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„New York Crimes”, Benny Jackson show at Etaj

It was 1985.
I was living in this shitty basement down in Brooklyn. I was eating hot dogs all day so I could save my soul.
Outside was madness, thugs with knives, American grandmas mugging immigrant kids, police thinking they were gods.
I went every night to this bar to smoke a beer, to ease my knuckles from all the punches in the walls.
Heard these guys talking about a heist, they were happy they robbed the bank and killed the witnesses, horrible Scheiße man! Then the guy from the bar told me about this girl that got killed yesterday in front of the bar, shot down by the police.
On the TV, news is showing mayhem in the Big Äpfel ( as a German would say ).
The apple was full of worms, but I had to get away from L.A.
In the basement I stayed with this guy from Berlin, Young Fritz, he left his country because of some wall, I didn’t understand and didn’t care anyway. Fritz went on foot through different countries and then swam for his life until he got here. He made good Ștrudel and Marțipan. Listened all day to stupid techno music and was nostalgic about a club made in an ex-bunker.
Gave me all the newspapers he came with in the U.S and said I can use them as toilet paper. Is that what they do up there in Europe? I wondered.
Stayed all day watching the New York news and painting on these stupid papers I didn’t understand.
Life is one hell of a shit show.

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