#but literally every time shes on the feeder in his presence he gets PISSED and chases her off

[transgenderfivepebbles]

help, i think my favorite bird hates women??

[gopunksphilly-blog]

Welcome to the sad, sorrowful truth of Gem's life and Philadelphia's Underworld, 1985...in 'PUNKS' the novel...

“NEXT STOP….ALLEGHENY….ALLEGHENY…NEXT STOP!!” ……the garbled, scratchy early morning voice of the engineer bellows through the gnarled, subway car speaker.  Gem springs up from her comfortable quiescence, nudging me along. “C’mon cutie, our journey continues.” Wrapping my arms comfortably around her svelte waist, I sandwich her between the pitted, rusty subway car stanchion and my body’s full weight.  “Mmmmmm, now this is why I still like to nuzzle,” Gem purrs.

           The incessant brake squealing makes it hard to even think and after a few quick lurches and jerks occur before our car comes to rest at the stations platform, the doors barely release, allowing for our escape before hurriedly making our way through the turnstiles.  It becomes an obstacle course navigating the steps again with an overabundance of exhausted souls using them as beds and a gauntlet of spent hypodermics to circumvent.  “Watch out for those needles Robbs, they seem to be everywhere,” Gem cautiously whispers.

A very young punk with golden, warrior spikes lies in a comatose state at the top of the graffiti strewn vestibule.  Newspapers, empty coffee cups, and food wrappers have piled up around him but he’s too gone to notice.  The smell of spray paint lingers and there are traces of silver around his nostrils and mouth.  He’s been huffing and from the looks of the two shiners under his eyes, someone decked him pretty hard before the inhalants took him out even further.  

           “Is he even making any sounds, Robbs?”  Gem inquires sheepishly before I get close enough to hear his short, labored breaths.  “He’s alive babe, but he’s hurtin’ pretty badly.”  With Gem’s help, I manage to lug him up the steps and out into the crisp, autumn air.  He’s still pretty shot in the ass to help very much but at least he’s not lying in a puddle of piss anymore.  Our young junkie is a microcosm of the bigger picture plaguing the Kensington and Allegheny section of Philadelphia.  Once a large, blue collar manufacturing region, the only industries growing amongst the dilapidated factories and tattered, brick rowhomes were drugs and prostitution.  Surveying the landscape in front of us was a harrowing experience, to say the least.  On every corner, in every alley, down every sidewalk were despondency, destruction and hopelessness.  The fall foliage, blue skies and regal sunlight from above can do nothing to liven up the misery on display here.

            Even at this early hour of Saturday morning, the drug and skin trade was in full effect further away from Broad and West Allegheny.  Dealers and pimps peddle their wares to the suburban “Masters of the Universe,” who travel far away from their lush lawns, pedigreed wives or girlfriends residing in gated communities, to sample the pleasures of pure decadence behind the doors of filth ridden tenements overrun by rats and littered with soiled cots stained by numerous body fluids.

            In the hazy lust for the pleasures of the flesh and the warping of your mind, cleanliness and decorum seem to fall easily by the wayside in the lives of the so-called powerful and entitled, although the preppie bastards in their ‘Bimmers’, Audi’s and Benz’s are arrogant enough to think they hold some semblance of clout here until the bullets start to fly, or when the Brody’s finally decide to raid the Avenue, thus reducing the trust fund, jetsetters to literally wail like infants for forgiveness in their presence.  In the rare instances that either happen, it’s an entertaining, joyous sight to behold watching the upper crust grovel to whom they on any other day deem as the bottom feeders of society.

           Extracting the thermos of coffee from my backpack, I get a couple of muffins out of the pouch, handing one of them to Gem as we both lean on a freshly stripped, new, red Cadillac Eldorado convertible that was torched and left in a overgrown, debris filled lot to die its lonely death amongst the ruins of capitalism gone awry.  Gem shakes her head, tossing her hair from side to side, hoists the thermos cup and offers a toast.  “Welcome to the American underworld, baby boy, in its entire rancid, horrific splendor. You’re witnessing the fall of a modern day Roman Empire and punks like us have the soundtrack for its destruction.”

           Taking residence on the Cadillac’s torn up, burnt frame; I try to absorb the amassing, broad daylight chaos which reminds me so much of the stories written about the South Bronx when I was still in New York. “Gem, is this where your family lived before you moved up by the Yamaguchi’s?”

           “This is it, Robbs, the junkie proletariats’ Rodeo Drive. Take a walk with me.  It’s a number of blocks to East Allegheny, the alphabet blocks and the El and yes, it’s quite depressing but it’ll give you a glimpse of how your girl grew up and where my evil father earned his street reputation.”  A beater car full of little shit punks rolls by blaring The Clash’s, ‘Working for the Clampdown,” as they wail on the horn and wave to Gem.  It’s another place where I quickly find out in our travels that the presence of Gemma Stinson still holds a mighty amount of sway.  

            Sharing another muffin, I ask Gem about how they finally got Lena away from the total street life existence.  “Icy got really shook up when Trix murdered Stace.  Hell, how many young girls do you know who’ve watched three of their girlfriends die within a year or so of one another?”

           “Not too many, love.”

           “Mister Yamaguchi found her a good paying job at the Budd Company and in return, she promised him that she’d at least finish high school to earn her diploma.  Listen Robbs, ‘Icy’ still has a lot of her street ways, as do I.  

           I’ve tried to take mine down a notch but it’s not always that easy because the lure of the street is very tempting……it can be very hard to turn away from.

           You witnessed how fast Lena can become a handful of trouble for someone by the way she acted in Fairmount just recently. She would’ve torn those skinheads to shreds if they’d laid a hand on you and even Yuka got a taste of what street life was like by hanging around with us in high school.  Her fists are quick, Robbs.  I’ve seen her deck a few people really hard.

           Even you have a street brawler mentality, mixed in with some pretty lightning quick fist work.  It’s just wicked to watch you have a go at people, but admittedly I’m much happier when we don’t have to fight anyone.”

           “No argument there, Gem.  Peaceful is much better but it’s nice to know we won’t take any wankers shit either.”

           We travel further through the chaos and as dangerous as this part of town can be, there is a weird sense of security being around Gem here.  There’s an odd acquiescence taking place in the bowels of Allegheny.  Wherever Gem seems to travel here this morning, there is almost deference to royalty approaching and she becomes more annoyed by the attention.  “They know who I am, Robbs.  No harm will probably ever come to me up here because of who my asshole father was. Even in fuckin’ death, he holds a level of fear over people.

           Only after he was killed did people in the K & A begin to hear the animal that he was at home.  They already knew the brutal enforcer he was on the street….the stone cold killer who could charm you with his handsome smile, right before he beat you within an inch of your life with his iron fists, just because you owed money to the Italian or Irish mobsters who retained his services.  

Even my mother was feared by most when she was younger and not all strung out. If my father ever did get himself caught up in shit from time to time, she’d think nothing of putting a gun to your neck or in your mouth.  It really was a demented way to live and makes you wonder why in the hell they’d ever bring a child into this kind of world.”  

Another group of middle age roughs step aside when Gem and I approach, bowing their heads either out of a shallow respect or the trepidation that still apparently exists when a Stinson travels through these broken streets filled with one residence more neglected than the other.  She smiles ever so slightly but grunts mildly in disgust.  “God, it’s so fucking humiliating that the bastard still holds that kind of sway down here.”

Remaining silent, I can’t imagine the burden it must be for Gemma to return to these badlands of pure hell.  Whereas she is revered, loved, respected and feared ONLY by those who are up to no good in our punk enclave of South Street and its environs, you can bear witness to the pain it causes her to see the denizens of her old place of birth still reacting this way.  “Let’s backtrack and pick up the pace, Robbs,” she says as the SEPTA Elevated roars above us while some street urchins add their tags to the volumes already existing on the steel girders below.              Retracing our steps through the human and bricks and mortar rubble that have become North Philadelphia we eventually pass the entrance for the Broad Street Line.  “We’ll be back soon enough to take the subway, Robbs but there’s one more place I need to see before I depart this sorrowful landscape.  Hang tight, we’re almost where I want to take you,” she sighs heavily, lamentably.

           Turning onto North 15th Street, Gem slows the pace down to a crawl, eventually pointing across the street to a derelict row house, covered by overgrown shrubs, thick, weed trees and lathered with crude graffiti. The faded words “DEMON” and “RAPIST” are splattered across the splintered, wooden front door.  Gem asks me for a Red; I comply quickly, blazing it up before she takes a long drag and sighs heavily.  “There it is, Robbs…3250, North 15th…..where my life of hell with Allan and Gabriella Stinson began.”

           “Gem, you really don’t have to do…..” but Gem admonishes me with a mild rebuke.  “Yes, I do have to face my demons, Robbs. That’s why I needed you here by my side….the only person who can help me do this.”

Calmly, I take hold of her hand, lifting it towards my lips.  “I’m here for you, no matter what, Gem.”  

           “This is where Allan Stinson, a machinist by trade, coming from the hard working stock of German, Dutch, Scotch, Irish and the Cherokee tribe brought his bride, Gabriella, a tall, slender, lovely woman of Italian, French, Icelandic and Russian lineage to live and die; and on the in between years, they decided to copulate and bring an unwanted little girl into their boozer, junkie world.

            I can’t find it in my heart to forgive them for what they did to me since they seldom tried to love me, even when times weren’t so bad for them.  They were too worried about being stone cold junkies or drunks.  My father was too worried about being the enforcer who’d crush skulls in for non-payments on ‘debts’.  They were too worried about partying their asses off and leaving their daughter to fend for herself.  They laughed when I was beaten, they laughed when I was a young girl and they spiked my orange juice with vodka to get me drunk…. The list of their evil goes on and on, Robbs.”

           A stiff breeze suddenly whisks through the street, sending debris swirling into the air like dry, fallen, autumn leaves.  Gem swings her hair to and fro while tenaciously approaching the house through increasingly ferocious, heavy winds, before suddenly stopping, balling up her fists so violently that she doesn’t even notice one of her talon-like nails has dug into her palm, sending slow drips of blood to the pavement.  The winds die for a moment but pick up stronger than before, a minute or so later and the superlative beauty of the sun has increasingly disappeared, only to be replaced by menacing, gray clouds, making the fetid landscape of this part of town even more ominous.

           Gem’s eyes darken in a way that I’ve never seen before, as if summoning up forces from above to do her bidding against this place of evil.  “Hold my hand, Robbs…no matter what I say, don’t stop holding my hand.”

           My grip on her is viselike.  “I’m not going anywhere, so say what you have to, Gem,’ who glares at the house again while the wind whips her auburn hair in all directions, making it look flame-like.  A wicked smile crosses her face and she emits a low growl.  “You know that I’m back again, after all this time, don’t you, Al and Gaby?  Did you think you could keep me away forever?  Did you think people wouldn’t know what you two assholes did to me?

           I see your shithole of depravity got tagged for the whole neighborhood to see.  Icy and Stace said they were gonna’ do it, and I’m glad they did.  They should have included MURDERERS, because you broke Uncle Ronnie’s spirit, hastening his painful death and God knows how many people you sent to their untimely deaths by your other monstrous actions.”

The winds begin driving against us even harder but Gem remains undeterred, letting loose a surge of venom against the howling gusts. “You two pieces of shit can send all these torrents of wind at me, trying to drown out my voice but I WILL say what I have to!  I HATE YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME….FOR WHAT YOU LET BE DONE TO ME BY OTHERS…ALL I WANTED WAS LOVE….ALL THAT ANY LITTLE GIRL WANTS FROM HER MOM AND DAD!!!

           She starts to whimper as tears hit the ground but the ferocity of Gem returns in spades.  “YOU both hurt me beyond belief but now I will be strong in your presence, because this house of hell represents the two of you!!  DEAD and BURIED ….it’s where you belong so you can’t hurt anyone else! I just want you to know that I’ve found LOVE and HE’S WITH ME RIGHT NOW…he’s brought a smile to my face ….and a song to my heart….AND BECAUSE OF HIM…YOU WILL NEVER HURT ME AGAIN!!!!

           NEVER!!!!   NEVER!!! Never….never….” Her grip lightens up, as light sobs have joined Gem’s fury.  Picking up a loose brick from the ground, it’s heaved through the only glass pane left on the derelict structure.   “FUCK YOU…GABY AND AL!!!!  NOW, YOU’RE TRULY DEAD TO ME!!” she bellows as the glass explodes, sending shards flying violently in all directions.   The wind still whips feverishly around us while Gem pulls me closer; with tears falling like rain, she locks stares with me.  “I…. love you so much, Robbs.  Kiss me….just kiss me…I am madly in love with you….kiss me and tell me it will all be all right…”

An excerpt from Rich Cucarese’s (that’s me!) upcoming, fictional novel, ‘PUNKS’, Chapter 18, ‘The Underworld’.....

“What are we gonna’ do now?”.....The Clash, ‘Working for the Clampdown’

huffing....

Broad Street and Allegheny Avenue, coming up from the Broad Street Line...

Trainspotting...could’ve been shot in Kensington and Allegheny at any time in the past thirty years....

The needle and the damage done....

Gemma ‘Swan’ Stinson’s old stomping grounds....

North 15th and Allegheny....where the rough and tumble, sorrowful childhood existence of Gemma began....

Allegheny Avenue, Philadelphia....Gemma’s old neighborhood of tough times and sorrows...Sadly,not much has changed in thirty years....