Search This Blog

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Downtown Dirt....And Heathcliffe!

Tell you why I put downtown dirt near the top of my was because I think whoever wrote that dumb Petula Clark song 'Downtown' should be sued....glamourising the city and overlooking the sleaze and dirt....I used to have that romantic idea but finding myself in Soho I was told by men who, like Lou Reed, 'psychologically felt like dirt' (most of them alkies, smackheads, cokeheads etc) told me that the centre of London, or 'West End' was the 'cesspit of Britain'. I also used to like Billy Joel's 'uptown girl' as a teenager.....but the 'downtown man' is often something other than a mechanic....I wrote a satire on those kind of songs a little while back, about the 'downtown dirt', predatory men who rip naive young women etc....I was once like that and romanticised it....the reality is why I still attract or are still somewhat attracted to it I don't know....familiarity I guess.

There is a lapdancing club down the road by me run by crims...some of my mates know those guys. I saw them step out of a black mercedes once, all with very short hair, black shirts and jeans, gold jewellry and stubbles etc....have to look the part these guys do I guess.......I just laughed and thought of 'downtown dirt'. In a way it is funny but in another way not so funny...keep following and before I hit the sack that is (and depending on if I manage to score or not, am alone or not) I may have a ghost story for bedtime about a ghost with a cold heart (one of my themes as you notice) who was a piece of 'downtown dirt' and a junkie too....but it goes like wuthering heights in reverse. This man was a real motherfucker.....He died and the reasons were obscure as to whether it was from an overdose or from smack dealers he owed money to or gang warfare with fellow crims...the guy was a bad smackhead, I recall his wife's tales about how he would gouch into his dinner etc.....she would talk of the man endlessly. But she described him like he was Heathcliffe and she was Cathy...only he was the dead one. She saw his ghost one night, stars around it...she followed him outside and saw the ghost, arms outreached, his hand beckoning her to join him on the 'other side'. She went to take his hand and join. Her father woke, found her about to jump off the balcony while sleepwalking and saved her....scary huh?

That is one story I will never forget...and by the way while he was living the guy was a pimp though his wife was never a prostitute....their first date consisted of seeing a movie then being chased down the road by one of his 'girls' or 'hoes', wanted to slap her for stealing her man....who was nicknamed 'freezer' cos he had a cold heart, essential for his profession, as any pimp will tell you. The truth is this man was a master at manipulating women, but vulnerable women 'hoes' who had little self respect due to abuse and would do anything for their man...while all the time he laughed at them, told his equally gullible but 'respectable' wife that the filthy hoes meant nothing to him but money objects, he wanted a decent normal respectable woman etc for a wife and of course he loved her not them etc...What they got told probably varied. Wish I was able to hope that man's ghost rests in peaces but I can't for now.....'rest in pieces' would probably be better, to quote one of Kurt Cobain's lyrics..(and appropriate as he was a smackhead too).

1 comment:

  1. hey, nice music y have on yr mixpod...

    add me so i can see yr other playlists ^^

    rock on