It doesn’t hurt that I have been reading Bukowski and Kerouac recently..The needle point of words being injected through my eye and giving me a strong taste for nostalgia. Then to find myself among them once again...
My cousin calls them the Art Kids of Reno. I would skirt them… often enough..back in the day. It wasn’t really my world.. but i flirted long and hard with it. The poets and painters….. the bottle. Witnessed amazing art born from madness, despair and emptiness. On the fringe.. Longing to plunge into that dark void but never taking the dive. The desire to lose myself completely inching me slowly towards the edge. I only got my toes wet. Wet enough to feel the pull of the tide and know that.. if I went in.. Id never find my way back to shore.
I rarely went into that world unchaperoned. Always within arms distance from my dearest comrades, my fiercest defenders, trusted and loved.. to this day.. even continents and lost years apart. And in return I was their wing girl. I was pretty decent at finding them some gems under the filth and scum.
Anyway, When I didn’t have a chaperone things always went weird. Case in point... Ed. The little goth nurses Orderly from the Blue Lamp .. was he filipino?.. He had personalized licence plates which read “succubus”.. he liked the band the Replacements and when I started naming songs of theirs once from a bar seat.. well he became smitten.. though I didn't yet realize it.. he wrote poetry and read every week at the open mic night. His poems .. every one.. usually went something like this..
I took the scalpel
Drug it slowly across the skin
cutting through layers of skin, fat, tendon.
blood oozing begins to spurt
I am covered in blood.
The crowd always gave him a standing ovation. I never understood it. .Anyway, he asked me to step away from the dim dark den of drink and be his date at his work holiday event. I agreed. Dressed up and out we went out. Casino ballroom. He had a buddy there that I also new from the bar who had his girlfriend along. The girlfriend was an 18 year old stripper who took several water bottles filled with vodka to work with her each day just to endure the job. Her big dream was to go work in Tijuana. made some big money. She was cute, and since Ed was a bit weird, I turned a bit of my attention to this girl just so I would not lead him on or anything. He seemed rather..hmmm.. impressionable. When Ed dropped me back at home, he escorted me up and pulled out two dozen live roses and began spouting love poetry. Poetry like he had never written before. Poetry that I inspired after our one and only true conversation at the bar before he invited me out. Poetry that begged for my attention, my love. He wished to claim my very soul. The unexpected emo show went on for a minute, while i internalized my laughter and then I tried to let him down easy. Thanked him. And showed him the door.
Within a week I was invited to apartment of the girl from the party. She said that she and her boyfriend wanted to talk to me. Given their closeness to Ed I figured it had to do with him and I was ready to let them know that Ed was not a factor in my future. Thier downtown high rise apt was clean and tidy. A great view of the city from the living area which was decorated with white leather couches and leopard skin throws The walls were covered in her boyfriends photographs. Upon close inspection I learned that he took bodage pictures in remote desert settings. They were tastefully done as far as the genre goes and he was looking for models. She asked if I was I interested? I responded with a shake of the head and she began to tell me that I should really come work down at the club with her. She told me Id make bank. Not much later her boyfriend got there and they got to the heart of the invitation. Anyway, I ended up turning down their indecent proposals (which had nothing to do with Ed) and making a swift exit.
Days of old.. a reflection of what still remains and has grown up a little in the twenty odd years I have been away..They are still there, the Art Kids of Reno. Kids..still.. but they have built up quite a growing community. From competition to cooperation. No longer a group of only lost souls. It's inspiring to see. This weekend was a party for a dear old friend of mine. She is really rooted in helping the art community in Reno grow.
Once again submerged in that shady world which occasionally flares up with intensity and insanity (Think Burning Man for example). An ancient ache resurfacing. The desire to throw life away for room on skid row. Seriously. Id live at the Burner (my cousin - a most excellent chaperone- and I toured the place, simple.. practical.. communal.. to see a group at work in the kitchen made me grin). I would work out next door at the boxing gym and I would plod across the street to my studio. All the while attempting a tenacious grip on the painfully rocky edge of sobriety.. The dream was great til I got to the reality of that last statement.
Anyway..
So yes back to the trip.. From the top.. Greg could not join as he was in Seattle. Connor stayed over at a friends. so... Willow and I loaded up and drifted over the hill. When we dropped down we looked up an old buddy of mine, neil, and got in a visit with him. For a time in HS and into college he was one of my closest friends. Its hard to see what harm years of alcoholism and drug abuse and mental illness can do to a person. Even one who has sobered up and is becoming healthier. He is the biggest hearted guy on earth, but he is plagued with neurologically induced mental illness for which there are yet no miracle pills. Despite it all, he is totally and completely still the Neil I know and remember. It was wonderfully good to catch up with him. We spent the whole time laughing, Willow wielding wit and sarcasm to perfection over her vegan meal at the Pneumatic Diner. Good Times.
After dropping him back at home, we were off to kick off the party. It was a slow start. Wandered around the Valley Art Center. Its come a long way since I first saw it. Impressive. What is slowly but surely developing looks to be pretty nifty. I must say. They are not yet open to the public. First they need fire sprinklers and funding. But its come a long way. I found an older gentleman to stand against the wall and converse the history of buildings of Carson City with while his wife cruised the food buffet and made rounds with the birthday girls family. Willow doodled birthday wishes and eventually found some kids to play with. They were about 5 years old and had swords. She died many valent and dramatic deaths that night.
After a while I delivered her to the cousins where she got to watch Sesame Street and hang with her cousin for a bit before turning in. My cousin returned with me and we hung out. Chatted here and there and cut a rug together to snoop dog and I don’t know what else. It was sweet and wonderful. Went to check out the Burner Morris Hotel as mentioned earlier.
My cousin eventually wandered off himself in search of better and familiar entertainment. I remained to support and celebrate my friends birthday. After my cousin left..I began to circle from room to room. Listening to conversations.. learning about the dramas.. and watching the night unfold. The stoners took the dock to smoke on. The AV club hung out in school desks near the stereo and video.. fiddling. looking for dope beats to drop and playing with the bass. They were thrilled to have a girl who be-bopped and could talk “2 live crew” in their midst. Near the food buffet a handful practiced keg stands or milled about nibbling at the little bit of remaining grub.
I spent some time and philosophized about the course of life and soul loss with a man who reminded me of my father.. with the exception that he was short and mexican.
Upstairs a pair of lesbians conspired great artistic works while a recently divorced mother spilled her troubles and rejoiced in her newly obtained freedom as she face painted the birthday girl.
Id say it felt a lot like HS
Eventually the party goers began to drift away and only 6 remained. I was not sure where the night was going to lead me so I made sure to be sober enough to drive should the need arise, but I had slightly anticipated crashing there. That was until I was groped by one of the guests who took an extreme fascination to my boobs. Actually just my right boob. He had a grip on him too. I forcefully removed his hand and told him no. Like a spring his hand rebounded, clasping.. squeezing. I repeated the process. So did he. Again and again.. until I grabbed his arm and bit him. He had pursued my breast with single minded.. appreciation?.. for 20 minutes straight. Not a thing had seemed to deter his attentions. His behavior was very inappropriate but in truth I was never threatened or pressured by him... Just manhandled. But it was enough for me to call it a night. No need for it to wait around just to see if things might not turn ugly.
The rising sun greeted Willow and I as we stopped in to see Great Grandma and take the well worn path home. A weekend of crazy reminiscing and sludging through my darker corners complete. At home sunny with 80 degree weather.
