{ tonight : under scaffolding }

She and I said goodbye not for the last time and maybe we have a chance if we can accept that somehow we are doomed : death or dirty deeds : and the air is warm and there is a breeze on the city sidewalks and a motorcycle rumbles past and revs and pops and all the women are wearing what they must think are their last summer outfits so they show as much as possible and they jiggle in the right places and fuck/a/bra and there is something in the air that smells pleasant and someone shouts a curse word.

Who cares.

And, no. No question mark. Rhetorical, motherfucker.

A couple passes and their sound/byte is that sad/couple/shit where she is bitching about something and he is nodding so she thinks he is listening but really he might be nodding asleep or thinking about ass.

Dogs on leashes.

Dudes pass by looking for pussy they will not get because an erection in your pants only works if it is enormous and even then maybe not : or maybe they will find pussy if they : well : you know

: are Somebody

: with a cap S.

I am standing under scaffolding. There is always scaffolding. Repairs : corrections : upkeep. The hotel that is planned for this corner has the locals freaked/the/fuck/out. A hotel here? Where Ty B grew up? How is that possible? It will change everything

: everything

: always

: changes.

But I am here to answer questions not ask them so here it is : money : cash fucking money and that will get you all the everything you [n]ever wanted : that and ass/kissing. Most of the time. Because look : the thing is : once in a while something special comes your way and if it does not last [and it will not] that does not make it not special. Maybe it did not last because of you. Maybe you are the not/special/one. Or maybe nothing lasts no matter what and the sooner we just get on board with that idea the better we will all be. Maybe that is okay. Death.

So listen : my beer was in a frosty mug and it was free because the hot bartender likes me. More than likes. I drank several free ones for that reason and left a monster tip but not before I told her my theory about beer mugs : which you must hear : but first this

: today at work I got a text from her and it said

: "Hey, you, will you come over and fuck me before I go to work, please?"

I said okay since she said please. There also might have been an exclamation point.

She wrote back

: "Wonderful" : I have never felt more loved and there are moments where you just know your life will never get better than this : it will probably get much worse : and that is fucking aaaaa/okay

: and I walked to her apartment so fast I broke a sweat : I fucked her and we both sweat all over each other and her nipples taste even better salted with our human salt and neither of us came and we both felt bad for a moment because we felt like we failed the other and I said something and she laughed and I told her we should never feel that way because blah blah and we fucked more and sweat/ed more and it was hard for me not to worry about what is going to happen when I need drugs for a stiffy and she is still in her prime and I worried that condoms kill what is left of my game already.

An ambulance rolls by with full/on flashing lights and an ear/splitting siren and I think this would be a cool way to die : fucking her to death : my death : heart-explosion/orgasm and : yeah : that would be nice. Nothing lasts even when it is as perfect as this imperfect life can muster.


: the thing about the beer mugs : I almost forgot

: to really appreciate that beer mug : the frosty thing that delivers the beery goodness that makes your soil a little more fertile : to appreciate that brewed delight as much as it should be appreciated

: you must accept that the glass is already broken

: shattered

: ground to dust somewhere in its so/near future

: and not let that ruin a single moment when you take a drink.

More sirens.

27 x like a billion = how much I love you:

K said...

serious - I fall in love a little every time I read your new posts.

Not much else to say but - YES.
and = porelan

~otto~ said...

K, you warmed me up with that and it is not cold out. Thank you. It is good to be back.


xTx said...

oh how i've missed you and your pargeyes

~otto~ said...

Dear xTx,

It’s been a long time, I shouldn’t have left you
Without a strong rhyme to step to
Think of how many weak shows you slept through
Time’s up, I’m sorry I kept you
Thinking of this, you keep repeating you miss
The rhymes from the microphone soloist
And you sit by the radio, hand on the dial, soon
As you hear it, pump up the volume
Dance wit the speaker ’till you hear it blow,
Then plug in the headphone ’cause here it go
It’s a 4 letter word when it’s heard, it control
Your body to dance (you got it) soul,
Ditects the tempo like a red alert
Reaches your reflex, so let it work
When this is playing, you can’t get stuck wit
The steps, so get set and I’m a still come up wit
A gift to be swift, follow the leader, the rhyme will go
Def wit the record that was mixed a long time ago
It can be done but only I can do it
For those that can dance and clap your hands to it
I start to think and then I sink
Into the paper like I was ink
When I’m writing, I’m trapped in between the lines,
I escape when I finish the rhyme...
I got soul

You got it (4x)
I know you got soul

Picture a mic, the stage is empty
A beat like this might tempt me
To pose, show my rings and my fat gold chain
Grab the mic like I’m on soul train
But I’ll wait ’cause I mastered this
Let the others go first so the brothers don’t miss
Eric b. break the sticks (you got it)
Rakim will begin when you make the mix
I’ll experiment like a scientist
You wanna rhyme, you gotta sign my list
’cause I’m a manifest and bless the mic I hold
You want it next? then you gotta have soul
’cause if you ain’t got it, I’m a make an encore
Take the mic, make the people respond for
The r, ’cause that’s the way it’ll have to be
If you wanna get on after me
Think about it, wait, erase your rhyme
Forget it and don’t waste your time
’cause I’ll be in the crowd if you ain’t controlling it
Drop the mic, you shouldn’t be holding it
This is how it should be done
This style is identical to none
Some try to make it sound like this but you’re getting me
So upset that I’m wet ’cause you’re sweating me
I drip steam like a microphone fiend
Eager to mc is my theme
I get hype when I hear a drum roll
Rakim is on the mic and you know I got soul

You got it (5x)

I got soul (you got it) that’s why I came
To teach those who can’t say my name
First of all, I’m the soloist, the soul controller
Rakim gets stronger as I get older
Constant elevation causes expansion
I write my rhyme while I cool in my mansion
Then put it on tape and in the city I test it
Then on the radio the r’s requested
You listen to it, the concept might break you
’cause almost anyone can relate to...
Whoever’s out of hand, I’m give him handles
Light ’em up, blow ’em out like candles
Or should I just let him melt?
Then give him a hand so they can see how it felt
I’m not bold just cuz I rock gold
Rakim is on the mic and you know I got soul

You got it (4x)

Now I’m a stop to see what you got
Get off the mic before I get too hot
I want to see which posse can dance the best
It should be easy ’cause the beat is fresh
Now if your from uptown, brooklyn- bound,
The bronx, queens, or long island sound,
Even other states come right and exact,
It ain’t where you’re from, it’s where you’re at
Since you came here, you have to show and prove
And do that dance until it don’t move
’cause all you need is soul self-esteem will release,
The rest is up to you, rakim ’ll say peace

You got it (10x)


Kevin said...

Fucking A+ bro. Perfect before-work reading for me. Love the punctuations too.

~otto~ said...


That punctuation was just for you/homeboy. [Unless a hot chick likes it, too : then it is for her okay.] Thank you, sir.


gamefaced said...


you know the deal.

fritz serengeti said...

rakim allah

~otto~ said...


Word life.


~otto~ said...


You are way too kind and I like that about you.


Emma said...

Aw shucks, this is great stuff. Feel a little spring in my step now, for some reason.

~otto~ said...


Thank you. I am imagining you bouncing around as you walk. There's a lot of fall in my step.


rollerfink said...

when i read your stories i feel like i am walking down the street holding hands with a girl and all the pigeons are dying in our wake. great stuff.

tia prouhet said...

I still haven't read about knee-bows.

~otto~ said...


I hate pigeons. That's why. This is how I eradicate them. Thank you for your assistance.


~otto~ said...


Knee-bows is in my unpublished and unwritten Pulitzer-prize winning novel that was made into an Oscar-winning film. You'll just have to be patient and enjoy upsidedownbackwards lips until then.


swine said...

word, brother. mothafuckin word. perfect for reading AT WORK as well as before.

~otto~ said...


Thank you, sir. People only read blogs at work, right? The Internet goes quiet on the weekends ;-) I raise my broken mug to you.


Sage said...

-- you were so right about the beer mugs.

~otto~ said...

Thank you, Sage. Let's do a toast and smash our mugs together.


TC said...


Great. This one has a different arc. Runs along under the scaffolding, then swerves, like the old Third Ave El, downtown.

Anyhow, Carpe diem, my brother. Death is no worse than a mouthful of broken glass in eternity. Very low on cholesterol. On the other hand... I yam very "inesser" in this post, as Popeye used to say when spamming those he loved.

~otto~ said...


I missed the Third Ave El. but I have a love for trains that let you see the city from above. Maybe the Internet will let me see it and I can cronint a bit better. Time travel.


~otto~ said...

Thank you, Internet:


This video fills me with ardacite.

~otto~ said...

One more, that documents its final ride:


How appropriate, a final ride.


TC said...


In between heart attacks I took the ten minute ride on your Internet Antique Train. (Not the final ride, yet... Kinda superstitious, there.)

The plot I read as an Otto tale. The morose guy, the drunk guy and the kid all fail to extricate the coin from the grate; as we come around that last baroque pianoforte curve I said to myself, Otto, the Last Romantic, will have Rita Hayworth get on at the next stop...

My eyes are pretty bad. First I thought quarter, then no, nickel, then quarter. A two vinglysi piece?

Here anyway is that downtown curve c. 1941, as viewed from the street.

TC said...

So I came back a year later after everything changed (again) and all hope was gone (again) and was inspired (again) by the thought that a boxer with diapers in both bleeding hands has danced though broken glass to deliver true belief (again).

Chens, mate.

~otto~ said...


Thanks so much for stopping by my old place. It means quite a lot to me. The only way I can describe it is: ningu. That really says it all. What would we do without words?



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