Where be my Time machine, Mister Wizard.
Two days ago an early morning tornado stuck Revere Beach.
Thankfully tree were no serious injuries from the EF-2 outburst, but winds gusted to 120 mph in a 3/8ths of a mile swarth, leaving residents without power for several hours. While tornadoes are extremely rare along the Massachusetts coast, Revere Beach was once home to the Cyclone Roller Coaster, which was the highest ride in the world until 1964.
A fire burned it to stumps in 1969.
It was a wicked ride.
I’ve been working with Mexicans at the metal shop for the last year and a half.
As always I try to improve my language skills and I help them with English.
The other week I gave Oscar, who has prevented my fingers from getting ripped off my lathes or pierced by drill presses, the movie EL TOPO by Alejandro Jodorowsky.
I explained the surrealistic story line of a mad gunfighter or pistelero loco.
Oscar had walked across the Sonoran Desert for three days.
He finished his water within 24 hours.
“On the third day I thought I was going to die, but I said, “I am not going to die here.” I walked another day to the pick-up. Everyone was happy, because they figured me for dead. So I know surrealism, but you know what an el topi is.”
“Si, pero tam bien caca.”
“Yes, because when you take a shit in Mexico, we say, “Se me sale le topi.” Because the shit is like a gopher sticking his head out of a hole.”
We had a good laugh and Oscar took the film home.
He never watched it, but we still laugh about ‘el topo’.
Mexicans have a good sense of humor.
Gianni Rage posted this poesie.
It tells of a time of the back then before the rich ruled Manhattan.
It was our city and for a good reason.
People like hookers, pimps, and dope fiends.
They protected us from the rich.
SNOW-WHIGGITY by Gianni Rage
It doesn’t have a title ironically, that was not really a poem…I was going to write it as poesies but opted for something more linear and prosaic…I will definitely have a look at this!!I am almost like a changed man with this weather…I feel like writing tonight…
About a hooker.
A hooker named Snow-Whiggity…
This is back in the day when NYC was actually still a city, not a giant terrarium…
The whole thing takes place on 23rd St.
Snow-Whiggity has a mean, gay pimp named Evil Queen…
She wants to get away from him but it is hard because she is a dope fiend.
Then she is hired for a party by “seven little men”—seven very small Puerto Ricans….
They are so impressed with her that they let her live in their social club on 9th Ave.
Snow-Whiggity has it made…she can now turn all of her tricks in comfort…and keep her own damn money ‘cuz the little men don’t ask her for nothin’
She even does a porno flick with them as a laugh.
But Evil Queen finds her and manages to slip her a hot shot…
She turns blue and goes unconscious, and the seven little men think she is dead.
So they do the only thing you could do with a dead junkie hooker in those days, which is drag her dead ass down to the West Side Highway and make it look like a hit-and-run…
But the little men like her too much to be that cold.
So they lay her in an old refrigerator box and pin a note to it.
But of course she is not actually dead, the dope was just REAL GOOD…
And she wakes up to find a brand new, handsome, young, straight pimp named Prince Charming leaning over her…
And the seven little men take out Evil Queen.
And everybody lives happily ever after
The other afternoon at a 8th Street bar I was drinking with several friends discussing the reasons for my movie script not having found a home.
“BET ON CRAZY has it all, a diamond heist, love, violence.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t says anything.” Jason came from Malibu. He had movie star friends. He had helped me with BET ON CRAZY. “When you pitch a script, you have to think on one line.”
“The tag line.” I knew the process.
“Yes, producers are besieged by countless ideas every minute of the day. You have to think of a better tagline.”
“Diamonds are forever and a crime takes a minute.”
“A little cliche.”
“A diamond belongs to one man until someone else takes it.”
“But it’s not telling the story.”
Jason typed out something on his cellphone and showed me the poster for a black exploitation film from the 70s.
His job was busting junkies.
His mistake was loving one.
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
Jason was right. Those two lines told it all.
“His job was selling diamonds. Stealing one was much easier. Getting away with it was the hard part.”
“Better, but that has nothing to do with your story.”
“And I’m sure that neither does the tagline for HANG UP.
“Work on it.” Jason ordered another vodka. I had a gin tonic. They brought out my mean streak. I left at the end of happy hour and kept my mouth shut on the train. No one wanted to hear mean.