[December 2, 2013:]
Teriyaki Joe: Neo-Harlem Detective
Chapter 3: Gravy
---Download Complete--- Hmmm looks like I'll be heading upstairs.
The cab stinks. The stale intensity of so many burned out digital cigar cores left to decay on the floor. The acid graffiti. It doesn't fit.
Not fit transport for somebody "Going Upstairs" as they say. We all say that. Some champagne and classical music would be nice.
Maybe a chauffeur would give the trip up top a fancier sentiment. I mean the best of us should travel with a little more class and dignity.
This is like being in a port-o-potty with thrusters. A couple coughs. A well aimed spit. Yeah thats how the "Best Of Us" do it, precisely.
Up through the clouds. Directly into the Moon. We pass through it. It's only a meter thick. So warm. So fake. Color is still wrong to me.
The cab slows to a halt. Border patrol scans the ID tags. All clear. One step down. Disinfection nozzles spray the cab down. Missed a spot.
Step three is up next. Blindness. Total sensory disconnect. 3 seconds. 3 weeks. It's all the same in "non-sense." Helpless. Out of touch.
"EOJ LAER TON RUOY" --------- *digital sizzle"
----------------------—•----------------------------------------------------music-------------------------------------------------------
---------------!!! Awww Nice. Grass. Glass. Nothing else. Central Fucking Park Baby! It's all tai-chi and vegan techno utopia. Upstairs.
Teriyaki Joe: Neo-Harlem Detective
Chapter 3: Gravy
---Download Complete--- Hmmm looks like I'll be heading upstairs.
The cab stinks. The stale intensity of so many burned out digital cigar cores left to decay on the floor. The acid graffiti. It doesn't fit.
Not fit transport for somebody "Going Upstairs" as they say. We all say that. Some champagne and classical music would be nice.
Maybe a chauffeur would give the trip up top a fancier sentiment. I mean the best of us should travel with a little more class and dignity.
This is like being in a port-o-potty with thrusters. A couple coughs. A well aimed spit. Yeah thats how the "Best Of Us" do it, precisely.
Up through the clouds. Directly into the Moon. We pass through it. It's only a meter thick. So warm. So fake. Color is still wrong to me.
The cab slows to a halt. Border patrol scans the ID tags. All clear. One step down. Disinfection nozzles spray the cab down. Missed a spot.
Step three is up next. Blindness. Total sensory disconnect. 3 seconds. 3 weeks. It's all the same in "non-sense." Helpless. Out of touch.
"EOJ LAER TON RUOY" --------- *digital sizzle"
----------------------—•----------------------------------------------------music-------------------------------------------------------
---------------!!! Awww Nice. Grass. Glass. Nothing else. Central Fucking Park Baby! It's all tai-chi and vegan techno utopia. Upstairs.
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