First . . .
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Thank you, everyone, for supporting this page and for all of the engaging/valuable conversation you’ve driven - it’s become my favorite part of the week. I never would have imagined I’d meet so many great people here.
Last week I had a request from an old friend to write about our rave/party days. One of my ‘editors’ called this a good terrible story. Maybe it’s a terrible good story. Or just terrible. In the words of Bukowski -
Bite-Sized Prose #2: Fictional Truths
We did a bump for the road, snaked through the clutter, and stepped onto the busy sidewalk. There were hipsters on bikes, bums on grates, and girls tripping on heels. Men dragged cigarettes and stared at asses. I’d done just enough ketamine for the world to lose proportion and just enough ecstasy to keep me on my feet. We got a taxi to the far side of the city and stepped straight into the underworld.
I recognized Pink as soon as we walked in. There he was, with his pointy hair and pointy face, bobbing behind the turntables.
The place was full. I had to step away from a guy swinging a fiery chain, and painters and canvases lined the walls. It was dark and the floor rumbled beneath our feet.
Jess and I signaled each other to the bathroom. I stood fussing in the mirror and we talked through her stall door. People came and went - men, women, laughing, joking, disappearing behind graffitied doors to do their drugs. There was no such thing as ‘men’s’ or ‘women’s’ toilets, no one gave a shit.
Jess was in there forever. I knocked and she let me in.
“I have the E pees,” she said. “I have to go so bad but nothing’s coming out.”
“Girl, you can’t sit there all night. You can try again later.”
I pulled out a bag of K and scooped a bump with a long nail. I served her first and mine shot like a bullet to the back of my throat. I squinted and quacked like the Duck.
Jess fell against the stall laughing with her panties still around her ankles.
“Let’s get out of here.” I said. “You talk to Pink yet?”
“Not yet.”
“C’mon, let’s go, he’s been eye-fucking you since we got here.”
She gave up and followed me through the colorful crowd.
The Duck was leaning against a wall with a cigarette drooping from his lip. He patted his pockets in slow motion, checking them over and over and over. I stood in front of him and he looked at me, glazed.
“You’ve been smoking crack,” I said.
He said nothing and patted some more.
“Dude, that’s gross.” I reached in, pulled out the little baggy and left him there.
Jess and I squeezed through a crowd of huge pupils to the stage. Pink had a record in his hand and his eyes were on Jess.
“Oof, look what you’re barely wearing”, he yelled over the music at her tight dress. He looked at me, and nodded, “Blondie.” I nodded back and lit a cigarette. He was a fast talker and wore a loud shirt. “I’m done my set.” He looked around and tippy-toed over our heads, “got any . . .”. He tapped the side of his nose.
“Lando has it. He’s here somewhere with his new hotty.”
“And the Duck?”
“Back there,” I nodded over my shoulder. “He’s all quacked out.”
“What?” he yelled over the bass and leaned in closer.
“He’s a mess!” I yelled back. “We’re gonna go smoke. Meet us outside?”
“Cool.” He winked at Jess and disappeared into the crowd.
“He’s so cute,” Jess yelled, following me out. I pushed hard on the heavy door and we lowered down the steps with our bare legs and stilettos.
“I love your outfits!” a girl called out to us. She was a cute little thing with a voice and hair to match.
“Thanks hun!” Jess said with a big smile.
“Very cool,” the girl said. She was with a group of guys. “Come sit with us!”
We did and she leaned over to introduce herself and the table. We introduced ourselves back. I crossed my legs and ran my fingers back through my hair. The guy next to me had broad shoulders with green eyes and a straight smile.
“Is Blondie your real name?” he said.
I laughed, lit a cigarette and smiled at his perfect face.
“I’m Drake.”
“Hi Drake.”
“Wait a minute, Blondie? You know the Duck, right?”
Everyone knew the Duck. He had the drugs.
Jess was busy chatting.
I nodded toward the door. “He’s inside.”
Drake took my cigarette for a drag. “There’s someone I want you guys to meet. He’s throwing a party. It’s a killer place on Linden Trail. You should come. Bring the Duck.”
“Yeah, we’re down. When?”
“We’re leaving here soon,” he said. “You guys have wheels?”
“Yeah, we can get there.” Drake was hot and my cheeks were red.
I got the address and rounded up the troops and we piled high into Pink’s Denali. We were loud and wild and Jess tripped up the truck’s high step. She fell back, ass-first onto the pavement and her dress pulled up around her waist. I fell out laughing at her.
“You crazy bitch!” I laughed, crawling over to help.
“C’mon ladies!” Pink yelled with his arm out the window. “If you’re gonna make out, let’s do it already, otherwise, let’s go!”
Jess and I wobbled back up on our heels and climbed in.
It was now 6:00 am, 54 hours without sleep and we were climbing the west hill to meet God knows who.
Jess and Viva were the first soldiers down and they passed out in the backseat.
“So what’s the deal with this guy?” Lando said with gated houses flying by our sides.
“The party’s probably dry.” I turned in my seat to face the Duck. “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah”, he said. His eyes were half shut, “All good, baby.”
“Jesus fuck look at this place,” Pink said as we pulled through the open gate. We spilled out and left the girls in the back to sleep.
“Hey!” Drake was outside waiting. “You made it.” He flashed me a white smile and led us up the front steps.
‘Pepsi’ met us at the door. He was a striking Asian man with his balls tucked into a red lace teddy. He wore a long sheer dressing gown and his makeup was impeccable.
“Girl, you are looking fierce in those come-fuck-me heels!” His eyes widened, “. . . and look at you, Robert Downey.” He stepped back for a better view of the Duck. “Mm. Come”, he said, motioning for us to follow.
Pepsi linked arms with the Duck and led us, chest up, hips swaying, through the colorful crowd.
It was a long walk to the back of the house. He talked endlessly past antique furniture and a gaudy art collection. He caught me looking up at a gold framed painting and stopped us.
“You like it?”
I studied the naked bodies reaching out to each other in the clouds. “It’s beautiful,” I said, but I knew shit about art.
“It’s my favorite.” His perfectly manicured hand was pressed to the side of his face. “My guardian angels.”
I glanced at Lando and Pink. They looked high as hell and Pepsi clapped his hands.
“You, come with me,” he said, pointing at the Duck. “Drake, honey, be a doll and take everyone in for a drink.”
They disappeared and Drake led us to an impressive kitchen and left us there to take a call. Everything was white. White walls, white counters, white paneled appliances. I lit a cigarette, sat at the island and dangled my throbbing feet above the floor. House bass vibrated through the walls and Lando took the stool next to me. He looked like shit.
Pink went straight for the booze. “That guy’s a trip,” he said, pouring a whisky.
“Which one?” I did a bump of coke to wake up.
“What do you mean, which one? The tranny,” he laughed. He handed me a whiskey and I waved it away. “You think he wants a sample?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said.
“They’ve been in there forever,” he said, double-fisting the whiskeys. He took a sip from one. “You think they’re fucking?” he laughed.
I laughed, too. “Probably. He’s pretty messed up.” I looked at Lando for his reaction. He was out cold with his head on the counter.
“Thanks doll!” Pepsi’s singy voice clicked past us. He was tucking a baggy into his lingerie and the Duck came to join us.
“So?” I said, “what were you girls up to?”
He steadied himself on the marble slab and pulled out a bag of white powder. “He took a sample of coke,” he said, shoveling a heaping key up a nostril. He had lipstick smudged across his face.
“Dude, I have the coke! You gave it to me in the car. That’s K!” I said.
This was a disaster. One’s an upper, one’s a downer - one the antidote to the other. A coke-sized line of K would put anyone on their ass.
“WHAT THE FUCK!!!” we heard from down the hall and the voice was loud and shrill. “He’s OD-ing! Do something!”
My stool screeched across the floor and I ran for the living room. Pink was two steps behind me. I rounded the corner and saw Pepsi slouched in an armchair, pigeon-toed, and now very untucked.
The cute girl from the rave and a sparkly-winged fairy panicked at his side.
The fairy held his head. “Call 911!”
The crowd was buzzing, “. . . laced coke . . . who? . . . I think they’re in the kitchen.”
I pushed through them. “C’mon hun, sniff up.” I shoveled a heap of blow up Pepsi’s little nose.
“Get off him!” The cute girl grabbed my arm and I elbowed her away. The fairy pulled back on my long hair. I grabbed her by the wing strap and swung around with my fist. It connected with a crack and she held her nose. It bled through her fingers.
Pepsi was coming to. I tucked the baggy in his bra and Pink called me from the front door. We bolted to the driveway and we were on the homestretch to the Denali when I heard Drake’s voice.
“Hey! Where you going?!” He lowered his phone and the party spilled out behind him.
I dove in the backseat and Lando and the Duck were already there.
“Blondie!” Drake called.
“Go!” I yelled at Pink. A sparkly shoe hit my window.
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?!” he yelled back.
The engine roared and bottles thumped and shattered on bumpers and panels.
We were out the gate and down the hill and ready to call it a night in the afternoon sun.
A note . . .
I’ve been threatening to introduce podcast episodes for some time now and they’re still in the works, so bear with. I have a number of guests lined up, from psychologists and professors, to addicts, dealers and those who’ve danced with the devil and changed their lives around. This is an entirely novel venture for me (I’m not exactly fussy about being on camera) but I think it’s one worth exploring. Stay tuned.
I’ve never ‘groveled’ for money here because first, it feels cringe, and second, it hasn’t been the main goal. I typically put out posts for free and “lock” some of them up at a later date. The novel and those in the works have, and always will be behind a paywall (because they’re a ton of work) and soon there will be Amazon links for hard copy/Kindle purchase. I’ll be sending out more ‘paid only’ content in the near future: typically deep dive articles and a selection of future podcast episodes as they require a lot of time and effort.
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Happy Friday, everyone.
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