This city, not long ago a big cow town, has almost nothing to hold me here but force of habit. Every one of my friends who lived through the 1990's left long ago. All of the family I cherished here died or live beyond my ability to communicate with them. The places where I made friends in the past, the nonconformist hangouts and stoner retreats, have all been bulldozed and replaced by apartments and condominiums. Great big empty hole with a house in it -- Baton Rouge from my perspective.

I'm not sure why I haven't thrown my hands up and walked away forever. The place gets in your blood. It's like vampirism. I came over here in the rain to say this. That's how much fun my house is. No wonder I spent so much time trying to open up dimensional portals. [not really... it doesn't take that much time] LOL.

Did I miss something? I keep thinking maybe a big curtain was supposed to drop, and a beautiful young chick in a bikini would pop out and say, "Surprise! Your shit life was just a trick! Have what's behind door Number 1!" The woman never pops out. Tease.

And now for my next trick my life becomes so trivial the barest mention of it knocks people unconscious. That's what the military scientists have been hoping for all along. A powerful new Psy-Ops weapon, and the key rests in my dark, hot, empty crib. I hope they pay in dollars or snacks. I don't really need any more kind thoughts.
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Symbols of Decay is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License..
Related written works at Angelfire, Sex Symbols, Cymbals of Silence.Repent or Die