...on the vigorish

...or how the bastard never really knew how much he missed the subway

"hey scoop, this is the bastard. i'm on the parkway right now. it's really cold out but i was wondering if it would be worth my while to drive in. you know...because...my car is warm. anyway give me a call back. i should be parked in less than 15. see ya."

the bastard's new piece of space age technology keeps songs on it. scoop gets "wheel in the sky" by journey because she likes hair bands and i like to make fun of them. i'm en route to ricky west's birthday party (scoop's man) and it's downtown. fully knowing i will have to walk several blocks from where i'm going to park to get to the subway, i go to hedge my bets on lower east side parking but by the time the golden tones of neil schon and company kick in, scoop informs me that parking is a no go. so the bastard rolls out of the ride and into the cold. and damn, it was cold.

the bastard has forgotten how much he misses the subway. except for the cold part. it's much colder. but then again, it was much colder outside than it was in the ride. but the train is on time (relatively, it WAS a sunday) and it always comes to the same track. i don't need to run from track 13 to track 21 at the last minute with a bunch of rubes from the island so, it's good. surprisingly, the bastard didn't get lost in lower manhattan. i go here so infrequently since i got old that i have a tendency to get lost. and lost and cold are two things that i don't want to be. pay dirt, i makes it to the vig and oddly enough, the bastard arrives when he thought he would.

now just a quick backgrounder. the bastard hasn't been old all that long so i remember the price of liquor to be much cheaper than it was on sunday night. for that matter, last thursday, i met up with a friend from art school at the W on 47th and that was quite to pricey cocktail. quite frankly, the bottle of gin at my desk cost less than the 2 drinks i had there. but i wasn't there for the pricey fare, i was there to play catchup with an old friend and to make long overdue amends. but i digress, the drinks at this jib joint were equally as pricey as i found out when susie kansas offered to buy me a drink and i went up to the bar with her. corey glover behind the bar hands off the drinkys and says, "that'll be 16 dollars". the bastard exhales loudly and thinks, "am i getting some gold bullion with this drink? is it a fucking magical gin and tonic?" either way, i thank susie and make sure that i pay back the back breakingly expensive drink later. honestly, with scenery like this (see above), i don't understand how you pull that kind of tab down and still be able to afford to live in this part of town. ida know though. once upon a time, i could have lived down here. now, my own righteous indignation would keep me from paying these kinds of prices to rent on this rock. yeah. shoulda, woulda, coulda. shut the hell up old man.

by oneish, the bastard is feeling like it's time to go. scoop had to airlift her man out of the place and hour and change ago and susie kansas left with her guy 20 minutes ago. i ask corey glover for a glass of water declaring that it's a long ass walk back to queens. corey retorts, "astoria, long island city?" back at me. i fly back with, "nah. further east. fucking ice station zebra for all you needs to know my dear", i am the cult of personality indeed, shiteyes. anyway water in tow, it's back into the cold and onto the subway. you know, the night of the magazine's christmas party....er....planning meeting, the bastard had to take the railroad home at 1 in the morning and the next train was at 1:44 am that night. i ended up taking the first train that would dump me back in my old hood and took a cab back to ice station zebra from there. i didn't have this problem with the subway. i took the 20 minutes after i got onto the platform train to all parts going my way back to craptastic queens with out any muss or fuss. can't get that in penn station.

—the bastard