GSC
the dj of griggs street, the spinner and swayer, the smile on my candy flip, and the man who goes by "GSC" (griggs street crew).
GSC was a friend of philosopher's and so a friend of mine and storyteller's.
we did good drugs together and had good talks while wondering why lights got brighter when our eyes shut more. he used to spin at our parties and bring his son by for us to marvel at.
"don't put that in your mouth."
"ok. sure. put it in your mouth."
two year olds didn't really have rules at griggs street. as long as the little bit wasn't chewing on cigarette butts or sticking his finger in electrical sockets ... we figured he was good. never in harm's way, we watched him like hawks, and i laughed when he picked up storyteller's copy of permanent midnight off the table and handed it to me for no real reason.
GSC just heard about storyteller tonight. he called in a frantic tone laced with enthusiasm to hear my voice. his son is four now. storyteller's gone. i'm living in austin. and neither of us knows what to do with all of this.
"he was a fuckin' angel, girl."
"i know."
"life's a bull, and you're a goddamn matador."
"well."
"all you can do is live."
"god, i'm trying."
"it takes it out of you."
"i miss his voice."
"i miss knowing he was here."
and we said a lot between hello and take care.
