Do Not Hang Out on These Steps

Woke up. Cat puked on bed again. Gross. Glared at cat. Threw sheets in hamper.

Showered. Put clothes on my body. Breakfasted. Bagel and yogurt. Ate yogurt on the way out of the apartment. Finished at the front steps and threw container down aimlessly. Jesus gutbusting Christ – bright as hell outside. Remembered I was hungover.

Walked by a vintage guitar shop on 47th. Guitar in window looked like it went through a war. Probably Vietnam. Don’t know what it was because I don’t know shit about guitars or music, but it was bad ass. Bought it. On credit. Forgot I was hungover.

Also forgot about oddjob someone off craigslist e-mailed me about. Re-arranging a living room or some shit. Didn’t anticipate bad ass guitar purchase – went home instead.

Got to front door. Homeless Mojo Sapien drinking a 40 oz. on the steps. Yeah, that’s his name. Minus the “homeless” part, that’s a description of him as a person, relax. Remembered I was hungover again. Drank some of his beer when he offered. Showed him the guitar. Agreed on how bad ass it was. Played the thing all misinformed and ignorant. Still sounded sweet. Building manager walked out as we were jamming/rocking/killing it. She glared (like my gross, annoying cat). Picked up the yogurt container still on the steps. Mojo and I shared a laugh. Went up to my apartment.

Drank PBRs. Played the guitar until it started to get all dark outside. Got kinda drunk. Saw some sirens out the window. Went downstairs to investigate. Ambulances and police cars. Mojo dead as fuck. Wait, no. Just passed out on a gurney. Chatter about a seizure and a drug overdose. Mojo could afford drugs? He was homeless as all hell. Whatever. Walked away, can’t be here.

Went to the bar.

Blacked out.

Woke up. Still in my clothes. Not sleeping on any sheets. Cat puked on bed. Again. Wait…I puked on bed. Guitar all smashed in the corner. Cat meowing incessantly. Have to get out of here.

Walked past building manager at steps. Shook her head at me. Had scotch tape in her hand. Got to front door. Realized I’m hung over. Contemplated need for drastic change in life (e.g. steady job, friends that aren’t homeless and dead, etc.).

Open door. Sidewalk completely clear. Not even a chalk line. Unless that’s just in movies/Law & Order. Remembered Mojo didn’t actually die, just partied too hard. New sign on door.

Sign Captured in Long Island City, Queens

Sign Captured in Long Island City, Queens


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