Alec
>From an e-mail from me to a Trot pal last night.
Michael Pugliese
>...On the way to get the burrito I'm eating, saw in one block another punk
rocker with a spiky mohawk and a few more steps
later a junkie after he had cooked
up his smack in a spoon getting ready to tie off and shoot up. Whatta city!
I love Sin
Francisco!
Michael
P.S. Live down the street from a hotel where Kurt Cobain scored black tar Mexican heroin once on tour. (Recounted in this memoir, "Permanent Midnight, " by ex-junkie, Jerry Stahl. Wrote the cripts for, "Alf." Made into a movie, with Ben Stiller, which Salon pans here. Did not see the movie. http://www.salon.com/ent/movies/reviews/1998/09/18reviewe.html ) Saw Kurt on that tour at the Cow Palace. Sonic Youth, one of my fave bands, opened. Have to say though, that another of my faves, Neil Young, made louder, joyful, angry noise when I saw him at the Cow Palace. (Heh, y'all been to demos where the Holly Near song with the refrain, "We are a gentle, angry people, " is sung? Yeech. http://www.google.com/search?q=We+are+a+gentle%2C+angry+people&btnG=Google+S earch Or her other song, "No more genocide in my name!" http://www.google.com/search?q=No+more+genocide+in+my+name&btnG=Google+Searc h Like even a Nazi wakes up one morning and sez, "Honey, I want more Genocide in my name today! Fire up the Gas Chambers! http://www.google.com/search?q=Gas+Chambers+for+the+Albanians+ Where is that canister of zyklon-b?" When I see my shrink, Thursday, I'll ask him to fiddle with my 20 mgs. dose of Prozac. This sick humor gets me in trouble all the time! http://lenny.dyadel.net/lou2.htm http://lenny.dyadel.net/lou3.htm http://lenny.dyadel.net/lou.htm#s3 Heroin
I don't know just where I'm going But I'm gonna try for the kingdom, if I can 'cause it makes me feel like I'm a man When I put a spike into my vein And I tell you things aren't quite the same When I'm rushing on my run And I feel just like Jesus' son And I guess that I just don't know And I guess that I just don't know
I have made the big decision I'm gonna try to nullify my life 'cause when the blood begins to flow When it shoots up the dropper's neck When I'm closing in on death You can't help me now, you guys And all you sweet girls with all your sweet talk You can all go take a walk And I guess I just don't know And I guess that I just don't know
I wish that I was born a thousand years ago I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seas On a great big clipper ship Going from this land here to that In a sailor's suit and cap Away from the big city Where a man cannot be free Of all the evils of this town And of himself and those around Oh, and I guess that I just don't know Oh, and I guess that I just don't know
Heroin, be the death of me Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life Because a mainline in my vein leads to a center in my head And then I'm better off than dead Because when the smack begins to flow I really don't care anymore About all the Jim-Jims in this town And all the politicians making crazy sounds And everybody putting everybody else down
And all the dead bodies piled up in mounds 'cause when the smack begins to flow And I really don't care anymore Ah, when that heroin is in my blood And the blood is in my head Then I thank God that I'm as good as dead And thank your God that I'm not aware And thank God that I just don't care And I guess that I just don't know Oh, and I guess that I just don't know Waiting For The Man
I'm waiting for my man, 26 Dollars in my hand Up to Lexington 125 Feel sick and dirty, more dead than alive I'm waiting for my man
Hey white boy, what you doing uptown Hey white boy, you chasing our women around ? Oh, pardon me, Sir, it's furthest from my mind I'm just lookin' for a dear, dear friend of mine I'm waiting for my man
Here he comes, he's all dressed in black P.R. shoes and and big straw hat He's never early, he's always late First thing you learn is that you always gotta wait I'm waiting for my man
Up to a Brownstone, up three flights of stairs Everybody's pinned you, but nobody cares He's got the works, gives you sweet taste Then you gotta split Because you've got no time to waste, ah I'm waiting for my man
Baby, don't you holler Darling don't you bawl and shout I'm feeling so good I'm gonna work it all out I'm feeling good, I'm feeling oh so fine Until tomorrow, but that's just some other time I'm waiting for my man
Dirty Blvd.
Pedro lives out of the Wilshire Hotel He looks out a window without glass The walls are made of cardboard, newspapers on his feet His father beats him 'cause he's too tired to beg
He's got 9 brothers and sisters, they're brought up on their knees It's hard to run when a coat hanger beats you on the things Pedro dreams of being older and killing the old man but that's a slim chance he's going to the boulevard
He's going to end up, on the dirty boulevard He's going out, to the dirty boulevard He's going down, to the dirty boulevard
This room cost 2,000 dollars a month, you can believe it man it's true Somewhere a landlord's laughing till he wets his pants No one here dreams of being a doctor or a lawyer or anything they dream of dealing on the dirty boulevard
Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I'll piss on 'em That's what the Statue of Bigotry says Your poor huddled masses, let's club 'em to death and get it over with and just dump 'em on the boulevard
Going to end up, on the dirty boulevard Going out, to the dirty boulevard He's going down, on the dirty boulevard Going out
Outside it's a bright night, there's an opera at Lincoln Center Movie stars arrive by limousine The klieg lights shoot up over the skyline of Manhattan But the lights are out on the mean streets
A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel He's selling plastic roses for a buck The traffic's backed up to 39th street The TV Whores are calling the Cops out for a Suck
And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming He's found a book on Magic in a garbage can He looks at the pictures and stares at the cracked ceiling "At the count of 3" he says, "I hope I can disappear"
And fly fly away, from this dirty boulevard I want to fly, from dirty boulevard I want to fly, from dirty boulevard I want to fly, fly, fly, fly, from dirty boulevard
I want to fly away I want to fly Fly, fly away I want to fly Fly, fly away Fly, fly, fly Fly, fly away Fly away
Guided By Velvet Underground ... Heroin" (45 second excerpt). ... And then, of course, there were Lou Reed's lyrics. Nobody in rock had written quite like him. They took the same ... www.addict.com/issues/1.06/Cover_Story/Velvet_Underground/