The Beautiful Children of Oakland, California

And there they all are. Milling about. A handful of hoodlums rag tag and bright eyed at the back of this bar, fueled by an incessant consumption. They are resplendent in their natural habitat, the darkness and the loudness. Feeling bleary but looking sharp, a shot glass in one hand and that look of wrath in their eyes. They are feasting on right now, each and every one of them, as they pirouette rancorously through the huddles of lesser thans in the rest of this bar. They are the beautiful people here, and they know it, so they cash it in as vigorously as possible.

Which basically amounts to the interminable fuckery to which they are given. It is nonstop, quite literally, every night, lurking somewhere new. You can always find them, or at least one of them, or maybe just the whisper of their names. Because everyone knows them. Everyone can see them, even if they don’t look back. Everyone can see them, bursting in the night air with the wrath and the beauty of every inimitable, ephemeral creature out there. It is impossible not to see them, these scintillating little scions of everything party, party, party. It is impossible to look away, as they burn brightly throughout the night. It is blinding, almost, an alcoholic combustion, a flash in the darkness, which some might mistake for light but is really just an implosion, like the death of a star or something equally beautiful. This is who they are.

They are nimble, despite all the drugs, and even after all those drinks. They are light on their feet as they jettison from one end of this bar to the other, knowing every person here in some special way. There is no look in their eyes that sinks into each person with recognition, but instead there is a cool calculation as the eyes keep moving. The eyes keep moving. Always moving. Scanning the room constantly, for threats, for friendly faces, for marks, for opportunities, for a reason to run or a reason to stay. It’s a social disease, and they are sick with it, but it’s not the disease’s fault that they have chosen to self medicate with booze all night, every night, and then also a lot of cocaine. There’s a more sinister reason for all of that.

And after the bar closes, piling all the way back home. All of them all together, and then for hours more after that.