th3 f0g -xx4
... welcome to the hotel california
'excuse me sir... sir? sir!'
'huh? ... yeah? wuh.. the'
'i am very sorry sir we don't allow our customers to nap at the bar.'
'oh, sorry. it's been a long day. cash me out and i'll be on my way.'
'very well sir.'
the cold mist from the ocean is working it way west, hitting this little stretch of coast head on. it is around 7:30 in the evening but it looks like 6am. the fog is all consuming. blue and white ghost linger just out of reach. should i be driving in this shit? i have to. now this is the part that suck about friends. you do this kinda shit for them.
i turn the key in the ignition *vroom and purrrr* off in to the abyss
i join the other disembodied red, white, and yellow lights drifting down the ghost highway south to LA. all i could see was the cold blue fog and hear the distant yet much too near sounds of invisible engines in the mist. it makes my mind wander to what brought all this on. the back story. the dumbass reson that im risking my shit in this crummy fog for some girl that i shouldnt even like in the first place.
jess and i were high school sweethearts. we were 'the shit', always fun, always on point. the couple everybody wanted to be. in high school atleast. it sounds funny talking about it like that, but when you are young the emotions get amplified like electric guitars.
well, we split and she got with my best friend andy. i guess over the course of our business dealings. they became closer and closer, and we all know what happens after that. i was fucked, but oh well, we had business to do and i wasnt gonna blow that. it was good, but little did i know how good it was gonna get.
it was christmas 93 and we were having our annual 'tahitti sunshine' christmas party. all the kids were back from college and all the others were off work. the demand on product was good. we were in supply problems withing two weeks after the first of december. if the party was going to go well we had to re-cop. that was never my gig. i was mucvh too square to run with the crims on the west side to get tall the stuff we needed. dont get me wrong i aint no narc. i could get a sack in LA or something, its just that the numbers we did and the bulk required a person with a stearner sensibility if you know what i mean. maybe a gun.
andy was going to go with eddie on this run. i never knew who they bought from in those day. they just did it and we moved on. eddie on the other hand knew all the shady folks and every criminal in town. he was a part of the group for his conects and his pension for always being there. he had some money. when he was a kid he was in a sexual abuse lawsuit. the church paid him quite a bit but his dad ditched him and took quite a bit of it and his mom was an addict so taking care of her took quite a chunk out of it. now that he was eighteen he had to do what he could to stay on top of the game. i guess we were his only family.
the party was coming up and andy and eddie had come back unscathed and in uber-cheery moods.
'so how did it go?'
'it went well.' they looked at eachother and laughed.
'what does that mean?'
they both go on to tell me the most fucked up story about getting to the place where it was going down and just finding the guy's stash, his car turned on with open doors, and some loose cash scattered on the ground. that was it. nothing else.
'so what happened?
'we dont know. we just got our shit and left'
'so you guys took it?
'holy shit. how much is it?'
'all of it. it looks like he was running out of town fast. he brought it all to get some runnin cash.'
'i cant believe it`
pretty good story huh? i thought so, i believed it. why not? friends wouldnt lie to you. would they?
over the next three monthe we all made a pact to not tell where we got this shit and how much there was. all we wanted to do was sell it as fast as we can. thats what we did. we were getting rid of so much product the city actually did noticed. it was considered a drugged up winter.
by the time all the shit was gone we all had ruined our reps with drug dealer shit and raised enough suspision to make everybpdy nervous. we had made our money and it was time to grow up and move on. and boy-howdy did we make money. it was alot, and when i say that, picture more. that was how i ended up in northern cali. i just had to get away, but now i'm back. i am back just in time to see suset over sunset blvd. i'm officialy back in town. this ought to be good.
i guess now its time to hit the spot and see what that broad wants.
listening to ))) guitar
Man or Astro Man? - A Mouthful of Exhaust
m!ram@r bar -xx3
... pictures of matchstick men and you
the lobby of the mira mar hotel, famous for being the weekend destination of the glamorous movie stars of the 50's and 60's like bogart and monroe. the place to be seen and sought after. these days its a destination spot for the nostalgic tourist and lost travelers. the fading 1950's style seems the pertfect setting for remembering. whiskey sooths the palette and opens long dormant synapses.
it makes me remember ...
eleven years ago we all made a promise the promise of 9 kids to be quiet and not say a word about what we had done.
the days after high school can be a blast. they can also change your life weather you like it or not.
the original nine were myself, jess, lena, brian, andy, mario, mike, jennifer, and unfortunately eddie. all of us except eddie went to high school together. we were the best of friends you might say. all from the same townand time. we were into music, art, and having an awesome time. the raves, the punk shows, the everything. those were the days. the lazy days of our last innocent summer were upon us. the dog days of summer fun and making cash.
parties were what we did. we went to, and set up parties. we were like well oiled machine. it was easy then. all you needed was a dj, a spot and the drugs. acid, coke, and ecstasy were the name of the game along with shrooms and ghb. it was party full tilt and we aimed for the high score. under 21 and making cash while having a grand time with friends and strangers alike. it was great, but like most good things it would soon end. murder has a nasty tendency of doing that. (2b cont)
listening to ))) local tunes
Gwen and Sublime - I Saw Red
The Dead Kennedys - California Uber Alles
the dr1v3r -xx2
... i got a sonic reducer. i ain't no loser
while the wet road unwound at the pleasure of my tires i wondered who it could be. the spot was quite a ways off and whoever needs me there needs something big. i usually don't go for this shit these days. i thought i was done with this kind stuff. oh well, old habits die hard.
there were only a few of us who knew exactly what the spot was. in addition to that, it has been ages since any of us have been back. that was supposed to be the arrangement. i hope nothing bad has happened. we have all come too far for this.
*rrrrrrrrrrrring* of the cell phone.
'so it was your e-mail?'
'you scared the shit out of me. is there a prob?'
'actually yeah, there is.'
'FUCK! i don't wanna even fuckin know.'
'don't be mad.'
'when i heard about the divorce i knew this would happen. that guy is an asshole you know that, right?'
'let me explain.'
'NO, i'll see you there.'
'i'm sorry der..'
'LOOK, i'm on the five north of santa barbara. i'll be there when i get there. ok?'
dammit. jess myers... i knew it was her. that chick always made the rest of us seem normal. this is gonna be big. i need a drink. she's gonna have to wait an hour or two. she deserves it. i got a favorite joint in s.b.. i'm heading there.
just when you think your out they drag you back in. (2b cont.)
listening to ))) classic rock
Blondie - Maria
Cheap Trick - Surrender
@t the B3a$T-xx1
... would you like to play a game?
it all started at the computer. that damn computer. it came as a message from an old friend with a new name. 'meet me at the spot and come alone.' that was all it said. this strange scribe. out of the cyber deep and into my in-box. the message was invading me. it was buroughing into my head. the spot? alone? why? who needed to see me that bad and who else knew where the spot was? the whole thing is confusing. these things bother me.
the thought, the idea, and the journey. where was this note taking me and why? we will soon find out. yes we will. yes we will.
thunder cracks and the fog rolls in. the rain falls soft as the clouds push home.
'so they wanna go to the spot, ehh? well it guess its time to return that drama hole. fuck, i thought i was done with that joint. the place where i burned all my bridges at once.' a pause and a smirk.
'ha ha ha.' i laugh out loud and to myself. 'fuck man, the spot sucks. this better be good. i guess i'll see.'
*non-descript crazy mumbling and soft chuckling*
my mind spins in dark circles trying to figure out who it could be. DAMN, i hate suspence. i hate surprises. especially one that starts like this.
a turn of the key and the car cranks over and begins to growl. the engine cracks the night wide open, dark and deep. bright red tail lights and glowing gas fumes follow me into the hole. (2b cont.)
listening to ))) sweet tunes
Murder City Devils - She (Misfits Cover)
... me, myself, and i
i was doing fine until i heard this...
"all hands on deck. the boat is going down. the life rafts have been flung over board. do not take any frivailous items on the rafts only guns, cash, and food. no clothing. the ship is going down. you must exit imediately. you are all fucked. thank you. this was your captain speaking."
this is when i began to get nervous.
listening to ))) brittish garage rockers and thier chicks!
Thee Headcoats - I Want A Punk Girl & Teenage Kicks
Thee Headcoatees - Sticks and Stones & All Night Long
... silly monkey
before the glass of wine hit the floor i felt the world unravel...
my fourth birthday. in late may. the first strings of daisies around my neck. summer of sixth grade. sitting under the pier wishing for the perfect wave. stunned with wonder about the coming year. bmx bikes, first cars and first kisses fold past my eye as the heat of time washes past me.
december 18th 1989. i fought with my parents and ran away. i found a car and moved out. they died. i got married and joined the service. my arm was shot off and out i fell back into the world that i defended. like a newborn child hitting the floor of a highschool bathroom. the hours, days, and years speed past like the lines on the 405 freeway. the fast motion electric life that i once led.
regret, unfulfilled dreams, and the epic weight of existance is lifted. watching my twilight shoot by like lola ran the german streets. until it becomes to now. this evening alone in my small grey apartment. downtown of a city that is not my home. the life of death i'm living in the so-called golden years. alone with my pills and the angry grey of an unfulfilled life . s'more pills and s'more wine. oops, i spilt my glass.
listening to ))) punk classics
Bauhaus - Bela Lugosi's dead
Misfits - Night of the Living Dead
99 #ff0000 ball00n$
... floating in the summer sky, 99 red balloons go by
i like this song. in times like these i'd rather turn to nena than bono.
listening to ))) the classics baby
Nena Hagen - 99 Luft Ballons
7 Seconds - 99 Red Balloons
... building castles made of sand.
patterns pass by one another causing gracefull moires that fall across the back wall of my hotel room. all thought fell forward and hit the floor like a sack of bricks. the dust in my mind rose up and up clouding my judgement. cold rain makes me feel that way. today is fearful. yesterday was worse.
the pidgeons are all on thier perches. the quiet cold is a menace today, but i'll take the bait. it is my day.
the wind gets soggy in the late spring. it always does. electrical storms too.
this morning a foolish wave delivers a pakage unto these rocky shores. i found it while walking along the beach. my camera made a mockery of every image. my mind was off. i was off. while i cursed the digital sky a large wave brought me a gift. the gift of the quiet cool, quiet surrender to the sleep of ages. a wet place to dance with the ghost shrimp and sing the songs of black rubber whales and octopus ink.
a slip ... and quiet cool. everywhere is the same quiet cool. it makes me sleepy. cold rain makes me feel that way.
... i pledge allegiance to the underworld.
the night air is like a shallow grave and i am its contents. i stir and become rerstless. the remnants of limestone, feldspar, and granite clog my lungs as i burst forth into the inky evening to make amends to the spirit in the sky.
sorry man, i had to get some air.
the humidity makes the door pop open rather than swing. it has done the same to me. i am warped. 'click' the stereo. 'click' the lighter and i'm off. big guitars in small boxes churn from the cracked dashboard. smoke fills the car and the hot orange lamps glow fast and long in the rear view mirror. the city rises and falls around me as i wind down the endless concrete slab. i'm free now and only the night can stop me.
i'd like to see him try.
the soul craves whiskey and her touch. even long gone she still burns inside me. not even the prison walls of this mortal coil can stop it. every lost instinct has filled my acrid veins and soaked my heart with enough battery acid to get it pumping again. my resurection is long over due. the smell of hot asphalt is the spark. the heat feels good inside me.
who needs life when you have burning desire and a fast car?
... transmission from the one armed scissor
its a rainy night in the southern county and the wind howls cruel warnings outside the weak portals. shivers run up the spine of Angela Cross as the window slams open. WHOOOSH. the cold air makes her shoulder muscles go into stiff spasms. two dirty yellow headlights slide across the living room wall and the front door swings open. it's Martin Gas in a slick wet black trench coat. water drips from his chin.
'so are you ready to go?'
'yeah just give me one second.'
'you look tense. are you sure you want to go on with this?'
'no, but i dont really have a choice. how bad could it be?'
'you would catch me doing that.'
'well, youre a guy.'
'i like to think so kid-o. hey, c'mere and give me a hug, ok?'
'oh, i can't resist you.'
the door opens agiain and the angry wet night swallows them whole as they dash to the black '67 continental in the driveway.
ten minutes earlier across the town a phone rings in the apartment of Melissa Cohen. Melissa is a stock clerk on the late shift at the target on gaffey street by Angels's house. she has two kids and is 7.5 minutes late for work. it's an eleven minute drive, but she can do it. if anyone can drive fast it's Melissa. she's a pistol.
'what? i mean, who is it?'
'oh, hey angie, i'm late for work.'
'i know. you still have your job because of me'
'i know i know. trust me if i could do it i would. the money is way good if you know what i mean.'
'well, i'd rather you go too.'
'sorry baby but it your night tonight.'
'yeah well anyways... hows everything else?'
'my roof is leaking from all this damn rain. when is this crap gonna let up?'
'who knows. it seems to have followed me back from veags. maybe its an omen.'
'yeah, cucuy is coming to get you.' they both laugh.
'later cutie take care.'
Melissa jumps in her car and shoots into the street like a loose bar of soap in the tub. she drives like shit anyways but this may not be the best night for that sort of thing.
fifteen minutes in the future. Garret Jarvis will put on his warm jacket and step in to the sloppy cold night. the wind shoots across his face as he waits for his ride and dodges the rains viscious assault. his ride is coming and he doesnt want to miss a minute of the night waiting inside. it could rain like it did on noah and it would make him any less eager to go.
a black and white police car pulls to the curb and fashes a smiling Garret with the spot light. Garret dashes off the porch into the rain and back out into the back seat of the cruiser.
'put your seatbelt on son.'
'thanks Officer K.'
'it's alright. this is my partner Officer Guerrero'
'hows it goin' kid?'
'just trying to stay dry sir. so, Officer K, what do you think we'll be doing tonight?'
'well, son. you never know in this line of work. the rain will bring something soon. so, tell me son, why do you want to be in the force?'
'ive had a few run ins with the law and slowly came to admire what they are doing out in the community. plus my girl Melissa and I have two kids and i want to provide a good future for them. I dont want her to work the late shift anymore either. it gets rough out there especially on nights like this. heck i could barely afford that shitty celica we drive.'
'that admirable kid. you knowww......'
the rain beats down heavy on the steel roof of the squad car. the radio breaks the flow of the moment.'attention all units. we need all units in the area of grand and central to respond to a 8-6-7 between a toyota and a vintage lincoln sedan. ambulances are on the way.'
'i guess you have your answer'
'hmmm... my friend Martin Gas drives a lincoln. i wonder... officer K, what is an 8-6-7?'
'head on collision with multiple fatalities.'
'say, what kind of car does your girlfriend drive again? anyways... this rain sure is rough tonight. aint' it?'
'you said it sarge.'
the rain pours down just a bit harder on the heads of the wounded.