i want to finish reading " louis prima " by garry boulard
there is a party several houses down. loud techno music
it does not mix well with either light or heavy reading
the obituary of musician sam butera led me to the biography
and the cd " jump jive and wail : the essential louis prima "
what incredible music ! highly highly recommended
but i digress
i walk onto my porch and watch groups of young people
go from their cars to the party. every style and type
of dress is represented. the majority of girls wear heels
short and shorter dresses or skirts and speak a dialect
that is a mixture of eastside surfer chick valley girl
corona is the favored beer. cellphones are ubiquitous
after an hour a ruckus over a girl begins. there is a bit
of yelling and shouting. several women push a young man
away from the party and into the street while telling him
to chill. the situation ebbs and flows for thirty minutes
or so and seems to die out
suddenly an another round of yells and shouts. a bottle
is thrown and shatters behind a beboy. he turns and says
something. more bottles are thrown. the beboy pulls a gun
and fires one two three four times. there is a panic which
quickly subsides once the shooting stops and no one is hurt
the street is littered with broken glass and wasted beer
i notice two drunken women leaning against the gate in front
of my home. one is slender and tall in heels and light blue
hotpants. her pleasingly plump friend is wearing a short
orange dress. its upper contents yearn to be free. i become
concerned these wholesome young and scantily clad girls may
fall into the clutch of a degenerate and immoral person
being both good samaritan and older paternal type i offer
my house as refuge and sanctuary where they can sleep
in peace under my watchful eye. very sadly they ignore me
" fiddle sticks !"