The Propagation

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August 9, 2005

Fine looking gentleman, you don't need to curse.

Last night standing outside the new bar with my new gay jokesters and pickerupperoners, I immediately, in the dark from a decent distance in the approach, recognized the Ms. crackhead right off and imm. took on sweet help of symp and love voice. Tried to help her out. Asked if she had place to stay. Gave cash. Bought her a beer at her request. Gave her food. Obliged her request to sit on stoop in highly visible and traffick’ed by coppers spot (me with pipe and American Baguettes, though the very proximity to her kind might’ve been sufficient—I have realized, by the way, how lucky I am and how differently I get treated, ie. with less suspicion in general, but it goes both ways; up on the block I stick out like a sordid white boy in a dark, dark world where I am the obvious target of suspicion and can’t get away with the hanging and slangin my fellas do.), and invited her to come look for the good stuff with me, my dime,so to speak. “You smoke?” “Of course I smoke, what’d you think?” This entertains me. I only eat a few spanish chick wings and am done, go give rest—by far most, still piping hot—to old man pushing cart with a rummage bent. “Ask him, ask him,” she calls and runs over. Oh before I get too far, long story short, she’s high maintenance and bugs about every detail in not sane way, but I’m patient so far and tell her to relax and to stop asking this or that and that she simply must calm down , but my tone is matter of fact, not threatening. Measured. Good. We get the lowdown and set off. She wants to take the money and buy. I pretty much trust her (you can never be sure) but am finally reflexing with my “rule” I don’t give money to no one. Never. Don’t even ask. won’t happen. And I play it that way. And I short and stern her into an immediate submissal (not ‘sion). White boy Albono is on street and we’ve hurried to get there before 4:30AM, his closing time. He gives me audience enough to say, “nobody knows you around here.” Not so nicely as they do. I know I say, expecting it, and like it’s a curse, and it is, and tell him I have some on me now and a stem, if I show him that will it make a difference. “No.” Of course not. Woman (two months pregnant, by the way, which I had alrady forgotten by then despite her making my touch and push before and insisting there was kicking going on, but in retro, she’s smoking anyway. That, I highly doubt, would have been the first or last cookout in those nine months. Sadsad.) wants to work it out, she can hand the money, etc.,which I know will likely work but I got some and I got my peoples (which I do inform him of in that nonchalent I don’t care way as I walk off) And I mean it. Course she’s screwed and follows me. Yap yap blable. Where yo ugoing , where you going. I answer and she asks again. Finally, I say more or less, if you stop with that I’ll hook you up. We go around corner. Burn a dime in a toke each between cars. Then I say I’m going home, see you. And she follows. Where you going? etc etc. and I say goddamn it or holy hell or fuckin a’ (never. what’s that mean?) and she says, you’ve waited, here it is, she says she says she says, “Don’t curse at me, please,” (all hurt puppy), “you’re a very fine looking gentleman, you don’t need to curse at a lady like that”. You’re right, I agree and apologize. Half a block later, I explain it was nice meeting her and I’m going home alone I can’t do anymore than what I’ve done which includes such things as x, y, z. Take care. and she says just like this, “Gimme a hit!” Demanding, rude. I have to carefully explain the ways in which she, like me, doesn’t need to talk like that (leaving out the fine looking part). These lifetime/career crHeads can get a bit ugly but it’s not just the drug it’s the poverty, etc., too, but still, it does give a young budding crackhead pause like little else does.

Posted by peligrito at August 9, 2005 1:01 AM

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