Sometimes the weird are just plain weird and undeserving of the good side to their natures. I knew a boy fitting this description. His name was Tony Blue, my next door neighbor. I’ve heard people say Hoboken, NJ is New York City’s poor cousin. If that is true my hometown of Easton, Pennsylvania is the ex-con that showed up at two am on NYC’s front door looking to borrow money. Easton had a heyday, around the time my dad dated my mother and when the commuter train still ran between Easton and New York City. Some say it may experience a revival however even the hopeful can’t ignore the boarded-up windows, teenage girls with swollen bellies online at the welfare office and broken porch swings dangling above dilapidated verandas. Northampton Street runs the entire length of the city of Easton, slicing it down the middle and serves as the main business thoroughfare. Most of the shops are now closed and for the last few years a small group of heroin addicts gather around the h...
writing and periodically luck with popcorn