2o years back I rockd Lexington avenue on a daily basis. I was punk as fuck with all the 100 punx rule un-broken. slug & lettuce still felt with the slow draw of the southern punk vibe come alive. I worked on lexington. ate on lexington. grw up on lexington. fuxked on lexington.
2o years late. The record store I bought records at every friday after I got paid is now owned by some dipshit that literally told me…”sniff sniff”…smells like pussey. Perhaps he was meaning all the crack whores half my age turned vegan nihiiist because they think that sort of shit is funny.
Kitty kitty vivisected a rat.
plant.
Nevertheless, all the local buisness are somehow now sponsored by this asshole.
2o years back he was a local dealer that was too busy to go to punk shows. It was obvious he was laundering money for all the growers out west. He doesn’t even know all the old punx that made Lexington what it is today, he is just a dude that got rich off weed, and only “deals” with those kind of punks.
They hired a trans punk person that I knew back in the day. She rocks a patch over their heart made by the pyrate punk that was oficcially called out for raping me and several other punk woman, Marcus. They seem to only have “those” kind of shows now and banner the ideology that they are cool because they are all ages…even though they are a bar, misoginist, and promote rape.
Asheville punk scene leave much to be desired…Asheville undead may actually be dead. period.
There are ghosts on Lexington.
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