it's late.
not debilitating in the morning late…
but…
late enough that I should.
I could watch some schlock on Netflix…
like supernatural.
yeah…
I like that shit…
you got a problem wit dat?
anyways…
it was a bit of a crap night.
the bastard came home in a shit mood and the bar was well into it's douchetoberfest activities…
activities I have been working at putting up with it but my mood made it hard.
and the cop up one and next door was having folks over…
and he's entitled.
we don't see him around much so I can't bag on him when he does a throwdown.
street crime is not a fun job I'm sure.
but after stepping out here with and old fashioned and a half eaten bag of fritos…
officer streetcrime has the moment of clarity his friends (especially the one who was playing his voicemail on speaker off of the balcony) clearly do not have and takes it inside.
so…
it's me…
and an old fashioned…
and an empty bag…
and my patch of concrete, enjoying the late night silence…
and the occasional hum of the midtown tunnel.
I grouse a lot…
because I like to…
but I stay here…
because I love to.
—the bastard
