Spike and Mike Part 3; LA
I heard we needed a crew person in LA and I called Dan right away, telling him to get to San Diego and apply. Dan drove his bus down and he got the job. In LA Dan and I shared an apartment with Homes, and BJ. BJ was Homes’ boy from SD. He was a skater but not of Homes’ amazing ability. He was a stoner and we would all have to struggle to keep up with him. His girlfriend Crissy visited often, and her dad sold weed so supply was not a problem.
Our first day in town, before even seeing our apartment we hit the streets, not so much because we were anxious to flyer as because we wanted to meet some folks to hang out with in LA. We did flyer of course, as this was the best way to meet people, instant ice breaker. A kid about my age, maybe a bit younger asked me if I was a writer. I’d been scribbling bad poetry and so I said yes, I was. He asked what my tag was and when I stared at him confused Homes and BJ started cracking up. A writer was what they called a tagger. He wanted to know if made a habit of writing on walls, as he saw the sharpie in my pocket. I told him I’d start immediately.
Somehow I ended up discussing Tank Girl, a favorite comic, with a girl named Nora. She was skinny in big cloths, like and old Asian man. She had thick brown hair with a bit of a wave to it. She was beautiful. She asked me if I’d like to see a double feature with her and I said I’d love to. I got her number and would call her up the next day. LA was going to treat me right.
Our night was cut short by an excited hyper man named Scott. Scott put a lot of effort into being rockabilly cool and he never relaxed. He talked more than I did, but he just repeated the same thought over and over again. I disliked him instantly. At Scott’s urging we headed back to the apartment. It was a two bedroom apartment. I shared a room with Dan and Homes and BJ were in the other. Everyone had their own bed so there was little risk of my cheek kissing ways returning.
Scott was staying in a different complex nearby with Hoang who I’d met in Sacramento and Frank. Frank was a bizarre man. He was an indy music scholar and the most passionate vintage shopper I’d ever encountered. His wore only vintage cloths, right down to his shoes. He was a short guy chubby guy and his beard and long hair combined with his always smiling face and earned him the nick-name the gnome. The nick name was used affectionately but only behind his back. You couldn’t help but like Frank and Frank did not like being the gnome.
Once in our apartment we went about finding the access to the roof. This would become a tradition. This particular roof didn’t offer much a view but it was a nice place to smoke a joint and unwind.
We started on the campuses early the next day and we were home by 2pm. I called Nora from a payphone. Dan was a bit hot on Nora as well, and Dan was getting jealous at my having an easier time winning the affections of the fairer sex. I didn’t want to use the phone in the apartment because I wanted to go out with this very interesting girl alone. After laughing at my mispronunciation of Sepulveda she left to pick me up.
I went back to the apartment to grab a pillow as per her instructions and Scott was still there. Apparently he’d heard me refer to him as a stooge to Nora.
“I don’t like being called a stooge.”
“I don’t like having my phone calls listened to.”
“Yeah, well don’t go around talking shit on me. I’m you’re boss.”
“I won’t do it on the clock boss.”
“Well it aint cool. You don’t even know me. Why are you calling me names?”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to get off on such a bad start. I won’t call you a stooge again, and I look forward to getting to know you. I’m sure we’re going to get along.”
“Well we can get along but not if you want to go around calling me a stooge.”
This was going nowhere. I pissed him off further by taking the pillow and leaving as he continued talking. Nora picked me up on the corner and took me to the New Art, a cool little theatre that was showing the original King Kong doubled with Mighty Joe Young which I’d somehow never seen. The theatre seats were most uncomfortable and I was glad Nora had instructed me to bring a pillow. After the film I called to see where we’d be working that night and Nora asked if she could join us. She even grabbed some flyers and helped.
After flyering we drove to the beach and had our first kiss. She was adorable and I was falling fast. My reputation as a player was intact and not all favorable. The guys thought I was too into meeting girls and not into finding a connection of any substance. They’d see. I was crazy about this girl and spent every second that I didn’t spend working hanging out with her.
LA is a huge sprawling mess. We were booked in three small theatres in different parts of town as getting a large theatre in LA was unthinkable. Everyday it seemed we found at least one new place to flyer; some cool new neighborhood that we’d missed before. We went to Venice beach repeatedly. The buskers there were hard to believe. An ancient woman dancing while a black man held to big palm leaves in front of her. For a buck he’d lift the leaves and you’d find out what and elderly woman in a bikini looked like. There was a ukulele involved somewhere as well. A thalidomide birth defect victim shimmied the thumbs that came out of his armless sholders and wiggled the two or thee toes that sprouted where his legs should have been. He’d wiggle and shuffle on a piece of cardboard while a jukebox played Michael Jackson’s hits. Then there were the sand sculptors and the sidewalk chalkers, the ocean/sunset/dolphin painters, the caricaturists ready to draw you with a big head and little body, they always found a celebrity to compare you to for a buck, the whole mess living their lives on tourist’s dollars. Hey, they spent all their time at the beach and make fair money. It seemed like an ideal life. I cursed my young and able body.
Keeping up with BJ during our rooftop smoke outs was a chore and I spent a lot of time wasted. Weed I could handle, alcohol I was an old pro at but the combination left me a bumbling dizzy fool. Our job often afforded us the luxury of being drunk and or high during the day. A daytime drunk feels different than being drunk in the evening. The world buzzes and vibrates when you’re drunk while the suns out bright and hot.
Stoned as could be and nursing a beer on a hot afternoon off I realized how incredibly lonely I felt. I was distracted from this feeling in S.F. and San Jose sucked in every way so the loneliness seemed to fit. But here I as with Homes and BJ and Dan, all relatively new friends. Where was Chris Brunner, and Christian, or Bryna, or Christine. Where was my family. All my brothers, my parents, they all seemed so far away.
I knew where Emily was. Emily, the first girlfriend I'd ever had as an adult. The girl who took my virginity. She took it too Nashville, or she ditched it somewhere along the way. I called her and I asked her how the hell I’d ended up here, in this strange place, this strange life. And she asked me if I was drunk. Of course I was god dammit. She told me I could call her when I was sober and she hung up.
I took a piss and felt my scalp tightening. I looked at my belly. It was bigger than it had ever been. Not too big compared to most, but it was growing. I wanted the day off to end. I didn’t like myself. My self esteem had gotten so high when I felt I'd conquered Sacramento and then I threw myself into this new world and I didn’t quite fit with Homes and BJ, certainly not with Scott. Dan was an amazing guy but not exactly warm and fuzzy, especially right now. He was sure that I was the antichrist. Nora was in his mind being played by a player and he, full of sincerity and goodneess wanted the chance to treat her right. This adventure was starting to get old, I needed it to do more than spin in circles which it was at this point threatening to do.
Every day one of us would work with Scott and one with Frank and the other two would work together. I was working on getting used to Scott and I loved working with Frank. Whichever of the two I worked with they could not pass a record store or thrift store without stopping and I was buying lot of music and cloths.
I came home one day to find that Homes and BJ had scored some opium. They showed me an enormous gooey ball of the stuff and told me they’d gotten it for ten bucks. I started laughing. I was quite sure my little buddies had been had.
“I aint smoking that. It aint opium. Not for ten bucks.”
“What is it then smart guy?”
“It’s incense or something.”
They smoked it, Dan joined them and they all got terrible headaches. It was weeks later that I smoked some weed through the same pipe that they had used. A nasty black smudge coated my insides. I got a headache and went to bed.
On another night BJ and Homes met two English girls. They were cute, but more educated than us and to stupid to appreciate the kind of smarts you don't buy. They laughed everytime was said BJ's name. Finally BJ asked what was so damn funny and they pointed out that in England BJ means blow job. We all started laughing and trying to explain that it ment that here too. BJ was not amused. I went to bed still giggling.
I continued seeing Nora almost every night and on my days off we’d go driving around town. We were doing plenty of heavy petting but she was a good girl and didn’t want to have sex with someone who would just be leaving. This was fine with me. I'd had enough sex, I was really enjoying this bright, creative and hillarious girl. I told Nora I loved her. I wasn’t trying to get laid, I really felt like I was in love. I felt like I could stay in LA. But I knew I wouldn’t. At least, not yet.
Scott and I continued to not get along. I was working with him and he asked me where I wanted to go for lunch. I told him I could go for some falafel. I couldn’t get enough falafel and LA had it in plentiful supply.
“Dude. You get falafel every day. You’re in LA, you can get anything you want. Why do you have to get falafel.”
“Well what do you want?”
“Something other than falafel.”
“Okay, that’s fine. You asked me what I wanted, that’s what I want, but I’ll eat where ever you want to eat.”
“Well you have to decide. I’m passing places. You have to let me know.”
“I did let you know. You didn’t like my choice. So you pick somewhere.”
“Well why do you eat falafel every day, don’t you get sick of it.”
“Dude, I don’t want to defend what I like, just shut the fuck up and pick somewhere to eat.”
Scott then freaked and started yelling and telling me I had to respect him and bla bla bla. I apologized but all that did was shift him back to my falafel addiction. I couldn’t get him to stop talking. Nothing I said would stop him. Ignoring him did not stop him. I was ready to punch him in the mouth. I was just glad I’d have a few days away from him as the other poor saps took their turns.
Dan and I would be laid of for a bit at the end of the LA run as the slow season began. I had managed to get some money in the bank. I asked Dan if he’d be interested in a drive to Nashville, Tennessee with me and he agreed. I went to Scott's apartment to say goodbye to Hoang. Scott started on me about some stupid shit.
"Please Scott, shut the fuck up. I'm begging you." He would not oblige.
"Okay Scott. I quit today. I have nothing to lose if I punch you in your mouth so keep talking."
I walked towards him and he locked himself in the bathroom. I sat and played Street Fighter II with Dan and Hoang and enjoyed the sound of Scott continuing his tirade through the locked bathroom door. An hour later I said goodbye to Hoang, shouted goodbye to Scott and we left.
Dan and I stayed at a youth hostel that night and Nora slept in my bed with me. They wouldn't let her stay there since she was an LA resident so we were sneaky and in the morning we got chewed out. I offered to pay for her staying there but the idealistic hostel loving man at the desk was concerned about the principle of the thing. I didn't have enough money to deal with principles.
I said goodbye to Nora, and other than a couple of letters and phonecalls we really didn't keep in touch. It was my first lesson in road love. Dan was right. I was an asshole.
>>>>>Go Next Story, Spike and Mike Part 4, Chicago (I go to jail!)>>>
Our first day in town, before even seeing our apartment we hit the streets, not so much because we were anxious to flyer as because we wanted to meet some folks to hang out with in LA. We did flyer of course, as this was the best way to meet people, instant ice breaker. A kid about my age, maybe a bit younger asked me if I was a writer. I’d been scribbling bad poetry and so I said yes, I was. He asked what my tag was and when I stared at him confused Homes and BJ started cracking up. A writer was what they called a tagger. He wanted to know if made a habit of writing on walls, as he saw the sharpie in my pocket. I told him I’d start immediately.
Somehow I ended up discussing Tank Girl, a favorite comic, with a girl named Nora. She was skinny in big cloths, like and old Asian man. She had thick brown hair with a bit of a wave to it. She was beautiful. She asked me if I’d like to see a double feature with her and I said I’d love to. I got her number and would call her up the next day. LA was going to treat me right.
Our night was cut short by an excited hyper man named Scott. Scott put a lot of effort into being rockabilly cool and he never relaxed. He talked more than I did, but he just repeated the same thought over and over again. I disliked him instantly. At Scott’s urging we headed back to the apartment. It was a two bedroom apartment. I shared a room with Dan and Homes and BJ were in the other. Everyone had their own bed so there was little risk of my cheek kissing ways returning.
Scott was staying in a different complex nearby with Hoang who I’d met in Sacramento and Frank. Frank was a bizarre man. He was an indy music scholar and the most passionate vintage shopper I’d ever encountered. His wore only vintage cloths, right down to his shoes. He was a short guy chubby guy and his beard and long hair combined with his always smiling face and earned him the nick-name the gnome. The nick name was used affectionately but only behind his back. You couldn’t help but like Frank and Frank did not like being the gnome.
Once in our apartment we went about finding the access to the roof. This would become a tradition. This particular roof didn’t offer much a view but it was a nice place to smoke a joint and unwind.
We started on the campuses early the next day and we were home by 2pm. I called Nora from a payphone. Dan was a bit hot on Nora as well, and Dan was getting jealous at my having an easier time winning the affections of the fairer sex. I didn’t want to use the phone in the apartment because I wanted to go out with this very interesting girl alone. After laughing at my mispronunciation of Sepulveda she left to pick me up.
I went back to the apartment to grab a pillow as per her instructions and Scott was still there. Apparently he’d heard me refer to him as a stooge to Nora.
“I don’t like being called a stooge.”
“I don’t like having my phone calls listened to.”
“Yeah, well don’t go around talking shit on me. I’m you’re boss.”
“I won’t do it on the clock boss.”
“Well it aint cool. You don’t even know me. Why are you calling me names?”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to get off on such a bad start. I won’t call you a stooge again, and I look forward to getting to know you. I’m sure we’re going to get along.”
“Well we can get along but not if you want to go around calling me a stooge.”
This was going nowhere. I pissed him off further by taking the pillow and leaving as he continued talking. Nora picked me up on the corner and took me to the New Art, a cool little theatre that was showing the original King Kong doubled with Mighty Joe Young which I’d somehow never seen. The theatre seats were most uncomfortable and I was glad Nora had instructed me to bring a pillow. After the film I called to see where we’d be working that night and Nora asked if she could join us. She even grabbed some flyers and helped.
After flyering we drove to the beach and had our first kiss. She was adorable and I was falling fast. My reputation as a player was intact and not all favorable. The guys thought I was too into meeting girls and not into finding a connection of any substance. They’d see. I was crazy about this girl and spent every second that I didn’t spend working hanging out with her.
LA is a huge sprawling mess. We were booked in three small theatres in different parts of town as getting a large theatre in LA was unthinkable. Everyday it seemed we found at least one new place to flyer; some cool new neighborhood that we’d missed before. We went to Venice beach repeatedly. The buskers there were hard to believe. An ancient woman dancing while a black man held to big palm leaves in front of her. For a buck he’d lift the leaves and you’d find out what and elderly woman in a bikini looked like. There was a ukulele involved somewhere as well. A thalidomide birth defect victim shimmied the thumbs that came out of his armless sholders and wiggled the two or thee toes that sprouted where his legs should have been. He’d wiggle and shuffle on a piece of cardboard while a jukebox played Michael Jackson’s hits. Then there were the sand sculptors and the sidewalk chalkers, the ocean/sunset/dolphin painters, the caricaturists ready to draw you with a big head and little body, they always found a celebrity to compare you to for a buck, the whole mess living their lives on tourist’s dollars. Hey, they spent all their time at the beach and make fair money. It seemed like an ideal life. I cursed my young and able body.
Keeping up with BJ during our rooftop smoke outs was a chore and I spent a lot of time wasted. Weed I could handle, alcohol I was an old pro at but the combination left me a bumbling dizzy fool. Our job often afforded us the luxury of being drunk and or high during the day. A daytime drunk feels different than being drunk in the evening. The world buzzes and vibrates when you’re drunk while the suns out bright and hot.
Stoned as could be and nursing a beer on a hot afternoon off I realized how incredibly lonely I felt. I was distracted from this feeling in S.F. and San Jose sucked in every way so the loneliness seemed to fit. But here I as with Homes and BJ and Dan, all relatively new friends. Where was Chris Brunner, and Christian, or Bryna, or Christine. Where was my family. All my brothers, my parents, they all seemed so far away.
I knew where Emily was. Emily, the first girlfriend I'd ever had as an adult. The girl who took my virginity. She took it too Nashville, or she ditched it somewhere along the way. I called her and I asked her how the hell I’d ended up here, in this strange place, this strange life. And she asked me if I was drunk. Of course I was god dammit. She told me I could call her when I was sober and she hung up.
I took a piss and felt my scalp tightening. I looked at my belly. It was bigger than it had ever been. Not too big compared to most, but it was growing. I wanted the day off to end. I didn’t like myself. My self esteem had gotten so high when I felt I'd conquered Sacramento and then I threw myself into this new world and I didn’t quite fit with Homes and BJ, certainly not with Scott. Dan was an amazing guy but not exactly warm and fuzzy, especially right now. He was sure that I was the antichrist. Nora was in his mind being played by a player and he, full of sincerity and goodneess wanted the chance to treat her right. This adventure was starting to get old, I needed it to do more than spin in circles which it was at this point threatening to do.
Every day one of us would work with Scott and one with Frank and the other two would work together. I was working on getting used to Scott and I loved working with Frank. Whichever of the two I worked with they could not pass a record store or thrift store without stopping and I was buying lot of music and cloths.
I came home one day to find that Homes and BJ had scored some opium. They showed me an enormous gooey ball of the stuff and told me they’d gotten it for ten bucks. I started laughing. I was quite sure my little buddies had been had.
“I aint smoking that. It aint opium. Not for ten bucks.”
“What is it then smart guy?”
“It’s incense or something.”
They smoked it, Dan joined them and they all got terrible headaches. It was weeks later that I smoked some weed through the same pipe that they had used. A nasty black smudge coated my insides. I got a headache and went to bed.
On another night BJ and Homes met two English girls. They were cute, but more educated than us and to stupid to appreciate the kind of smarts you don't buy. They laughed everytime was said BJ's name. Finally BJ asked what was so damn funny and they pointed out that in England BJ means blow job. We all started laughing and trying to explain that it ment that here too. BJ was not amused. I went to bed still giggling.
I continued seeing Nora almost every night and on my days off we’d go driving around town. We were doing plenty of heavy petting but she was a good girl and didn’t want to have sex with someone who would just be leaving. This was fine with me. I'd had enough sex, I was really enjoying this bright, creative and hillarious girl. I told Nora I loved her. I wasn’t trying to get laid, I really felt like I was in love. I felt like I could stay in LA. But I knew I wouldn’t. At least, not yet.
Scott and I continued to not get along. I was working with him and he asked me where I wanted to go for lunch. I told him I could go for some falafel. I couldn’t get enough falafel and LA had it in plentiful supply.
“Dude. You get falafel every day. You’re in LA, you can get anything you want. Why do you have to get falafel.”
“Well what do you want?”
“Something other than falafel.”
“Okay, that’s fine. You asked me what I wanted, that’s what I want, but I’ll eat where ever you want to eat.”
“Well you have to decide. I’m passing places. You have to let me know.”
“I did let you know. You didn’t like my choice. So you pick somewhere.”
“Well why do you eat falafel every day, don’t you get sick of it.”
“Dude, I don’t want to defend what I like, just shut the fuck up and pick somewhere to eat.”
Scott then freaked and started yelling and telling me I had to respect him and bla bla bla. I apologized but all that did was shift him back to my falafel addiction. I couldn’t get him to stop talking. Nothing I said would stop him. Ignoring him did not stop him. I was ready to punch him in the mouth. I was just glad I’d have a few days away from him as the other poor saps took their turns.
Dan and I would be laid of for a bit at the end of the LA run as the slow season began. I had managed to get some money in the bank. I asked Dan if he’d be interested in a drive to Nashville, Tennessee with me and he agreed. I went to Scott's apartment to say goodbye to Hoang. Scott started on me about some stupid shit.
"Please Scott, shut the fuck up. I'm begging you." He would not oblige.
"Okay Scott. I quit today. I have nothing to lose if I punch you in your mouth so keep talking."
I walked towards him and he locked himself in the bathroom. I sat and played Street Fighter II with Dan and Hoang and enjoyed the sound of Scott continuing his tirade through the locked bathroom door. An hour later I said goodbye to Hoang, shouted goodbye to Scott and we left.
Dan and I stayed at a youth hostel that night and Nora slept in my bed with me. They wouldn't let her stay there since she was an LA resident so we were sneaky and in the morning we got chewed out. I offered to pay for her staying there but the idealistic hostel loving man at the desk was concerned about the principle of the thing. I didn't have enough money to deal with principles.
I said goodbye to Nora, and other than a couple of letters and phonecalls we really didn't keep in touch. It was my first lesson in road love. Dan was right. I was an asshole.
>>>>>Go Next Story, Spike and Mike Part 4, Chicago (I go to jail!)>>>
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