I’ve only got six.

When you took the garbage out, what side of the street was she on?

She was on the other side. Then she crossed the street to my side.

She claims that you crossed the street and threatened her. The only way she could defend herself was by pulling out your hair. She also claims you tried to rape her.

C’mon outside, I want to show you something. Have you seen the dog Dinky yet.

Yes, he is indeed pitiful.

Well, take a look at this dog shit on my side of the street. Is that pitiful or what? It is relatively fresh and it could only have come from her dog Dinky when she crossed the street. Dinky got excited when she pulled my hair out my head and took a shit right there. I saw him do it. I was curious to see if the rapist woman would pick it up, but she didn’t.

Want my advice, said the first cop?

What?

Nest time you take out the garbage, take your cane with you.

[Thompson]

Knock knock. Open up Thompson, we know you are in there, we can smell you, said the first cop.

Yeah, what is it now?

Well, we want to know what you do for a living. How do you support your self?

I get my measly social security check every month and then I post a lot on the Modern Drunkard Magazine forum.

You get paid for that?

Why sure. Why else would I be posting the shit I post?

How much you get paid?

Well, it depends on the number of hits, or followers, or ‘users browsing this forum.’ One time I had 144 users browsing my post. So I made twice as much as when I had 72 users browsing my post.

No shit. I might wanna get in on that.

You have to create an account and think up a user name and password. That’s not easy you know.

Hmm, yeah I guess so, still, it sounds good. We two cops are a couple of modern drunkards. How many beers ya got?

I just got a twelve. Took me two hours . Every five steps I had to put the twelve down and use my other arm.

Just stay there on the couch, I’ll go fetch us three cold ones.

[Thompson]

Where can I get some opium, said Thompson?

It ain’t gonna be easy. You gonna smoke it, no?

Yeah, I’m out of cigarettes.

I know this guy Lester who dabbles in it. Or you could go down to this den in the Quarter. It’s on Rampart Street. Double the price though. How much you want?

I’m not sure, how much is enough?

It’s never enough, surely you know that.

Right. Do you need an opium pipe, or can you just use a hash pipe?

You’d better ask Lester. I’m not sure.

Where can I find this guy Lester?

He hangs down at Ms Mae’s Bar on Napoleon and Magazine.

No shit? Hell, I can walk there. What’s he look like?

Mean looking dude. Always wears different colored socks.

[Thompson]

So I was feeling pretty good after smoking some opium. I was watching the tv and the guy was on the phone, talking to his ex and you can only hear his side of it. Then he says, I’m Already in Hell! And he slams the phone down.

So three guesses, faithful readers and outlaws, what did the ex say to him?

Yeah. I thought that was a cool trick. That one way conversation. I’m gonna try that I think.

[Thompson]

Let’s start with this:

Https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hr3Stnk8_k

[Thompson]

Shit, that opium is good. It leaves a funny taste in your mouth but it also makes those early Bob Dylan songs really sound great. Oetts doesn’t care for Dylan, I had a girlfriend who hated Dylan. But she didn’t like Joan Baez either, and she cheated on me every chance she got. That’s what it’s like in my neighborhood.

[Thompson]

Song lyrics are just that, they are lyrics to a song. You can’t have a song lyric without a song. Poetry, as Hugh will tell you, is completely different. The poem has to stand on its own two feet. A poem is not a nursery rhyme, let’s get clear on that. However, let’s take Prufrock as an example, even though it’s titled a love song, it is not a song, it is a poem. But there is plenty song in it. “The clicking clacking of the high heeled shoes.” — that’s from Van but you get the idea. So the poem is rhythm without music, only words. Kinda on the hard side to pull that off. “In the room the women come and go / Talking of Michelangelo.” Sounds like a simple rhyme, right? I know what it is, it’s The room, not A room. Eliot was famous for his objective correlative thing, his “Mr. Jones” thing. “There’s something happening here, but you don’t know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?”

[Thompson]

What about your diet, Thompson?

What about it?

I thought your girlfriend Ladybug was a good cook.

Maybe fifty years ago or so. Today she spent all day making a cake. Let them eat cake. Tell me how a cake is going to help me? Once again, nothing to eat. I dread the sardine can opening. These are cheap sardines, it’s probably just one big sardine. Great looking package/can, try to fool ya. What ya put that thing on, a piece of brown bread? Forget soda crackers. Every sleeve of soda crackers in all parts of the world are stale when you open them, don’t tell me any different. Saltines I think they are called. There is canned chicken. Had a can of that lately? When you open the can it smells like one of the worst farts you have ever let go. I tell ya, man, it’s bad.

[Thompson]

So you going to The Rolling Stones concert at Jazz Fest tomorrow Thompson?

Fuck no, I would be trampled and crushed to death by all those fat ladies. They don’t shave their armpits and they smell funny. However, I predict that the boys will sit down. They are the greatest rock n roll band in the universe. They deserve to sit down. I don’t see why they can’t sit down. I would sit down. Charlie’s gone, God bless his soul. Makes me sad. But he always sat down on his seat behind the drums. He was funny, wry, witty, and a sharp dresser to boot. I met Mick. He was eating a banana. I’m not keen on bananas. I guess if you jump around like he does you get hungry for a banana. I punched Keith on the arm. He smiled, it was just a playful punch. Ron is one of a kind. He was kind to me, for sure. So I predict they sit down to play.

[oettinger]

Today in my neighborhood a lot of folks were running around drinking beer and listening to cheap techno music. Usually you do that on father`s day but people now also do it on May 1st. I`m just glad mother nature rained and stormed hard on em amateurs!

[scream ale]

Expensive techno or no techno at all. Damn cheap punks.

[Thompson]

That’s a dog in your signature, Oetts , ain’t it? Looks like a pitt bull, that’s the kind a dog I got. Got that box head and shark eyes. Wouldn’t trade him for a million dollars.

[Thompson]

No, I think it’s a horse. What ya name him? Do horses fart a lot?

[Thompson]

No it’s a one legged man with a horse head for a right foot. Yeah, that’s it. I like it. Wish I had a horse head for a right foot.

Remember now, you said from the get go — ‘post often, post drunk, post drunk often’. — that’s with a hard T, often.

[Thompson]

No it’s a one legged man with a horse head for a right foot. Yeah, that’s it. I like it. Wish I had a horse head for a right foot.

Remember now, you said from the get go — ‘post often, post drunk, post drunk often’. — that’s with a hard T, often.

What’s that mean . . . a b? a b c d? e f g? catch a leprechaun by the toe? I’m sick. Spitting up bile. Where is Hugh? I can’t pass out. Wine is no good. I can’t breathe. I don’t drink wine. I can’t even fart. I’m just lost. In my neighborhood . . . a b. I’m not going back to the hospital , so you can forget that. I’m not riding in an ambulance, you can forget that. My fingers smell awful, like a leper’s. There’s no reason for my fingers to smell bad, like a leper’s. Unless I’ve got leprocy. Maybe it’s from scratching my head, who knows? I do feel a sore or two on my face, and my feet and hands are all numb. I can’t see either. I must have leprocy. Well good, people will stay the fuck away from me. I don’t have any more opium, I smoked up all the opium.