Thursday, June 7, 2007


Music: "Life'll Kill Ya" - Warren Zevon (Album)

The desert was determined to swallow my Chevy. I was miles away from home, off-roading through the Apex, in a car that was obviously not built for the task. It was dark, I just kept my eyes on the sky ahead thinking "Follow the smoke." I did get stuck, but trudged through the mud- it was my best friend's birthday.

I caught a glimpse of a bon fire, breathing my third sigh of relief- the blaring Bob Marley proved that this one wasn't full of false hope.

Engine Off.

Here's the hard part... where the fuck is Sid? T
he scattered groups had no apparent configuration, except that they grew larger as you got closer to the keg. The first familiar face I saw was Suzzy, who greeted me with a cup as if I were her father- surprising, considering she is my arch nemesis. Within' moments it was the fire, the sand, and one group. Myself, Reuben. Jorge, Suzzy, ___ (I leave a line, because Sid has a lot of friends that will not matter in this story) and the man of the night- Sid Vicious.

The Apex portion of t
he night ends as every get together- a cry of "the cops are coming, the cops are coming". Between my arrival, and the train of vehicles skidding through a swamp-textured desert... I did manage to hustle a listen of "I'll Never Fall In Love Again" - Elvis Costello & Burt Bacharach on notch 11 for everyone to hear. It was only party music to Sid and I.
"Oh great, Kevin
" - Suzzy, without hesitation, or a need to confirm my location.

We sped down the highway as if we were chasing a tornado, racing one another with no fear of the alcohol in our b

We arrived collectively to a house belonging to all woman. A woman house. Lesbians I heard. I actually recognized it as the home I had been kicked out of a month earlier for arguing over their rule to put the seat down. Thankfully they forgot my face. They wouldn't after this night.

I snuck in my Graham Parker
cd to counter-act the radio, and it went over really well. I made as many bathroom trips as possible, hoping somebody would notice the seat up and I would be able to reenact my Ron Bennington-inspired tirade. No such luck. That wouldn't stop Reuben and I from referencing it, reminiscing, and giggling every few seconds. People were in too good a mood.

All but one, a tall, big boned black man. Well, his skin color was whiter than me, but everything else about him would convince a radio audience otherwise. Dressed in camo shorts, and a "Somebody in Compton <3s Me" tee shirt- he wasn't a fan of my suit jacket.

"Why do you have a heart buttoned to your jacket, are you gay or sum'thin?"

The real story behind the heart- which looked great- I joked with Sid about smoothly removing it and handing it off slyly to a lovely woman. But to answer the soldier's question-

"Yeah it does. I'm gay. Is that a problem?"

We went on as such for ten minutes or so. I don't remember any of the dialogue, except that he couldn't keep up after a round or two and became frustrated. Sid had a stoic expression, which is very common for him after he consumes a lot of alcohol.

As the thug got serious, Suzzy removed her belt (which could best be described as Jon Rambo's gatling gun ammo) and stood between us. I was honored, as I'm sure she could handle herself better in an altercation, considering my 1-1 all time record in fighting.

I wanted to get hurt on this night. Feeling a lot like I do now, I wanted to feel it physically as well. I wasn't afraid of being broken, and this was a man capable of breaking.

The situation died down, minutes passed- Sid decided to leave. We made it as far as the living room.

The black Caucasian and a sidekick met us by the television. There was no 'Suzzy's belt' in this room- for all I knew she was in the bathroom with the seat up. He did the "towering over" gimmick,

Staring up, I did the smart thing...

I knocked his hat off.

The rest is hazy, we ended up in a bedroom with Sid on his back gouging his eyes.

What a friend.

We stormed out like Elvis Costello in '79, as I continued to foolishly antagonize his sidekick.

A few days later I was in jail over the reasons explained on the Jim & Them radio show.
I had the privelage of being arrested, fingerprinted, and mugshotted with a bruised eye.

"A buddy and I were throwing a football."

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