Sunday, November 15, 2009

Stage 5 Kidney Disease Refuses Dialysis

Bourg William. Herrschaft

Yesterday evening, Williamsburg. Anthropology and the study of racial "burger" (resident of Williamsburg). For
stunned that would once again not followed, Williamsburg, sub-district of Brooklyn is the mecca of hipsters, the duo's mustache Jerusalem / skinny jeans, the Nuremberg trial was included each day of good taste .
I warn you, I hear a lot of clothes. It may seem like fuck you idiot but is not very serious.
The Danube Shaver and I are out, and swallowed our disgust, decided to go into battle, cutting a few barbs and some fringes enfoutrer loudly peroxidized asymmetrically. Slap some trains.
Our rely raised in the limo driven by a soft black, we're crossing once more the sad fact that drivers never have gps here, or even cards. To know when the city did not even mention. What is your job, asshole? Eat hay? Blow the trumpet in your ass of doom? Result, he palms, and we find ourselves having to ask for
ourselves our way to baffle (legitimately) jealous of our bet. The jargon is dazzling fly, they talk like other flush their mouths full of fajitas. The pilot when to him, has a thread of drool flowing placidly, waiting to be told what to do. It's midnight, we find ourselves. It's easy: you imagine a neighborhood or Arabic Vanves corner would sell beer and all editions of Vogue Steps + graphics + Number (in French). Overnight. Williburg, that's it.
We split the crowd, pretending to push violently resellers sandwiches "organic" attorney-grass who attack us from all sides. Here, flanked by a miserable rag of a beggar in McQueen's eyes into space, to afford a vintage tshirt in the window of this Fripp, open only at night. On closer inspection, the pattern etched therein includes a half dozen jungle animals, giraffe, hippo, lions etc, do all in shades ... About us, your contribution will amount to a kick in the mustache dry, sprinkled with a shower of charged Glob of Spit.
We find the street the evening is supposed to unfold. The place, as of course, bears no name or sign. Neither number. We offer spot and try to open all doors, by force if necessary, located between 212 and 248. One of them gives in and leaves the field open to a bouncer rider. We request the name of the evening, that of course we do not know. The Razor jabbers something. That's not it, but the white monkey lets us. First floor. And we find ourselves at the heart of the typical local ritual, which is absolutely not what we wanted, since we actually come from someone, and not in a club. Someone who has three priests officiated at their spirited dirty Red Mass held by ministers at the bottom of the loft (obviously, you thought what?). They flutter behind the turntables. One door plus a dirty beard and a feathered hat, a t-shirt logo that appears to be throwing up a group of grind. But a desert island with a little naive here. And yet beneath a tie-die pattern rainbow as making unfortunately Creeks in the early 90s. His second features him in an advantageous when thick, black mustache and a hat also. The third would be like if Ian Curtis wore a red tshirt Astroboy and a slim purple. With a tattoo of Lady Diana on the shoulder. The ground is white, brick walls, bar free. Music? We spent a good half hour to find the name of the style that would be a mixture of Creole company Swedish electro and minimalist. The fauna is a reflection of the officiating (which seem "Kiffer"), the guys dressed in garbage cans, girls in bins créateurs.Les cops go by, everybody is buffered, and as most djs the police apparently not fail to understand the reason for their visit, they leave the sad. They took a rake. So we climbed on the roof to see where we would find other parties in the block, we apperceveons two. We go out screaming with fear because it's still not all that reassuring, in our way quietly to the corner. Bar with a big dance floor, as girls Juppe, 80's synthpop. We feel safe. Too well, we decide to go see the third evening we had spotted the roof maliciously. I was doing there, from a relevant reflection in my tumultuous comrade "Regad ', there's a red bulb in front of the iron curtain and a girl smokes in front, probably a brothel with whores so. Well done, especially for girls. A tail as long as your arm consists of men. And sparingly sprinkle one or two damsels lost.
"- Maisssss not, the bouncer is a big metalhead, this is surely an evening Steel.
- ah the famous metal night called Sugar Tities Night! It was finally Found! "
Indeed, the bouncer, black hair at the waist, black goat, Misfits tshirt after we have asked whether the Queen was still open, says failing to suppress them once because he had a Metallica t-shirt . But as he packed a guy who went to the physio, to prove that he was, in fact it was good, he could return.
We therefore fell on the evening of the most straight corner, that most fail 'is not fit. And we're on our 4th pint of gin and tonic each, provided that we controllons the situation perfectly.
Watch the video for Relax, Franky Goes To Hollywood, may help some to see what follows, version is more true "swamp" and less "warrior". Here, a gogo dancer on the bar with his wings of an angel pink, then an officer inversions me on various occasions expressed his taste for women of my hair. Queues Indian mimic the whole despicable act of bugger one another at the feet of broken windows. A pretty thug, putting on a "gangsta" was at when he saw fit to tattoo needle a baroque angel on his shoulder. The result is repulsive and obviously we spent a very pleasant evening. Ephebes caress my chest now naked under my perfecto, which would not have failed to give me a style "pretty biker" if I did not display a expression trooper winey and degenerate. Defending cloakroom, but vile to the mule silhouette ungainly and will utter the rippling Danube Shaver, abnormally red, him, I could limit myself to. " This is the signal it's time to go.
Before adopting the two cars that bring us back, that Fort Greene, Harlem, we opt to sacrifice to the tradition of the nocturnal food. Usually pizza, yet we decide to bring an unusual variation in the rite and we rabbatons deli on the corner. A deli is a bit like an Arab who would make more sandwiches. This one offers a range of extra accessories Azzedine Alaia price dishonest and a selection of Danish cheese to the urine. We decide for the traditional Bagel with tasteless stuff by the ton in , half enough for me caller 18h overnight, but I eat the other half for the sport. It's bad but not very serious. I hailed a limousine driven by a Sikh unpleasant, kisses on both cheeks Shaver and Mrs. St. sirens blaring me where lies the petal of my thoughts, caress my dreams.


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