Sunday, November 15, 2009


 "Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Man's Ruin. Please check your bad vibes with the clerk, have a drink, and don't forget to tip your server."

The doorman took our coats, leaving us in the anteroom with a man named Little Jelly. The club was warm, 80 or 90 degrees, befitting the red felt of the walls. We bowed to Little Jelly as he placed moodstones around our necks. Ezra, Peter, Micha & Ernesto's stones immediately turned deep green or a pale turquoise. As it often happens, mine turned deep red. Ernesto reached into his satchel and produced a blue gel to fit over the stone.

 "Jesus Christ, Franco -- cover your stone before someone sees you. You know, you'll be lucky if someone doesn't check it during the night anyway."

 The doorman returned and ran his fingertips across the edge of my lapel & pinched the fabric.

 "Oh shit," she said, "her show is on." I looked to the ceiling tile I imagined her mother was just above. Marcia was down to just her bra and skirt when her the pounding began. She shut off the boombox, gathered up her clothes, and I'd have "Paul Revere" and "Brass Monkey" stuck in my head all day. "We should get out of here."

 My year was three articles of clothing away from being made.

A $100 dollar bill peppered with cocaine arrived in the mail. The note: "I stood in the green-gray haze of the mold light & it was everywhere...!" It meant the harvest was good but we were over. When my boss heard, he tried to pimp me on any babe that came in. It was only when I burned the mood ring that I got off.

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