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The Vortex

Larry Fisher


Last Updated: 12/1/2009

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Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 49
Sign: Capricorn

City: BROOKLYN
State: New York
Country: US
Signup Date: 6/18/2007

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Saturday, December 26, 2009 

Category: Parties and Nightlife
We get together and scream. We have done this every New Year's since the first New Year's after the Great Depression hit. Of course, I wasn't there. Only Manny was there at the first safe cracking party. He was just a boy.
There were many Junkman that came out of that Great Depression.
As Manny says,"We were just looking for food in the Garbage, when we would find a jewel which was accidentally thrown out when someone died and an apartment was cleared. That jewel or antique could  feed us Street Roamers for a couple of days."
At first, Manny and a bunch of other Street Roamers were hired to crack open safes for families of people who had jumped out of windows and neglected to tell their combinations to the loved ones they left behind.
So, though Widows just assumed the safes were empty, still in that first New Year's of 1930, the families felt they needed to find something. Even if it were a life insurance policy, or some birth records or a photo, but what they really wanted was cash and jewels.
Manny says,"That first year all the safes were empty. By the third year, families gave up on looking in safes. They knew it was empty. We would get paid to remove them from offices. They were heavy and we would scrap the metal. In 1932, I was helping Wilhelm schlep a safe to the scrap yard. He didn't crack it open. Later it was found out that the safe was loaded and that the scrap yard owner sold the business and retired on the contents of that safe. Wilhelm screamed down the streets of the Lower East Side for the next twenty years. It makes my blood thicken and stop when I think of Wilhelm. Of course, if I helped him open it up, I could be telling my twenty something nurse this story in Key West, instead of you. My Nurse would have great tits and sucking my 80 year old cock... So, my advice to you is when you get a safe, crack it open no matter what, it could be the difference between getting your cock sucked or just sucking cock."
Manny always had a way with words...

All the Junkmen from the five boroughs were coming by with their safes to my shop in Williamsburg. I created it into a Performance of sorts. I mean it has always been a performance since the Wilhelm Scream really. Everybody took safe cracking very seriously since that blunder of Wilhelm's. It didn't matter if the safe was empty, it just needed to be checked as a matter of mental clarity.
Sonny was the first one to wear a Santa outfit to the event because he didn't want the growing population of people watching us crack open the safes, to recognize him. He was a Paranoid guy and there were good reasons for a Junkman to be paranoid. We have been robbed in all sorts of ways;we have been held up after good days at the store or flea market. We have been shot at, at our homes because people think we have money because we always come home with crap from other people's estates. We have been robbed by the people who sell us their estates; they will tell us a price for an entire estate,we will buy it, and then when it comes time to pick up the violin which is why we bought the estate, it will be gone,"Oh, I gave that to my nephew who likes to pick on the instrument."
Thursday, December 24, 2009 

Category: Religion and Philosophy
All the Junkmen get together on New Year's Day to crack their safes open. We all get safes large and small throughout the year from estates which we've cleaned out. We keep them locked up till New Year's Day. We all wear Santa Claus outfits and bring sledgehammers. We drink rum and pirate it up.
Sonny, Ritchie, Manny, Cadillac Joe, Dino, and Toots showed up in their shitty vans, ready to clobber the safes and look for our fortunes.
At fifty years old, I'm the baby. They look down on me because I have always dealt in the Art communities. First, I was in The East Village, and then when they kicked me out of there, I moved to Williamsburg.
Sonny said,"How the faggots treating you? They still buying the shit, I throw away?"
Sonny opened the back of his truck and revealed 3 safes that we needed to open.
Everybody whistled at his three safes,"Ritchie said,"Damn, three safes gotta have something in it. I'll give you two hundred dollars to become partners on the contents of those three safes."
"Fuck You,"Sonny said. This is gonna be a winner. The three safes came from the Mosler family. In fact, they are Mosler Safes."
"Mosler Safes are a bitch to open up Cadillac Joe said."
"I got dynamite," Sonny said.
"Please do not blow up my store," I said.
"Why the fuck not. Then the Faggot kids will make you out to be a hero. Tell us some demoralizing stories of these kids with their shitty clothes and their multi-million dollar parents. I got some story for you about these suckers.


Tuesday, December 22, 2009 

Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
I cringe at what I am about to write. Perhaps, my first line in these notes on Hipsters, steered you away. I understand, especially if you know the community of youngsters who have congregated in Williamsburg, Brooklyn in the last ten years...
It is a long story and I am already looking for a way to bail from telling it.
The Williamsburg Hipster Community  is hard to take for an old Punk like myself... I'm assuming that there is something in myself that I do not want to look at. Sure... I'll be the big man and say sure.
The most important aspect of this project is to get it done. It's a money maker and I need money.
So, what are some of the stories I want to write?
The main theme about both the twenty somethings struggling to survive on their parents money and the thirty somethings with kids, who are trying to survive on their parents money is their entitlement.
So, I know their entitlement will be the basis of the humor and nausea I will set forth.
Perhaps, entitlement is just an American quality at this point. There is something of the National character and entitlement.
Certainly, our Television is filled with Reality shows about entitlement. People who can't sing or dance, insist they are great. Anorexics get to prance around Runways, Drug Addicts get money for drugs from the "Reality" shows they do.
So, why focus on the Hipster community in Williamsburg?
It is almost over and I want to cash in on the hilarious adventures  before the new gang move on to become the thirty-somethings with kids...The ones who survive of course.

Ten short stories all tied together somehow...A story a week?
What are the stories I know in Williamsburg...Hmm...
1. Andrew plays in a band and works at the Record Store. He does drugs and shares them with people in order to "get gigs" He almost dies, and his father comes to Brooklyn to bring him home.
His father says,"What will it take to come home to Delaware and work in the Lumber Yard."
Andrew says,"One Hundred Thousand dollars a year to start."
"One hundred thousand dollars?"
"Yes, you will be taking me away from my life's desire for fame and fortune. I am very close here to attaining it. I am sacrificing everything I believe in to work with logs of wood."
The father will agree to the terms.

2. A story about a young woman who volunteered on Obama's campaign and is asked out by a well educated young black man.
Though she is a supporter of inter-racial relationships. She never went out on a date with a black man.
I have no idea where this story will go. Any ideas?

3 I will have to deal with my own relationship to the youngsters who shop in my shop and irritate me... The title will be,"I Don't Think So."
It will be about the way the Hipster kids will try to passively aggressively bully me around as they trash the shop and disrespect it

More to come. All I need now is the intestinal fortitude to write about these folks. I have to find a way to like the characters, I have a difficult time with








Friday, December 18, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry
"Are you a white man?"
"No, I'm Jewish."
"Good answer."
"I'm not to savvy having a white man moving into the neighborhood but a Jew is something else."
"We are something else."
"I was raised with the sequel to the Bible, but when I'm down, I pray to God, not the son of God. I like Jesus with his drinking and whoring. He is alright, but I don't want to have to play a game of "Telephone" between Jesus and God. I want to go to the source...Jesus, could have been drinking and getting his dick sucked when I prayed to him, and then he gives God the wrong message..."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, Jesus don't hear to well or he is like that Jeanie in a bottle who gives you three wishes, and grants them but they always fuck you up more."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, when I used to pray and ask things to Jesus, I would say something like,Oh Jesus, Lord don't let my woman smell the pussy on my dick when I get home... And don't you know it, I'd get home and my woman insisted on sucking my dick. Now, that was not ordinary for her. So, I got caught with my pussy dick. Now, I'm assuming Jesus heard me say,"Oh Jesus, let my woman suck my dick when I get home... Everytime, I prayed to Jesus, he would fuck me up, but when I just prayed to the Old Testament God, he brought righteous pain upon my enemies. He is a super tough motherfucker. He is like a Marine, and Jesus is more like a Merchant Marine or a do-gooder like the Salvation Army or Peace Corp guy... I like him, he's a good guy, but he always fucks up what I'm looking for. When I pray to the Old Timer God, he is like a Lawyer and evaluates what I want, and will either give it to me or not. Jesus just gets me in trouble. Are you a religious man?"
"I like the stories, I eat pork and follow none of the dietary rules."
"Well, I understand. Pork sure is a tasty meat. God didn't have ovens to cook the shit out of pork when he wrote that Pork Law. Must have been like Charlotte's Web for the Wilbur's of the world when that dietary law was written about not eating pigs. Damn, sure lucky Governor's Pardon for the damn pigs in the Middle East when that Law got voted on and written down.Damn lucky for them tasty oinkers. Me, I still eat Pork."
"Do you consider yourself Jewish?"
"Uh-uh, I am most definately a black man who just happens to believe in the old man over the kid. I got my reasons. Even the way I am only sort of blind is Jesus's fault."
Go on Orville Nettles, tell me how Jesus sort of blinded you.
"I will in good time."







Saturday, December 12, 2009 

Category: Parties and Nightlife
Johnny Aces was making us all nuts. He was going off on weird theories and presenting them as true axioms,"As men we have to teach women how to become dirty. It is our responsibility to open them up to every degenerate idea of how to become dirty. They should be there to help us get laid with other women. They should lure  home other women for us. In fact, our responsibility to the community of men, is to make them all scumbags."
"I think we all are scumbags, anyway,"I said.
"We could do more, much more."
Schlomo said,"Why don't we give a tour on how to become a bigger better scumbag in New York City."
Johnny and I looked at each other,"That would be a great money maker," I said.
"We could tour men around and Johnny can introduce men how to pick up ladies, in bars, on the street, in the Pharmacy, by the fruit stand. Everywhere."
"I could do that. We need a buffer."
"A buffer?"
"Yeah, not everybody is as big a scumbag as me. It takes alot of work to be able to pick up women the way I do. It takes effort, and time. We need to hire prostitutes to be where the tour is and make sure that the lame ass men who do this tour will feel like they actually picked up the women. "
"Wait, so now the Tour is going to involve Prostitutes?" Schlomo asked.
"No, Escorts."
"How do the Escorts get paid?"
"It's built into the price of the tour."
Schlomo and I looked at each other.
"It could work," I said.
"It would be a mitzvah that we would be doing for the schlubs of America. In fact, I would want to be on that tour.
Thursday, December 10, 2009 

Category: Life
Before I die
I want a new Social Security Card
Laminated

I want a new passport
To bring down in my grave
 Right in my breast pocket

I want a few life insurance policies
Because then I'll live forever
Or not

When I die
I want to become above board
Unlike my Underground life
Thursday, December 10, 2009 

Category: Life
Before I die
I want a new Social Security Card
Laminated

I want a new passport
To bring down in my grave
 Right in my breast pocket

I want a few life insurance policies
Because then I'll live forever
Or not

When I die
I want to become above board
Unlike my Underground life
Wednesday, December 09, 2009 

Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
My brother and I loved going through our dad's drawer. He had ancient condoms in there as well as a girly deck of cards. (If folks of The Monstrological Society may remember, our father was the photographer of that said deck of cards. It was supposed to be destroyed and when my mother found the deck in our possession, she was quite perturbed with our Dad, for still having a deck.
He complained to our mother that his photography with was his "Art," and that is when our mother "decked" our father and the cards went flying all over the place.
My brother and I offered to pick up the cards with the naked ladies on them but our mother said,"That's alright boys, I'd rather you not see anymore of the mother's from this neighborhood.
Our mother collected the cards and counted them.
"There are three cards missing. Where are the the two Jokers and the Queen of Hearts?" Our mother who was nursing our sister, stomped around and demanded the cards from our father.
"I don't have the Jokers or the Queen of Hearts... You are the only Queen in my heart."
We knew that our mother would have been cursing our father had we not been around.
My brother said,"Do you want us to go to another room?
Our father gave him the hairy eyeball and said,"No."
Our mother said,"Yes."
Eventually, our mother won the debate and we went into our parents room and hid in the closet, to play, "War."
We were playing captured Americans trying to dig a tunnel away from the Nazi's when I found a box filled with papers and a huge ring. We both had flashlights and shined it on the box. In it were pictures of our Dad playing basketball with a Giant. They were photos of some sort of Circus Act that apparently our Dad was involved with. The name of the Act was."The Long Shadow of Jake."
My brother and I were amazed to find this photo of this giant cradling our dad in his arms like a baby. Our Dad was dressed in diapers,"This is weird. Dad was in the circus?"
"And look at this ring? This ring is wider than our pee-pee's."
"Don't call your cock a pee-pee. It's too babyish."
My brother corrected himself," This ring is wider than my cock. I wonder how big the giant's cock is?
"Just then our mother opened the closet door. She was beet red,"Oh great, another skeleton in the closet from your dad's past. And who taught you such foul language. It's your bedtime boys and your father will have all night to tell you about "The long shadow of Jake."
"Huh,"my brother and I both said."
"I've kicked your father out of the bed tonight. He'll be sleeping in your room, so he'll have plenty of time to tell you whatever kind of horror story you boys want to hear, whether they are true or not. I recommend he tell you the horror story of "The Long Shadow of Jake."

End of Part One







 
Tuesday, December 08, 2009 

Category: Life
"I come before this assembly to bring you my truth. There are many people here and my truth may offend some. So, I have brought my personal Bartender here today, and for one day only, he has agreed to mix drinks for the general public."
Sam waved to the people from the side of the auditorium. He wore his apron. His walrus moustache  bristled with anticipation. He looked like a man getting ready for a Hurricane. In fact, he planned on mixing Hurricanes for this event. He hardly ever mixed sweet drinks,"Sweet drinks of alcohol are for children," he would say.
I greatly appreciate everybody showing up for the first Murder Tour Incorporated meeting of potential killers."
That got a laugh from the audience.
I am not here to distract you from your lives. I am here to tell you why people kill and why you are fascinated with them... The first thing I would like to do is irritate you... Serial Murderers are dopes. You are interested in them because they distract you from the misery of your own life."
Groans from the crowd.
Schlomo ran to Sam who fixed him a Hurricane.
I knew he was thinking that there might be a riot. I knew that he was thinking that I was going to ruin our growing thriving business.
I was flushing out a Serial Killer or something.
I use you all. I make money off of dumb fuckers who think they are movie stars because the murders they commit end up on the front page of newspapers...
I saw a bunch of my staff at Murder Tours Incorporated. Donna the Secretary, Ken the Sales pusher, and Johnny Aces were all having cocktails.
And I am here to tell you something else. Serial Killers are dumb. There has never been an intelligent one.
The line for the Hurricane beverage was growing. Sam was holding down the fort till I lashed out,"Silence Of The Lambs is the dumbest fucking movie ever."
People were making their way to the exits, or clamoring Sam to make his drinks faster. Schlomo ran up to the stage and grabbed the microphone away from me,"My partner is trying to make a point. He is under a great deal of stress having been himself been trapped and released by "The Tattoo Ripper."
People oowed and awwed and returned to his seat.
"He is also in the middle of a strange relationship with his wife and girlfriend. They have fallen in love with each other."
A young geeky voice from the crowd," Are you jealous about your wife and girlfriend spending so much time together."
I grabbed the microphone back from Schlomo,"Nah, I'm not jealous, I just prefer it if someone were sucking my cock."
Laughs from the audience. I had them sitting back down with their cocktails. I had French people nodding and the Germans shaking their heads. They looked like a bunch of knick knack nodders on top of a refridgerator door









Monday, December 07, 2009 

Category: Writing and Poetry
The great thing about writing, is that I feel I can improve upon any story, everyday...The horrible thing about writing is that I can improve upon a story everyday.
I have a lazy man's plan of attack for this book. Not surprising that it is a lazy man's plan. What is surprising is that I have a plan of attack. Here it is.
I will write forwards and backwards without reading anything I've written so far. This will be interesting since I have Writer's Alzheimers. I can't remember my characters names or what they have done or what they have said in previous chapters. People actually talk to me about characters by name and are telling me a story about them, and I say,"Did I write that, that's horrible!" or "That's fucking funny. I'm fucking funny"
I surprise myself.
Here's why I want to start the book over: I realize that my main character (whatever his name is) needs a kind of assistant. His name will be Sam and he will be the protagonists personal
Bartender. I realize the importance of this character because I recently hired a personal bartender to come to my aid. He is someone who will come to wherever I am located and with his makeshift bar, mix me a cocktail. Not just any cocktail, a strong Gibson or an Old Fashioned.
I recommend to everybody out there to hire a Bartender who can come to your location, where ever that may be and mix you cocktails.
In the book, I may have my bartender come to a bar to mix me a proper drink.
My main character is not a drunk, but if he is going to drink, it best be made proper. Sam the Bartender will also have advice, not unlike Jeeves in the Wodehouse books.
Well, it is time to get Sadie to school. Maybe I will read my book and eliminate my withered soul of the struggle to seperate the characters who exist in my world and my fictional world.
The next chapter will start like this:

"I don't mind that my wife and girlfriend spend all their time together. I don't think that I am jealous of them. I would just prefer it, if someone were sucking my cock"