Friday, Sundown


and I’m on a train cutting over the Han. That all-gold building twists as we float over that island right there, and I’ve got a Joe Strummer joint with a slinky baseline going and the bridge pylons slash by in rhythm with it. You occasionally pass through a moment where happiness really can be simple. Just for one song to click into tempo with the motions where you are. There is no God because someone intelligent would have given us a soundtrack to get through this thing. Help modulate the misery.

Now the song changes to LMFAO, because I’m an eclectic motherfucker and I also never really left summer 2011. Been stretching that moment out and it’s about to snap.

I’m en route to Gangnam. In a suit as is standard operating procedure. Looking like I rail strippers with Jordan Belfort. Beer cracked on the train because it’s legal. People see me on my phone and must think I’m greenlighting stock trades and drunk-driving some South American economy into a brick wall.

It’s June and it’s hot. Me and the girl next to me have got our thighs mashed together. Also hot.

I’m here. Train doors open to Runaway by Kanye and I hit the stairs two at a time. I’ve lived this beat about thirty times before and it’s been legendary every time. Another moment stretched out taut. Don’t snap. Not now. I just need it for a little longer.


Author: Fred Colton

Fred is just another guy online.

5 thoughts on “Friday, Sundown”

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