DEATH DISC @ DELANCEY

Sweet Jesus, he was clenching an enormous blade hidden behind that trench coat of his. He neglected a spec of dried human tissue on his right arm, but I didn’t miss it. He wasn’t fooling me. The way his eyes darted…calculating…sizing ‘em up… he was waiting…he’ll seize upon a delicious specimen any moment now. Some poor soul who decided to break the rules and throw a few back on a favorable Wed evening. She’ll be wearing an alluring fragrance, for sure. The mess was obvious, even from my distant vantage, but it was graphic. A wretched, orgy of violence, fear, and unequivocal power…the kind that heads of state must experience when they push the button…altering the lives of millions of innocent people who are proud of a GDP lower than the great state of New Mexico…reduced…downsized…efficient…compassionate…conservative.

It was midway through, 10 Bells when I realized where I was. We were performing at The Delancey and I was screaming and yelling like a banshee on mescaline…5-trimethoxyphenethylamine…potent shit... my limbs were wild…everywhere…completely numb… I wasn’t telling them to do a thing…the kind of suspended animation that seems to be moving at the speed of light…BP was twitching in the DJ booth. He resembled Carl Hyde in a snake pit taming a head full of LSD with Johnny Cash moving his neck and head as if he were a marionette(he seemed to be having quite an enjoyable trip, indeed)…someone was smoking…goddamn it I love the smell of cigarettes…I was soaked… hell was breaking loose…an angry fleet of sleek tanks was firing on all 8…attractive women were in the crowd…they appeared to be moving their hips, but my ego was probably playing tricks on me…we were peaking with the crowd…Esfand was strutting like a peacock…Andres had turned to stone…it was all happening again
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