Join Date: May 2011
Location: on the beach
Bikes: '73 falcon sr, '76 grand record, '84 davidson
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i like these threads of interpretive prose written in the first person as our hero simply observes his surroundings. the last one i read here about the sky was just great.
about birmingham ...
i was visiting my brother one weekend while he was going to shool at uab. the first night, we went over to his friend's place to smoke, and three of us played a first-person shooter together. i got on everyone's nerves playing the stubby guy who could only fight with his fists. i must've been too short for anyone to shoot me. so i ran around biting ankles. i had never laughed so hard.
the next night my brother drove me out to the dog track. those present looked like every bukowski character from every pulp novel -- disheveled men with absent faces walking in a fog of lost hope and inebriation. it was perfect. i bet a fiver in the fifth, taking the quinella on two fidgety pups named rebel yeller and mad boy. i cheered 'em on like it was the super bowl. they came in, and i pocketed a fifty for all the trouble. luckily, the haul ended up paying for the night's bar tab.
the ride back to his place was filled with a sad kind of joy. though we were both in a good mood, goofin' on the ridiculousness of the night, the lonely highway only reminded me of leaving the next day, and returning to another tiring work week back in houston....
Last edited by eschlwc; 09-23-13 at 05:09 AM.