It’s a fine day in da Big Apple! The Mighty Dyke is holding back, despite the windy day and threatening sky. What can I say? A few floods and all the chickens vamoose. Not me. I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water! Ha! Dat’s funny!
I’m Ernie, by the by. Birth name’s Ernesto, but I like the feel of Ernie better. Makes me feel more American, but I got no problem with Ernesto either, if that’s what youse wants to use. I love this country, and I love Puerto Rico too. Really should be a state, at least what’s left of it, but that’s a whole different scenario, knowhutimean?
So here I am pecking away at this computer, communicatin’ with who the hell knows, for who the frak knows why. I think I’m just trying to reach out, let everybody know not to give up on the NYC yet. Also curious to know how things are going elsewhere. So glad Alfredo let me know about this. Internet sucks on this rock, don’t quite know how this is function-atin’, just grateful that it is.
Yeah, I know, at one time there were millions o’ people in Manhattan. I just want to make sure you knew that even though everyone thinks it’s shut down, there are still people here. Maybe not millions, but there are hundreds of thousands. Okay, I don’t precisely know, but I’m guessing anywheres from 300K to a half a million. But this is, whaddayacallit, an estimate. I don’t think anybody’s doing a census anymore.
First off, I need to emphasize, no matter what else you’ve heard, the Bloomberg Dyke is holding. Yeah, I know, there was the flood in ‘37 during Hurricane Jane, and several incidents in recent times, but I swear to god, would I be living here if I really thought the whole thing could come down? Mankind’s biggest engineering project, gotta give it some respect, knowhutimean?
My job? I’m an exterminator. Great work in a place where the rats outnumber the people about a thousand to one. I’m a freelance contractor, do most of my work for the city, about a quarter for private citizens. Mostly the few richies still here, but I do other work that if I was a lawyer you’d call pro bono. Really, all this makes me a very popular guy. Why would I want to leave?
I live on the 12th floor of a ritzy Park Avenue apartment building. I’ve been told that thirty or forty years ago this apartment rented for like 5,000 a month. I mean, like, what the hell? Who’s got that kind of scratch? Me, I’m also like a squatter. Pay about 250 a month. I got maybe two dozen neighbors in the whole building. Most of the apartments are just turning into crap. So I guess you can see why an exterminator can be so popular, eh?
Can’t really see the water anymore. Y’know, because of the tall dyke walls. We got a few observation decks you can climb if you really got the jones to see the water. Hell, Liberty and Ellis Island ain’t even there anymores. You have to look towards the Jersey shore to see the Statute of Liberty (sad it was when they had to move that).
My family don’t live here anymore. Have to go all the way to frakkin’ Scranton to see Mama, Papa, brothers, sisters. I’m not married now, although I was once. Sweet little Ramona, ran off with some prick musician -aw, I don’t really want to talk about it. We didn’t have no kids. Someday, I think, it would be nice to have a family of my own.I’m a really nice dude, pretty well off, but I’m also kinda short and dumpy. Whatkinido?
I think I’ll check off now. Thanks, Alfredo. It’s good for venting if nothing else. I look forward to hearing from youse people who don’t live surrounded by dykes. Hasta luego!
Showing posts with label New Coast. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Coast. Show all posts
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
New Coast 1
Surf’s up!
Dig those mandible waves! They’re flying into Sacramento Beach at the speed of wompbelly! I am ready to go crashin ‘n’ slapshin’ as soon as Randy gets here. Then we’ll grab our boards, take off on our badass bikes, and hit the ocean deck! Until then, I thought I’d give this new websyde of Denny’s a whirly twirl. Suppose to be talking to cats all across the fractured states of America. Wella, we’ll see. Supposed to be super secure, no prying eyes and all that. Wella, we’ll see.
Maybe I should state my name, rank and cereal brand. Wella, maybe not. I’ll just say I’m Gene. My Dad calls me Eugene (damn that birth certificate!), and my friends call me Gene-bo. Ain’t that grand! Dad says I’m named after my Great-Grandfather, and I try to listen when he tells me about him, but one ear out the other, y’know? At least I ain’t no freebin’ Junior, I hate that crap-a-mundo.
I live here in Frandor, beautiful fandancy suburb of New L.A. Okay, it’s not that beautiful. It’s closer to a crappin’ lower-middle-class hellhole, but what the sugary drops, at least it’s home! We’re only a few blocks from the Pacific, and those groovy mandible waves. Dad and I are close enough to New Hollywood to get to work (without paying New Hollywood rents).
I got plenty of buds, and once in a while the chickies looka my way. All in all, not too shabby. The worst part? The smell of the ocean is most often drowned out by the huge De Sally plant ten miles up north. I think’s it’s one of the biggest in the world, if what I see on the netter is right. Denny works up there,. Maybe I shoudn’t say that. Oh, wella, it ain’t no freebin’ crime. Anyway, I might be lying about his name. Wella, he’s the smartest guy I know, and if he ain’t right about this websyde, we’re all screwed. Can’t see why they’d care. Wouldn’t know a state secret if it bit me on the beeber.
I work mostly at night, which leaves my days free to roam the beachfront. Thank Krishna my Mom was an Indian chickie, straight from Bollywood to Hollywood, cuz otherwise, if I was as light as Dad and his cracker ass family, I might be one crispy critter.
I was born May 7, 2027, out in North Los Angeles, which is now gone, daddy, gone. No visitin’ the old homestead for me. Love the ocean, but even I can’t hold my breath that long. I ain’t no degree boy. Got enough community college to work at Dad’s place. Learning the new editing equipment takes time, but I got a knack for it. I ain’t as good as Dad, but I ain’t trying to be. I work on some of the best series you may have heard of (assuming you get netter access to that kind of stuff). Some’s even replayed on the old tube. Ever hear of The Three Wiseguys? Yep, I help edit that. I leave out the all the jackass goofups the actors do – jeezie-luigi, all that money going to such utter and complete freebups. You have no idea what I protect you from. I also do The Really Golden Girls , starring Miley Cyrus, Dakota Fanning and Kellyn Manders. Can’t hardly believe how popular those old broads are. And before you get any big ideas. I don’t really get to meet the actors. My Dad had a party once, and Oscar winner Kirsten Dunst was there. Of course, that was before The Big One. Oh, and I forgot. My Mom was in a some movies, including a few leads. When I think of her, though, that’s not what I remember. It doesn’t computize to me that my Mom was a celebrity. She was my Mom.
Enough ‘o’ that. It’s surf’s up time! Randy’ll come soon, we can Schwinn power our way to the beachfront, catch them while the tide is good. Can’t beat the rushy you get from ridin’ atop a bigun. Maybe Miranda ‘n’ Suzi'll be there , wearin’ their seethrus over the sunscreen. Then we can grab a sushi dog, wash it down with De Sally Razzie, walk the beachfront. Then beat the afternoon bakers at a Pod Club, maybe get the shakin’ groove with one of the chickies. Randy’s sticky sweet on Miranda, ‘n’ I like Suzi okay, but I really like field days, if you get get my drifters. Suzi is much more crushy sweet on me than I am on her . I and commitments, we don’t get along too well. I think that’s the way a lot of people are out here. From what Denny says, there used to be a lot more committed people. Wella, I don’t mean crazies, I mean like marriages ‘n’ stuff. Didn’t stop my dad from not tying the knot with my mom. But it also didn’t stop her from loving her with all his heart and soul. I know he still thinks of her ALL the time. He blames himself for her not being on the right side of the divide, and it haunts him. I know. He acts like it doesn’t get to him, ‘n’ everybody thinks of him as so easygoing, but they don’t see him like I do. They don’t see him rolling and muttering in his sleep, they don’t see the way he stares blankly towards the southwest, where most of his old world lies buried.
Oh, Krishna! I got maudlin agin, didn’t I? Don’t know why that keeps a-happenin’. If you were here, you’d know I’m one of the most happy-go-lucky guys on the planet. Not used to writin’ this much stuff. Strange what comes out of you sometimes. So I guess maybe I will pack it ip for now, afore I get too weird.
Wella, I’m looking forward to readin’ stuff from other places. Don’t hear too much from outside of here. I ain’t been nowhere else but here. Not that I’d want to be anywhere else. I’ve always heard that Californy is th’ place ya oughter be. It certainly might not be the best place, if there’s another Big One. Oh wella, live on the edge, what the freeb! I can’t imagine livin’ without those mandible waves! Crashin ‘n’ a slapshin! I’m just curious, is all. Denny says there was a time when we knew more about other parts of the world. Now, people seem more self-absorbed, and the netter ain’t so good now as Denny says it was. Corpies put up barriers, might like keeping people apart. I don’t want to get into that, I trust Denny, but I don’t want to be too moronic. Anyways, leave me a dime talk if you feel like it. Love to hear from the Southland. The Big Easter, the Wild Prairie, even places I don’t know about. And, goshers, Uncle Doug, it would be swelly-good to hear from you. Denny says you may be connected.
I hear Randy Schwinning near! Gotta go! Surf’s up!
Dig those mandible waves! They’re flying into Sacramento Beach at the speed of wompbelly! I am ready to go crashin ‘n’ slapshin’ as soon as Randy gets here. Then we’ll grab our boards, take off on our badass bikes, and hit the ocean deck! Until then, I thought I’d give this new websyde of Denny’s a whirly twirl. Suppose to be talking to cats all across the fractured states of America. Wella, we’ll see. Supposed to be super secure, no prying eyes and all that. Wella, we’ll see.
Maybe I should state my name, rank and cereal brand. Wella, maybe not. I’ll just say I’m Gene. My Dad calls me Eugene (damn that birth certificate!), and my friends call me Gene-bo. Ain’t that grand! Dad says I’m named after my Great-Grandfather, and I try to listen when he tells me about him, but one ear out the other, y’know? At least I ain’t no freebin’ Junior, I hate that crap-a-mundo.
I live here in Frandor, beautiful fandancy suburb of New L.A. Okay, it’s not that beautiful. It’s closer to a crappin’ lower-middle-class hellhole, but what the sugary drops, at least it’s home! We’re only a few blocks from the Pacific, and those groovy mandible waves. Dad and I are close enough to New Hollywood to get to work (without paying New Hollywood rents).
I got plenty of buds, and once in a while the chickies looka my way. All in all, not too shabby. The worst part? The smell of the ocean is most often drowned out by the huge De Sally plant ten miles up north. I think’s it’s one of the biggest in the world, if what I see on the netter is right. Denny works up there,. Maybe I shoudn’t say that. Oh, wella, it ain’t no freebin’ crime. Anyway, I might be lying about his name. Wella, he’s the smartest guy I know, and if he ain’t right about this websyde, we’re all screwed. Can’t see why they’d care. Wouldn’t know a state secret if it bit me on the beeber.
I work mostly at night, which leaves my days free to roam the beachfront. Thank Krishna my Mom was an Indian chickie, straight from Bollywood to Hollywood, cuz otherwise, if I was as light as Dad and his cracker ass family, I might be one crispy critter.
I was born May 7, 2027, out in North Los Angeles, which is now gone, daddy, gone. No visitin’ the old homestead for me. Love the ocean, but even I can’t hold my breath that long. I ain’t no degree boy. Got enough community college to work at Dad’s place. Learning the new editing equipment takes time, but I got a knack for it. I ain’t as good as Dad, but I ain’t trying to be. I work on some of the best series you may have heard of (assuming you get netter access to that kind of stuff). Some’s even replayed on the old tube. Ever hear of The Three Wiseguys? Yep, I help edit that. I leave out the all the jackass goofups the actors do – jeezie-luigi, all that money going to such utter and complete freebups. You have no idea what I protect you from. I also do The Really Golden Girls , starring Miley Cyrus, Dakota Fanning and Kellyn Manders. Can’t hardly believe how popular those old broads are. And before you get any big ideas. I don’t really get to meet the actors. My Dad had a party once, and Oscar winner Kirsten Dunst was there. Of course, that was before The Big One. Oh, and I forgot. My Mom was in a some movies, including a few leads. When I think of her, though, that’s not what I remember. It doesn’t computize to me that my Mom was a celebrity. She was my Mom.
Enough ‘o’ that. It’s surf’s up time! Randy’ll come soon, we can Schwinn power our way to the beachfront, catch them while the tide is good. Can’t beat the rushy you get from ridin’ atop a bigun. Maybe Miranda ‘n’ Suzi'll be there , wearin’ their seethrus over the sunscreen. Then we can grab a sushi dog, wash it down with De Sally Razzie, walk the beachfront. Then beat the afternoon bakers at a Pod Club, maybe get the shakin’ groove with one of the chickies. Randy’s sticky sweet on Miranda, ‘n’ I like Suzi okay, but I really like field days, if you get get my drifters. Suzi is much more crushy sweet on me than I am on her . I and commitments, we don’t get along too well. I think that’s the way a lot of people are out here. From what Denny says, there used to be a lot more committed people. Wella, I don’t mean crazies, I mean like marriages ‘n’ stuff. Didn’t stop my dad from not tying the knot with my mom. But it also didn’t stop her from loving her with all his heart and soul. I know he still thinks of her ALL the time. He blames himself for her not being on the right side of the divide, and it haunts him. I know. He acts like it doesn’t get to him, ‘n’ everybody thinks of him as so easygoing, but they don’t see him like I do. They don’t see him rolling and muttering in his sleep, they don’t see the way he stares blankly towards the southwest, where most of his old world lies buried.
Oh, Krishna! I got maudlin agin, didn’t I? Don’t know why that keeps a-happenin’. If you were here, you’d know I’m one of the most happy-go-lucky guys on the planet. Not used to writin’ this much stuff. Strange what comes out of you sometimes. So I guess maybe I will pack it ip for now, afore I get too weird.
Wella, I’m looking forward to readin’ stuff from other places. Don’t hear too much from outside of here. I ain’t been nowhere else but here. Not that I’d want to be anywhere else. I’ve always heard that Californy is th’ place ya oughter be. It certainly might not be the best place, if there’s another Big One. Oh wella, live on the edge, what the freeb! I can’t imagine livin’ without those mandible waves! Crashin ‘n’ a slapshin! I’m just curious, is all. Denny says there was a time when we knew more about other parts of the world. Now, people seem more self-absorbed, and the netter ain’t so good now as Denny says it was. Corpies put up barriers, might like keeping people apart. I don’t want to get into that, I trust Denny, but I don’t want to be too moronic. Anyways, leave me a dime talk if you feel like it. Love to hear from the Southland. The Big Easter, the Wild Prairie, even places I don’t know about. And, goshers, Uncle Doug, it would be swelly-good to hear from you. Denny says you may be connected.
I hear Randy Schwinning near! Gotta go! Surf’s up!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)