notes from art's crab shack

i was due to fly to oakland today but have postponed due to general lethargy, apathy, dreamy presence from melting snow or what have you. the trip has been delayed. and thus the thoughts of those days will continue but for now a few words from the word scramble/collage, recounting in a certain sense those days indeed.....
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excerpt from 'tropical delusion'
& little recall...as i devour these old oakland pages/& here is a large stack of handwritten notes which i apparently wrote in varying degrees of reality &/or intoxication at art's crab shack on broadway btwn 40th and 41st. gerard lived above art's from 1982-1984 with his first wife godolieve, affectionately known as lief. while the notes are occasionally illegible i have done my best to present some of them here:
certainly nautical mustard fried smoky windows & our hostess sucking off - - those foggy july daze & by late afternoon/ before the fog rolls back in...the doors to art's are open...tobacco wafting until low tide...she sings...bent piano keys crumble...adobe & a pith helmet...shooting up down the corridor...lost up the hill or were we in the piedmont lounge...what was her name...savage succulents screwed to oblivion & a poached omelette to go...'this ain't new york city!'...and the taxi saunters towards chinatown for out of print herbs & remedies. transparent piano keys & the proposition from a muddy haired harlot w/ sweat stained mini skirt & an ink lesion...we sit down day after day...waiting, always waiting & el nino...summer '83...no fog that year my dear!

*spiece grinders for all!* & even then as the heat can quickly dissipate into a significantly milder reality & it may have been dear tatiana who i would often see...just over there...table 6 at art's crab shack in oakland...methamphetamine evenings soon to be mornings warped out sex & a sidecar to go. oh, do cut out another line & we were off...there were never phone conversations of substance...only to arrange for powder drinking & very weird sex/that glorious summer of '85...the forgotten summer...certainly '83 has received a lot more words...& why not...the el nino year...that will never be forgotten...