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| manhattan, dining, hear, tony blair, state university, referals, cdu4mkey, asshole, jelsoft, maple, photography, canadian, naming, incestgrrl, boston, editor, tenure, enlightenedtheme for wordpress, evil thatcher, free fucking, advanced, | So here I was, 16 years old, beat to a pulp and feeling like a stuck pig. cyberpunk I was sick, broke, hungry and hurting. I was lying on a cold steel bench in a cyberpunk cold, wet, dark jail house feeling like a stupid piece of shit. It was while I was lying there that I began, in my mind, writing this article. The article I was writing in my head had several different titles, but one common, recurring theme in cyberpunk all the titles was the word "gun." I didn't always know why the word "gun" had to be part of the title, but still the word "gun" or "weapon" would not go away. |
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| I was 16 years old and the smartest, baddest, toughest mother-fucker on the near north side of Chicago. The near north side was brimming full with smart, bad, rough mother-fucking manhattan 16-year-olds. But me? I had a mission. I wanted to be loved manhattan and feared. I wanted to be bad and respected. I wanted to be cool to the brothers and hot to the sisters. Yeah, we used those terms then, manhattan too. I knew I was smart. I was too damn smart for school. In fact, since my 16th birthday in August I had all but stopped attending school. And bad? Hell! The only son-of-a-bitch badder than me was dead. I was so bad that by my 16th birthday I had broken, or somebody had broken, my two arms three times. There were few parts of my body free of stitches. I had been cut or stabbed several times. I had been beaten and hit with baseball bats, bicycle chains, sticks and bricks - and shot at. |
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