...flattered by your wish to kill me...
Mood: ...awake and well...
Mo'Zak: "Meet Me In The Pocket" by Q And Not U
here i sit, a couple thousand miles away from the beach, back in the midwest with nicotine stains on my fingers and scars on my hands, i still exist, i still am happy...
the events that have led up to me being in my present location are a blur...
another drunken thursday night, Geoff's band just got done practicing, our buzzes just starting to overflow into slurred speech and clumsy movements, the week prior i decided i was going to move to the beach in Santa Monica, the morning i woke up with this scheme fresh in my dome i find aforementioned Geoff, and i ask him a simple question, in retrospect i feel like i somewhat betrayed one of my favorite people, but he knows the rules to the game, anyway i digress, i asked him "how much do you trust me?" his response natural and quick "a whole hell of a lot." for the next six or seven days that followed we tried to come up with things we would miss about Carson, all the reasons we would've stayed escaped us faster than we could from that town. which brings me back to that drunken night, discussing our departure which was to take place after Christmas. Mark, the bassist of The Carsonigens decided to add in his two cents to a plan he wasn't even involved in, " why don't we just leave now.", me and Geoff look at each other, "al-fuckin-right, let's do it." we proceeded to traverse the town slipping deeper into our bottles and further into the adventure that was to take place...
(music change and time to roll another smoke)
Mo'Zak: "Torches Together" by MeWithoutYou
we ransack our respective homes for the things we thought we'd need, making a mess, whether it was the booze or our way to mark that we where desperate to leave, it hardly matters, we rolled through the streets thunderous with song and laughter at our new victory over the shackles of a desert town... the first bus out after having a couple pints in the dirtiest place from our past singing to the song playing throughout the bar "you can stand me up at the gates of hell, i won't back down." like it was an anthem, finally on our first vessel towards a bigger city with a bigger vessel, i could already see the doubt in Marks eyes...
Reno was our final hurdle before hitting the coast, we decided to take a detour to Stockton to meet up with some of Marks friends, the Greyhound ride was like any other, eccentrics trying to get away from wherever it was they where, a long layover in Sacramento and our first beer away from the dirty sand and sagebrush, it was sweeter, the flavors of a familiar brand of beer exploded on my tongue like i never tasted it before, not to sound cliche, but it tasted like liberation, i didn't even phase me when i went into that dirty bus stop restroom followed by four seemingly very upset black security guards growling at me, "that jacket's starting to piss us off." with their clenched fists and leather gloves i cocked my head and with slightly nervous tone "it's an anti-swazi, i'm a Jew." , they backed off and took a second look at the faded patch and apologized...
Stockton, we where picked up by a lovely girl, whom brought us back to Marks home town of Ripon, a doppelganger of Carson City in a different state, we stayed in the area for a couple days meeting the locals and imbibing with them 'til we got a ride to San Francisco with hopes of finding our friend Ricket at the Tattoo shop he worked at...(by this time Mark has decided to go back to Carson, as was expected.)
Ricket greeted us with a smile and a hug asking "so when do you guys wanna get tattooed?" to which we replied, "yes."... we stayed the week in SF and Oakland with him and his lovely girlfriend Eleanor, exploring the haight scene and getting inked by my favorite artist, his generosity is parallel with his artistic ability putting us up in his home so that we had beds to sleep on and food in our stomach, i'll say this about Haight Street, it's interesting, in the sense that watching horrible acts of destruction are, the wanton use of drugs and tactics to acquire change by the street kids was entertaining yet wholly depressing, their drug addled minds barely able to push a word from between their lips and as for conversation, well these where not a group of enlightened individuals looking for a way of life to better themselves, they where greedy, inconsiderate leeches on society, and i don't pity them for the hardships that they will encounter, for they brought them on themselves, such a waste... i did however get incredibly baked on hippie hill and came up with an idea for an instrument which i later that day made, it's called the door stops, enough said...
after our week there we where picked up by one of the wonderful people we met in the area around Ripon in a town called Modesto, she drove 2 hours just to bring us back to her apartment for two weeks which spawned an unusual experiment in domestication...
Modesto, the dark haired girl whom took a liking to Geoff was happy to have us, and so was the pretty young blond that had warmed up to me (she's the one that picked us up in Stockton, the first thing that i directly said to her was "if you had a handle bar mustache, you'd be my best friend.", she still has not grown one as far as i know.) in the span of the two weeks that we stayed Geoff and I experienced the fastest evolving relationships we've ever been in, starting with hanging out and cuddling to something that resembled a relationship that has been going on for quite some time, the four of us never left each others sides, except to pair off and go to bed at night, they'd bring us home beer and food after they got off work, and we'd sit in the living room and play life and watch happy feet, we met their families and picked up a puppy, and helped one of their Mom's move plants, went corn mazes, celebrated a holiday with them and all the friends and enemies they had in high school, Geoff and I fixed things around the house and did dishes and recycled, and then it was over, they dropped us off in Santa Monica... we thank them both for everything they did for us, they are wonderful people...
Santa Monica, no real contacts to speak of to get things really started, just the bags and blankets on our backs, and whatever wits and charm we may possess... we slept on the beach and woke up to waves crashing, we met people, made enough money to get us tobacco everyday, stole food and booze when we had to, or visited the shelters for a hot meal, one of the shelters we went to a place cleverly named Common Ground which advertised it's homeless youth programs, we get some tamales and i stand outside afterwards to smoke, a beautiful miniature version of Joan Jett opens up and asks if i'm gay, i smirk and give her a negative on her assumption ...
(music change, and yet another smoke)
Mo'Zak: "Beanbag Chair" by Yo La Tengo
me and this fellow homeless girl got to talking of music and of drugs all those things your hero enjoys, she asked where i was headed, and before i could answer she told me i should go to Hollywood with her and Venice, we never made it to Hollywood but we made it back to to the beach and formed camp Voodoo, we shoplifted together, and wandered the streets til the wee hours, sitting in coffee shops asking for left overs making star topped wands out of stir sticks and straws, then drank our free coffees on the bluffs watching the sun rise, she said loved me, and maybe i could've loved her, we drank wine at night and walked around in the sun picking flowers and putting them in our hair, spinning around and singing like children, we'd go down to the Promenade and sit down at the outdoor restaurants to eat the leftovers of strangers who apparently had the appetite of a bird and after getting kicked out we'd sink our toes in the sand and watch the sun get swallowed by the sea... we held each other for warmth when we slept, she said she knew i wouldn't let anyone hurt her... then i left for Chicago, i hope she is well, and i hope no harm ever comes to her, she was something great...
Chicago hasn't stopped for me yet, Gena bussed me out here with the intentions of me staying for a week, within that first week, drinking with old friends, and burning my hand severely trying to make breakfast for everyone before they woke up put me in the position where it wasn't a good idea to go back to the streets with a wounded hand, a great philosopher once said, "take time with a wounded hand, it needs time to heal, i like to steal." or something like that, that and a potential death threat from Mel, which only turned into a threat to rip out the ring in my septum, which we all know my vanity beats out my wish for a longer life, i'd rather be dead than disfigured, so here i am, with nicotine stains on my fingers and scars on my hands, there's more to this story yes, and i'm sure i'll write it out in greater detail one day... but for now, yes here i am, in Chicago, going to bars which mostly are gay bars, hanging out with Gena being her pseudo personal assistant, and i'm having fun, people ask me how long am i staying here, well, i don't know, however long is necessary...
Mo'Zak: "Meet Me In The Pocket" by Q And Not U
here i sit, a couple thousand miles away from the beach, back in the midwest with nicotine stains on my fingers and scars on my hands, i still exist, i still am happy...
the events that have led up to me being in my present location are a blur...
another drunken thursday night, Geoff's band just got done practicing, our buzzes just starting to overflow into slurred speech and clumsy movements, the week prior i decided i was going to move to the beach in Santa Monica, the morning i woke up with this scheme fresh in my dome i find aforementioned Geoff, and i ask him a simple question, in retrospect i feel like i somewhat betrayed one of my favorite people, but he knows the rules to the game, anyway i digress, i asked him "how much do you trust me?" his response natural and quick "a whole hell of a lot." for the next six or seven days that followed we tried to come up with things we would miss about Carson, all the reasons we would've stayed escaped us faster than we could from that town. which brings me back to that drunken night, discussing our departure which was to take place after Christmas. Mark, the bassist of The Carsonigens decided to add in his two cents to a plan he wasn't even involved in, " why don't we just leave now.", me and Geoff look at each other, "al-fuckin-right, let's do it." we proceeded to traverse the town slipping deeper into our bottles and further into the adventure that was to take place...
(music change and time to roll another smoke)
Mo'Zak: "Torches Together" by MeWithoutYou
we ransack our respective homes for the things we thought we'd need, making a mess, whether it was the booze or our way to mark that we where desperate to leave, it hardly matters, we rolled through the streets thunderous with song and laughter at our new victory over the shackles of a desert town... the first bus out after having a couple pints in the dirtiest place from our past singing to the song playing throughout the bar "you can stand me up at the gates of hell, i won't back down." like it was an anthem, finally on our first vessel towards a bigger city with a bigger vessel, i could already see the doubt in Marks eyes...
Reno was our final hurdle before hitting the coast, we decided to take a detour to Stockton to meet up with some of Marks friends, the Greyhound ride was like any other, eccentrics trying to get away from wherever it was they where, a long layover in Sacramento and our first beer away from the dirty sand and sagebrush, it was sweeter, the flavors of a familiar brand of beer exploded on my tongue like i never tasted it before, not to sound cliche, but it tasted like liberation, i didn't even phase me when i went into that dirty bus stop restroom followed by four seemingly very upset black security guards growling at me, "that jacket's starting to piss us off." with their clenched fists and leather gloves i cocked my head and with slightly nervous tone "it's an anti-swazi, i'm a Jew." , they backed off and took a second look at the faded patch and apologized...
Stockton, we where picked up by a lovely girl, whom brought us back to Marks home town of Ripon, a doppelganger of Carson City in a different state, we stayed in the area for a couple days meeting the locals and imbibing with them 'til we got a ride to San Francisco with hopes of finding our friend Ricket at the Tattoo shop he worked at...(by this time Mark has decided to go back to Carson, as was expected.)
Ricket greeted us with a smile and a hug asking "so when do you guys wanna get tattooed?" to which we replied, "yes."... we stayed the week in SF and Oakland with him and his lovely girlfriend Eleanor, exploring the haight scene and getting inked by my favorite artist, his generosity is parallel with his artistic ability putting us up in his home so that we had beds to sleep on and food in our stomach, i'll say this about Haight Street, it's interesting, in the sense that watching horrible acts of destruction are, the wanton use of drugs and tactics to acquire change by the street kids was entertaining yet wholly depressing, their drug addled minds barely able to push a word from between their lips and as for conversation, well these where not a group of enlightened individuals looking for a way of life to better themselves, they where greedy, inconsiderate leeches on society, and i don't pity them for the hardships that they will encounter, for they brought them on themselves, such a waste... i did however get incredibly baked on hippie hill and came up with an idea for an instrument which i later that day made, it's called the door stops, enough said...
after our week there we where picked up by one of the wonderful people we met in the area around Ripon in a town called Modesto, she drove 2 hours just to bring us back to her apartment for two weeks which spawned an unusual experiment in domestication...
Modesto, the dark haired girl whom took a liking to Geoff was happy to have us, and so was the pretty young blond that had warmed up to me (she's the one that picked us up in Stockton, the first thing that i directly said to her was "if you had a handle bar mustache, you'd be my best friend.", she still has not grown one as far as i know.) in the span of the two weeks that we stayed Geoff and I experienced the fastest evolving relationships we've ever been in, starting with hanging out and cuddling to something that resembled a relationship that has been going on for quite some time, the four of us never left each others sides, except to pair off and go to bed at night, they'd bring us home beer and food after they got off work, and we'd sit in the living room and play life and watch happy feet, we met their families and picked up a puppy, and helped one of their Mom's move plants, went corn mazes, celebrated a holiday with them and all the friends and enemies they had in high school, Geoff and I fixed things around the house and did dishes and recycled, and then it was over, they dropped us off in Santa Monica... we thank them both for everything they did for us, they are wonderful people...
Santa Monica, no real contacts to speak of to get things really started, just the bags and blankets on our backs, and whatever wits and charm we may possess... we slept on the beach and woke up to waves crashing, we met people, made enough money to get us tobacco everyday, stole food and booze when we had to, or visited the shelters for a hot meal, one of the shelters we went to a place cleverly named Common Ground which advertised it's homeless youth programs, we get some tamales and i stand outside afterwards to smoke, a beautiful miniature version of Joan Jett opens up and asks if i'm gay, i smirk and give her a negative on her assumption ...
(music change, and yet another smoke)
Mo'Zak: "Beanbag Chair" by Yo La Tengo
me and this fellow homeless girl got to talking of music and of drugs all those things your hero enjoys, she asked where i was headed, and before i could answer she told me i should go to Hollywood with her and Venice, we never made it to Hollywood but we made it back to to the beach and formed camp Voodoo, we shoplifted together, and wandered the streets til the wee hours, sitting in coffee shops asking for left overs making star topped wands out of stir sticks and straws, then drank our free coffees on the bluffs watching the sun rise, she said loved me, and maybe i could've loved her, we drank wine at night and walked around in the sun picking flowers and putting them in our hair, spinning around and singing like children, we'd go down to the Promenade and sit down at the outdoor restaurants to eat the leftovers of strangers who apparently had the appetite of a bird and after getting kicked out we'd sink our toes in the sand and watch the sun get swallowed by the sea... we held each other for warmth when we slept, she said she knew i wouldn't let anyone hurt her... then i left for Chicago, i hope she is well, and i hope no harm ever comes to her, she was something great...
Chicago hasn't stopped for me yet, Gena bussed me out here with the intentions of me staying for a week, within that first week, drinking with old friends, and burning my hand severely trying to make breakfast for everyone before they woke up put me in the position where it wasn't a good idea to go back to the streets with a wounded hand, a great philosopher once said, "take time with a wounded hand, it needs time to heal, i like to steal." or something like that, that and a potential death threat from Mel, which only turned into a threat to rip out the ring in my septum, which we all know my vanity beats out my wish for a longer life, i'd rather be dead than disfigured, so here i am, with nicotine stains on my fingers and scars on my hands, there's more to this story yes, and i'm sure i'll write it out in greater detail one day... but for now, yes here i am, in Chicago, going to bars which mostly are gay bars, hanging out with Gena being her pseudo personal assistant, and i'm having fun, people ask me how long am i staying here, well, i don't know, however long is necessary...