Archive for Philadelphia

The District

Posted in adventure, interactions, life, Philadelphia, values with tags , , on June 18, 2008 by staticity

I waited at the bus stop, slouched against the chain link fence bordering the basketball court. The area seemed ‘like a beach with out water’ as a friend described it.  Tall, stray, grass sprouted in an unusual enviornment of trash bags and broken bottles. The abandoned lot across the street was like a secret garden un claimed by Philadelphia. Sanctuary for the lost.  Mangy looking characters lurked only at night when their corners were too hot to touch. They would seemingly crawl out of the woodwork into dusty, abandoned, streets to laugh loudly with more of the same.

Kids from the basketball court were climbing over the fence to look down on my slouched body, clinging to a book for entertainment.

“This way is easier!” One girl screeched from the perch of plywood leading to further her adventure over the fence. The others scrambled to share her wealth.  A man stood next to me with head phones plugged deep into his ears as he blocked out the kids playing with out adults. Every so often I caught him glancing down at the words turning fast on my book.

This district is separated from the hustle of Center City. There are few fancy cars speeding by with tops down and upper class women with fake tans and makeup. The cafe’s and occasional trees are non existant and children run around like wild cats. Families live here.  People who have known each other for decades grill bar-b-ques outside and call Washington Ave. ‘center city.’ A twinge of guilt stays with me as I sit outside admiring the district that I have intruded upon.


and the beat goes on

Posted in adventure, life with tags , , , , on April 14, 2008 by staticity

lazy afternoon
Listening to latin samba with a nice glass of red wine, admiring the trees. Trees. Can you believe it? Actual nature slouched right outside my fucking porch. Not my porch. My dad’s porch.
Back in town for my mom’s birthday. Staying for a week at the grandioso expense of de-nada.

toast? you bet. internet? you bet. Happy gilmore? yup.
I think I’m going to own my own ranch one day. Out in the west with tons of lizards. They’re the easiest to maintain, you see. None of those chickens for me. No thank you. But salamanders, now there’s some quality meat. I could sit on my steps drinking beer and eating oranges until the sun came down. portable radio next to me. My friend for the evening.
Sometimes I think I don’t even need anybody. No one. Not a one. I could be out in the desert completely isolated and as long as I had my books, I might be alright. Who knows. Maybe better than alright.
Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m doing in the city.
Living off of frosted flakes and ego waffles forever.

The corner stores though. That’s where it’s at. They’ve got that salsa music that just keeps beating. Right through to my speakers until I reach home. And it’s still there.

the public life of craigslist

Posted in adventure, fiction, interactions, Philadelphia with tags , , on April 7, 2008 by staticity

The public life of craigslist.
Mr. Eyebrows and I will be exploring the life of craigslist groups. Join us in socially awkward, yet entertaining adventures such as:
-poker night with new friends from jersey
-book clubs of anne rice
-bar buddies
-and who knows what else…SOON TO BE COMING….
The public life of craigslist.
Mr. Eyebrows and I will be exploring the life of craigslist groups. Join us in socially awkward, yet entertaining adventures such as:
-poker night with new friends from jersey
-book clubs of anne rice
-bar buddies
-and who knows what else…

poetry and the upset

Posted in adventure, insanity, Philadelphia, philly, poetry, relationships, sex, success, values with tags , , , , , on March 29, 2008 by staticity


White lace turned to silver. As says the woman who refuses to color her hair. No denial for the strong. They’ve already faced the space for face. Bushy legs for the laughter that haunts gym class girls. Hitching up their jeans just in time for the no-razor policy at home.
She sneaks one in from a friend only to have it yanked from the shower a week later.

“They stole my clothes when I was in the shower.” She protests but strength is stronger when women are older.

An old man told me the answer when I asked if it ever gets better.
‘Only easier.’
Strength is curious when the pull isn’t hard. Falling flat isn’t the option that anyone looks for when their pressed against the shiny floor. Reflection is the only saving grace when embarrassment steals it from us.

The antique jewlery stayed hidden in a dusty box on a forgotten shelf. Trinkets become alive. Discovery becomes real. Gold and jewls decorated in thick chains of social events still remain in tact. They decorate the memories of old and forgotten, but still saved. Still saved.

Light orange walls with the paint peeling stayed hugging the sheetrock. They’ve been making love since the fifties, but no one looks anymore. Their secret is safe with me. The evening crickets understand when background noise becomes white with pale intentions.

“I’m never going back.” The little girl says to her mother in a heap on the floor. Naked as she is, her clothes were found. Wrapped up in disaster, her eyes are pleading for the shaving razor.

White lace as she was, the hair color remains untouched.


So today was one of those days that was the best it could get before everything went downhill. Niccolo and I spent the day together. He took off work, we hung out listening to techno and talking to the roommates.  We had the BEST sex ever. Aggressive, fun, daring.

And then came the diner. As we were walking to the diner fifteen blocks down, things took a turn for the worse.  He started talking about how he wasn’t impressed with my trying-to-get school in progress because I wasn’t there yet. He said I was dependent and also warned me he would not be around as much since he would be attending school. He kept talking and talking and talking in this snide way that he does that I consider not only patronizing, but demeaning.  I said that I agreed with everything and that he was right because after a half hour I couldn’t argue anymore. Then we got to the diner.

He said I was starting to act like Jessica. He told me that Eric told him I lied a lot when he reconciled with his dope fiend friend who has an anger problem and blamed me for his GIRLFRIEND stealing 200 dollars outof his room.  Nic kept insulting and insulting me until I finally walked out of the diner and didn’t speak to him. I told him to leave me alone.

And that’s where the night ends.

Hero Application

Posted in interactions, odd, Philadelphia, philly, pop culture, success with tags , , , , , , on March 20, 2008 by staticity

I have come to the conclusion that I need a new hero for this year.  Frequently I have random, amazing, hero’s that I write about, create stories for, and admire.

In years past, I have had the following heros:

*The guy who dresses up like Flavor Flav. on South Street and rides his bicycle with a viking helmet

*A man who danced at the Dawning just like Seth Green from Party Monster

*The woman who used to pretend she was pregnant by wearing a pillow under her shirt

*Someone who dressed up as Ronald Mcdonald and sat on a park bench drinking beer on week nights.

If you would like to be my hero, there are a few requirements:

You must be interesting.

You must have some sort of odd talent worth writing about

You must have a sense of humor

You must not mind being stalked or having random photos snapped during odd hours.

If interested, please send me a photograph and a paragraph on why you should qualify to:

PLEASE serious inquries ONLY