Saturday, May 5, 2012

Sinko

It's the night of the super moon, and of course the clouds covered the heavens tonight, leaving New York to its own devices under this profound celestial event.  I'm writing to you from The Levee in Williamsburg, where, at this moment, a shirtless man in a Luchadore mask is talking to the bartender in a way that leads me to believe they're co-workers.  To the credit of the folks in this extremely crowded bar, no one is looking twice.  That's New York.  The weirder the spectacle, the more we feign to ignore it.

Really, today is a grand trifecta of strangeness -- Derby Day, Cinco de Mayo, and a full moon passing closer to the earth than usual.  I'm in the crash cycle after the last week of travel, so had a hard time waking up today, not properly motivating to get out of the house and over to the gym until sunset.  After the gym I went to my usual writing spot of Think Coffee to work on a deadline due Wednesday.  When I got there, the baristas were having a dance party memorializing MCA, who passed at the disgustingly young age of 47 earlier this week.  When "Brass Monkey" came on, the blonde crew leader said, "Oh my god, I'm gonna go buy forties! I'll be right back!" Then she sped out the door.

I was wide awake when they shut their doors at midnight, so I walked down to the Williamsburg Bridge and over towards home.  On the way to the bridge there were large packs of white dudes in tacky sombreros stumbling lazy "s" shapes down the sidewalks.  I pitied the barkeeps - so many amateurs were out with their zombified eyes and tacky apparel signifying "I'm here to drink, and I don't know how to tip."  I stepped onto the bridge, hoping to catch some glimpse of the super moon.  The closest I came was a dude with his pants around his ankles, keeping watch on passerby bridge traffic before going back to fucking the impatient skirted person in a leather jacket in front of him.

The Plasmatics were on my headphones the entire time I was walking.  Never was there a better band to listen to while taking in this New York insanity.  The Plasmatics were truly the last dangerous rock n roll band, and their subversive science fiction lyrics are more necessary now than they've ever been.  As I stepped off the bridge and left the couple fucking in the shadows, the Hassids walking their families to Manhattan, the hipsters skating at high speeds down the entry ramp, I heard the dearly missed Wendy O. Williams say:

Stop
While You've Still Got The Time
Look 
What You've Done To Yourself
Stop 
While You've Still Got The Time
Look 
What You've Done To Yourself
Stop 
With The Rape Of The Earth
You Were Not Made For This
Stop 
With Your Campaign Of Hate
Stop 
Before It Is Too Late
The Bell Tolls
The Bell Tolls
Bringing The Moment Of Truth
Ringing Its Warning
It's Ringing
The Moment Of Truth
Wake-Up
Wake-Up
Wake-Up
Wake-Up

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