Little teen-age goddess Don't tell me no

Little teen-age goddess,http://www.moncleroutletonlinestore.com/
Don't tell me no,
into the park tonight
We're going to go,
Let me be
Your teen-age Romeo . . .
Dedicated to the duck's-ass heads and bursting straight skirts of the Street. That gave cops ulcers and the Youth Board gainful employment.
Why not go down there? Heat rises. On the areaway's jagged floor there'd be no August.
"Listen friends," Winsome said, "there is a word for all our crew and it is sick. Some of us cannot keep our flies zipped, others remain faithful to one mate till menopause or the Grand Climacteric steps in. But randy or monogamous, on one side of the night or the other, on or off the Street, there is no one of us you can point to and call well.
"Fergus Mixolydian the Irish Armenian Jew takes money from a Foundation named after a man who spent millions trying to prove thirteen rabbis rule the world. Fergus sees nothing wrong there.
"Esther Harvitz pays to get the body she was born with altered and then falls deeply in love with the man who mutilated her. Esther sees nothing wrong either.
"Raoul the television writer can produce drama devious enough to slip by any sponsor's roadblock and still tell the staring fans what's wrong with them and what they're watching. But he's happy with westerns and detective stories.
"Slab the painter, whose eyes are open,adidas shoes for girls, has technical skill and if you will 'soul.' But is committed to cheese Danishes,Moncler Outlet Online Store.
"Melvin the folk-singer has no talent. Ironically he does more social commenting than the rest of the Crew put together. He accomplishes nothing.
"Mafia Winsome is smart enough to create a world but too stupid not to live in it. Finding the real world never jibing with her fancy she spends all kinds of energy - sexual, emotional - trying to make it conform, never succeeding.
"And on it goes. Anybody who continues to live in a subculture so demonstrably sick has no right to call himself well. The only well thing to do is what I am going to do now, namely, jump out this window."
So speaking Winsome straightened his tie and prepared to defenestrate.
"I say," said Pig Bodine, who'd been out in the kitchen listening. "Don't you know life is the most precious possession you have?"
"I have heard that one before," said Winsome, and jumped. He had forgotten about the fire escape three feet below the window. By the time he'd picked himself up and swung a leg over, Pig was out the window. Pig grabbed Winsome's belt just as he went over the second time.
"Now look," said Pig. A drunk, urinating below in the courtyard, glanced up and started yelling for everybody to come watch the suicide. Lights came on, windows opened and pretty soon Pig and Winsome had an audience. Winsome hung jackknifed, looking placidly down at the drunk and calling him obscene names.
"How about letting go," Winsome said after a while,north face outlet. "Aren't your arms getting tired?"
Pig admitted they were. "Did I ever tell you," Pig said, "the story about the coke sacker, the cork soaker and the sock tucker."
Winsome started to laugh and with a mighty heave, Pig brought him back over the low rail of the fire escape.