Saturday, July 26, 2008

Iowa, Sweet Iowa

By Pauly
Hollyweird, CA



Widespread Panic's Climb to Safety echoed in the background.

Nicky sat on the couch and played online poker.

She's been on a heater all day.

The gambling queen.

Up a couple of hundred.

She's been shopping for boots and clothes in between playing online poker.

I dove into a profitable sea as well.

Scribbled stuff all afternoon and uploaded pics and did laundry.

Feeling emotionally satisfied, I fired up the online poker tables and played with a couple of old friends.

I had not seen either in a while.

Too long.


Last December.

In Las Vegas.

In front of the Venetian.

Or was it at the craps tables at the Imperial Palace?

And that Hanel character?

Must have been last summer the last time I saw that clown.

He's now in Iowa.



As a skunk.

I would be shitfaced too if I lived in Iowa.

And Nickerson was in NYC.

On a work assignment.

Also drunk.

Celebrating life outside of the fickle LA bubble.

Nickerson sat in a hotel room near Times Square overlooking the millions of roaches and rats, while I sat in the shadows of the hills of Hollyweird, sort of wishing I was in NYC.

When I was a kid, the hookers trolled the streets around Times Square.

A ring of fire, a circle of seduction, a perimeter of smut.

Coke fiends.



Porn palaces.

Street walkers.

Speed freaks.

Something hallow yet with a hook, like a lyric from a Velvet Underground song.

When I think about being 7 in 1979, images of big ass afros and bell bottoms and grafitti-splashed broken-down subways flood me.

Like Iowa.

No comments:

Post a Comment