Gutterpunk
Its the eve of my 30th birthday.
God give us all life I am preparing to enter a phase of life that is bordering on mythological to the street kid I was. To the crew of teenagers I lived under suicide bridge with, to the crazy fuckers I filled buses and vans with, to the clowns on the mesa, to the secret worlds of me and my child cousins, to the hitchhikers and trainhoppers and my-pants-stand-up on-their-own-when-i-take-them-off-ers, turning 30 is nearly unheard of. Its like seeing a caveman who is 30, its rare and not a line on their face suggests it came easily.
Right here in the belly of over consumption we dropped like flies from overdoses, suicides, perfectly treatable infections and viruses and all kinds, we were run down, run over, stabbed, shot, pushed, beaten….
People like I was and like some pieces still are don’t turn 16 or 18 or 25 or 30…
except when they do.
I’m with you. Happy miracle birthday!
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