Spent Friday night deeply drugged and watching bird documentaries from midnight until 7 am. Most of the time thought birds, huh. Saturday night I went down to Savalas to see Lemon-Red and Caps & Jones jockey discs. Three blocks from the border between White Brooklyn and Puerto Rico, Lemon-Red was asked by the owner to nix the reggaeton, presumably for fear of a dark-skinned invasion. “But,” I thought, “transgressive kids love race music! Did you forget? What’s hipper than cultural miscegenation?” Deeply fucking ugly, anyway. I was a zombie and hit home on my bicycle, freshly fixed and a total mutant, blue and brown and of varying degrees of shininess. I love it in its nameless glory.