What's Going On

No Romance Here

When I finally got back to the apartment building, I found
the street full of activity. The jet setters, hustles, and
insomniacs, all seemed to congregate on my street. Instinctively, I
knew it would be unhealthy to hang out, especially while tripping on
acid. I was happy to get inside my scurvy apartment, as impossible
as that seemed, but I definitely could not sleep. I didn't want to
hang with the cat shit, so I climbed through the window at the end
of the hall and went out on to the fire escape. Six floors above the
street, I had the best seat in the house. The longer I sat on my
metal perch, the more I appreciated just how lucky I was to be off
the street.

It was a warm night and tripping on acid made life on the
street seem even more alive than it really was. There were bright
lights, colorful people, and all kinds of lavish automobiles to trip
off of. It seemed that, after the bars closed, all the horny men
would come to my neighborhood to get, or wish for, a piece of ass.
When the rest of the city was in bed, my street was just starting to
swing, and swing it did. The street was covered with shouting people
and directly across from me, on the steps in front of a run down
hotel, seven prostitutes were hanging out. These prostitutes would
strut their stuff and shout at the passing motorists. As the
drivers, one after another, drove their cars slowly down the street,
occasionally, one would stop and bargain with the prostitutes. Every
so often a deal would get struck, and the prostitute and her John
would walk up the steps and into the hotel.

The people on the street were all black. Maybe a few
Chicano's were among them, but I never saw a white person get out of
his car, at least voluntarily. A white man driving his car up the
street said something to a black man who was driving in the opposite
direction. As traffic came to a stop, the black man jumped out of
his car and ran up to the white man's car. He pulled the white guy
out of his car and sent him to the pavement so fast I couldn't even
see how he did it. The black man then got back in his car and drove
away. The cars going up and down the street could not move while
this altercation took place. After the fight was over the cars
behind the black man's car began to move, but the cars behind the
white man's car were not so lucky. It took a lot longer for him to
get going. The people waiting were not amused, nor did they show
signs of compassion. In fact, I thought the white guy was lucky to
avoid another beating.

As I was watching all this action take place, I began to
wonder why I hadn't seen one pig car cruising the street. I guess
the cops figured it wasn't worth coming into this area, especially
if they valued their lives. My butt was beginning to hurt and I was
thinking maybe the inside of my apartment wouldn't be so bad. Then,
right below me, another fight broke out. Apparently, a pedestrian
said the wrong thing to a guy in another passing car. Once again the
car stopped. It wasn't much of a fight, though. This time two guys
beat the crap out of the pedestrian. After that, I began to lose
interest in the mayhem going on below me.

I got off the railing and sat on the metal floor of the
fire escape. Across the street I could still see the prostitutes. A
shiny new Riviera stopped, holding up traffic, and two men got out
and walked over to the prostitutes, and began to bargain with them.
Apparently, the price was too high because one of the men grabbed a
girl and forced her over to the car. When she kicked and screamed,
the man used a little persuasion by twisting her arm almost in a
circle. The girl didn't have a chance because two more men were
waiting in the car to help restrain her. Once they got her in the
car and started pulling away, she continued to fight and I knew this
because as far down the road as I could see the car swerved from
lane to lane, almost causing two accidents.

Now I knew for positive, I wasn't enjoying my front row
seat anymore. I was getting sick, and I thought I might throw-up.
Waiting for the feeling to subside, another thought occurred to me.
Whatever it is that is good about class solidarity, it was obvious,
it wasn't going to show up on my street anytime soon. No way, no
how, was Marx's kinder, gentler, humanity going to manifest itself
on my street. It would take many more lifetimes before class
solidarity could work its magic on these people. And then, in a
flash of insight, it hit me! All that crap I learned in university
was bullshit. There never would arise, under any conditions, a
benevolent society. The unwashed proletariat with their aggressive,
brutal, and licentious behavior was proof of the pudding. The truth
was that greed, deceit, and lust rules, and no "scientific
socialism" would change that. There would be no fellowship of
equals, no society based on fairness and justice in humanity's
future.