I walked back to my car, went to see another friend of mine not from my graduating class, and checked if he knew where the place was. He had no clue and I was exhausted so I ended up going home and passing out.
The next day I, with the kids and the amazing wifeykins, wandered around the old Alma matter and saw how much it had changed. I guess one of the guys from my graduating class is now the principal as well as a girl I graduated with is a teacher as well.
The school has changed in so many ways it really blew my mind. My daughter didn’t feel the same of course, and she was hungry on top of everything, so she was not enjoying the romp down her fathers’ memory lane. I was amazed at the little things. The music department still looks the same, but the concession stand they used to have is now a sprawling faculty rest stop. Which is sad because they sold the best cinnamon rolls I ever had. I would save up money and try to make it to school early so I could get a taste of them, and they were a going commodity of course. The small concession stand in the middle of the sports area was still there, though not open. It will never be eradicated as it’s the most centrally located place to sell to the football enthusiasts who crave nachos and hotdogs. The drama department still looked the same, through the windows, and the old math building that was one of the original buildings of the original school was still there. And they had not eliminated the mural that I remember when my sisters went to the same school years before I did. So as the daughter and the wifeykins were hungry and famished, we moseyed back over to the Quad and had lunch.
Lunch consisted of deliciously cooked steak and bread and salad and chips and drinks, and that evil eighties music that for some reason was rotating through the entire weekend. Now I like some of the music from the eighties, but the songs I remember were not included in the programming. But the son was digging the tunage like he always does.
As this was the next day after partying, many folks came later, lots not at all, and the mood was mellow and reserved. Well, more after drunken and hung over. Least for them. I was feeling fine and dandy.
So we ate, had a few people come up and accost the tye-dyed informer with recollections and fade away, and we made our way home and to the place were I now reside.
In the present day.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
20 Part 9
Strange ruminations and meanderings. And yet I never have missed a reunion. There are some people that have never been to a reunion and to them I say, how sad. You’re missing out on a serious trip, let alone a chance for bizarre reconciliation and remembrances. And yet there were still the strange cliques and groups forming and holding together. There was a slide show of pictures that basically was a walk down the memory lane of all the athletic jock types and people I never hung out with. I knew them all and still do, but it never was my thing. I was, and actually still do, strive to recognize the people that excel without a shred of recognition from any other source. For they do it for themselves, not for the kudos’ that come along with it. I’ll always believe in the underdogs of our society. They’re almost always more interesting and never dull when invited to parties.
We partied like crazy into the night and after they closed, or at least tried to close, the employees of the Madonna Inn started to herd us out the door. They didn’t have to use the whips and chains, but I’m sure they were close. And so we all said goodbye to those not hitting the bar-b-que for the families the next day and off we went. I was going to hang out in the room of my buddy as I was not completely sobered up yet, but he said the party was going at room 111. We got there and besides the people that rented the room, there was me and my buddy. We hung for a bit, and I was ready to boogey when another group of people showed up and said they were going to dance the night away at a place called the native. I had no clue where that was so I didn’t crawl in the car, unlike the buddy who did.
We partied like crazy into the night and after they closed, or at least tried to close, the employees of the Madonna Inn started to herd us out the door. They didn’t have to use the whips and chains, but I’m sure they were close. And so we all said goodbye to those not hitting the bar-b-que for the families the next day and off we went. I was going to hang out in the room of my buddy as I was not completely sobered up yet, but he said the party was going at room 111. We got there and besides the people that rented the room, there was me and my buddy. We hung for a bit, and I was ready to boogey when another group of people showed up and said they were going to dance the night away at a place called the native. I had no clue where that was so I didn’t crawl in the car, unlike the buddy who did.
20 Part 8
One friend of mine and I were walking home when my dad met us at school. He, my father, had taken the day off to come and meet us at grade school. He was in the Volkswagen bus we had and he had hot chocolate, or chocolate milk, and cookies or donuts. He picked us up and drove us home just because. My friend didn’t remember it at all.
One friend of mine and I were at his house and I came up with the great idea to mix water and flour to make makeup. I was trying to go for an undead thing I guess, and that friend remembered that and the fact that his mom got pissed at him for that. That friend remembered and the look on his face said that his mom was pissed for quite some time afterwards, which makes me crazy because she should have called my parents and got me in trouble, but she didn’t.
Another friend, in grade school, had pushed me. Now that seems like quite the innocuous thing, yet I was in a cast from my upper thighs to my ankles because of leg perthes. It’s a disease that causes the ball bone in your hip to disintegrate and grow back. It’s a painful process and for years the medical community at large would do a full hip replacement in children ages seven and above. Now I had it in the days when the hip replacement thing was seriously going out of style, yet it was still around and there was a chance that hip replacement would occur. But I digress, like always I might add. We had been in an argument over some reason and he had said that I was nothing but a cripple and always would be. After that little speech he had pushed me so I had tumbled, as they say, ass over teakettle and I had hit the concrete. I was in karate at the time and had been in pretty good shape, so I jumped up, as far as stiff spread legged jumping went, and I began to slam him against the window of the local grade school. A teacher had come around the corner and had stopped what went down and afterwards I had no trouble with him at all. Later on at the shindig he stated that in his life I was his hero. Since I dealt with everything and made it through my disease with little or no problems it seemed that his problems with his abusive dad and life was lessened and bearable.
At the ten year I was approached by a guy that I used to hang out with in band. He sheepishly told me he was sorry he had “trash canned” me in high school. Now it took me at least an hour to remember the situation, and it went something like this. He and a few friends surrounded me, but since I was reading a book I didn’t notice them until they didn’t get out of my way. I looked up and was irritated that I was interrupted in my reading. So I looked at them, they were slightly tensed and ready to grab at me, so I looked to my left and saw a trashcan. I went, got in it, and asked if they needed anything else. They looked disappointed, said I was no fun, and left. I got out, opened my book again, and continued to class. He needed a response and I laughed and said it was no big deal and if he needed to hear it, his apology was accepted.
Another friend I remembered a costume party at his parents house involving the Lois BBS people from the old days. It was crashed by a group of hardened Mexican males that wanted either to party or to fight someone. I left that time to the sounds of my buddy saying the cops were coming. He remembered me at the Blue Oyster Cult concert that was at what is now the KSBY TV station here in town.
One friend of mine and I were at his house and I came up with the great idea to mix water and flour to make makeup. I was trying to go for an undead thing I guess, and that friend remembered that and the fact that his mom got pissed at him for that. That friend remembered and the look on his face said that his mom was pissed for quite some time afterwards, which makes me crazy because she should have called my parents and got me in trouble, but she didn’t.
Another friend, in grade school, had pushed me. Now that seems like quite the innocuous thing, yet I was in a cast from my upper thighs to my ankles because of leg perthes. It’s a disease that causes the ball bone in your hip to disintegrate and grow back. It’s a painful process and for years the medical community at large would do a full hip replacement in children ages seven and above. Now I had it in the days when the hip replacement thing was seriously going out of style, yet it was still around and there was a chance that hip replacement would occur. But I digress, like always I might add. We had been in an argument over some reason and he had said that I was nothing but a cripple and always would be. After that little speech he had pushed me so I had tumbled, as they say, ass over teakettle and I had hit the concrete. I was in karate at the time and had been in pretty good shape, so I jumped up, as far as stiff spread legged jumping went, and I began to slam him against the window of the local grade school. A teacher had come around the corner and had stopped what went down and afterwards I had no trouble with him at all. Later on at the shindig he stated that in his life I was his hero. Since I dealt with everything and made it through my disease with little or no problems it seemed that his problems with his abusive dad and life was lessened and bearable.
At the ten year I was approached by a guy that I used to hang out with in band. He sheepishly told me he was sorry he had “trash canned” me in high school. Now it took me at least an hour to remember the situation, and it went something like this. He and a few friends surrounded me, but since I was reading a book I didn’t notice them until they didn’t get out of my way. I looked up and was irritated that I was interrupted in my reading. So I looked at them, they were slightly tensed and ready to grab at me, so I looked to my left and saw a trashcan. I went, got in it, and asked if they needed anything else. They looked disappointed, said I was no fun, and left. I got out, opened my book again, and continued to class. He needed a response and I laughed and said it was no big deal and if he needed to hear it, his apology was accepted.
Another friend I remembered a costume party at his parents house involving the Lois BBS people from the old days. It was crashed by a group of hardened Mexican males that wanted either to party or to fight someone. I left that time to the sounds of my buddy saying the cops were coming. He remembered me at the Blue Oyster Cult concert that was at what is now the KSBY TV station here in town.
20 Part 7
And then we have the weird responses to your tye-dyed informers’ shpeel about the site, where you all come to get your fixes of course. Here’s a few of the more tasty ones:
“Ya,he always pushed the envelope.”
“Like a shock jock.”
“Were you always rebellious?”
It was weird, as an adult that has forgotten more then he’ll ever remember about his high school days, some people had amazing recollection of a time that most would prefer to forget. Not yours truly of course, though I would be lying if I said I loved it all. School for me was a confusing and turbulent time, but not as far as I recall a rebellious time. I was the kid that had hit his head so many times on poles and other inanimate objects so many times because I was always looking at the ground. Found a lot of cool stuff on the ground in a lot of different places, but at some point I needed to learn to look up. And I did, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to spell check my shtuff! But back to the cosmic bizarreness.
So as the booze began to flow more liberally, and flow it did, everyone began to loosen up. I kept having flash backs to childhood involving people that I saw. I’m not sure if anyone else was walking, or more to the point jogging, down memory road quite like I was but it was fun to watch and also to participate. It was funny, it seemed like every memory I had, especially about the friends I spent the most time with, was times we had before high school. Some of those are….
“Ya,he always pushed the envelope.”
“Like a shock jock.”
“Were you always rebellious?”
It was weird, as an adult that has forgotten more then he’ll ever remember about his high school days, some people had amazing recollection of a time that most would prefer to forget. Not yours truly of course, though I would be lying if I said I loved it all. School for me was a confusing and turbulent time, but not as far as I recall a rebellious time. I was the kid that had hit his head so many times on poles and other inanimate objects so many times because I was always looking at the ground. Found a lot of cool stuff on the ground in a lot of different places, but at some point I needed to learn to look up. And I did, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to spell check my shtuff! But back to the cosmic bizarreness.
So as the booze began to flow more liberally, and flow it did, everyone began to loosen up. I kept having flash backs to childhood involving people that I saw. I’m not sure if anyone else was walking, or more to the point jogging, down memory road quite like I was but it was fun to watch and also to participate. It was funny, it seemed like every memory I had, especially about the friends I spent the most time with, was times we had before high school. Some of those are….
20 Part 6
I walked in and got my name badge on, then went out back for a smoke. As I hung out the same buddy from last night with his man came and they hung out and had a smoke with me. As we were hanging out and polluting our lungs together, a guy I hadn’t seen in an age came around the corner. I grabbed him and gave him a hug and asked what he was doing since the high school released us to our own recognizance. He had been living in Seattle running a dog hotel thingy, and had been there for about five years. I guess he had had a few issues in the area and had escaped up north to get away from it all. Since he had the room closest to the party he was elected to be the host room guy for frop inhalation. We hung out under a really interestingly formed juniper that had been teased into a tree shape. But as we were both dry the call of alcohol was too strong of a sirens lure to resist. So we went into the room that would be our resting and partying place for the next few hours.
I came, after an indeterminate amount of time, to the conclusion that I was on that freaky ore cart ride in that Indiana Jones movie. You know the one. They’re cruising under the earth and they go up on two wheels, they careen around corners, they jump from one to the other end of a broken and dilapidated track, they fight strange Indian guys that want to screw with Indie’s head. That pell-mell ride from hell. That’s what it felt like to me. I saw people I hadn’t seen in yeeeeaaaaarrrrrrssssss. Some hadn’t even made it to any of the other reunions we had, where the corn cob vibe was not so intense and the kids were alright. This time people had lost parents, children, themselves, and we had grown up. Well, at least they had all thought they were grown up; I was under no such compulsions to perjure myself with foolishness.
I came, after an indeterminate amount of time, to the conclusion that I was on that freaky ore cart ride in that Indiana Jones movie. You know the one. They’re cruising under the earth and they go up on two wheels, they careen around corners, they jump from one to the other end of a broken and dilapidated track, they fight strange Indian guys that want to screw with Indie’s head. That pell-mell ride from hell. That’s what it felt like to me. I saw people I hadn’t seen in yeeeeaaaaarrrrrrssssss. Some hadn’t even made it to any of the other reunions we had, where the corn cob vibe was not so intense and the kids were alright. This time people had lost parents, children, themselves, and we had grown up. Well, at least they had all thought they were grown up; I was under no such compulsions to perjure myself with foolishness.
20 Part 5
The actual reunion dinner was at a place called the Madonna Inn, a strange castle like place on the edge of San Luis Obispo. Now for those of you who have either heard of this place a little or for those of you who had never been there before, it’s a strange place. And by strange I mean bizarre. The coloration is at best a bright pink, at worse a dull pink. It’s main outside areas are fashioned from the rocks from the hill behind it, which goes by the original name of “Madonna Mountain”. Catchy name huh? Inside you are bombarded by the color pink, as it was Mrs. Madonna’s favorite color and her hubby had always loved her exquisitely. They have fairly expensive but not too shabby food, and their real claim to fame is their German chocolate cake. It literally has huge chunks of chocolate shaved and placed on the top along with the rich chocolate cake and the rich chocolate filling. All in all a decadents wet dream. But then there’s the rooms.
Now each of the rooms are theme based. Some are slightly mundane like a car room, little cars on the wallpaper and car like seats and such. One was called “time of your life” which involved purple carpet along with purple walls and semi-cheap masks hung on the walls. But then you get other crazy rooms. Like the caveman room, where you have a shower that’s a waterfall onto your head, along with an actual cave that’s been fashioned into a plush room with chunks of rock coming out of the walls, all from the mountain of course. All in all and interesting, but slightly bizarre place. And it was invaded by the class of 88.
Now each of the rooms are theme based. Some are slightly mundane like a car room, little cars on the wallpaper and car like seats and such. One was called “time of your life” which involved purple carpet along with purple walls and semi-cheap masks hung on the walls. But then you get other crazy rooms. Like the caveman room, where you have a shower that’s a waterfall onto your head, along with an actual cave that’s been fashioned into a plush room with chunks of rock coming out of the walls, all from the mountain of course. All in all and interesting, but slightly bizarre place. And it was invaded by the class of 88.
20 Part 4
We alternated between “R&D’s” and “Bill’s place” for the rest of the evening. I kept seeing folks I haven’t seen in years, but none from high school really, until I saw a buddy I had been in drama class with way back when. He was married now to, of all people, a guy from San Luis High School that actually graduated the year we did as well. They were living in San Francisco and were doing quite well for each other. I was overjoyed as my friend was a great guy and deserved a decent man. Plus as his significant other was a frop hound as well, he was alright with me.
I saw people here and there that I recognized, I had been in grade school with some of them, but they were still stuck in their areas of comfort and were unable to break out.
So I hung out and watched as everyone got more and more inebriated, and then I went home till the next day.
The next day I woke up and started cleaning sticks and seeds from my interplanetary frop and watching movies with the kids. My wifeykins was working the studying angle so she was just a little stressed, but handling it ok. I spent the day cleaning frop and getting my kid fix before I hosed off, shaved a bit, and put on a clean tye-dye. I was thinking I would put on the dress jacket I had, but as I didn’t have the strength to stretch it across my bulk, I just went with the tye-dye. But I did bite the bullet and wear pants. And a different earring.
I saw people here and there that I recognized, I had been in grade school with some of them, but they were still stuck in their areas of comfort and were unable to break out.
So I hung out and watched as everyone got more and more inebriated, and then I went home till the next day.
The next day I woke up and started cleaning sticks and seeds from my interplanetary frop and watching movies with the kids. My wifeykins was working the studying angle so she was just a little stressed, but handling it ok. I spent the day cleaning frop and getting my kid fix before I hosed off, shaved a bit, and put on a clean tye-dye. I was thinking I would put on the dress jacket I had, but as I didn’t have the strength to stretch it across my bulk, I just went with the tye-dye. But I did bite the bullet and wear pants. And a different earring.
20 Part 3
Now this place, for those of you not in the know, is cool in a hick sort of way. It’s a definite hole in the wall joint with karaoke and a strange white lion stuffed in the window. I had only been in the place once before, long ago I might add, and so it was an interesting experience. Which then became irritating as the constant country songs and large hats invaded my personal auditory space. I made a run through the front to the back patio, and was calling the wifekins to actually tell her I wasn’t going to be there long when a buddy I haven’t seen in about 15 years came around the corner.
Now this guy was a friend from the days when your tye-dyed informer was a thinner more in shape kind of guy. We, along with another guy specifically and others that would come and go through the years, would go on “death marches” as we’d call them. We would find an area where there was enough space to cruise around, and we’d walk for hours and hours and hours. Usually with lots of interplanetary frop and severe booze mixtures with the names of “orange death” and “moon mist”. Tasty concoctions that would curl the toes of an Irishman on a binge, and would of course insure the Roman viewpoint of purging. Unbeknownst to me, his brother was in my class in high school so he was there with him crashing the party. So I talked to the wifekins, she vented as she’s got her CSET test coming up and she is infused with the power of her stresses, and then went and chatted with the buddy.
He had been rolling boulders up at his moms’ house in northern California and building a small 6 foot by 9 foot log “cabin” of sorts next to her house. He said he had retired, from what I’m not too sure of, and had been traveling around the states and groovin’. We sidled up to the bar and he ordered a beer for each hand. As I was unsure the length of time I would stay I wasn’t drinking anything.
We ended up strollin to the park behind the bar and smoking a bowl or two of frop, which seemed to be my role in the proceedings to come for the rest of the weekend. Interesting side note, he ended up buying the red dominant flower pattern shirt. For some reason I knew that someone I knew would be the one to buy that shirt, though I had no idea it would be him.
Now this guy was a friend from the days when your tye-dyed informer was a thinner more in shape kind of guy. We, along with another guy specifically and others that would come and go through the years, would go on “death marches” as we’d call them. We would find an area where there was enough space to cruise around, and we’d walk for hours and hours and hours. Usually with lots of interplanetary frop and severe booze mixtures with the names of “orange death” and “moon mist”. Tasty concoctions that would curl the toes of an Irishman on a binge, and would of course insure the Roman viewpoint of purging. Unbeknownst to me, his brother was in my class in high school so he was there with him crashing the party. So I talked to the wifekins, she vented as she’s got her CSET test coming up and she is infused with the power of her stresses, and then went and chatted with the buddy.
He had been rolling boulders up at his moms’ house in northern California and building a small 6 foot by 9 foot log “cabin” of sorts next to her house. He said he had retired, from what I’m not too sure of, and had been traveling around the states and groovin’. We sidled up to the bar and he ordered a beer for each hand. As I was unsure the length of time I would stay I wasn’t drinking anything.
We ended up strollin to the park behind the bar and smoking a bowl or two of frop, which seemed to be my role in the proceedings to come for the rest of the weekend. Interesting side note, he ended up buying the red dominant flower pattern shirt. For some reason I knew that someone I knew would be the one to buy that shirt, though I had no idea it would be him.
20 Part 2
The first thing I noticed were the paint brushes and mixing tools for paint outside her door. Yet when I walked in I was bombarded, I could almost say violated, by the art stacked against the walls. Panel after panel after panel stacked against the walls, strewn throughout the kitchen. Everywhere. As the sheer volume of work begins to sink in and not be such a focal point for me, I start getting the influx of what it is, how it feels, where it takes me. At one point, after heading outside for a respite from her power, I actually became a little nauseous. She’s a darkish girl, sweet but talented and that talent like so many others seems to drive her and control her as well. It’s femme with a bite. She gives you beauty, yet within that beauty is a harshness, a cutting way, a fury almost.
So after I was able, by shielding my eyes so I could stay focused on what I wanted to tell her, to ask her why she wasn’t rich yet, and in a gallery, and cranking out the art, she laughed and like most artists she doesn’t have the stamina or inclination to deal with that part of the world. Which is a pity because she needs to be out there, more to the point her art needs to be out there.
I checked my watch, realized that the pre-party party had started about 45 minutes ago, and bade goodbye to all things artsy, and cruised over to the bar.
So after I was able, by shielding my eyes so I could stay focused on what I wanted to tell her, to ask her why she wasn’t rich yet, and in a gallery, and cranking out the art, she laughed and like most artists she doesn’t have the stamina or inclination to deal with that part of the world. Which is a pity because she needs to be out there, more to the point her art needs to be out there.
I checked my watch, realized that the pre-party party had started about 45 minutes ago, and bade goodbye to all things artsy, and cruised over to the bar.
20 Part 1
The march of time never stops, even for Ponce De Leon, and of course not for even your tye-dyed informer of the world and parts unknown. And it is especially true of all those of the class of 1988, that special and vibrant year of release and joy in the undertaking of our lives as we saw them then.
But this really starts with a girl, and her art.
It was the year that marked the twentieth from the graduation of all of us from Arroyo Grande High School. People were coming in from all over the states and since I was so close, and really because I haven’t missed one yet, I was all in for fun and craziness. The shindig was planned for a place called Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo, and as it had been years since I had gone there as well it was shaping up to be an all around interesting experience. 75 bucks later I was signed up so it was all about the anticipation of things to come and whatever else I had planned before the festivities were upon me.
I had hit Motorhead of course (see post, it was gnarly) and was ready for the reunion. I got the e-mail that stated we were meeting at Bill’s Place, a smallish irishish bar in the village of old arroyo, so I made my way from the tye-dyed compound out to the joint. But first I stopped by a buddies house and hung out with him for a tiny. He needed a ride and as I had yet to see this friend’s art, she was someone I had met through him and I was hearing a lot about her talent, I gave him a ride and checked her art out.
Now I don’t know about you, but when I walk into a museum, or an art gallery, any place where the work from another persons mind and heart is displayed I find it interesting, and it sometimes gets across to me, but I’m not one for most art. The saying that seems to work best for me is “I’m not sure if its art, but I like it.” And that’s what I’ve felt for many a long year. Until now.
But this really starts with a girl, and her art.
It was the year that marked the twentieth from the graduation of all of us from Arroyo Grande High School. People were coming in from all over the states and since I was so close, and really because I haven’t missed one yet, I was all in for fun and craziness. The shindig was planned for a place called Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo, and as it had been years since I had gone there as well it was shaping up to be an all around interesting experience. 75 bucks later I was signed up so it was all about the anticipation of things to come and whatever else I had planned before the festivities were upon me.
I had hit Motorhead of course (see post, it was gnarly) and was ready for the reunion. I got the e-mail that stated we were meeting at Bill’s Place, a smallish irishish bar in the village of old arroyo, so I made my way from the tye-dyed compound out to the joint. But first I stopped by a buddies house and hung out with him for a tiny. He needed a ride and as I had yet to see this friend’s art, she was someone I had met through him and I was hearing a lot about her talent, I gave him a ride and checked her art out.
Now I don’t know about you, but when I walk into a museum, or an art gallery, any place where the work from another persons mind and heart is displayed I find it interesting, and it sometimes gets across to me, but I’m not one for most art. The saying that seems to work best for me is “I’m not sure if its art, but I like it.” And that’s what I’ve felt for many a long year. Until now.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Motorgoofy Part 8
O.K. Now something needs to be done about the freeway systems in L.A. As I headed out to try to make it home it became much more involved then I thought it would be. First off, the five freeway was closed of all things, so I had to go to the 91 then over to the 405 north, then over to the 101, where I could follow it to home and my family. That ride, like others I’ve had I might add, was long drawn out and painful. At Gaviota pass I met a guy that partied for “days” as he put it in Goleta and decided to take the bicycle he had purchased for ten dollars and take off. He had made it about 15 to 20 miles and had been hanging out at the rest stop at the pass for the night. I broke out a cigarillo and he did the trying to filch thing, but I gave him the “dude it cost ten bucks fer like ten of these puppies” and he babbled for awhile, which was good for it allowed me to stay awake and wake up a tad, and then I passed down the endy and got back to travelin.
And there it is. All the fun and pertinent stuff. I got back to the domicile of the tye-dyed informer around 5 in the A.M. and was so freakin tired I didn’t even fill the hole in my gut. My head hit the pillow and I was unconscious till the boy awoke me with laughing and joy four hours later. And my day began, and the trip was over.
And there it is. All the fun and pertinent stuff. I got back to the domicile of the tye-dyed informer around 5 in the A.M. and was so freakin tired I didn’t even fill the hole in my gut. My head hit the pillow and I was unconscious till the boy awoke me with laughing and joy four hours later. And my day began, and the trip was over.
Motorgoofy Part 7
Now the House of Blues is a cool place and all, but I kept hearing throughout the night that there were certain bands that they wouldn’t allow to play there. Interesting if not censoring, but hey they own it and Mickey is a stern taskmaster I’m sure. Now the other issue I have with the venue was that they only had one exit to the outside, which is fine until you have about four hundred people trying like hell to get out. Then you have what we had that night, fights, stampede mentality, all the fun and frolic of a badly engineered exit for a rock concert. Everyone was packed tight, or so I thought, till a guy to my right started throwing blows, and then the crowd opened up quite nicely and he was tackled by a few of the guys in yellow. It took about four minutes, which when your stuck to the people all around you seems like an eternity, and then we were outside. Where I saw the fightin dude heading back for more with his weepy slightly overweight mascara running blonde following in tow. I blurted out “Man! How the hell did he get outside before us man???” and from the guy on my right I hear “He had an escort.” Which started me laughing and nodding my head in agreement.
As I walked to the car I made an acquaintance and he asked about whether I partook of the frop or not. My guess was the tye-dye I was wearing and I was right. So I acquiesced and gave him a ride home as the security was a bit too diligent and around. I drove left, right, right, left, then maybe a right or a left or two afterwards and we were at his house. We chatted and smoked a bit as he had kicked down a nug of his own interplanetary frop and he offered a beer but since I was driving it was a no thank you from me. He asked about the shirt and I told him I was in the biz of making them and broke out my gear. He dug one of the bags I make as he said “Man…it’s like someone bled all over it man…” I had to agree with him because the red was quite bloodalicious and dominant. He bought it (thank ya duder!) and I boogeyed on down the road with a smile on my face.
As I walked to the car I made an acquaintance and he asked about whether I partook of the frop or not. My guess was the tye-dye I was wearing and I was right. So I acquiesced and gave him a ride home as the security was a bit too diligent and around. I drove left, right, right, left, then maybe a right or a left or two afterwards and we were at his house. We chatted and smoked a bit as he had kicked down a nug of his own interplanetary frop and he offered a beer but since I was driving it was a no thank you from me. He asked about the shirt and I told him I was in the biz of making them and broke out my gear. He dug one of the bags I make as he said “Man…it’s like someone bled all over it man…” I had to agree with him because the red was quite bloodalicious and dominant. He bought it (thank ya duder!) and I boogeyed on down the road with a smile on my face.
Motorgoofy Part 6
The one thing I will give to the House of Blues was that they have very efficient bands playing at their establishment. The tear down was done with military like precision and beauty.
So I waited. And then I waited. And then, for a change, I waited a bit more. And then, the cheering started and the lights went on to the stage and out came the band I, along with most of the others there, had come to see. Motorhead.
They all came out smoking a fresh cigarette and threw them down on the stage. Lemmy said something to the effect of “We’re Motorhead. We play rock and roll!” and then they started to. Some of the songs were killed by death, overkill, dr. rock, goin to brazil, and an acoustic version of something called the roadhouse blues which was not what I would expect from Motorhead, but I was impressed none the less.
One contention. For some reason they were going fine until about the third or fourth song, when all of a sudden the sound began the feedback thing that concert goers hate so much. As well as the band actually. It seemed it was a problem with the roadies from Motorhead, because the guy at the sound board back where I was didn’t seem to be the guy with the problem. But all in all it was an awesome experience and as the heat increased and the band continued it got better and better. They left and came back for the encore of ace of spades and the place went nuts. Towards the end of the show a guy from behind me started to chat and whoop and yell and generally have a good time. He invited me to go party with him and the band after the show, which for some reason when I have a four or more hour drive I always get invited to hang with the bands, but I declined as I had the drive and my son would be awake earlier then I wanted. He smiled and said cool, and I began to try, as the show was over, to make my way out of the place and back into the open air.
So I waited. And then I waited. And then, for a change, I waited a bit more. And then, the cheering started and the lights went on to the stage and out came the band I, along with most of the others there, had come to see. Motorhead.
They all came out smoking a fresh cigarette and threw them down on the stage. Lemmy said something to the effect of “We’re Motorhead. We play rock and roll!” and then they started to. Some of the songs were killed by death, overkill, dr. rock, goin to brazil, and an acoustic version of something called the roadhouse blues which was not what I would expect from Motorhead, but I was impressed none the less.
One contention. For some reason they were going fine until about the third or fourth song, when all of a sudden the sound began the feedback thing that concert goers hate so much. As well as the band actually. It seemed it was a problem with the roadies from Motorhead, because the guy at the sound board back where I was didn’t seem to be the guy with the problem. But all in all it was an awesome experience and as the heat increased and the band continued it got better and better. They left and came back for the encore of ace of spades and the place went nuts. Towards the end of the show a guy from behind me started to chat and whoop and yell and generally have a good time. He invited me to go party with him and the band after the show, which for some reason when I have a four or more hour drive I always get invited to hang with the bands, but I declined as I had the drive and my son would be awake earlier then I wanted. He smiled and said cool, and I began to try, as the show was over, to make my way out of the place and back into the open air.
Motorgoofy Part 5
Can’t remember what their name was (sorry guys) but they jammed pretty well. The bassist had the spit leg spread and didn’t move from that position, the lead guitarist strutted around the stage and generally got down and funky with it. I caught most of their set and made my way back out to the balcony for the cigarillo time I was having. The first band finished their set and made their way off the stage and there was down time till the next group made their way out. As I was still around the bar area I decided to get water from the helpful bartender and sat and replenished my fortifications until the next round came. And then it came with a vengeance.
The next band I do remember the name of, for no other reason then they were memorable. Something to the effect of Salient Thor. At least I think that’s what they were. Now I’m not necessarily the ancient wise one here, but I remember when you couldn’t get a band to shut up about their names and who they were and where they came from. What they wanted on their toast in the afternoon. But these guys came and jammed and went without, at least to my knowledge, referring to themselves. But these guys were nutty and tasty with a side of goodness.
They hit the stage with a turn of the century philosophy look to themselves, and began to get as political as I have heard in quite an age. I remember one specific thing they said.
“We wanna dedicate this song to Jesse Helms. It’s called ‘I hope the maggots enjoy eating your rotting corpse’”
After that I was digging them hard and lots.
The only issue I had was the lead singer would start talking about something, without the benefit of us really being along with him, and he would end it with “YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN??!!??” Which in all reality, I don’t think we all knew what he meant.
So they thrashed and thrashed, thrashed a little more, and then it was time for the main attraction.
I hung out in the back of the class and stretched my legs a bit. The heat was increasing as the last band had caused a great swirling and melee at the center of the floor, but there were still those that had remained, if not exactly still, the occasional head bob was all they gave. I was boppin along with the band and laughing at moments, but I was ready and prepared for Motorhead.
The next band I do remember the name of, for no other reason then they were memorable. Something to the effect of Salient Thor. At least I think that’s what they were. Now I’m not necessarily the ancient wise one here, but I remember when you couldn’t get a band to shut up about their names and who they were and where they came from. What they wanted on their toast in the afternoon. But these guys came and jammed and went without, at least to my knowledge, referring to themselves. But these guys were nutty and tasty with a side of goodness.
They hit the stage with a turn of the century philosophy look to themselves, and began to get as political as I have heard in quite an age. I remember one specific thing they said.
“We wanna dedicate this song to Jesse Helms. It’s called ‘I hope the maggots enjoy eating your rotting corpse’”
After that I was digging them hard and lots.
The only issue I had was the lead singer would start talking about something, without the benefit of us really being along with him, and he would end it with “YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN??!!??” Which in all reality, I don’t think we all knew what he meant.
So they thrashed and thrashed, thrashed a little more, and then it was time for the main attraction.
I hung out in the back of the class and stretched my legs a bit. The heat was increasing as the last band had caused a great swirling and melee at the center of the floor, but there were still those that had remained, if not exactly still, the occasional head bob was all they gave. I was boppin along with the band and laughing at moments, but I was ready and prepared for Motorhead.
Motorgoofy Part 4
It was an interesting hodge podge of bric-a-brac and weird surrealistic paintings and other stuff. Strange cryptic writings on the walls, odd tile designs threading through the place, up the walls and over the ceiling. I remember stopping in front of a picture that said “Ain’t I a woman” and realized that it was a painting of Sojourner Truth, or at least I thought it was a painting of Sojourner Truth. It seemed to be Sojourner Truth through the auspices of acid or some other hallucinogenic because the background in her painting was frozen in mid movement. Above the stage was the sign for “Ohm” the universal sign and the universal sound, along with a Buddha, a peace sign, and other feel good groovynesses. I wandered through the top and the bottom floors a few times to get the feel of it all. I actually, due to the lack of people in the beginning of it, could have been towards the front of the class, but I picked and opted for the back of the bus action. As I wandered I chugged the rest of the rum and coke, but it hit too hard and I got a little woozy. I sat for a bit, had another cigarillo, and realized it would be a short night and a long drive back if I didn’t get something in my stomach, and the best concert food there is is French fries. So I sidled up to the bar and asked if there was some way I could cross over the forbidden zone to the other side of the place where the food was being served. The bartender told me food was available at the bar and I was all over it. They had bacon wrapped hotdogs, hot wings, hot stuff in general but they had the fries and that’s what I ended up getting. Took em about five minutes to get em to me, pipin’ hot and fresh, and it was down the hatch with them till they were gone. Basking in the French fry afterglow I chuffed down another cigarillo and about the time I was feeling the head rush, bout five seconds later, I snubbed out the end and made my way in as the first band was startin to jam.
Motorgoofy Part 3
I got to the downtown Disney parking area and got a little shock over the prices to come park to shop of all things, but as I was not willing to go anywhere else I slid into a space in the back. I knew I had come to the right spot when I saw the kids wearing the Viking helmet and the Motorhead T-shirts. I cracked an energy drink and began to mosey my way over to the venue. About three quarters of the way there I realized I had no business cards on me and headed back to the car to retrieve them. I got em, passed a few out to the Viking youth, and headed back to the venue.
Now this was the first time I had not only gone to a concert by myself, but also the first time in the House of Blues. Now we, the fam and I, had walked by this place a dozen or more times over the years, either coming or going from Disneyland or catching a bite and the atmosphere of the Rainforest Café. But I had yet to venture into it.
The line had formed but wasn’t insane yet, so I hung out and spaced on the flora and fauna that surrounded me. There were weird bird things hanging off the lights and a bizarre totem pole thingy over in the corner. All in all a semi trendy but not too precocious joint. After the wait, during which the bouncers all in their little yellow and black pseudo-referee outfits milled around and did the man love hugs and chatted and obviously and painfully were ignoring all that waited, I went up the stairway and grabbed a rum and coke. Eight dollars less and holding a plastic cup that I was working on draining steadily I made my way through the place to check it out.
Now this was the first time I had not only gone to a concert by myself, but also the first time in the House of Blues. Now we, the fam and I, had walked by this place a dozen or more times over the years, either coming or going from Disneyland or catching a bite and the atmosphere of the Rainforest Café. But I had yet to venture into it.
The line had formed but wasn’t insane yet, so I hung out and spaced on the flora and fauna that surrounded me. There were weird bird things hanging off the lights and a bizarre totem pole thingy over in the corner. All in all a semi trendy but not too precocious joint. After the wait, during which the bouncers all in their little yellow and black pseudo-referee outfits milled around and did the man love hugs and chatted and obviously and painfully were ignoring all that waited, I went up the stairway and grabbed a rum and coke. Eight dollars less and holding a plastic cup that I was working on draining steadily I made my way through the place to check it out.
Motorgoofy Part 2
My first stop was to be the home of a friend of mine that resides in Hollywood. His significant other has his script so it’s always an interesting time had by all when I stop off there, plus I was thinking after the drive I would like to change my socks.
Now for those of you that are the uninitiated, if your feet are tired and worn out after a long day of trudging around your ponderous bulk, a change of socks can make a world of difference for your poor tired dogs. I try now to bring multiple pairs of socks on any trip anywhere primarily because I like the new day feeling for ones feet whence the socks are donned.
The drive down to my buddies was semi-uneventful, though the land and the tunes were beautiful and tasty. Highway 154 was under construction, which seems to be a constant thing, so I was able to drive through a cloud of dust from a ginormous bulldozer thingy dumping into a truck next to the one laned road they had for all. I took it fairly easy on the tunage as I was heading to a violent ear party and didn’t want to have my ears all partied out before I got there. A little of this, and a little of that, and I was there before I knew it.
I had called my buddy before during and after the drive to let him know I was coming, but since I am familiar with his sleeping habits I wasn’t at all surprised when I got the voice mail option to his phone consistently. So I trundled up the narrow hallway to his apartment and knocked on the door. I stared psychotically into his peephole and laughed when his eyeball appeared and disappeared and the door opened up.
“Hey man! I was just waking up!”
As it was only two ‘o’clock in the afternoon I was impressed he had a pair of pants on. Sans shirt was fine as he was sleepy and barely roused so I sat for a moment then went and got a pair of socks for freshening up the feetsies. I went pout to the car to collect the socks and returned to him in a shirt and slightly more coherent, changed the socks, and we went to a place called “Astroburger”. I had never been there and it was semi-cheap which was the requirement I gave to him, and I ordered the gyro and he got a coke. We chatted and walked back after procuring our respective vittles, and was there before his man got home. His man arrived with a flurry of books and mail and who knows what else and began to make requirements to smoking the interplanetary frop. As I have no compulsions to my own frop intake, I was on it before he was and so was waiting till he packed in his own bong, the “God’s Gift”. It was tasty, but the head change didn’t last too long, so once again I was on my own, traveling forth to the thrash metal mania that awaited me.
Now for those of you that are the uninitiated, if your feet are tired and worn out after a long day of trudging around your ponderous bulk, a change of socks can make a world of difference for your poor tired dogs. I try now to bring multiple pairs of socks on any trip anywhere primarily because I like the new day feeling for ones feet whence the socks are donned.
The drive down to my buddies was semi-uneventful, though the land and the tunes were beautiful and tasty. Highway 154 was under construction, which seems to be a constant thing, so I was able to drive through a cloud of dust from a ginormous bulldozer thingy dumping into a truck next to the one laned road they had for all. I took it fairly easy on the tunage as I was heading to a violent ear party and didn’t want to have my ears all partied out before I got there. A little of this, and a little of that, and I was there before I knew it.
I had called my buddy before during and after the drive to let him know I was coming, but since I am familiar with his sleeping habits I wasn’t at all surprised when I got the voice mail option to his phone consistently. So I trundled up the narrow hallway to his apartment and knocked on the door. I stared psychotically into his peephole and laughed when his eyeball appeared and disappeared and the door opened up.
“Hey man! I was just waking up!”
As it was only two ‘o’clock in the afternoon I was impressed he had a pair of pants on. Sans shirt was fine as he was sleepy and barely roused so I sat for a moment then went and got a pair of socks for freshening up the feetsies. I went pout to the car to collect the socks and returned to him in a shirt and slightly more coherent, changed the socks, and we went to a place called “Astroburger”. I had never been there and it was semi-cheap which was the requirement I gave to him, and I ordered the gyro and he got a coke. We chatted and walked back after procuring our respective vittles, and was there before his man got home. His man arrived with a flurry of books and mail and who knows what else and began to make requirements to smoking the interplanetary frop. As I have no compulsions to my own frop intake, I was on it before he was and so was waiting till he packed in his own bong, the “God’s Gift”. It was tasty, but the head change didn’t last too long, so once again I was on my own, traveling forth to the thrash metal mania that awaited me.
Motorgoofy Part 1
Motorgoofy
AKA
Mickeyhead
Or, How the Magic Kingdom Thrashed its Melon
It started at about 6:45 in the A.M. I needed my cute little daughter to paint my fingernails black, otherwise I thought I wouldn’t fit in as well as I could have with the crowd I was going to be in. So my sweet daughter did my nails, and I went off to work to fill in for the wifeykins. I had convinced her just the night before to stay home and study for her CSET exam, which in two weeks time was fast approaching, and she agreed, hesitantly I might add, and so I was work bound.
I made it to work and hung out doing the central supply thing, until the call of the road was too much to bear and at that time I made my way to the car, and so out of the land of work a day drudgery and into the land of fun car rides to the land of thrash metal mania. You see, I had the golden ticket and was ready and willing to have my ears assaulted by none other then the most furious and rockin’ band ever to grace this planet. The band Motorhead.
They were at the House of Blues in Anaheim and as the location was quite strange and bizarre being next to and designed by the team that brought you the happiest place on earth I was intrigued that Motorhead was going to be there. But as I am the tye-dyed informer it was my duty to be there and report back to you all. Not to mention the fact that I was insanely ready to have my eardrums blown out and my sternum rearranged by professionals. So I hit the road with water and a few energy drinks (from the dollar store no less) and was on the road by twelve.
AKA
Mickeyhead
Or, How the Magic Kingdom Thrashed its Melon
It started at about 6:45 in the A.M. I needed my cute little daughter to paint my fingernails black, otherwise I thought I wouldn’t fit in as well as I could have with the crowd I was going to be in. So my sweet daughter did my nails, and I went off to work to fill in for the wifeykins. I had convinced her just the night before to stay home and study for her CSET exam, which in two weeks time was fast approaching, and she agreed, hesitantly I might add, and so I was work bound.
I made it to work and hung out doing the central supply thing, until the call of the road was too much to bear and at that time I made my way to the car, and so out of the land of work a day drudgery and into the land of fun car rides to the land of thrash metal mania. You see, I had the golden ticket and was ready and willing to have my ears assaulted by none other then the most furious and rockin’ band ever to grace this planet. The band Motorhead.
They were at the House of Blues in Anaheim and as the location was quite strange and bizarre being next to and designed by the team that brought you the happiest place on earth I was intrigued that Motorhead was going to be there. But as I am the tye-dyed informer it was my duty to be there and report back to you all. Not to mention the fact that I was insanely ready to have my eardrums blown out and my sternum rearranged by professionals. So I hit the road with water and a few energy drinks (from the dollar store no less) and was on the road by twelve.
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