The trains blow their whistles at the crossings-the crossing is 50 yards from my door- and we all wanna hear a fuckin train song.
There's a pall in the air. Stale cigarette smoke and hungover light. We crawl out of our beds sometime after noon. Unless we have work, holding our heads drinking liquid vitamins and moaning against our throbbing skulls. Else we sleep as late as we can-passing out early in the evening with the bottle spilling on the carpet. God forbid it's red wine we decided to get wasted on that night. The East Nashvillian without an addiction is the East Nashvillian in recovery. Aren't all neighborhoods like that? Only difference is the better neighborhoods pretend they're above it and harbor desperate housewives. There are no desperate housewives in East Nashville-that would require having a husband who made enough money that one income was enough to pay the bills. Unemployed musicians, unemployed something idealistic barely employed job hating miserable artists scowling behind whimsical smiles that's the basic population here. We're just happy the lights are on and that no one's knocking on the door to take away the car. Then again on bad days both of those things are possible.
At least that's the way it seems when I'm drinking another round of Yazoo at the 3 Crow and mourning a bar I was never in. Wondering how I'll pay for the beer and chips the bank is far away and I usually spend my tips on gas and food. Longing for a cigarette no one shares with me cuz the rumor around town is that I quit. Doesn't take long to be part of the gossip here. A few months and the next thing you know you're a native and the bartender at the Cafe knows your drink and won't take tips. Maybe he's the owner, I should know this shit by now and probably someone told me but I went and got too drunk and forgot. Nashville is a big small town and East Nashville is Mayberry on acid.
"Where do you live?" everyone asks that.
Then when someone says East Nashville there's a filing away. Because there are levels of East Nashville. I don't live on Shelby or Holly or Woodland or 14th so I am less so. But I have the train tracks. Lots of people don't have the 6:45 to wake them and remind them that they're immigrants and this is their adopted country. It's a better part of town. Like moving to SoHo without having to sublet an apartment in Alphabet City-I lucked out and that is all.