DESERT SNOW SE7EN CONMIGO

[The Urbane Spaceman]

We punk assholes had to lie low for a while.


Here’s a tune for you, if you would care to participate in a solemn toast to Bacchus, our savior and saviour, and saveur, if you have good taste.


I drink a liquid that is as dark as the day I was spawned. It is black, and it is rum. Have what you will, as you like, because no one here will ever judge you, and let us brace ourselves to delve deeper into the dark despair of this Drunkard diatribe.


It is only from the depths of DRINK! that one can truly appreciate the heights.



Fuck the middle.



My friend, I promise to lead you to back up and out of this personal hell, or perhaps assist you to the next taxicab, as we go along on this sordid path.


Indeed, this has taken quite a while, and form here it will involve seedy pubs and dive bars and back alleys and havens of the destitute of soul.


But, it’s actually quite a lovely ride, you know, looking back.




Here’s a tune if you prefer the old school, form heah up in Maine.





Me? I will pour a glass and raise it high to this.



*AHEM*



No one would shut the hell up.


I drove the crying, fat punk rocker in the passenger seat to my place in his fucked up hearse, and Sean gave bad directions form the rear. Back seat driver. Of course, he had his hands full of titties. No one should ever judge that. Then again, he was really into that girl in the place where dead bodies once transported to the grave. Hey, make life, if that is how you do it in such a place.



The littlest punk sat all alone in the middle seat, crying over his bandaged paws. Burned paws. How would Joey ever learn to use a crayon again?


The naked chick was way back there with those snuggle bunnies, and she wore my leather over her goddamned juicy parts. Juice form Jerry. Rrrrrgh.


Jerry said, “Why did you guys fuck up my ride?!”

I said, “Shut up. Your life is not fucked.”



Of course, I was always wrong about that.

For all of us.



At this time, I drove with intent steering, so that this bad trip would not end up completely fucked.


Fat Jerry said, “Don’t fuck up my ride any further.”


Yeah, great advice.



I tell you, my friend, it took a couple of 23 and 24 point turns before I decided to stop listening to Sean’s bad directions that he gave between mumbles and slurps and wet noises. I turned off my ears and concentrated on finding something that was familiar to see.


And there it was.


It was Herndon Avenue.


From there, I navigated the streets and avenues as dedicated speed. There was no reason to break our luck at getting away form the lonely cop way up to the north and east of Fuckno. Sir, we will never go back there. Promise.


There it was. The vile decay of a car port that beckoned us to home and relative safety.


She was the Sans Joking River Valley apartment complex that we called our own personal dive bar. I slid into her quietly so that she would not awaken. That is the best thing to do. No need to alert the neighbors with loud noises.


I turned my face around from the driver seat and I hissed like a Lithuanian. Trust me, you never want to hear this sort of thing. You will wet your pants.


I said, “Ssssean! Put your pantsss back on and sssstop moaning! We have arrived. Maybe you did assss well. Now we mussst be very quiet!”


Yes, the sky suddenly glowed that beautiful and also ugly color of deep purple that signals the start of the day, and the end of the night. Dogs and birds are the worst creatures to hear, if you wake them, at that time.


Everyone was good at being quiet. Because I was still in stealth mode, and also highly contentious, they let me lead them. How fucked were we? I was in charge? What the fuck?



Now, we could not go in through the rear. The wood caused a lot of squealing noises. It was not properly lubricated. We would have to use the key to go in through the front door.

Who had the key?


Rrrrrgh.


It was Joey. And he could not use his burned paws to get his key.



I said, “I’m not going into his pants.”

The naked chick said, “I’ll do it!”


Fat Jerry looked like he was going to cry. Then he shouted, “Fuck that! Not you! You’re mine!”


The dogs started to chirp, and the birds started to bark.


I growled like a German.

I said, “Shut Up!”



I reached in and pulled the key out. Yes, his pants were wet.



Fuck. I need a DRINK now.




3…2…1… Prosit!




SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS SNOWSNOW PISSPISS



Inside, we gathered around the kitchen table. Since I was evidently in command, I opened up the fridge and began handing beers over my shoulder to Sean, who passed them all around. Everyone got two or three. That bastard didn’t even wash his hands before doing this. Pussy beer? Hey, wait a minute. If it’s beer, then all is good.



We men sat at the table and those ladies went into the music area to do what they do. They had their own palaver.


Sean had a big smile on his wet face.


Fat Jerry kept looking over his shoulder at his naked chick. He wanted to get his face wet, as well as a couple or three other things. Or ten. Or toes, as well. What is the math? 24 things? Tongue makes 25. Fucking Thirsty dude.


Joey’s face was wet from his burnt paws.


I said, “Beer is not enough. My head is still ringing form the ZID. How do we navigate this?”


Jerry and Joey both said, “Downers.”


Then they looked at each other and laughed.



Yeah, can you imagine that?


Two crying babies suddenly laughed.


Fat Jerry said, “All my shit is at… …well, it’s not here. Plus, my ride is completely fucked.”


Joey said, “I have darvocets and percocets and valium.”



I had no idea what this meant. But it seemed like he knew what he was talking about. You recall from the start of this long tale, that the little lion man was the one who introduced me to ZID. He introduced me to a Biker who sold ZID. You see, Joey knew things that I did not know.



These were things that I would become accustomed to knowing. Hey, don’t judge me. It was thirty years ago, and I am lucky to be alive. Trust me, this tale gets much worse.



Joey said, “Urb, you have to help me get these. My hands are fucked.”



Huh.



I was now allowed into Joey’s personal lion lair.


Well, it must be said that in such a moment, in such a predicament: This showed true TRVST.



TRVST is TRVTH.


I will not here and now expand on descriptions of pills and sex toys and weapons, except to say one thing, which is this:


Huh.



Man, it’s time for another sip of black ink.



3…2…1… PROSIT!





*AHEM*



So, Joey got his bandages changed by Monica again, and he went off to his own lair alone. He felt much better.


I grabbed an armful of beers and headed off to my own room, and we left those other four there to figure out the rest. Two big men with two women.


I put my headphones on and watched the light grow brighter beyond the black colored bed sheet that was permanently hung over the window with thumb tacks.



The songs I listened to form my boom box were from KKDJ, the FM radio station in Fuckno, back in the day. When the happy DJ began to alert everyone to get up and drink coffee and have a really nice day, I turned off the radio and played music form my cassette tapes. I started with a tape that had Kashmir ready to go.



I drank several beers, and had to keep getting up to take a piss (women pee, men piss) in the toilet, and attempted to be mindful of the sleeping of the neighbors, and also the fucking of the punks and chicks in the living room.


Peee Yooo.


How I will end this part is to say this:



When you have taken copious amounts of mind-bending accoutrements, and you find yourself fending off the start of the pretty day for everyone else, and you are left alone with your own thoughts,



It is damned hard to find rest for the wicked, racing mind.

You begin to assess everything that you have done wrong.



You think of things that you need to do to make your life better.

Your fucking mind won’t shut the hell up.


It’s a hard way, the comedown.


I played Led Zep again, and I guzzled another beer and popped another Darvocet.


Huh.

Tomorrow after tomorrow would be another day.



.






























DRINK!



*ahem*





My Mind Is Rambling and it's taken some digging in the boneyard of memories to resurrect these old bones for you, my friend.






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[oldsmartskunk]

A great tale. I loved your juicy description of even juicer things which can't be mentioned as not to instult people who want to be insulted. World is a weird place. And in my humble opinion, vallium is way better in those kind of situations.

[oettinger]

Pop open another one Urp. Putting shambles back together with shaking hands is not a great idea anyway.
Now, I`ll blast some kashmir through the amp!

[mistah willies]

Where's the next part? I mean, a whole fukcing month?


You're fired spacey dude.



.

[Palinka (RIP)]

...I mean, a whole fukcing month?...

Take some advice from a Doctor who knows all about impatience.

[The Urbane Spaceman]

A great tale. I loved your juicy description of even juicer things...

LithuaniaMans know the scent of juice from their noses, the sound of juice because they are ears deep, and the taste because of... well you can tongue out the rest from her. Excellent taste in women, young man.

Pop open another one Urp. Putting shambles back together with shaking hands is not a great idea anyway.
Now, I`ll blast some kashmir through the amp!

That is how it is done in Kashmir. Yes. Blast it loud and hear it strong.



Always Was, Is and Always Shall Be.

Amen, GG Allin

Then and here again, Antidote, Zep style, is how I DRINK!

because this is my savior. Drink is my saviour.


Amen.


.

[Dear Booze]

To make us wait so long for another installment would be rude. Get with it Urb. We'd like us some more of this here cock-tale.

[The Urbane Spaceman]

To make us wait so long for another installment would be rude. Get with it Urb. We'd like us some more of this here cock-tale.

As you wish.

[givemesomepils]

darvocets? percocets? my god speak English.

[mistah willies]

personally, I think that Urb dude drinks a lot.

Shhh. Don't say anything