mindpill...........: February 2010

inspiration can show up in one`s mind at odd times; songs can redirect energy and memories can come pouring through floodgates of years of mental and physical abuse.........
california has actually had some `weather` recently and it has added a whole nuther dimension to my melancholy and overall joy with the feeling of lonliness........yeah, i like the feeling of being alone. it doesn`t scare me the way it does other folks...........
driving in my confidence-crushing transportation of choice; watching my wipers frantically trying to keep up with the solid downpour from the heavens.....feeling wonderfully low; starting to wish i had gotten the radio fixed that has been broken for 4 1/2 years of this vehicle that i`ve owned for 5..........never mind.
petrol is low so in i roll to refuel and a familiar sound/tune sweeps me in to eves drop from the kids car next to me................ is that neil young? live rust never sleeps? yes, like a hurricane. so it goes...................
roll back the years..........after the punk rock scene started and ended (lasted a whole 6-8 months) but before the year of Big Brother; it was a classic california late summer/early indian summer, 81 degrees......water temp around 77 degrees, southern hemisphere swell jumps on our southern facing beaches and was gonna be here for at least a few days. i sat looking at the clock friday early evening waiting for it to strike 5:00 so i could get in the fuckin water and wash the filth of a decent days work off of my corrupt being. i was working on the westside at a little mom and pop assembly line building auto-pilots for sailboats.... this was when the westside was saturated with boat yards, surfboard builders and chopper shops..... the combinations of resins, fiberglass dust, gasoline and other solvents would bring the average laymen to their knees begging for the serum to stop the hallucinations but i had been here most of my teenage life and i feel i wouldn`t have been able to breath without it. the westside had everything that a young apprentise derilect could possible ever dream of having........then the fucking corporate side of the surfing industry found out how cheap the rent was then every company came in and built their compounds............capitalism can sometimes squish a good thing. such is the case.
the bell dinged and off i took....but not before Mustache-Ride Jerry called me over. i thought he found out i was keeping a friendship with his ex-old lady but i think i was being paranoid. ` Hey Nash, you fucking my old lady`? ` what`!? I... what?!!! `shut up, i`m just fuckin with you. got a little treat for you. you gettin out in the water? southern hemi is coming up the coast`. `yeah Jer, you goin?` `naw, you kids should be out, not us old fucks....... well listen, got you some sh`rooms. `really`, my fear drifting away. `you`ll be like a warrior out there paddling through the line-up like a crazed indian`. `i`d like that, thanks`. so in my hand went the foil covered mushrooms and off i went toward the beach slowly munching them in search of my ritualistic cleansing.
ten minutes passed by the time i finished that little bag of shit, gagging it down the whole time, to where I stashed my stick at 40th st. under this old house only to find my fuckin board is gone. MY FUCKIN BOARD IS GONE. this is what has kept me alive all day was knowing i would be paddling out to 6-8 foot lefts breaking off the 44th st. jetty, peeling down the beach, backside barrels, section after section.........just killing it. everything was gone. board, shorts, towel...motherfuckers. i was PISSED. but i started laughing, hello mushrooms.........
well i stormed out to the beach laughing hard; i went up to the first kid i saw and grabbed his board. it was a McCoy, about a hair over 6 foot, fat little teardrop. the kid and his friends said i was an idiot and they would call the cops and i laugh/growled some nonsense, pulled by boots and socks off took off my shirt and headed out to what i saw as liquid bliss wearing my levis. as i was paddling out everyone was making weird faces at me (or so i thought) and that made me laugh even more hysterical. i was madly weaving through the line-up to snake the best waves i could. most of the people out there knew who i was and it must have been pretty obvious how amazingly high i was. i was splashing water everywhere and at everyone and the way was opening up just for me. i must have robbed about a dozen waves or so and anger was looming over my head to get me out of the mob of surfers trying to get waves. a set was lurching up out past the other side of the jetty when i screamed i got it. i guess everyone was giving up with me all wacked out so mine it was. i dropped in to the most grindiest wave, grabbing my rail then straightening up to slide into THE most perfect barrel...... not a drop of water touching me, my arms spread out trying to touch the wave like a pagan savior. as i came out of the barrel with a blast of spit, i put my hands over my head like a bullfighter and screamed OLE`........ that was the picture Surfer Magazine captured, levis and all, to put in the feature about the big southern hemisphere swell that graced our beaches at the end of summer.
well what does this have to do with the neil young song, like a hurricane? i`m long winded, does that make me a bad guy?! got to the beach and told those little fucks i was gonna bring their board back...... except my boots and shirt were gone. the sun was going down and the temps were still up and off i went to Baldwins end of summer bash at his parents house on the golf course in mesa verde.......just my levis and barefeet. and i was still kinda fucked up but acting crazier.... i think. i remember sitting on a wall over-looking the golf course but forgetting where Baldwins house actually was. two kids across the street where staring at me and one called over, ` can we come over now, are you better?!` what ever. `do what you want, free country.` `that was so rad, you were doing crazy kung-fu junk and kicking people`s legs out and jumping off of walls and outta trees at people...........`what?` `look at the blood all over you, should we call someone? i think the police are gonna come.` `what?` i looked down and had blood all over my chest and stomach. `your nose is bleeding pretty bad, you should put your head back.` i had blood all over my shoulder and arm were i gueesed i must have tried to wipe my nose. `hey dude, can i do something?` `sure.` i figured what else could happen to me. beside these kids were about 12 or so. so this one kid who had the coolest face, his eyes weren`t symetrical to his face, no really, my buzz was totally wearing down, reached over and put his finger to right under my nose and took a swipe of blood off my face and proceeded to put a stripe on either side of my cheeks below my eye. i pulled back when he smudged it under my left eye. `sorry about that. you`re gonna have the best black-eye.` the BEST black-eye huh. `well alright`. `you look like a warrior now.` `thanks....well hey listen, i`m looking for this party....?` `you mean Tommy Baldwin`s party?` `that`s it ..........` over there were the music is coming from.` `sounds like a party, thanks` ` later, kung-fu warrior, you rock`. i left not really feeling much like a role model but kinda............
i glided to the house and the band was was destroying ramones, kiss, skynard, frampton, devo, foghat slow ride. fuck yeah, i was feeling it but in a normal way i think. i didn`t feel as wasted as i did earlier. but again people were staring. enough with the staring but this time i was able to hear clearly what folks were saying. alot of hellos but nervous walk-aways with, `oh shit, look at him, what did he do now?` ` that guy will be dead in a year`. `I heard that fucker. i`m bloody not deaf.` i caught a reflection of myself in a mirror on the way to get a beer from the keg. oh shit, i looked bad. the blood had pretty much dried up and was dark brown yuk starting to randomly peel off my face and body. `oh my god, you fucked that guy`. `i heard that too. hey karen..............` `dude, you gotta be hurtin. heard you were killing it at 44th. we were at 56th. murry, kwock, everyone was there. photographers everywhere.` Ballard was always THERE. `you need something to ease the pain bro.` just then i heard, thought i heard, yeah i heard right, the band called out on the mic, `this next song is dedicated to mike nash` and then the band rolls into `like a hurricane` by neil young. everyone is pushing and patting me and smiles are all of a sudden everything and my bloody carcass is somehow forgotten and i`m taking a big snort of something from Ballard who is always THERE..... and i`m tripping to the bathroom and my nose is burning and i see myself in one of those magnified mirrors hanging off the big mirror and SHIT! i gotta get outta here and everything is moving too fast and the door won`t open and it`s hot in here because somehow the shower is turned on full speed hot. gotta get out, so i pull the toilet seat back and forth till it comes off and i proceed to bust out a giant floor to ceiling amber colored window with the toilet seat and take off running out to my nowhere..................
Big Bill woke me up when he was opening up the Stag bar down at the pier at around 5;45 a.m..... it was such a nice warm morning. i think it was gonna be a good day. i felt it.`nash, that you? how come you never go home? isn`t someone waiting for you? come in, let me get you something.` Big Bill knew everything about ww2 and the nazis. he wasn`t a nazi but he knew about all that shit. he tossed me a Stag t-shirt. `how many of these shirts you got now?` `not now Bill. but a vodka will help.` Bill looked at me shaking his head, `you best be careful boy, keep your head in check.` `yeah Bill, vodka.`
three days later i was getting out of the water and 4 guys ran up and started beating the shit outta me. easily a 45 second beat down. you know how long 45 seconds are in a fight? fuckin long. luckily i heard a woman screaming she had called the cops and to leave me alone. everyone took off runnin while i surveyed the damage.... blood again, pain, mostly ribs and kidney, my board was fucking destroyed. had to be sportos, surfers would never destroy a guys board no matter what the moron did. as i was laying there listening to the lady crying and waving a rag or something , i ran my tongue over my teeth and felt that they were all there. that brought a smile to my face and a thought to my head, `still got my teeth, fuckers`.
6 days later i found out that that was the guy i smashed out the window in the bathroom of his parents house..........

two weeks later i found out Ballard gave me coke and angel dust at the party.... he`s always THERE.........