Kentucky Fried

Been in the homeland for a few days. Heading back to Harlem tomorrow. Must say, I've reconnected with my inner trasho blanco in a big way--ate frog legs, drank moonshine with my pop, rode in a Lincoln while listening to Jerry Lee Lewis sing 'Chantilly Lace' (Hellooooo bayyyyy-bay, this is The Killer . . .), had Orange Julius at a mall, bought a cowboy shirt, got called 'Vanilla Ice' by kids hangin' in front of a strip club, went to an Alice Cooper concert (but unlike the rest of the audience, hadn't been previously informed of the dress code which consisted of Mullets & Missing Teeth--pretty fuckin intense crew, some truly scary characters--and mind you, I don't scare easily)--My mom made her coca-cola ham, and my grandma gave me some fresh pole beans to take back to NYC. My dad showed me the first places he: drank a beer, smoked cigarettes, hid from the cops and, standing on a corner, pointing across a street to a telephone pole he said, 'See that pole over there? No, not that one--THAT one! That's the first place I ever saw the word 'Fuck'."

This is what is called Quality Time.

- Wayne Lovan