This is how one gets behind, falls short on their commitments, I use to have one to the blog in a sense as far as posting every day, but sometimes other things get in the way, such as work, drinking excessive amounts of alcohol and the always reliable multi-day drug binge, nothing like that last one to put a person in a non-productive mood that is one part time ally who shall never let me down. In my profession, there are periods of ebb and flow, during the ebbs are the times to do mundane things like, reciepts, invoicing, purchasing of new gear, while surfing the internet as well as the cellphone attempting to drum up new business or continue with projects in the process of completion. However, I can't seem to get away from my favorite hangouts during down time for more than a day or two, any excuse is a good one, it does not take much to coax me from my one bedroom condo and the laptop screen. For someone who appears to detest the human race as much as I do, being around them is necessary, almost like a biologist or anthropoligist studying groups of either animals or humans, maybe both. There is no refuting that my existence remains well outside that of everyday people, my likes, dislikes are only tempered in the constant desire to be cool, even though it seems my daughter's generation is getting into all the music I liked at their age, which is fairly shocking, to see all these late fourty and early fifty hipsters back out on tour after going into hibernation for the past 15 years.
It was as if the 2000's became this big vaccum which sucked out anything geniune, anything unique, replacing it with mock heros, false truths, and a cancer of shallow existence that has an entire generation living on a respirator. I have completely forgot that 2010 has ushered in a new decade, another chance, a time to remember, forget, then move on, my fifth decade, the 70's drugs, disco, the 80's drugs, new wave, the 90's drugs, grunge, the 00's drugs, hip hop, and what is to become of the 10's drugs and ? The chemicals may change but the need stays the same, for the most part music forms quite a few opinions as well as nature amongst the younger generations, for the older folks, if the Eagles, Paul McCartney, and Bruce Springsteen concerts are any indication, they like to hold onto the music of their youth. Until recently, I was of the same faith, clinging to those Stone Roses, Mudhoney, Oasis, New Order, and Public Enemy CD's through a dozen moves throughout the world. Thankfully, with the rebirth of the multi-day concert extravaganzas my curiousity for new music has grown, feeling like a bandwagoner, some of my teenage fan obsession has returned culling the webpages of the internet to hear the lastest indie rock darling, what all this has to do with lag I am not sure at the moment, adherance to distraction, put that on a t-shirt, we have built an empire of distraction, creating art as such a thing has made paupers into kings, while melting the minds of an entire planet, still the 10's drugs, distraction rock, so it has been crowd, distraction rock will be the trend for the oncoming decade, to get out amongst the people, take drugs while disconnecting with society, the self, and the physical being, total annhilation, something the public can readily embrace. Inside the goo of posted concert outtakes, unreleased tracks, behind the scenes photos, until the fans and the band become one entity, absorbing the band's humanity to infuse into their own, for better or worse, as mode of change or commodity, feels like commodity when a concert ticket costs over 100 hundred dollars. Matador Records and indie rock label from the late 80's, early 90's, is turning 21, so they are throwing a bash to celebrate the ocassion with a roster of all the art alt rockers from yesteryear, now that this generation of fans is supposedly in their prime earning years, the promoters, et al, find it appropriate to charge anywhere from 150 dollars to 250 dollars for a 3day pass to the event. It feels so ironic, first of all to have the show in Vegas, the label is 21, I get it, legal and all that, but never back in the early 90's when I paid 5 bucks to see the label bosses Superchuck play would I have concieve such a rebound for fringe music, music drop outs listened to high on LSD, painting at their friends house, while playing in a noise rock band that people would embrace today, but loathed back in the early 90's, time is weird, it either validates or nullifies, which is one thing that keeps me alive, a real important one.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Anti Social House
The room is packed with casual pedistrians on a dance floor, everyone donning headphones, wearing dark shades, and busily typing away on cellphone keyboard pads. Dance floor territory is at a premium everyone appears to feel threathed from space invasion, tension runs high, a few tourists begin to talk to themselves in hopes of allivating a bit of the invisible yet overwhelming uncomfortable aniexty beginning to swell, an erratic sea of xenophobia amongst citizens of the same planet, same country, same being, what does it matter. This is the Anti Social House Party, a throwdown where everyone in attendance stays in their personal comfort bubble far away from the self induced mania of having to meet new people, still there are various ways to circumvent the 20th century ritual of face to face communication.
A chat room for the Anti Social House Party has been started on Skype, as well as a Facebook page, unlimited bandwith free wireless internet for some of the artistical types who have already began posting videos of the celebration, not to mention the resident DJ of the night, taking requests via his Twitter account, no need to fear the reaper at this social gathering or any other human contact at all, just post a personal profile, in the next hour the emcee of the bash will be randomly introducing people via Zoosk, Match.com and for the more daring types Chat Roulette, taking all the guess work out of learning more about that potential someone, become immersed in the virtual individual, scroll through their likes and dislikes, digital avatars have been constructed for possesion in order to have conversations through distant means without ever speaking, just type away, send links from your favorite viral videos, post links to illegal downloads of music each of you enjoy, create a digital mixtape playlist, share favorite bars, clubs, books, restuarants, and movies, with a myriad of websites, blogs, and saved favorites, go hand in hand down the world wide web of consumer fetishes. You can tag each other in sintilating photos throwing up gang signs, drinking waterdown cocktails, while personalizing your attire for the digital avatar, customize the body, looked ripped minus the sweat of the gym and dieting, hell, be a squid if you want, everyday is Halloween in cyberspace. All is silent at the Anti Social House Party, no one moves except to type or click on their cellphones, looking at no one, expressionless, as I sit in a bar this afternoon, completely seperated from all the other patrons in the place, knowing the Anti Social House Party is the only real party left in town, a few drinks more, while watching the Friday night 9 to 5 crowd spill over into the tavern, like a pin just pulled from a grenade, a stampede is formed in the direction of the bar with well conformed employees sweating through another week of potential unemployment, increasing demands for productivity, and gravity of existing in credit/debt society, the government is in the red, so why not all its citizens, no wonder everyone is already drunk at 5pm on a Friday afternoon, discussing the politics of the workplace, frustrated by management, fed up with co-workers who have no idea what they doing, as well as kiss asses that take all the credit for success without actually assisting on a particular project. All these conversations float around me like nervous caustic energy rapidly moving through the bar randomly colliding at ever increasing speeds, generating more anger, more hate, and more desire to drink. It seems no one can stop drinking now, as patrons jump over the bar and begin chugging the hard liquor straight from the bottle in attempt to sedate themselves from the webs of the office cubicle lifestyle. A casade of drunk debauchery crashes on these people who impulsively start to lash out, first in words, then with fists, barstools, empty liquor bottles, and beer taps, the frustration of being caught in the slave/work circle is being dramatized tonight.
The landlord has no choice but to call in the riot squad who arrive with trugdeons, mace, and aerosol forms of MDMA, nothing left to do but hose down this crowd with the MDMA, mix in some opiates with that cocktail, the boys at the station, call it obidence, all enforcement officers must be hosed down with it in order to understand the effects of passiveness, bliss, and acceptance, once in a while some of the riot squad members sneak a bit out, goes over well at the dance clubs, turns those self indulgent beasts into liquid jelly, like a god damn Roman orgy once that obiedence spray hits them proper, that's when you hit them with the consumer construct program codes, such as spend 600 hundred dollars on dress shoes, 5000 dollars on VIP booth bottle service, sell cocaine, MDMA, sell your body, your soul, never let the night end, it is all waiting, don't let the last record play, just overdose, time warp and arrive in the future the next day, black out equals time travel, moments the subconscious shall never recall, give me Zombiedust or give me death.
A chat room for the Anti Social House Party has been started on Skype, as well as a Facebook page, unlimited bandwith free wireless internet for some of the artistical types who have already began posting videos of the celebration, not to mention the resident DJ of the night, taking requests via his Twitter account, no need to fear the reaper at this social gathering or any other human contact at all, just post a personal profile, in the next hour the emcee of the bash will be randomly introducing people via Zoosk, Match.com and for the more daring types Chat Roulette, taking all the guess work out of learning more about that potential someone, become immersed in the virtual individual, scroll through their likes and dislikes, digital avatars have been constructed for possesion in order to have conversations through distant means without ever speaking, just type away, send links from your favorite viral videos, post links to illegal downloads of music each of you enjoy, create a digital mixtape playlist, share favorite bars, clubs, books, restuarants, and movies, with a myriad of websites, blogs, and saved favorites, go hand in hand down the world wide web of consumer fetishes. You can tag each other in sintilating photos throwing up gang signs, drinking waterdown cocktails, while personalizing your attire for the digital avatar, customize the body, looked ripped minus the sweat of the gym and dieting, hell, be a squid if you want, everyday is Halloween in cyberspace. All is silent at the Anti Social House Party, no one moves except to type or click on their cellphones, looking at no one, expressionless, as I sit in a bar this afternoon, completely seperated from all the other patrons in the place, knowing the Anti Social House Party is the only real party left in town, a few drinks more, while watching the Friday night 9 to 5 crowd spill over into the tavern, like a pin just pulled from a grenade, a stampede is formed in the direction of the bar with well conformed employees sweating through another week of potential unemployment, increasing demands for productivity, and gravity of existing in credit/debt society, the government is in the red, so why not all its citizens, no wonder everyone is already drunk at 5pm on a Friday afternoon, discussing the politics of the workplace, frustrated by management, fed up with co-workers who have no idea what they doing, as well as kiss asses that take all the credit for success without actually assisting on a particular project. All these conversations float around me like nervous caustic energy rapidly moving through the bar randomly colliding at ever increasing speeds, generating more anger, more hate, and more desire to drink. It seems no one can stop drinking now, as patrons jump over the bar and begin chugging the hard liquor straight from the bottle in attempt to sedate themselves from the webs of the office cubicle lifestyle. A casade of drunk debauchery crashes on these people who impulsively start to lash out, first in words, then with fists, barstools, empty liquor bottles, and beer taps, the frustration of being caught in the slave/work circle is being dramatized tonight.
The landlord has no choice but to call in the riot squad who arrive with trugdeons, mace, and aerosol forms of MDMA, nothing left to do but hose down this crowd with the MDMA, mix in some opiates with that cocktail, the boys at the station, call it obidence, all enforcement officers must be hosed down with it in order to understand the effects of passiveness, bliss, and acceptance, once in a while some of the riot squad members sneak a bit out, goes over well at the dance clubs, turns those self indulgent beasts into liquid jelly, like a god damn Roman orgy once that obiedence spray hits them proper, that's when you hit them with the consumer construct program codes, such as spend 600 hundred dollars on dress shoes, 5000 dollars on VIP booth bottle service, sell cocaine, MDMA, sell your body, your soul, never let the night end, it is all waiting, don't let the last record play, just overdose, time warp and arrive in the future the next day, black out equals time travel, moments the subconscious shall never recall, give me Zombiedust or give me death.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Mile High Telluride
Tough enough to breath at sea level but at 10,000 feet the process of keeping oneself alive has taking on an entire new meaning, which would not amount to very much if content to walking around all afternoon roaming the small town sightseeing, dining, and shopping, yet my focus centered around a cabal like free for all of multi-day exposure to a variety of narcotics, street freaks, and the liberalize mind of Colorado who on this particular early weekday was welcoming the high octane, intersellar, transcendental three ring circus known as Phish. Not so much the band as much as the extremely loyal legions of fans who come from all over the world to immerse themselves in a non judgemental, intensely excessive, marathon sprint amongst the mountains of Telluride Colorado. There is really not much to brag about in the sense of undertaking such a potentially fatal endeavor as hanging out with a bunch of seasoned degenerates who sole purpose is reconvene for such events and attempt to reconnect with the plasma like force a band such as Phish projects onto its crowd. From the music, to the lyrics, to the light show, everything has been elevated to overload the senses, generating a hypnotic shamanesque transmission affecting parts of the brain that would otherwise never have been explored or tapped unless under the watchful eye of LSD or DMT experimentation, yet it will not be too hard to find willing participants who seek to add such narcotics into the myraid of other substances to enhance a Phish, as if most human beings would even need it, the experience of going to a show itself invovles a series of psychological acceptances, things are going to get weird, even if just having a few beers at the show and from what I have seen at over 35 Phish show in the past decade would leave me convinced that very few people would settle on drinking merely a few beers, as if to say why waste this opportunity to push the boundaries even further, to go out where few tread, where all the fun exists, why not fry some more nuerons in the brain, aren't billions of those little things in there, singe the ends and see what happens.
Would I be any different today? Of course not, day three, kept things to a minimum, meaning I remember most of the events of the past two days, refrained from ingesting an overtly gross amount of psychadelic, stimulants, depressants, and opiates all at one sitting, yet for some reason an arch angel or various other sub diety has planted the desire in my head to take acid for tonights show and not just to do some right at the start of the show, but dose out while waiting in line to get into the venue some four hours before the band goes on which leaves me with plenty of time on my hands and a rapidly receeding slope of sanity with which I cling upon as sun makes it way back down the mountainous terrain.
Well one dose of LSD would not be enough today as I ask a friend for the first one while he placed a dime size like puddle of the substance in the palm of my hand, but there was disciple of the Pranksters roaming around us in a nearby encampment reminising about old yesteryear when no one gave a fuck, drugs were cheap, and people knew which side they stood on, all of this banter went right past me cause the first dose from my friend was kicking in, all I could do was focus on the guy's little pigtails coming off of his head, with proper pink rubber bands to hold them together, this was very amusing, his demeanor came in a strong second with a steady cadence of pacing around the campsite where a number of beat up 70's era caravans had taken up residence as if posing as a cadre of armed resistance fighters who looked bent upon spraying down the entire crowd later tonight in various aerial raids of sythesized experiemental drugs unyet tested on humans, merely reserved for clincal trials on a lab full of pan fried test rats who had long gone over the moon via a battery of episodical trips paralyzing their brain in entirety until nothing but a white film grew over the eyes while a state of catatonic distress froze the creatures into something resembling Greek statues. The rats had left planet Earth for good, where they headed now was something left for philospohers and the insane to decipher.
Nonetheless these results would not delay the next phase of testing and what a more formidable as well as resilant audience to conduct the round of trials upon, the crowd would welcome such a fresh infusion of mind debilating hallucinations and inner contemplations to supplement the already borderline college level chemisty department wandering around the campsite as well as line up earlier in the afternoon, but who is to turn down any sort of antidote to the overwhelming presence of reality existing not too far off in the distant horizons of middle America that was the real dark cloud, the true evil beast seeking blood, sacrifice, and cannibalization, not the fans, they were only interested in taking life to the next level by whatever means available around them and in a town where the medical marijuana dispensary sold medicinal ice cream, I began to wonder if there needed to be any sort of store front at all to justify to painfully obvious cravings for the Phish fans to ingest as many legal and illicit drugs as possible in a five hour evening, myself included, leading to a total disconnect, short circuit of all rational thought, all long term memory, and inability to differeniate between the time/space continumum. Brave astronausts by the thousands dawned their suits preparing for another journey into the unknown, with no itinerary, goal, or intergalatic map, nothing more than the will to undertake the adventure, unconcerned of consequence, authority, and mortality, only one path laid in front of us all, together a general consensus of the people told me right away we would come out the other end unscathed, enriched, and hungry for future explorations.
Would I be any different today? Of course not, day three, kept things to a minimum, meaning I remember most of the events of the past two days, refrained from ingesting an overtly gross amount of psychadelic, stimulants, depressants, and opiates all at one sitting, yet for some reason an arch angel or various other sub diety has planted the desire in my head to take acid for tonights show and not just to do some right at the start of the show, but dose out while waiting in line to get into the venue some four hours before the band goes on which leaves me with plenty of time on my hands and a rapidly receeding slope of sanity with which I cling upon as sun makes it way back down the mountainous terrain.
Well one dose of LSD would not be enough today as I ask a friend for the first one while he placed a dime size like puddle of the substance in the palm of my hand, but there was disciple of the Pranksters roaming around us in a nearby encampment reminising about old yesteryear when no one gave a fuck, drugs were cheap, and people knew which side they stood on, all of this banter went right past me cause the first dose from my friend was kicking in, all I could do was focus on the guy's little pigtails coming off of his head, with proper pink rubber bands to hold them together, this was very amusing, his demeanor came in a strong second with a steady cadence of pacing around the campsite where a number of beat up 70's era caravans had taken up residence as if posing as a cadre of armed resistance fighters who looked bent upon spraying down the entire crowd later tonight in various aerial raids of sythesized experiemental drugs unyet tested on humans, merely reserved for clincal trials on a lab full of pan fried test rats who had long gone over the moon via a battery of episodical trips paralyzing their brain in entirety until nothing but a white film grew over the eyes while a state of catatonic distress froze the creatures into something resembling Greek statues. The rats had left planet Earth for good, where they headed now was something left for philospohers and the insane to decipher.
Nonetheless these results would not delay the next phase of testing and what a more formidable as well as resilant audience to conduct the round of trials upon, the crowd would welcome such a fresh infusion of mind debilating hallucinations and inner contemplations to supplement the already borderline college level chemisty department wandering around the campsite as well as line up earlier in the afternoon, but who is to turn down any sort of antidote to the overwhelming presence of reality existing not too far off in the distant horizons of middle America that was the real dark cloud, the true evil beast seeking blood, sacrifice, and cannibalization, not the fans, they were only interested in taking life to the next level by whatever means available around them and in a town where the medical marijuana dispensary sold medicinal ice cream, I began to wonder if there needed to be any sort of store front at all to justify to painfully obvious cravings for the Phish fans to ingest as many legal and illicit drugs as possible in a five hour evening, myself included, leading to a total disconnect, short circuit of all rational thought, all long term memory, and inability to differeniate between the time/space continumum. Brave astronausts by the thousands dawned their suits preparing for another journey into the unknown, with no itinerary, goal, or intergalatic map, nothing more than the will to undertake the adventure, unconcerned of consequence, authority, and mortality, only one path laid in front of us all, together a general consensus of the people told me right away we would come out the other end unscathed, enriched, and hungry for future explorations.
Monday, September 6, 2010
When the Medicine Wears Off
Self awareness envelops me like some R-rated horror film antagonist, an entity from which there is no escape, redemption, or bargaining. A creature whose only desire, purpose, and drive revovles around complete assimilation of the young teenage kids attempting to run desperately away from its grasp only to head arms open wide into the fatal final envitable conclusion of death. Not sure if has to do with being off of drugs for a while, working out two times a day, or just finally living amongst the general public for more than a week at a time before rushing off to another gig in some city across the world. Either way the pure crystaline jewel of fright jammed up the arteries near my heart as a vision of absolute conclusion struck the brain like the onset of armageddon was beginning to take place. All at once it seemed everyone was aware of my presence or maybe I happened to be more cognizant of the peripheral landscape than usual while checking out at a local Wal-Mart.
This afternoon had started with more sleep than usual, a good 12 hrs which is rare nowaday, harkening back to a time in college where rest was a multi cocktail swirled together with binge drinking, sex, and drug experiementation, fast forward 20 years and it does not appear that much has changed, however I have not felt this good, this adjusted, or balanced in at least a decade, even adding in all the mini self imposed rehab stints, which got me thinking about the amount of numbness my overall being has endured over the last couple of decades. Is this a mental shift, one from over the top, take it to the streets, excess, excess, excess, drug consuming lunatic, to a more mundane, tranquil, and obvious sub human. Well, I spent the rest of the afternoon along with millions of others in the U.S. on this Labor Day weekend going to a BBQ, watching college football, drinking Coors Light, arguing with other guys about sports, and unconsciously munching down greasy, fat fried, processed snacks. There were plenty of small children running around, jumping into the pool, encouraging the adults to play along, but what happen to be most refreshing happen to be the lack of recreational narcotics floating around the party, unlike the other type of house parties I attend, sans the kids, the youngsters became my personal barrier to shaman channelers, resident dope pimps, and systematic enablers who took a perverse pleasure in watching me piss another unproductive day down the tubes in order to get completely wasted out of my mind, floating around the pool in a plastic innertube, singing Shine on You Crazy Diamond to myself in the dark as the other kids take my presence as some sort of unoffical life guard, conning their parent into letting them swim well past their bed time.
The party ended rather traditionally with the conclusion of the college game as plans were initated to get together for some NFL football games in the future, while continuing to argue about the upcoming season in regards to our favorite teams respectively, no talk of taking LSD or staying out all weekend in nightclubs or spending another months rent at the regional strip clubs. No, tonight, there were kids who had to go to school the next morning, lunches to be packed, and new acquaintences that must prepare for the return to the 9 to 5 grind. Fantastic, light beer, had about 5 tall boys and still feels like I have been drinking water the entire night, enjoyed a prototypical BBQ dinner of beef brisket, pasta salad, and watermelon. It took another fifteen minutes to break free from the cranked up personal insults developing from all the discussion of each others football teams, but at the end of it, handshakes, fistbumps, and goodbyes were exchanged as I headed out the door to navagate my way back home through the speed traps, sobriety check points, and semi-pro drunk drivers in order to return to the familiar terriory near the Las Vegas strip content to sleep another night without pills, binge drinking, or opiates.
This afternoon had started with more sleep than usual, a good 12 hrs which is rare nowaday, harkening back to a time in college where rest was a multi cocktail swirled together with binge drinking, sex, and drug experiementation, fast forward 20 years and it does not appear that much has changed, however I have not felt this good, this adjusted, or balanced in at least a decade, even adding in all the mini self imposed rehab stints, which got me thinking about the amount of numbness my overall being has endured over the last couple of decades. Is this a mental shift, one from over the top, take it to the streets, excess, excess, excess, drug consuming lunatic, to a more mundane, tranquil, and obvious sub human. Well, I spent the rest of the afternoon along with millions of others in the U.S. on this Labor Day weekend going to a BBQ, watching college football, drinking Coors Light, arguing with other guys about sports, and unconsciously munching down greasy, fat fried, processed snacks. There were plenty of small children running around, jumping into the pool, encouraging the adults to play along, but what happen to be most refreshing happen to be the lack of recreational narcotics floating around the party, unlike the other type of house parties I attend, sans the kids, the youngsters became my personal barrier to shaman channelers, resident dope pimps, and systematic enablers who took a perverse pleasure in watching me piss another unproductive day down the tubes in order to get completely wasted out of my mind, floating around the pool in a plastic innertube, singing Shine on You Crazy Diamond to myself in the dark as the other kids take my presence as some sort of unoffical life guard, conning their parent into letting them swim well past their bed time.
The party ended rather traditionally with the conclusion of the college game as plans were initated to get together for some NFL football games in the future, while continuing to argue about the upcoming season in regards to our favorite teams respectively, no talk of taking LSD or staying out all weekend in nightclubs or spending another months rent at the regional strip clubs. No, tonight, there were kids who had to go to school the next morning, lunches to be packed, and new acquaintences that must prepare for the return to the 9 to 5 grind. Fantastic, light beer, had about 5 tall boys and still feels like I have been drinking water the entire night, enjoyed a prototypical BBQ dinner of beef brisket, pasta salad, and watermelon. It took another fifteen minutes to break free from the cranked up personal insults developing from all the discussion of each others football teams, but at the end of it, handshakes, fistbumps, and goodbyes were exchanged as I headed out the door to navagate my way back home through the speed traps, sobriety check points, and semi-pro drunk drivers in order to return to the familiar terriory near the Las Vegas strip content to sleep another night without pills, binge drinking, or opiates.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Chelsea Girls
The first woman sprinted by me on the way to the supermarket, seems the liquor store did not carry their favorite brand of cigarettes, no matter, she was nimble and fleet of foot in no time crossing the 100 meters necessary to reach the entrance to the nicotine temple where this woman would reunite with her favorite flavor of toxic cancer sticks. The second woman talked frantically on her cellphone as if still feeling the effects of cocaine binge earlier in the day. The sound in her voice felt deseperate, as if a cry for help, some sort of relief from the constant overwhelming heartbeat, blood pressure and near faint status, as the first woman ran by the second woman relayed a phone number of some other aquaintence, a solitary entity on the other line systematically controlling the actions of these two ladies. The license plate on the car was from California, Labor Day weekend, here to party, make some cash at the local strip clubs, and or visit family; the possiblities were endless, but all that mattered at the moment amounted to the resupplying of smokes, gas, and a valid credit card. It appears that Chelsea girl two had her belongings stolen last night, maybe by another stripper, cousin, or as the result of over indulgent antics clouding the memory of the previous night, sweeping away in its cold front through the mind, the memory of how she lost all the valuables formerly in her possession.
My damn front tire has gone flat again, so time to pony up some money for a new set of tires, the manager of the tire store shows me how worn out the side of the flat one have become due to many years of service on the streets of Las Vegas, but I am distracted by the Chelsea girls, number two is Hispanic, five-ten, aggressive, rough, like a predator sizing up her surroundings, she needs money while walking the expressway tightrope of being engulfed in a narcotic substance overload seizure, where time comes to a complete halt, breath escapes the lungs and refuses to return, paranioa, fear take hold of the mind, can't black out here in front of a liquor store at 3pm in the afternoon that's what junkies and drunks do in their daily performance of self annhilation, no medical insurance, have to just ride out the ascent till reaching the plateau, making an effort to gather the senses as her words turn to babble, she looks at me for an appeal, guidance, suggestion, possibly some money for booze to calm the high, Chelsea Girl number two looks ready to go into cardiac arrest on this 100 degree plus day. I tell the tire store manager to replace all the wheels, while keeping an eye on the girls, as Chelsea Girl number one returns with the cigarettes slowing her frantic sprint as if being timed for Olympic prequalification in the 100 meter sprint competition, everyone is happy again, shaking asses as if subliminally reassigned by headquarters of internet waves of ether, the celebration can continue, next stop the cabanas at Encore Beach, professional party girls can't be wasting time, soon enough those swimsuit model curves and looks fade, bringing on the dawn of desperate nature where no amount of boob jobs, make up, and hair dye will erase the years of hardcore, sleepless sex, drugs, and rock n roll, just another horse walked out to pasture as the next batch of young twenty something recruits relish in their virgin like experience overwhelmed by the sheer debauchry of the global jet set festival tour, where Vegas is just merely one stop on a multidestination journey from Dubai to Phuket to Goa to Ibiza to Sao Paolo to Tokyo, New York, Paris, Sharm Al Shiekh, and London, 12 months a year, 24 hours a day, waiting for no one, those who fall off to addiction, overdose, and or death, shall be given no sentiment, just walking papers as well as the same kind of treatment the Native American Indians gave their sick, leave them behind to be reclaimed by the gods. The party trail is a tough one to follow, no mercy, full on, fearless with reckless abandon, money fixes any problems while jail time is considered a merit badge of honor, still the best ones never taste the rusted iron bars of lower class prison cells, no all too quickly back on the Lear Jet to another destination refueling their desire to live without boundaries, the only real freedom left on this planet.
My damn front tire has gone flat again, so time to pony up some money for a new set of tires, the manager of the tire store shows me how worn out the side of the flat one have become due to many years of service on the streets of Las Vegas, but I am distracted by the Chelsea girls, number two is Hispanic, five-ten, aggressive, rough, like a predator sizing up her surroundings, she needs money while walking the expressway tightrope of being engulfed in a narcotic substance overload seizure, where time comes to a complete halt, breath escapes the lungs and refuses to return, paranioa, fear take hold of the mind, can't black out here in front of a liquor store at 3pm in the afternoon that's what junkies and drunks do in their daily performance of self annhilation, no medical insurance, have to just ride out the ascent till reaching the plateau, making an effort to gather the senses as her words turn to babble, she looks at me for an appeal, guidance, suggestion, possibly some money for booze to calm the high, Chelsea Girl number two looks ready to go into cardiac arrest on this 100 degree plus day. I tell the tire store manager to replace all the wheels, while keeping an eye on the girls, as Chelsea Girl number one returns with the cigarettes slowing her frantic sprint as if being timed for Olympic prequalification in the 100 meter sprint competition, everyone is happy again, shaking asses as if subliminally reassigned by headquarters of internet waves of ether, the celebration can continue, next stop the cabanas at Encore Beach, professional party girls can't be wasting time, soon enough those swimsuit model curves and looks fade, bringing on the dawn of desperate nature where no amount of boob jobs, make up, and hair dye will erase the years of hardcore, sleepless sex, drugs, and rock n roll, just another horse walked out to pasture as the next batch of young twenty something recruits relish in their virgin like experience overwhelmed by the sheer debauchry of the global jet set festival tour, where Vegas is just merely one stop on a multidestination journey from Dubai to Phuket to Goa to Ibiza to Sao Paolo to Tokyo, New York, Paris, Sharm Al Shiekh, and London, 12 months a year, 24 hours a day, waiting for no one, those who fall off to addiction, overdose, and or death, shall be given no sentiment, just walking papers as well as the same kind of treatment the Native American Indians gave their sick, leave them behind to be reclaimed by the gods. The party trail is a tough one to follow, no mercy, full on, fearless with reckless abandon, money fixes any problems while jail time is considered a merit badge of honor, still the best ones never taste the rusted iron bars of lower class prison cells, no all too quickly back on the Lear Jet to another destination refueling their desire to live without boundaries, the only real freedom left on this planet.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Gas Station Interval
It's the first weekend of college football, don't feel like going out to watch the local college team get beat by fourty five points, navigate the traffic, watch my fellow alumni break out of their comfortable middle class skin to transform into a former self for a few hours with an onslaught of drunken excess, bong tokes, and lashing out their wifes for having the audicity to question their sophomore antics in front of all their friends. Granted, it might have beeen worth going to the game just to witness all the above commotion, but I have to pull a long 28 hour plus work day for the Jerry Lewis Telethon this weekend, those last 8 hours can grind the most endurant granite immovable street fighters, the cavalcade of the vaudville like performers and hosts of the event wield their personal blend of tent revivalism mixed together with local cable network beauty pagent, talent show, and variety show extravaganza which will wear down the mind, body, and spirit; their is no escape, just a fifteen minute break each hour, an experiment, back into the cruciable, turn on the heat and fry the brain, not much different than volunteer medical testing, the pay is great but the damage to the nervous system is potentially irreversable, but after surviving the first year, this will be my fifth time undergoing the Ludevenko Technique ala Clockwork Orange, a subliminal attempt to make me shallow, happy, and obediant, be fearful of instutional organizations and embrace the cult of pity, another cash avenue as useful as alcoholism, cigarette smoking, and medical marajuana.
Labor Day Weekend Carnage
Abumlance sirens echo through the streets of the strip manuevering through the gridlock of weekend motorists preoccupied with the multitude of distractions littered throughout the city of Las Vegas. Twenty something party people overdose an a combonation of exstacy, alcohol, coke, and prescrpition pills. Emergency vehicles outnumber the limos parked out in front of the hipster hotels. California empties its bowels every holiday weekend, Labor day weekend marking the final throwdown to wrap up a entire summer spent dealing drugs, sports gambling, and pissing away financial business seed money on an array of lecherous strippers, professional party girls, overpriced drugs, hotel suites, and the pending wisdom derived from a 72 hours sprint through the neon lights, dark alleys, casino bathroom stalls either passed out or face down in a pile of cocaine. Funny thing about these types of self indulgent adventures is that participants tend to remember very little of what had taken place throughout the weekend, coming to at various moments, such as reviving from a disco coma in a poolside cabana with two beautiful women under each arm where a table full of six vodka bottles sits in front of you, surrounded by a posse of new friends who are getting stoned, snorting MDMA, topless dancers, loud club music, vision whittled down to a radius of ten feet. no idea of where you might be, no signs, no clues, or useful audible advice, smiling faces, high fives and your best friend speaking in tongues attempting to reaccount the previous evening where you had a three some with the two women under you arm, time for a drink.
Fatalities, heatstroke, the young woman laid on a beach chair passed out for the last couple of hours while her friends covered her in mustard and ketchup, finally a friend who happen to be a nurse had the medical squad come over, another thirty minutes and she would have died the medical staff relayed to the passed out woman's friends. There is no sympathy for those who cannot handled their shit. These people are left to expire, fade, and discarded to the furnace of sacrifice that powers the hedonistic energy of the Las Vegas Strip. No need to ignore its presence, this invisible dark presence which governs the decisions of many party goes here on Labor Day weekend, who wants to spend an entire week stuck in a Las Vegas hospital, but the local UMC hospital down the street from my house sounds like a war zone with the constant presence of high pitch wails from oncoming vans, club casualities swept into the gutter, not going to let that rookie ruin my weekend, shit, this is my last paid vacation of the year, you mean I have to cut it short because that dumbass would not stop doing tequila shots, did two 8 balls, smoked some meth, took some X, and ate a handful of pills, some people just do not know when to quit, they just keep going ang going, starting fights with complete strangers over imaginary conflicts, total embarassment, sometimes you just have to let idiots like that take their due course, whether it is prison, hospital, or the grave. They will not quit the crash and burn mentality, every damn holiday weekend, who keeps inviting this self destructive creature, their behavior is what beings bent on a suicide trip undertake, no remorse, no end point, till the blackout, sub zero, hoping to arrive through the time warp of pleasure seeking motion. Abandonment does not discourage them, they will gravitate towards like minded people, as we await the pay phone call five days later when we have all gone back home, another trip to Western Union is in order as well as the hassel to get the money repaid, still these fiends always have money to part, some secret stash or multiple felony heists to fund the full on, over the top, taking it to the streets for a high-living, self satisfying throwdown to return with another array of shirtless fist pumping to electrohouse music on a Labor Day monday afternoon, no waiting in lines, which is the only reemding trait of this party machine, he or she knows all the right people, all the doormen, VIP hosts, sports stars, and Hollywood actors, the rest of us just go along with it, unable to understand when the hell this animal assemble such a cast of connection, at such times the only thing to do is smile, wave at the cameras, give the A-list startlet a hug and kiss on the cheek, as another victim is wheeled out stuck with a six pack of IV's, she looks good in her two piece though and sometimes that is all that matters.
Fatalities, heatstroke, the young woman laid on a beach chair passed out for the last couple of hours while her friends covered her in mustard and ketchup, finally a friend who happen to be a nurse had the medical squad come over, another thirty minutes and she would have died the medical staff relayed to the passed out woman's friends. There is no sympathy for those who cannot handled their shit. These people are left to expire, fade, and discarded to the furnace of sacrifice that powers the hedonistic energy of the Las Vegas Strip. No need to ignore its presence, this invisible dark presence which governs the decisions of many party goes here on Labor Day weekend, who wants to spend an entire week stuck in a Las Vegas hospital, but the local UMC hospital down the street from my house sounds like a war zone with the constant presence of high pitch wails from oncoming vans, club casualities swept into the gutter, not going to let that rookie ruin my weekend, shit, this is my last paid vacation of the year, you mean I have to cut it short because that dumbass would not stop doing tequila shots, did two 8 balls, smoked some meth, took some X, and ate a handful of pills, some people just do not know when to quit, they just keep going ang going, starting fights with complete strangers over imaginary conflicts, total embarassment, sometimes you just have to let idiots like that take their due course, whether it is prison, hospital, or the grave. They will not quit the crash and burn mentality, every damn holiday weekend, who keeps inviting this self destructive creature, their behavior is what beings bent on a suicide trip undertake, no remorse, no end point, till the blackout, sub zero, hoping to arrive through the time warp of pleasure seeking motion. Abandonment does not discourage them, they will gravitate towards like minded people, as we await the pay phone call five days later when we have all gone back home, another trip to Western Union is in order as well as the hassel to get the money repaid, still these fiends always have money to part, some secret stash or multiple felony heists to fund the full on, over the top, taking it to the streets for a high-living, self satisfying throwdown to return with another array of shirtless fist pumping to electrohouse music on a Labor Day monday afternoon, no waiting in lines, which is the only reemding trait of this party machine, he or she knows all the right people, all the doormen, VIP hosts, sports stars, and Hollywood actors, the rest of us just go along with it, unable to understand when the hell this animal assemble such a cast of connection, at such times the only thing to do is smile, wave at the cameras, give the A-list startlet a hug and kiss on the cheek, as another victim is wheeled out stuck with a six pack of IV's, she looks good in her two piece though and sometimes that is all that matters.
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