shithouse mouse

the parking lot boys were at it again today at Sunnie's. they always pull me aside and ask me to buy them ridiculous amounts of alcohol, at three in the afternoon no less. but i'm only going in for USA Gold cigarettes, which are Sunnie's cheapest brand, it really doesn't matter anyways, when you are inhaling burning tobacco leaves I don't believe taste has anything to do with it. it's a lot to pay for your death no matter which way it tastes. the parking lot boys give me dirty looks when I leave, but I never have a change of heart. these boys used to be us, but after the pizza place closed it was much easier to go closer to the city and "pimp" the 7-11 parking lot. go and get drunk in Turning Point Park and throw the empties in the river. stumble back across the tracks and the trail that would end me up right in my backyard. it was a secret road for drunk and high kids. it was our inebriation railroad... i'm so glad I wasn't raised on one of the many track house cul-de-sac bullshits that the people with money in this town have invented. i think i probably would've went to college and would never be here writing this now. Better, worse, or just preference??? there were plans dependent on that ill-fated ferry to resurrect the old trolley line. it would have been so splendid to see a trolley whistling through my backyard. but it is all just dreams and there was no way it would have ever worked. but dreams/ yes dreams/ are even better most of the time. it is finally time that I sit and write MY history of Rochester and all these canal towns and low bridge evrybody down and how this all related to the Iroquois and the creation myths and sam patch and susan b. anthony and my broken ipod and everything else...