Conversation with a madman
“I can’t sleep in LA. The city is under surveillance. Same with Philadelphia. Cops escort me wherever I go. It’s like the “check engine” light? A mapping system.
This is my last cigarette. I try to control the smoke, so it just goes in one lung, then I switch. But you can’t. You can’t do that. When I get in my car I turn on the A.C. and point those vents…(breathes in deep and tilts head back).
I have three bouncers. Inflatable castles for parties. I have Spiderman, Dora and Spongebob. They’re clean. I don’t charge tax. I don’t care how long you have them, I just want them back in the same condition.
I need another cigarette. Marijauna is addictive. I was addicted to it, but I cured myself with cough syrup. Six or seven bottles. That sent me bi-polar.”
A Koreatown hotel, four stories tall. The entrance is through a parking garage, idling exhaust walks in with you to a lobby tiled in dime sized rectangles of mirror. The color on the tv in the lobby is bleeding out from old tube technology, the Koreans on it look like they are living in a hippy era. Psychedelic.
A young kid is behind the counter, online. Kevin is just outside sitting on the low cement bar at the end of an empty parking spot. He came out with a cigarette behind each ear and smoked each one into the filter. He had been in LA for two weeks. Kevin is 22, married and separated with a six year old child that lives with his parents. This was his story.
…agrah.
Comment by e. march — August 28, 2006 @ 7:29 pm
what does that mean?
Comment by jon — August 29, 2006 @ 10:39 pm