Newsstand Stranded

Her father was a drunkerd
her mother was a whore
Her grandpappy sold newspapers till he was 84 (What a slimy old bastard he was)
Randy Newman

Sitting on a cold damp stool on the cold damp California winter, it never seems to end, and wishing I was some place else, Hawaii maybe, on the north shore, how about Noosa Heads Australia! But no, I am selling newsstand news and cold cigarettes to cold people in the cold evening with a crappy heater, I am reading history, why is history measured in wars? How many histories tell about constructive society, great thought, inventive and beautiful civilization? I'm thinking of Periclean Athens. But I am reading American history and how they kicked the snot out of the British in the war of 1812.
"How much are your Marlboro Lights?"
"5.50"
I try not to throw the cigarettes at the customer. I try to smile but I can't, I think I'm going to die tonight.
She's buying the Marlboro Lights, she's drunk anyhow and wouldn't know the difference if I smiled or frowned or reenacted the whole fucking battle of New Orleans. (That the war of 1812 in case you care to know)
But what has she done to me, nothing! Only she's drinking at the Red Rock and I'm out here on a cold stool on a cold night, in a cold frame of mind thinking of Periclean Athens and reading about the Philistines that drove the British off the east coast and how proud I am to be an American. How proud to be a gay American, how proud to be a bitch.
When does my break come? There's an event, everybody is cranking out books for a fab signing and what am I doing? Don't they know who I am? An intellectual?, A brilliant mind, smarter than the average bear? No! I'm only a cigarette vendor on a cold stool on a cold night,thinking cold blooded murder upon the human race, reading American history and thinking of the Greeks
Bitter! Party of one!