This Weekend’s A Total Wipeout
It’s raining and dreary in the Big Apple. If that’s not bad enough, we’re not going to the concert tonight. Yes, you heard me right.
That’s all I’ll say. . .
Because you have to understand, right now, I am not a punk. I’m a piteous, useless thing. I’m a puddle outside Bernard Madoff’s home; the soot and soil in me still bearing the devil’s searing imprint.
I’m half a person, corrupt and incorrigible. I am lower than say a US Senator who would sell out his country just to get reelected in 2010. Yes, I am that low.
And yes! It’s cause of the swine virus that we’re not going!!!
And the worst part . . . it pains me to write this . . . It was an Iggy Pop show. The Godfather of Punk! The Rock Iguana!
(AP Photo/PA, Anthony Devlin)
I was looking forward to this show so much that I even bought tickets for num and nuts–just to make my lady friend happy. And you laughed at me when I told you I was a Saint.
Here are all the posts in this series: Third Episode – April/May 2009 (The Swine Flu/Punk Poetry)