Jim Marquez regularly crosses the bridge to downtown from East L.A. in search of art, debauchery and a good story. New pieces by Mr. Marquez will appear here, unedited and unexpurgated (cover your ears, children) every week or so and will eventually appear in book form.
What Will The Neighbors Think?
By Jim Marquez
Drinks @ a Downtown LA bar. What night? Thursday? Yeah, a good night to head out. Cop radars are down. Only the “normals” wait until Friday. I haven’t been normal in a long, long time. Fuckin’ blessed, baby, that’s what I am. And goddamn lucky too.
She was a “fan”, found me on Facebook. I am flattered. What the hell? See where it goes. Buy the ticket & all that…
Manic, spirited chat, she doesn’t drink much, fine, I order a half dozen Jameson-rocks, more than I wanted, usually taken care of at another place but closed for some reason so forced to come to this joint and the bill is 80-fucking-dollars. Goddamn. Better be worth it.
Walk her to her car? Sure, honey. Let’s go. Some grab ass & sloppy kisses back at the bar make me want more. But my car’s on the street, she says. No problem; park in that lot, I suggest, it’s after 1am, the attendant is gone. In the dark, yeah, right here…
