Minnesota Styling Or Landry's Frozen Holiday On Ice

03 Feb


Seek and Ye Shall Find 'The Ways' by Dune Patten


Original Date: Feb 3, 1997 17:56

Landry writes with all the brass of a Louisiana plough girl despite her college girl creds, "I turn 32 in fucking Minneapolis. Think I'll get laid?" This is always what you want the girl sitting all alone on the curb next to you darting her head back and forth in a killer 180 looking for somebody else and you just know a three sixty would suit her better, when saying those words to you. Youth is an evil that cuts like a primitive electron collider. It takes a lot sometimes to find the kindness in it.

Priscilla Wiseacre had to be the nastiest operator in the city for this bit of in-your-face tease, trying to pry something, anything out of you so she'd have dirt, and if it wasn't dirt, it would be blood. I thought it was just her taunting me, but I came across others who told the same cockteasing stories about her treating them to a full chapter and verse mind grope with weak but overbearing tales of woe about how fucking horny she was, that she couldn't get anybody to touch her, fuck her, make her come, give her courage and dignity. Priscilla. That's a mental case right there, a story to be told in True Detective serial form complete with blonde buxom broad, bound to a chair with those torn clothing full color drawings and paintings I studied at the 7-11 magazine rack when I was a kid. Somebody ought to write it all up. I heard all those artists in those magazines back in the day are famous in New York, now. Out of the closet. Real fame. Many of the rag artists themselves never considered their work important, nor did their editors, or the public. But the tastemakers with time on their hands and up their nose will invariably have their say.

Seems everybody's got a story in DC, and somebody else is busy telling it. Bout time I got back in the game. But yeah, to reply to you Landry, you know I jest lightly, "Just don't lick any frozen poles. Stick to the Swedes. They tend to reciprocate, I hear." Lounged on the sofa ALL DAY today hoping to kick this mess, but here it is half past five and the congestion is rolling in like your Candlestick fog. My throat from coughing and my ears from ringing hurt the way a floating dock whore hoarse on frozen poles might hurt. Snot and phlegm bug me still, and the typeface is fuzzy on the screen, so my eyes have conspired as well, but I had to finally get up and move around.

"Have fun in the tundra, girl. I've heard second only to SF, Minneapolis is the most favored capital city among the pink and the proud. And happy birthday. Age is a good thing once youth gets lost in its own reflection...and chances are the new hipsterism brought to us by those stylish Hollywood freedom fighters* won't last forever."

*That wonderful body of calculating goons, queens, and wizardry princes who make millions off the real and imagined struggles of others just to keep those masses trapped in an egalitarian maze of envy, strife, and dedication to the proposition that all men are created equal while somehow remaining in unequal parts. This Hollywood shank weaponizes all concessions to qualitative measurement not already in progress in the shady halls of Washington, DC. Beware my friends, both of these shell game marketplaces are thriving dalliance curs, and not to be trusted with any decision accountable only to oneself, never minding the contradictions every icy pure thought contains.

© 1997 - 2015, Gabriel Thy. All rights reserved.

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