fixed gear bikes and the invasion of northern kids, looking for a sense of culture that strip malls can't and won't offer
methheads spewing stream-of-consciousness rants at mythical bears following them down the street
a police station on broadway, stacked to the deep, looking like a lone fortress in this forest of decay/life
too much coffee, too many cigarettes, hipsters claiming psuedo-elitism until a relationship gets you in
blank stares from the people at the bus stop
the same stare from the people rolling through in the beamers
friends smoking blunts or bowls in parking lots, casual like it was tobacco
friends who also give meaning to the forgotten people of this strip: a half-Asian, one-sleeved vagabond and a guy whose beard is the envy of many
the Asian bar, the Hispanic bar, the pub, the club.....ish
somehow, it all works
somehow, it's enough and not enough
this is my place
