jump to navigation

Fear and Loathing in DeKalb March 12, 2006

Posted by dr. gonzo in DeKalb, Gonzo.

Wake up. Lose people. Lose friends. In the span of 15 minutes. Drown yourself in Everclear and fresh fruit. Wake up on the floor in a pile of newspaper, perhaps.

Lose another friend, go searching, find nothing.

Find one person who was lost. Surreality. A blur. A person abusing hard drugs in the wee hours of the morning only to scale a wooden wall and be talked down.

Morning comes in a haze of alcohol and sleeplessness. Something attacked in the night, it destroyed almost everything. Nothing was really left. Gaping holes and the remanants of what never was and might have been. And ignorance takes over.

Lies and lies. Piling up beneath. The floor is covered, it is only a matter of time before the joists give out and the basement fills up.

Three eight round magazines ready to load. Fire at will. Blazing rounds of hot ammunition. And they are gone. The haze remains in a cloud of gunsmoke. The smell of powder filling the air and an insane person with Mossberg 500, must think he is a gangsta. The weapon is more Hollywood than Bennifer. And he always carries a pistol, except to church and school and the bar.

This is just DeKalb but it seems not to matter.

But it is all just too strange. Nothing remains and nothing stays the same except for this startling confused look.


1. rollotomasi - March 13, 2006

we can’t stop here. this is bat country.

2. incognito - March 13, 2006

Derned sobriety… ruining all the fun.

3. yinn - March 16, 2006

you tell more, I tell more. If you need it, take the deal. OK?

4. Zephron - March 17, 2006

The Fat Mans favorite Pub was soothng as I am suddenly attacked by royalty. Sure, I’ll join the parade, where’s the punch? Just as always, an arrival is accompanied by a fee, kegs dry, I wonder why? Who’s that man rolling by my scene, he has what I need to complete me. Running furiously through the night, where’s my firend, where’s my head? I left it purposely, but how do you take back, an inebriated bogus decision to not take that drink back. Scale three stories in a single bound, shit, you’re right I’m Superman now. Pacing furiously around the pad, how could I come down after that band? Visions, Sculptures, Ideas abound, I’m slowly fading into oblivion now.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: