Red White and Burbank- part 2- The maze at birth- the maze that made it all.

Its never been a quiet world for me.

Ive prayed my whole life, even after I found out god was a farce, that the things around me would eventually make sense.

Ive idly waited like a fool.

Ive been handed one thing and seen an infinite amount of other things. All the same object- but every time a new shape.

Any time I was able to wrap a nervous and excited palm around the fabric of a "concrete" concept, it re liquified and changed. Became greater. Became terrifying. Became less. Became impossible. Became the un-breaking shoulder of atlas, Became the knot in his spine that echoed into eternity.

There was a time when I saw my life as an ode to impermanence.

It was beautiful and free.

And then I realized- Im going to be here for a while.

                             Red White and Burbank- The Maze that Made it all

"Mom , whats the white part of that stick called?" I asked, referring to a road side reflector.  I understood at the time what the shinny orange circle was called, but the canvas it had been thrust upon must have had a name.

"Its a..." She replied, expecting to have an answer for a child- A juke box full of simple questions and corresponding answers. "Umm.." she hesitated. I was un-shaken as I didn't understand the significance of a stuttering pause. "Well it's a post."

I looked on as endless rows passed me by. I cant honestly say if I knew she was wrong, or ill informed, or just trying to offer some answer to a question that to most, had no meaning.But to this child would linger until adulthood. 

I was 18 sitting in a cold attic with an old friend the first time I heard the Velvet Underground.

I was 18 sitting in a cold attic with an ex girlfriend the first time a smoked pot.

I was 18 sitting in a cold attic when I realized the questions I asked as a child, the questions I stopped asking outwardly as a teenager, and the questions Im still asking today weren't just nonsense. I also realized they weren't questions everyone asked.

I began to lose my mind.

Im not sure how I was able to hold on so tightly to something I quickly and violently realized was in its liquid form. My mind was un-frozen at birth yet somehow as a child I was able to cup my hands and carry it around as a fragile burden without anyone seeing.

"What is this?" my teacher, Mrs. Gahleger asked thrusting an off white rectangle I had scribbled gibberish on.

' Thats...my homework?' I didnt reply

"Does your son have trouble reading Mrs. Baker?" She asked my mother, releasing the paper.

My mother looked down at the sheet of state approved parchment she had been handed. She looked confused.

What did I do wrong.

"Well, he can read but-" She started, looking back down to the paper.

When I was in Kindergarten, as homework we were given a sheet of cheap paper with a space at the bottom to write a sentence and a much larger space at the top ( About 75% of the page) to draw a picture. Now I cant give little me credit for this level of deductive reasoning but Im fairly certain i perceived the larger space as the more important one.

In the space provided for the drawing I drew a man stacking bricks, A wheelbarrow, Clouds, tools piled on the ground, the sun, the mortar betwix the bricks, the mans overalls, the dirt on the man from his labors, the already constructed chimney, and a makeshift border the frame the scene.

In the space provided for the sentence, I replied to the prompt I was given: "A Man building a house". I was supposed to draw what I read in the prompt and re-write the prompt itself.

"ADNM BAILDUNG EE OUSEH" I had written. Just as they had asked. Clear as day.

That was the day I started to having to answer questions I didn't know the answers to.

Time passed.

I clawed my way through elementary school and found my self at the gates of the next obstacle:"Jordan Middle School".

This is where I learned what "They" say might not always be right.

Red White and Burbank- Pt 1 " The Whore house"

"see, heres my problem," I began, knowing what I was about to spit would be nonsense to M. Ness. "I dont want to play the guitar anymore, I dont want to play with a toy. I want to kill something. I want to make my guitar bleed to proove its alive!" Ness tagged me with blank eyes and recovered with a knowing glance as genuine as vacu-form plastic.

"yea exactly" He shot back, knowing nothing.

"no no you dont get it" I stumbled, arguing a point we both understood but would never resolve. "its-" I tried. "I-" I spat hoping for a wave. I finally settled on a brown paper statement: " I want the sound to be raw, real loud, and almost without reason."

Ness nodded in fervent agreement to something he didnt quite understand. It was his nature to appease the senses of his peers because it worked. He was liked, honored, respected ( to some degree measured in language, expression, and sexual favors ) and in essence - succeeded in the social game were all expected to play.

" So like Motorhead?" He uttered with calm confidence.

"y-..yeah dude" I was stunned. An obvious reply but correct. Simple in the way I was striving to portray. And coming from a less than intelligent source - I was taken aback. Not by his "genius" but by all the stumbling I had done dancing around the point I was trying to make. It wasn't the whole picture but it was a clear enough comparison to show he know what I was getting at.

Marveling at the simplicity achieved by a close friend I considered a dullard I sat back. ( A note on the asshole writing this song- I believe simplicity to be the pinnacle of understanding and unfairly attribute it to the "intelligent" when really the moron displays [ in most cases ] a more clear understanding of the basic meanings).

I was on the verge of apologizing when Ness began explaining how good the local "new country" station was. He was and is probably right.

"Duuuuuuude" he interrupted himself.

"sup?" i shot back. Reflex.

"I think I found a brothel in NoHo." He looked at me half smiling half shocked.

"whaaaaat, noo," I started, playfully dismissing the notion. " Wait like, old west shit or what?"

"No dude, fully legit." He held the same stare, unshaken.

"How the fuck did you-" I started, surprise in my voice but no trace in my knowing.

"Some internet shit." He shot back. " Dude I havent been but I swear its legit!" Ness continued, setting his les Paul face first on the couch. This guitar was art, engineering, science, sound, and negligence wrapped up into an expensive package no one could believe hadn't been broken yet. It was the third singer in our highschool punk band, the envy of kids wealthier than us, and a mystery to everyone. How was this hunk of wood and metal still in one piece? My guess is that it was born into a cradle of chaos and fed off the stupidity of those who enjoyed it.

"Great sales pitch dick." I replied. Typical Ness bullshit. " So anyway I want to start with something like this- " I offered , dismissing Ness's more than typical brag-rant. I began wrecking the strings with half learned chords.

" NO DUDE" Ness spat, slapping his hand onto my fretboard. " THIS SHIT IS FOR FUCKING REAL."

" How could you possibly know that you fuck, you've never been, you heard about it on the internet, and it wasn't important enough to tell me the SECOND you found out. So tell me - how the fuck do you know this shit is real? I dont doubt there are brothels in the valley but I sincerely doubt whatever you heard on the interweb is of any consequence. Prove it dick." Your turn Ness.

"Go, I have the adress." Ness said with confidence.

"Ok so im the test monkey now? I guess whore monkey isn't so bad. Give me cash then, if you want me to prove it." I became interested, more so at the prospect of a free adventure.

"Dawg, im broke as shit," He began, dismissing it all and grabbing his guitar again.

"Fuck man." I said looking past six strings, knowing i couldnt turn down the chance to prove him wrong- or right- or both of us wrong and end up in jail. At this point I had accepted experience is more valuable than the possible positive or negative outcome that could be waiting for me.

"Godamnit." I shat.

" you know your gonna do it ." Amil said from the bathroom. He had be listening for some time as he worked on a beer shit that could rival - honestly there was no competition. It had been hours.

"Fuck you both." I said defeated and ready. "Adress?"

Bad company

Cabs in Los Angeles are a joke to the Natives
A luxury to the tourists
Unknown to the kids
Blasphemy to the drunks with wheels as true as the night theyle never remember
Too expensive for the East side trying to reach the West
Unnecessary for the West side to reach the East
Too rare to hail
Too much hassle to call
Too expensive to justify alone
Too cowardly to suggest in a gang
Too slow from the Valley to Downtown
An afterthought in a responsible dream on the floor of a Burbank Household

But wheres my bed
Where are the keys we call ancient and my idols call cheap
Where is the beautiful girl who cries when the world shows its less than charming mug
Where is the 4 AM DJ with a poet, a dog, a sleeping ex-pat and 4 walls as his crowd

I used to be rough
I used to walk the whole way
I used to hitch a midnight ride from a generous creep
I used to be told where my home was
And now
No words are able to remind me
Not because they cant
Because they don't need to

Tiptoeing for another penny beer
Creaking as little as I can for another un-punished smoke
Sunrise napping on the guest bed so the capable, intelligent woman who knows right from wrong, and who is learning what really matters can sleep though the aches and pains of the real world i've so haplessly shrugged.

"Good" is gone
"Necessary" has become obsolete and too abstract to be worth wondering
"Too late" is too early, and too early is just right
"A good nights sleep" is about as realistic as wrangling the hubris that taught us how to create
"Im exhausted" is worth as much as "The sun is hot" and "The moon is round"

Why create when you can sleep, dream
Why sleep when you can create, dream
Why ask when you haven't got a choice
Why choose when the outcome remains the same

Stay up- Create
Knock out- Experience
Stay up- Experience
Knock out- and whats left of your mind will do the dirty work

Call a cab- Find that beautiful shack everyone but you hates
Stay on the floor- Dream about the messy , slippery, anarchy waiting
In the shack
Not so far away.

Whats in the case?

 Art took a deep, much needed breath after blowing his last note of the afternoon and began gathering his sheet music.

"Good job today fellas" He said over his shoulder, hurriedly stuffing sheet music into a leather book at his feet." Tonights gonna be a good show. Hope you all like the changes."

"Love em! were just glad to have someone heading up the brass who knows brass. Charlie's little piano diddys aint got much to em." Leonard scoffed taking of his sax. "Wanna grab a drink Artie? couple of us goin down to Old Glory's."

"Ah I cant, Lisa's expecting me at the pool." Art said fumbling to get his trumpet in its case. "Already late"

oh man! how do you keep a girl like that waiting!?

AHH your done!

Get outa here man or im gonna take er!

"Yeah yeah fine go off and chase the princess you fuckin' horn dog." Leonard said and gave a dismissal wave. "How the hell did a guy like you-"

"Yeah and whats that like eh? What kinda guy might I be Lenny?" Art said standing up with his gear in hand.

"Woah man I dont mean nothin by it!" Leonard said throwing his hands to the sky. " What you got in that case anyway? You packin now? Yer Mob sweetie got ya a Thompson for yer birthday?" The room laughed.

"Eat it- Ill see you all tonight" Art jogged out of the theater.

Art smiled at the green and gold carpet of the casino floor. Hed never led a band before. hed never played infront of as many people as he would tonight. And hed never kissed a woman as beautiful as Lisa.

"What you lose a nickel Artie?" A thundering voice spat, breaking Art's cloud walk.

"Mr. Green, uh, no I-" Art studdered as he came back to the real world. " I Ju-"

"Kidding pal, where ya headed?" Charlie said swinging around next to Art and throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"Im going to meet Lisa at the pool, were getting dinner before the sho-" Art started to smile again at the thought of the girl but was interrupted again.

"Ohh no no she went off with some old friends to get a drink," Charlie said waving his hand. " You know these girls, one second there waitin' on ya the next they're half way down the strip spending someone else's chips! HA! " He swung around once more, now infront of Art. He grabbed Art by the shoulders and grinned " Whadya say you and I get into a little trouble eh? Take your mind off the big show?"

"Well, I dont know she said she'd be there. Shes always been good to her word." Art said, shaken by Charlie's enthusiasm.

"No no no, I saw her take off with my own two eyes! Would I lie to my new band leader? You can trust old Charlie! Now come on I know  a place we can really let lose." Charlie swung back and practically shoved Art along.

They left through the back door.

The sky had gone red.

The desert disappeared.

All that was left was the strip.

All that was left was electric light.

The top of my glass, and the bottom of that pool.

When the sun wants to shine in Vegas, the rest of the world must get a chill.

"Ha! you have to be kidding me!" Hewitt rang out, gawking at the forest of a cocktail in her hand. " I appreciate the drink sir but I feel you may have flattened the rainforest to bring it to me!". She laughed, every part of her shaking in a way that could have made the cold war a boiling one.

"For you my dear I would lay to waste the collective flora and fauna of all the Americas." Singin' Charlie said dragging a smile to one side of his face. If there ever was a gentleman is was Charlie. And if there was a god, he wouldnt have made him such a rich bastard. "where is your little friend," he paused and feigned a thought "Arthur?"

" Well he should be finishing the rehearsal for your show tonight, shouldn't you be there? Or do you work as a server now?" She replied sliding her foot into the crystal clear water of the pool before her. The way she sat on the edge of that pool made every one around look cheap, sunning on their pool chairs. The green tile of the pool softened, the white top hat at the bottom- distorting and dissipating  as if the bow to the queen of the strip.

"Oh sweetheart I've been doing this quite a bit longer than old Artie. I know my material better than the back of my hand." Charlie said extending his tan claw. "but yours..." he went to grab Hewitt's free hand.

"Im afraid not Charlie," Hewitt said withdrawing from his advance. "Thank you for the drink." She pulled her hair back and slid into the pool.

" Im sure your coming tonight," Charlie said adjusting the golden top hat cufflink already perfectly fastened to his glowing white sports coat. " for Art?" He smiled as he turned and left.

Miss Herwitt set an untouched drink on the edge of the pool and spun slowly backward into the water.

The crowed was starring.

The sun was setting.

Whats flat and green?

"Thank god my shoes aint got holes in em! hahaha!" the Gambler to Art's right coughed; a  mixture of regret and smoke clouded by a laugh.

The Dealer handled his scythe like a killer and pulled in the man's chips. That sound of wood on felt somehow beating out the slots, the cheers, and the brass from the lounge. Dealer wore a red vest with a white top hat on the breast, and a collared shirt that was probably white at one point, but was now a veteran cream. The man was so used to the smoke he'd probably choke if he left the building, but he was a lifer and he wore that on his sleeve.

Art's hand sank into his pocket hoping to feel at least one cold chip rattling around- all he felt was his last sliver of paper folding over at each knock, four sweaty knuckles. Theres a difference between cash and chips- at least that was they'd tell ya.

Before his dice hand had left his pocket Art stumbled into the marble counter of the cashier.

"Uh, here, give me a five, and five one dollar chips." Art said slapping a ten on the cold counter.
He took the weight of his feet and dropped his elbows on the counter, starring at the clerk with his eyes and running out the door in his mind. Running back to a girl. Running back to July with 2 pockets full of green and white chips. "The Dapper Gentleman Casino" starring up at him, and making promises.