Thursday, 2nd October 2014. Cafe Cuba. Amsterdam.
I turned the llight on, now he don’t come around no more.
Thursday, 28th August 2014.
and inside Chet Baker’s singing some September Song. it’s all Little Girl Blue and Amsterdam is not somewhere to be, and Chet is still holding on to his horn and those raindrops that never fell. it’s just a trumpet and that sound and a Jazz James Dean and his voice and a horn and that Jazz James Dean
so this feels like an 80ies summer again, and
I’m riding my Apache-bike and wearing aviators and a Chevrolet-cap, and J’s dad makes moonshine whiskey down below. he plays the guitar, Creedence, obviously, Who’ll Stop The Rain, and he’s drunk and says he hates Johnny Cash and J and me have played Highwayman over and over and cannot understand why, but J’s dad says no, Johnny Cash just stands there and sings about people in prison and there’s no energy and he’s drunk on moonshine and picks up his guitar and starts singing an old Creedence song again, and there’s no way his wife cannot tell, even if she came from some hillbilly town in Eastern Norway and married a truck driver from Stavanger, a skeet shooter and duck hunter, and she has great tits like all moms back then and works as a cleaning lady at our school and doesn’t mind that her husband pours me moonshine as long as J doesn’t get any
and one day she opens the door topless, she was younger then than I am now
and this feels like an 80ies summer again
like moonshine whiskey and a hillbilly wife with great tits
and Steve Earle and Creedence Clearwater Revival
and a bike and a Chevrolet-cap and a great pair of tits
Saturday, 11 January 2014.
Saturday, 7th September 2013. Brussels, Belgium.
it’s just cheap, Greek wine. there’s no reason to drink it except it’s free.