part three
a red room. jazz. music. people chatting here and
there. sitting at a table alone. unknown. my first night in san
francisco. anonymity. everyone dressed up. i dont know a soul
here. i met some people earlier today. but left them. i am artiste
now. in a red room. a lady said it was once used for s&m.
red. background noise of chatter. as a man sings and plays the
dulcimer. as the next band sets up. i sit here. alone. unknown.
red.
# # #
loneliness is. can be. is now. intolerable. even
more so in a room full of people. strangers. knowing each other.
being with each other. contrasting your loneliness. amplifying
it. at least alone in your room you dont have to face your loneliness.
you can pretend it isnt there. or that everyone else in the world
is alone too. i chose to stay home tonight. but i didnt. i went
out. and found myself alone.
jump. flashback. dreamworld. past. staring at her
remembering another. pushing giants rats into a pit. and the band
plays on while she flirts and cajoles her willing girlfriend.
and i know who she is. was. in my mind. she is not she i remember.
but i like to dream. flashback. remember. now. all worries gone.
comfortably numb. body. mind. separated. i look on as if someone
else is standing there. i am just a watcher. like a junkie. no
emotion. only sensations. detached sensations.
# # #
magic. crazy horse. a week ago. met a man. he told
me to draw a frog. ask someone in the frog shop to see the haida
frog. again. each time i see him he asks me. he invites me to
part of the local mardi gras. cafe brazil. the parade. we part.
finally. visiting the frog shop. hes checking one of his employees.
telling him to pack up shop. then he brings me upstairs. oldest
apartment in america. so he says. upstairs. talking. about frogs.
indians. yoga. follow. breathe in. into the apartment. its a large
apartment. objects. collected objects. many places. scattered
everywhere. lining the walls. thrown across a desk. he jumps.
thoughtwise. here. this is a frog. and this. here. a dolphin.
take this. come here. look at this. no. in here. another room.
a study perhaps. more dolphins line the walls. he shows me a stack
of cards. not tarot. something else. words. phrases. written on
them. leading into something. fortune telling cards. he tells
me the room is a very powerful room. i believe. feel it in the
room. i can feel it all over new orleans even now. the voodoo
of new orleans. we leave the room. he gives me more cards to flip
through. the circle. unity. the sea. tranquility. peace. others.
each card an object. an idea. with meaning attached. its all in
the cards. so he says. truest saying. he hands me the mardi gras
card. three lines. who you are. your desires. your actions. i
still wonder at its meaning. he hands me cannabis necklaces. to
sell. hows your money situation. here. five dollars. here. two
dolphins. place them on your pad when you draw. if someone comes
up. tell them you have one you can sell for ten dollars. a tee-shirt.
mardi gras. cannabis. wear one on mardi gras. if someone asks.
sell them this one for twenty. have you ever burned sage. no.
here. take this. wait. take this too. juniper. haida frog. frogs
were very powerful to some indian tribes. here. open your sketchbook.
stamps sketchbook. stamps some booklets. there are magic women
youll meet. beautiful women. if you find one. give her one of
these. all through your life. youre moving into circles where
the money flows easier and the women are all beautiful. there
is such an intenseness in the air. i believe things. some things.
dolphins. there is a star. sirius. youve heard of it. it has two
planets which orbit it. on one of those planets there may be aliens
who are sending messages to the dolphins to communicate with man.
maybe. he smiles as he says this. one knows he is playing. he
truly means maybe. and yet he doesnt. ever see the movie jfk.
there were two oswalds. one was born here in new orleans. the
other was born in the baltic states. why he spoke perfect russian.
new orleans oswald was a yat. a poor guy raised in the new orleans
public school system. no way he could have spoken perfect russian.
he was an fbicointel agent. maybe involved in a plan to squelch
the civil rights movement. maybe killed martin luther king. other
oswald was a patsy. the one killed in dallas. who knows. time
i have to go he says. i pack up my stuff. leave the apartment.
as i walk outside. the square has changed. i can feel the voodoo.
i look up into second story windows wondering what goes on up
there. perhaps someday ill know.
# # #
inside i can feel myself changing, becoming stronger.
i feel myself becoming whole. i do not succumb to the weaknesses
i once did. a woman can no longer ensorcel me like one once could.
i can feel myself changing. i shall become strong.
# # #
sickness. thoughts become nonlinear. severe. jump.
jump. jump. here. there. like an mtv video. drives you crazy.
cant concentrate. drained. feeling empty. not there. vibrating.
inside. but no concentration. no bringing together. sitting for
hours. unable to think. thinking everything. jump. jump. jump.
swollen glands. cant eat. almost ready to pass out. but no. just
sitting. thoughts jumping.
# # #
chris was the second one. more of a rebel than rebel.
he had a reckless attitude toward life. he listens to industrial
music and has large scabs all along his arm. just before we parted
he asked me if i knew anywhere to get snow. i told him maybe in
alphabet city but i didnt know the quality. he said he needed
something to keep him up all night. chris may be able to hook
me up with two sheets of acid. around a hundred. i figure that
way i can clear up the mess between jon and linda and maybe make
a little money. chris said to wait two weeks.
fred is much like chris' guardian. chris is nineteen.
fred is one or two years older but much wiser. he watches that
chris doesnt become too reckless or that his recklessness doesnt
get him in trouble. both live in a squat in downtown manhattan.
free electricity. free phone. free hot water.
# # #
daves party was fabulous. i met fascinating people.
first of all there was rebel. rebel is the one i wrote about before.
fascinating man. an australian accent. he reminds me of joker.
# # #
pat. showed him stuff from my sketchbook. he suggested
places to visit. i played dumb. told me about philadelphia. newcomers
guide. asked questions. nodded my head. interesting discussions.
you dont own anything. nothing but your own time. everything you
own existed before you owned it. and everything will continue
to exist long after you cease to own it. people are more caretakers
of things. they watch over them while they are in their possession.
when they are given or thrown or taken away. then the responsibility
is lifted. the object continues though. but you own your time.
it started existing when you did. it stays with you your whole
life. it dies with you. your time is the only thing you truly
own. it is your responsibility. you make what you make of it.
an education. he supposes one owns an education.
because you cant give that to anyone. but truly it was given to
you by other people. like your thoughts. parents. friends. teachers.
strangers. tv. radio. books. thoughts constantly modified. added
to by others. he is not even sure if he owns his own thoughts.
after all. they were others' thoughts before his. like an education.
it was just passed on.
# # #
when you try to change yourself. you must not deny
yourself. do not say "i will no longer be stubborn,"
"i will no longer eat junk food." never say never. you
will. you will be stubborn. and sometimes its okay to be stubborn.
eat junk food. what one must say to oneself is. i will be stubborn.
and so you acknowledge it. and then when you are being stubborn
you can stop yourself. excuse yourself. tell the other person.
yourself. youre just being stubborn. dont deny yourself. accept
yourself. and simply the acknowledgment that there are things
in your personality you dont like will change them. you just have
to know yourself. and accept. so he said. and i think i agreed.
# # #
last night. i went to see shannon. we talked. i told
her of my plans. she knew already. ben. we talked of what she
was doing. shes applying to tyler school of art next year. she
really wants to get in. i hope she does. she doesnt want to have
a baby right now. which is good. because shes decided to wait.
she loves tom. theyre engaged to be married. one year and a half.
her mother. crazy. "why isnt tom here?"
"because he isnt" "didnt he want to come over?"
"i didnt ask him because i didnt know if he was allowed and
tim showed up." "but why isnt he here?" "do
you want him here mom?" "no, but i just thought he would
be here." whiny voice. like a childs. a childs mind. shannon
cares for her. explains things to her. "why did leslie get
me candied almonds?" "because she thought you liked
them?" "but i cant eat candy." "but she doesnt
know that. you never told her." "she should know i cant
eat candy. ive been going to the dentist. she knows i go there."
"but she doesnt know you cant eat candy." "its
common sense, shani. she just doesnt care about me." "yes
she does, mom. she knew you liked almonds. so she got you some."
"but not candy almonds. ive never eaten candied almonds before.
shes never seen me eat candy almonds before. now has she."
"maybe she thought youd like to try them." "but
she knows i cant eat candy." "no she doesnt." shannons
voice is soft. gentle. she talks like a mother soothing her child.
but it is her mother she is soothing. her mother who is truly
just a child. shannon tries to calm her. in ways a sibling would
a child under parental punishment. shannons mom has been crying.
"why did daddy yell at me?" "because daddy's a
little cranky." "but why did he have to yell at me,
shani? all i did was forget tims name." "hes a little
edgy over the holidays. he gets in a bad mood." "but
he called me a name, shani. i dont like it when he calls me a
name. he called you a name the other day. you dont like it when
he calls you names, do you?" "he's just tired from work."
"but i try to read my book, but he's got me so upset i dont
know who the characters are." "why dont you call bubba.
do you want to talk to bubba?" "and leslie called me
a bitch. whyd she have to do that?" she begins to cry again.
"she was upset because you rejected her chanukah gift."
"but she knows i cant eat candy. i told her i wanted pajamas.
she knew what i wanted." "mom, leslie doesnt have the
money to get you pajamas. she thought youd like this." "but
i gave her twenty dollars." "but mom, she has to get
gifts for her friends too. she cant spend the whole twenty dollars
on you." "but look what she got her friends [pairs of
socks, a christmas stocking, a bracelet]. why she spend so much
on them? shouldnt she be spending more on me? after all she has
lots of friends. im her only mom. how much do you think this costs?"
"it doesnt matter how much it costs. its the thought. at
least she got you something." "yeah, at least she got
me something. but im her only mom." "call one of your
jewish friends mom." "okay."
# # #
chris. fred. rebel. they all work at the show palace.
the show palace is a sleazy hustling joint across from the big
top. it finances a lot of what the big top cant finance itself.
chris explained the show palace to me like this. you get out on
stage and start dancing around a bit. not much. you pretty much
just take off your clothes in a quick strip routine. never your
shoes though. you never want to walk on stage without shoes. spooge.
baby oil. too many nasty things. when youre naked you go up to
someone. you let them feel you for a bit and start jacking off
in their face. then they give you a dollar. chris usually gives
them thirty seconds. if they dont start digging in their pockets
then he moves onto someone else. someone gives him a five he gives
them forty-five seconds. he doesnt have much time on stage so
he keeps moving from person to person. slap it in their face.
see if they give you more money. otherwise. tough luck. meanwhile
men sit below the stage shouting and moaning. "i want to
make love to you. i want to ride you like the wild arabian camel
you are. come to me. come on me. you are an adonis. let me bath
in your beauty. let me fuck you up your ass. i want to fuck you
hard. so hard. oh. show me your big throbbing stick again."
sometimes they ask if he does private shows. he tells them its
$120-150 the first hour and $75 each additional hour. depending
if he has a show that night or not. and what you want him to do.
of course, all rates are negotiable. "i want to make passionate
love to you." how much are you willing to pay. twenty dollars.
get lost. gay men are cheap. they expect that you can get anything
for a dollar. they call you a god. they call you an adonis. then
they give you a dollar. an adonis should be worth more than a
dollar. he tells vicki she could be a dancer in a lesbian bar.
one called the clit. chris says lesbians tip much better than
gay men. the show palace is a hustling joint as well. people doing
tricks in the bathrooms. the dressing rooms. wherever. but theyre
cheap tricks. gay men are cheap when it comes to sex. dancers
dont get paid at the show palace. they make what they make in
tips. sometimes its four dollars. sometimes its seven hundred.
on the nights its four. hes grateful he lives in a squat. but
its a life. hes not doing it forever. he just wanted to see what
it was like. the experience.
the big top is a much classier joint. fog machines.
lights. special effects. the dancers dance on stage. they rarely
get in the face of the customers. few tricks are passed there.
the show palace supports the big top. it gets all the money and
the big top spends it. simple as that. the big top is a class
joint. and then he leaves and i find out no more.
# # #
on mardi gras day he raped a boy. he and some of
his friends. he was amazed at their speed and accuracy. first
rape. he brought the boy in. and he was gagged and tied to the
bed with white sheets. in no time at all.
# # #
joey asked me wasnt it exciting the first time you
meet someone who has killed another. it is. it changes you. especially
one who has never gotten caught (even if you are caught my friend
says. in cases like his. the people he kills. one is never found
guilty. in cases like these. the police have a habit of losing
evidence. the police do have a sense of justice. sometimes).
# # #
when i met him. afterwards. i thought. there is this
whole culture. a culture that goes around killing people. out
of sense of duty. or fun. never getting caught. a culture that
can recognise each other. who intermingle. maybe discussing best
ways to kill a person. who should and shouldnt die. i now can
fully believe the sandman issue that has a convention for serial
killers.
"Kill a person, you are an Assassin.
Kill thousands of people, you are a Conqueror.
Kill everyone, you are a God."
# # #
greyhound buses at night. my own personal hell. sitting
on a bus. green light makes your skin turn pale. dead. darkness.
lights flash by as cars speed. two lights. white. red. reflections
on the window. thinking thoughts. everything. coherent. but going
nowhere. perhaps inside. deeper into the mind. just thinking.
as lights flash by in the night.
# # #
magic. he told me voodoo was love. crazy horse is
just a jester in the kings court. he is. he amuses me. he teaches
me. he plays with masks. games. cards. he knows. but hides his
ignorance. he is merely a jester. the kings would not do that.
i dont think. i havent met chickenman yet though.
old hippie. he lives mining crystals in arkansas.
selling them on necklaces. takes care of the old voodoo queens
son. he says. she died two years ago. magic. he lives in his own
time. we all do you see. dont you. he says. nothing existed before
he was born. and he will live forever. he will not die. for his
time is his. existence. reality. came to be when he was born.
and it will stop when he dies. and that is forever. for him. a
junkie lives on junk time. a businessman. wallstreet. our time
is the time we chose. when time goes fast for me. it may go slow
for you. or go faster. time is perceptual. and i live on my time.
and i paused. and asked questions. and i understood. this. his
concept. his time. his world. i know a small part of it. if its
important to you youll remember it. a man remembers things that
are important to him. i remember him. saying this. there are no
more queens in new orleans. there were two. they died. (marie
laveau was the first). another will rise. the kings must crown
her. behind every woman is a man. and magic. being old. is sexist.
but i know it is true. chickenman is one of those kings. and when
the time comes. the kings will chose.
# # #
ever wonder when sitting in a cafe. is that man there
writing. is he writing about me. i dont. is that woman who just
looked back and saw me writing. makes you wonder.
# # #
jeremy. he failed out of university. hes now going
to community college back in massachusetts. i miss him. he was
my closest friend up here. and i shall not see him for some time.
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