This my new novel here...I swear that this is not stealing from other stories in this part of the forum...I swear....
Chapter 1
We were driving through the mountains, cruising at about fifty-eight in a thirty-five zone. It was just me and Jessie Portwood, flying in an old Jeep, bouncing on occasional potholes, both of us smoking Marlboros as the afternoon heat baked us over.
We had removed the top to the Jeep, and the doors as well. Spring had just begun, and we had agreed that a Jeep with its doors and a top would not suffice in the Virginia heat. So we had the top off, and I was standing up on the passenger seat, the wind blowing in my face, making me feel like I was on a rollercoaster as my hair was flying backwards, feeling the drag of the wind’s power.
I should have been sitting down with my seatbelt on, but Jessie had claimed earlier that few cops ever came driving down this road. “It’s private property,” Jessie had claimed.
And so, I was having the time of my life instead, clenching my cigarette in one hand, my other hand gripping a part of the frame where the passenger-side door used to be. I was holding on for dear life as Jessie swerved through the curves, narrowly making them in his lifted Jeep.
Jessie was sweating viciously in the heat; his face was red with exertion as he concentrated on the road. His shoulder-length blonde hair flapped similarly to mine, and sometimes it flew right in front of his eyes. During the straight parts of the road he would reach up and yank the strands of blonde back, behind his ears so that he could see. He cut a comical sight driving the Jeep, mostly because he had quite the gut. It bulged all around the steering wheel, and made it difficult for him to steer properly. He leaned often into the curves, using his stomach as an aid in turning the wheel.
I whooped as yet another sharp curve came hurtling towards us, forcing Jessie to curse and crank the wheel hard to the right, barely making the turn. The momentum of the car trying to turn on a dime caused the left side of the car to hydroplane, tilting the car up in the air for a moment. I was hollering as Jessie swore again and again until the car settled back down.
“Maybe you should go slower!” I had to shout to be heard. He had pitched his cigarette, pale-faced from that last turn.
He didn’t even argue with me, like he usually did. He slowed it down a tad, cutting the speed from almost sixty to forty-five. “We gotta find a place to stop,” he said. “I gotta piss.”
“You just went,” I reminded him as he turned gently this time, careful not to repeat his mistake from the last turn. “Not half an hour ago. What, you got a weak bladder or something?”
“Shut up!” he glared at me briefly, and then jerked the car off of the road and into a ditch, causing me to lose my balance and fall into the back of the Jeep.
Killing the engine, he leaped out and ran to the end of the ditch, where a small creek was forming. I had lost my cigarette, and felt the need of another. I had it lit in no time, and leaned back against the Jeep as he finished up his business and came back to the car, smiling. “That was hilarious.” He was referring to how I’d fallen into the back of the Jeep as he had stopped.
“Not really,” I countered him. “It just shows how much you suck at driving, really.”
“You just wish,” he was climbing back in the car, starting the engine. I jumped into the passenger seat, wary this time lest he tried to start off without me. “that you had skills like me.” He finished as the engine roared to life.
I nodded, merely humoring him. “So who we meeting around here, anyway? You never said.”
“Huh? Oh, a friend of mine. She’s having a few friends over and wanted me to come up.” Jessie shrugged. “Her place ain’t to far from here. We’ll be there in ten minutes.” He glanced at my hand holding the cigarette and said, “And she hates smoking, so you might wanna ditch that and get the freshener in the back.”
“Right.” He waited for me to grab it and spray myself quickly before taking off, getting us out of the ditch in a graceless manner, with the Jeep bouncing up and down wildly until we were clear. Thank God there had been no cars incoming from the road; Jessie didn’t even bother to look to see if anyone was coming towards us or not.
“Did I already mention how bad you are at driving?” I said once we were underway, without a ditch or something similar hampering us.
“I said shut up, didn’t I?” he reached into the back and pulled out a CD case, handing it to me. “Pick something out, will ya?”
I was happy to oblige him. Searching around in the case, taking a glance at every CD he owned, I smiled with joy at the possibilities of what could be played. God had been good to me when he had set me and Jessie up as dorm mates a year ago. We loved the same kind of music. His case was rife with classics such as Led Zepplin, Black Sabbath, or Jimi Hendrix. But it also contained the classics of tomorrow; Collective Soul, Smashing Pumpkins, the Offspring, and Nirvana. And then there were the interesting CD’s, the obscure ones that few people even knew existed. Bands like King Crimson and Porcupine Tree of the rock scene (due to lack of a better named genre for them), and Johnathan Coltrane of the jazz movement.
I selected Sabbath for the occasion, and slipped the CD in. Instantly, “Paranoid” started to blast from the crappy speaker system that came with the Jeep. Jessie and I fell silent as the music hit, letting it speak. I formed an air guitar and started playing to the song, knowing exactly which chord needed to be hit. Jessie would’ve started playing air bass, had he not been the one driving. Together, we rolled on without speaking, basking in the glory of our first and last passion on Earth; music.
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__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
When we had arrived at the place, Jessie had quickly made introductions while I surveyed the situation. Four girls, all cute, but not especially great-looking, all drinking a bit of liquor, trying to be hardcore or something. I honestly didn’t know if they were trying to impress us or what; drinking any kind of liquor in small sips with Coke as a chaser wasn’t exactly my idea of drinking.
But who was I to talk? I never drank much anyway. I was a smoker, not a drinker. The four girls were Janice - Jessie’s friend - and her girls, Patricia, Erin, and Megan. A black girl and two blondes, one of them a bleached-blonde. I could tell, looking at Megan’s hair. She was really a brunette trying to be a blonde, for reasons that I couldn’t discern.
We sat out on Janice’s back porch, a deck that was elevated about thirty feet above the ground. The rest of the house loomed over us. I didn’t know Janice, but it wasn’t necessary to know her if I had wanted to know what she was like. It was obvious she was rich and flaunting it as she talked about her new car, the one she’d gotten after wrecking her last one. I was tempted to get another cigarette as I leaned against the railing, bored as Jessie started flirting with all of the girls.
They were younger than us; I could’ve sworn that they were still in high-school. It bothered me that Jessie didn’t seem to care at all that they were just flirting for the sake of it; they truly didn’t care about him. I could read between the lines; I could see their eyes as they lied through their teeth.
And poor Jessie couldn’t see it. It was either that or he was simply blind, or maybe he chose to ignore their lies because it made him feel better that they were paying attention to the fat kid for a change.
Or maybe I was just paranoid? I hadn’t a clue.
“Hey, Chad,” Jessie was hitting me in the ribs, and I realized that I had been off in my own little world again. I looked down at him, noting that he had his arm around Patricia.
“Dude, give Mitch a call,” He said. “Ask him what he’s planning on doing.”
“You know that our break started today, right? What’s your hurry?” I left him anyway. I didn’t know why he was rushing to find something huge to do for the night. I was just excited to get off for a little while. The semester had been killing me.
Then again, I hadn’t been doing much this semester. Having adjusted well enough to George Mason University in the year and a half that I had been there, I had always managed to cruise through school, earning decent grades without breaking much of a sweat. But this semester had been different.
It was one thing to have to lose a close friend to a drunk driver. It was another to watch as your own mother copped an ace in spades and get nailed by a truck that ran a stoplight.
I had no desire to think about the death of my flesh-and-blood mother, who had left me with nothing. I had earned my $20,000 scholarship the hard way; working through high school with no breaks, no fun and no smiling.
I was sitting on the stairs leading up to the back porch, failing to get Mitch to pick up the phone, when she ran into me. A girl that looked quite similar to Janice, except taller, darker hair, sweeter blue eyes, and creamy, tanned skin sauntered towards the stairs, pausing when she saw me.
I could tell that she was startled, so I initiated things first. “Hello,” I put my cell phone back in my pocket as she smiled.
“Hi,” she said. “Did Janice invite you?”
“Sort of. I’m here with Jessie Portwood.” I stood up, letting her pass by me. She smelled nice. I couldn’t tell what kind of perfume it was, but it was nice whatever it was.
“Oh, Jessie? I haven’t seen that guy in years!” she was now beaming, and then she asked me, “So who are you?”
“Chad Palma,” I shook her hand. It felt soft and cool.
“Rachel,” She said. “I’m Janice’s older sister.”
“Ah,” I followed her up the steps. “So is she still in high school or what?” I hadn’t even realized I’d asked until she turned around, smiling, but obviously confused as to why I would ask such a thing.
“Why?” she even said. I had no real comeback.
“Just wondering,” I finally said. “She seems a bit too young to be in college.”
Rachel laughed after a moment of staring at me. “You’re right.” She continued up the steps. That was it. I felt like I’d been quietly rejected.
So I went and fell back against the railing I had posted up against before. But I kept my eyes on Rachel as she spoke with Janice quickly, and hugged Jessie enthusiastically as if they were old friends. I noted the grin on Jessie’s face; it got bigger when he glanced my way, noting how I was studying Rachel. He winked at me as her back was turned.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Rachel said to us all. “I’ve got to go get ready for work.”
And she left. I made a note to myself that I would have to speak with Jessie about Rachel later. That girl was smooth. And interesting. And I couldn’t take my mind off of her for the rest of the duration we spent at Janice’s.
So later, after parting ways with the girls, we headed down the path to the Jeep. I took the opportunity to interrogate Jessie.
“That girl, Rachel? How do you know her?”
“Wooed by her that easily? I’ve known her since high school.”
“Yeah, well maybe you can tell me more about her, instead of being a smartass,” I climbed into the passenger seat of Jeep as he took his time starting it up.
“Well,” he said slowly as he reversed us up the driveway. “She’s a sophomore, like us. Goes to GMU too; I’m surprised you don’t know her.”
“C’mon man, a lot of people go to GMU. Don’t be stupid.”
“Okay, fine. She’s Janice’s sister, and she’s cool. What, whaddya want from me, a biography? You wanna know her, ask her yourself.”
I rolled my eyes. He asked me to change from Black Sabbath to something else, so I obliged him. We went from Sabbath to Led Zepplin. Instantly , I started strumming the air guitar again to “Stairway to Heaven.”
“You love this song, huh?” Jessie knew I did; he was just being sarcastic.
“Great pace, great composition,” I grinned as the music slowly took my mind away from Rachel, amongst other things. “Great song, man. What’s your point? You know I love it. This is one of the greatest songs ever written.”
He didn’t try to argue it. He was too busy humming the song under his breath. I got myself another cigarette as we drove off back the way we came, headed in the direction towards home. My mind was clear, and my heart content. This break was going to be a good one. I could just tell.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 2
“Hello?” I stepped over the rug in the hall, which led towards the kitchen and the dining room. The air smelled like cooked Bratwurst. Marvin had already fixed dinner.
Or maybe he had finished it; I hadn’t planned on coming home early. It was eleven at night. Maybe he’d been in a good mood; enough to feed the son that wasn’t his blood.
As I popped my head into the dining room, I saw Grant, my little half-brother, still in high school, finishing up his dinner and cleaning the table. Sitting there, still eating slowly, was my step-father Marvin. Large, and quiet, Marvin wasn’t even close to what my real dad had been. My real father had been a loud, energetic character that Mom had divorced because he’d cheated on her twice with a stripper and a younger girl, almost my age.
But just because Marvin spoke softer tones did not mean that he wasn’t a tough guy. The man had seen service in the military since he had been twenty. He’d retired as a colonel in the marines three weeks before him and mom got married. He was lonely, and bored from retirement, and she had just divorced my real Dad…
The rest, they say, is history. Grant had been conceived, and I’d sat by, watching my family grow once more, with different rules and regulations in the house.
“You’re late.” Marvin commented after having a sip of water. “I said ten. You’re back at eleven.”
“I went up into the mountains. I didn’t think we were going that far.” I shrugged his comments off.
“Yeah, well next time you’re going to regret it,” he stood up, wincing as arthritis attacked his knees. “I’m not kidding around anymore. When I ask you to be home at a certain time, I want you home. Understood?”
“Sure thing,” I never said the word ‘dad’ because I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Couldn’t call him Marvin, either, because that was rude to disrespect a former Marine.
Marvin sighed as he carried his plate to the kitchen. “Hey, Grant,” he leaned into the living room. “Wash the dishes, will you please?”
“Fine.” Grant was a good kid. I loved the little guy, even though he really wasn’t a full-blooded brother to me. Mature for his age, he was built exactly the opposite of Marvin, yet he tried to act like him. Claimed he wanted to enlist after high school. He’d even gone as far as to shave his head; a fifteen year old without hair looked frightening to me; stocky or not. His countenance was that of a sickly child. But he made up for it with a mental toughness that was impressive at the least. A toughness not a lot of people saw.
“Hey,” Grant said to me. “Are you planning on playing your guitar tonight?”
“Why does it matter?” I had indeed been planning on it. Guitar was a daily task for me, and it was one I looked forward to.
“Do you think you could tone it down for tonight? I’ve got a big test tomorrow.”
I laughed as he did the dishes. I sat down at the small coffee table in the kitchen, gloating at his statement. “That’s right. You still got a week before break, don’t you?”
“Shut up, man.” He grumbled and muttered darkly.
“You know,” I said to him, despite his efforts to ignore me. “Maybe you should start playing an instrument. Or doing something that’s more than just JROTC or whatever it is you do in school that makes you wear that *** outfit-”
“It’s a uniform!” he corrected me. I shrugged it off.
“Like I said; whatever.” I was having too much fun to back off then. Even though his face was getting red, and I was feeling somewhat guilty, I couldn’t just sit there and let it end like that.
“Maybe you should think more about having a good time in life than just doing what dad tells you to do.” I stood up, ready to go and jam on my guitar. Grant looked like he was ready to kill me.
“Maybe,” he said “I like JROTC. Maybe, just maybe, I enjoy hanging out with dad, instead of just trying to play rebel.”
I laughed, although the final zinger he sent my way irked me. Rebel? I never thought of myself one. It hurt to think that Grant considered me the enemy in the household.
But I suppose that described me well as a person; I was the wild, untamed kid. Grant was the disciplined and unimaginative household favorite.
The stairway was dark as I made my way up the stairs to my room. It had been two days since I had come home, and I was still getting used to the house again. Not too much had changed; dad had left my room as it had been before I’d left for GMU. When I flicked the light on in the room, it illuminated a whole new universe.
Posters covered almost every scrap of the walls; I even managed to tag a bit of the ceiling with a few. All pictures of heroes of the musical revolution; from the sixties to even the modern day heroes. Tom Morello hung above my bed, like Jesus might’ve been hung up in another household. To Tom’s left, my computer desk contained several pictures of friends from the past, as well as an assortment of writing utensils and notes.
But what my eyes really saw was standing on its pedestal, next to the amp that came with it. The all-black, seven-string Ibanez smiled back at me, and I couldn’t stand the tension any longer. I snatched it up, connected it to the amp, and turned it on.
And after a bit of squealing feedback, a bit of strumming, I began to play some serious stuff. Anything that came to mind, be it a simple riff from a random song that was stuck in my head, or something better, a solo or something, I played it there and then. I was in my own little world; there was nothing that could break through and reach me.
Not even the insistent knocking on my door, which was no doubt Grant trying to get me to quit it. He could only dream. I know I was dreaming; eyes shut, music became everything to me. It was all I could hear, all I could see, all I could feel.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 3
“Hey yo, Palma!” Mitch had stopped by early that next morning. Surprised the hell outta me. The tall, goofy punk just burst in wide through the door, grinning that stupid grin of his. His hair had been greased back, and his skin was dark red from getting burnt. He was missing a tooth. I saw this as he pulled me into a bear-hug and slapped me on the back. It wasn’t the front tooth; it was several teeth to the left side of his mouth, hardly noticeable unless he grinned.
And unfortunately for Mitch, he grinned all the time. Nothing got the kid down; nothing ever upset him, really. I envied this quality, and fervently wished that Mitch could’ve been a brother to me, instead of just being a friend.
“You know you’re missing a tooth?” I couldn’t help it. I had to know what he had done to lose it. “How’d that happen?”
“Oh that? A fight.” I just smiled and nodded my head as he elaborated. I should’ve known.
“Guy was too drunk to know what hit him. He hit me in the face with a bottle while I was smiling, and after that, it was all me. Broke his arm.”
“You need to stop fighting.” Mitch just laughed as I shook my head. “Seriously, man. One of these days, you’re gonna run into someone who knows what they’re doin’, and they ain’t gonna play nice with you.”
“Whatever.” He sat down at the coffee table as I handed him a beer. “I’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it.”
Grant was coming down the stairs as Mitch and I were arguing. “You ain’t gonna cross that bridge,” I was saying to Mitch just as Grant stepped into the kitchen. “Because when it comes to it, I’m not gonna let it happen.”
“Always looking out for me, eh?” Mitch said, beaming. “That’s typical of you. What are you, my mom?”
Grant smiled at this. “What’s up, little man?” Mitch saw him then, and shook hands with him. “Your big bro leaving you alone? Being nice to you and all?”
“Same as usual.” Grant said.
“Right.” Mitch looked back at me. “So what do you plan on doing today?”
“Me? Don’t know yet.”
“Me neither; it’s like no one’s come home yet.” Mitch sighed. He stared at the table for a moment before speaking again. “Hey man, outta curiosity, when’s Juggernaut putting out new stuff? I’ve been diggin’ your new stuff.”
“Thanks.” I was genuinely surprised that he had listened to my music at all. I felt a certain pride rise up within me, and it felt great.
“Who’s the one that plays the piano in the background? Jessie?” Mitch asked.
“Nah,” I said in response as he stood up. We were heading towards the door as I finished. “A guy I know from school; his name’s Aaron. Been playing the piano since he was five.”
“Nice. It adds a nice touch.” I honestly couldn’t tell whether Mitch was being sarcastic or not, but I assumed the worst. He was grinning smugly.
We got outside, and I winced when I caught sight of Mitch’s old truck. A rusted, old piece of shit, barely surviving these days; limping on ever ungracefully, if you will.
“Dude,” I told him as we hopped into it. “You really need to sell this thing or something. I honestly don’t know if I trust my life with it.”
“What, what’s wrong with my truck? She works just fine.” He had a great time trying to get the truck started. We sat there for several minutes before the engine finally turned over, and Mitch raised his hands in triumph when it did.
The day was set, and it was a beautiful day indeed. The sun high and smiling down on us, the sky as blue as ever, without a hint of a rain cloud in sight. There were many bikers out, enjoying the weather, roaring by on their manly steeds, decked out in their biker gear; helmets, leather jackets or vests, boots, and of course, sunglasses.
They kept screaming by, but none of them could drown out the sounds of Mitch’s engine. A roar that reminded me of a freight train chugging by, pounding its horn while it was at it. It was pretty funny, seeing everyone driving within the vicinity of the truck glance at us, and then back towards the road. Everyone did it. No doubt this was the only reason that Mitch kept the stupid truck in the first place; it was an amusing old boat, when it was driven.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
We made it to Foster’s, an in-door eatery that blew McDonalds completely out of the water as far as quality of the hamburgers was concerned. And the girls that worked there were great as well. Mitch and I knew every single one of them, from head to toe.
As it was, however, we didn’t really want to sit in-doors on a great and beautiful day; we elected to sit outside under one of the tables with a red umbrella that Foster’s employed. We both got a pound of hamburger each, and on top of that, we had fries heaped upon the plates. These plates in entirety represented a paradise of heart-clogging, life-shortening happiness.
“So,” Mitch said after we’d been eating steadily for a bit. “Juggernaut; what’s the deal with it? Are you guys a real band or what?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Yes, we’re a band. We write music, don’t we?”
“Yeah, but you’re not even signed to a label. You’re just putting your stuff out on the internet for free,” Mitch shrugged casually. “You’re not even making money from this. That doesn’t sound like a band to me.”
“Dude, not everyone that has a band does that whole ‘sign-with-a-label-and-make-money’ crap,” I said, a tad bit irked by his line of logic. Mitch’s taste in music basically ran along the lines of all of the typical kids of my generation; if they ain’t signed to a big-time label, then that band can’t be that good.
“You don’t even tour, man. What’s up with that?” he said in response.
Now he was complaining about the fact we didn’t tour? What was he trying to insinuate? I was starting to seriously get pissed off.
“Look, we don’t tour because that’s not what this band is about,” I tapped the table hard with my index finger to emphasize things. “We’re about jamming, and recording whatever sounds good to us. We’re not about the money. We’re not about touring and partying. We’re about the music all the way. Fans that don’t like it can listen to something else.”
“Fine, dude, fine,” he sighed. “Sorry I upset you. I’m not trying to, you know. I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, well, don’t worry, will ya? This ain’t a band, if you want to really get deep about it; we’re more of a group of artists just putting our thoughts in an allotted amount of time, and then formatting that into an MP3,” My burger looked soggy and the fries suddenly looked inedible. I’d almost lost my appetite. “Seriously. I’ve got enough to think about.”
“What are you talking about? We’re on break! What could you possibly have crop up in your life that you have to worry about right now?” Mitch laughed freely and shook his head. “Don’t give me that.”
I was about to counter him when we both heard it. A low grunting/growling in the air, followed by sonically driven guitars, and a pounding drum beat that didn’t stop pounding. It was coming our way, by way of the parking lot.
Mitch spotted the catalyst first. He started grinning. “Well, look who it is.”
I turned around, and then I saw it. A small Honda Civic came to a screeching halt in on the pavement between two parking spaces. The music was blaring, and I could tell it was definitely grindcore metal. Instantly I could deduce quickly the few guys I knew who listened to such music.
“He’s a horrible driver,” I heard Mitch say as we watched the Civic back up and correct his parking.
“That’s my drummer.” I told Mitch.
“What? Are you kidding? He’s the drummer for Juggernaut?” Mitch stared in disbelief. “Since when? Aren’t you guys into a completely different sound from him? I mean, listen to that!”
The moment Mitch finished saying this, the grindcore got cut off as the Civic driver turned off his music. Once he stepped into the sun, I nodded, grinning at Mitch. “He just got the spot.” I told him. “Gary quit.”
“Ah.” By then, my drummer came up to us, grinning as well. A decently-sized kid, Mexican by origin, third generation, I believe. One of the fastest drummers I knew locally, too.
Jacob Gonzales. Wearing sunglasses, he sat down at the table, taking a seat from another one. He put his feet up on the table, right next to Mitch’s plate, causing Mitch to curse and knock his feet away. Jake was undeterred.
“So what’s happenin’ man?” he asked me. “People love the CD. A girl I knew back in seventh grade started talkin’ to me again, thinkin’ that I was in a real band going somewhere.”
Mitch and I both laughed. “Yeah.” I said. “Mitch here doesn’t believe we’re real, either. He didn’t even know you were our drummer.”
Mitch rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry; the kid listens to Screaming Crap, and you listen to the classics. How does that work, even?” He looked at Jake. “Do you drum really fast to slow guitars or something?”
“Dude, it ain’t slow music,” Jake said. “I mean, yeah, we do a few slower songs. But mostly, we do whatever feels right. So yeah, sometimes we play some hardcore stuff.”
Mitch was still in doubt. I could see his confusion. “What exactly are you guys?” he blurted out.
I nudged Jake. “He’s not sure of us because he doesn’t understand that we transcend all genres.” Jake nodded in understanding, showing his surprisingly-white teeth again in a grin.
“Whatever,” Mitch said again. “Forget I said anything. You know, trying to get answers from you, Palma, is like trying to get a virgin prude into bed.”
“Something you’re an expert at, right?” Mitch’s face burned a bright shade of red after Jake’s zinger. Jake and I, meanwhile, were both cracking up, loving every moment of it.
“Let’s leave the poor guy alone,” Jake said after a moment. “He’s gonna run home and cry if we don’t.”
“You know,” Mitch said slowly. “I forgot how much I hate you two sometimes.” He looked at me then. “So why’d Gary quit the band?”
“Didn’t like the sound.” I said. “Complained about how we’re not going to get anywhere because we choose to play what we wanna play. He doesn’t like it that sometimes, our music can be twenty minutes long and other times, maybe a minute and a half.”
“Gary wasn’t that good of a drummer anyway,” Jake said earnestly. “His technique is sloppy.”
“Coming from the grindcore king of Virginia.” I said, kidding around.
We sat there for a while longer, and Mitch helped me clean my plate finally. We paid the bill quickly, and headed out to Jake’s Civic to discuss our plan for the night.
“Any parties?” Mitch inquired first.
“What? Nah, man, I’m not looking to hang out with a bunch of drunks.” I said, annoyed that he would even bring that up. I detested parties, in truth.
“Dude, no one cares if you’re a wimp or not,” Mitch said. “Everyone’s partying it up, and here you are complaining like a little pussy.”
“Hey man, hey-” Jake got our attention before I could come up with a retort. “I know a group of kids throwin’ down tonight. Big house, lots of kids, plenty of booze…” his eyes shifted away from mine, and peered towards Mitch. Neither of them would look at me.
“What are you not saying?” I stepped closer to him. “Who’s going, exactly?”
He sighed then. “It’s a high schooler’s party, okay?” Mitch and I both turned our backs on him then, groaning.
“Man,” Mitch said. “We’d better get Jessie then. He loves them younger girls.”
“Are you kidding me!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You still wanna go?”
“What, what’s the problem?” he fired back. “We’re getting beer. Maybe some liquor too if we’re lucky. What are you complaining about? If you don’t like it, you can be the DD.”
Jake started laughing at me. “Ha ha! Yeah, you designated-driver-******!”
“Shut up.” I glared at him until he subsided, smiling at me.
“Well, are you in or not?” Mitch said in a tone I knew well. It was either his way or no way. I’d be on my own for the night.
I stood there for a moment, pondering. Finally, I couldn’t help but think about it. Why not? Maybe I’ll find some girl tonight. I agreed to go.
“Call up Jessie. Let’s get him too.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 4
Another typical party, and yet another night I wished I was elsewhere.
Lots of kids; lots and lots. Aye, lots of ‘em. Young laddies and lasses, a Scotsman might say. I wouldn’t know. But leaning against the wall near the hall, arms crossed, wishing I didn’t have to go outside to smoke, one couldn’t help but observe how the next generation of kids after us was going down in smoke and blazes, given the intensity of their activities.
I couldn’t go into a room where there wasn’t a case of beer, or several bottles of liquor. Seeing as how drinking was a catalyst for death these days, I refused to touch alcohol unless something really depressing in my life threw itself at me. And yet here it was, gallons of it, everywhere, and it seemed as if there was more alcohol than there was kids; more alcohol than the amount of blood in every single vein of every kid in the house.
The mere sight of such amounts of alcohol made me question us as a species; was it really in our nature to destroy ourselves in such a way? Drinking our livers to death? Going out to a party, passing out, and maybe not waking up due to alcohol poisoning? Maybe one of these kids would get lucky; maybe he’d go get in a car, and hit a tree after falling asleep at the wheel. Or maybe he’d kill someone else, a man with insomnia, out for a walk. Kill him, and wake up wondering, dude, what just happened? And then realize they just took part in the destruction of America and the world. It was a slow, creeping death, but it was coming.
And that was what was truly scary about the next generation; they didn’t care. Party it up, drink up, get crunk in this place. Sex was one thing to me; at least that didn’t kill you physically. Mentally, maybe, if you screwed things up with your partner, but that was it; you could always emotionally detach yourself afterwards.
But drinking? There’s no stop to it; the madness rolls on and on and on…
And after what had happened to Mom, posting up at a house whose owner I didn’t even know(nor did I care to know), watching the kids who were supposed to inherit America eventually killing themselves the same way that had killed mom had a sobering effect on me. It made me realize how lucky a person I was that I had the strong will to avoid this nonsense.
But Jessie was around; and so were Mitch and Jake. God knew where they were; I was almost scared to find them, either puking in a toilet in one of the four bathrooms, or passed out after drinking too much, too fast.
I was bored of just standing near the hallway, so I undertook the dangerous task of finding my finds; this required me having to charge through the depths of intoxicated minors, and punks who tried to walk around with a manly strut, their hat tipped to the side.
I pushed through the living room, shoving kids aside, ignoring their curses. One tried to fight me, grabbing me by the shoulder and spinning me around completely. He was shouting incoherently, and I didn’t even care to listen to what he said. I had my fists up, an indication of what I planned to do to him if he tried anything.
Fortunately for me, nothing happened. Mitch appeared out of nowhere, and stepped up right next to me. He was significantly larger than most of the kids here, and I was not surprised to see the kid slink off, talking to his homeboys about how he was gonna fix me later.
“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” I followed Mitch into the kitchen, where it was less crowded. There were maybe six kids in the kitchen, drinking Captain Morgan. “Where’s Jake?”
“Don’t know. He’s around. Last I saw, he was chilling upstairs with some chick.” Mitch filled up a cup of jungle juice. “Whoever’s runnin’ this party, man, they’re pretty cool. I think I’ve seen every brand of beer and liquor accounted for.”
“It’s a Minor’s party; don’t think too highly of them,” I reminded him. “Where’s Jessie?”
“I mean, I know you don’t like kids younger than you, and you think you’re better than them,” Mitch hadn’t heard anything I had said. “But you should really consider coming to more of these. I mean, have you seen everything that’s here? I’ll be drunk for the duration of the break.”
“Where’s Jessie?” I repeated myself, this time making sure he had his eye on me when I spoke.
“Why the hell do you care so much? Go look for him yourself. I’m gonna find someone to dance with.” Mitch was off then; he disappeared into the crowd in the living room, and I knew I wouldn’t see him for an hour at the least.
I continued my search for Jessie. I first checked out the back porch of the house, and found only a few girls and guys trying to get hot and heavy. They weren’t too happy when I burst in on them, saying only, “Where’s Jessie at? Anybody see a fat blonde kid with glasses around here?”
“No,” one little kid said, annoyed, glaring at me.
I slammed the door shut on them after that, still absolutely clueless where Jessie could be.
Finally, after twenty minutes of frantically cracking skulls throughout the household, I found him upstairs, in the bathroom. He hadn’t thrown up, much to my surprise.
He was aiding some girl, who was vomiting her entire bodyweight in alcohol. The smell in the bathroom was sickening, and I gagged the moment I entered the little area.
“You wanna help me?” Looking at his eyes, I noticed a great amount of soberness. I was relieved to see that Jessie wasn’t drunk.
“Help out? You’ve got it, man. It’s all you.” I started to back out of the bathroom. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t drunk, you lightweight.”
“Lightweight? Are you serious?” He shouted at me as I shut the door on them.
Having witnessed that, I concluded one thing; I needed a smoke. I made my way back out to the hall, and then out the door. The warm, humid air outside slapped me in the face as I whipped out a lighter and a cig and lit it up.
Somebody started up the dance music, and the bass could be clearly heard through the walls. I could imagine Mitch grinding up on several girls, maybe two of them at the same time. Jessie would still be helping that girl out upstairs, more for the sex than the respect. Jake would be M.I.A. for a bit; at least until midnight or later.
It was only then did I realize how much of a loner I was sometimes. The friends I associated myself with often more than not were scatterbrained; they weren’t really sure what they were doing in this world. Some of them, like Mitch, just cruised around looking for a fight to justify themselves, or establish their dominance. Men like Mitch had no real voice; they just used their fists instead, because they lacked the smarts to really move mountains.
Jessie was a nomad at heart, having no real desire to pursue anything else besides his partying, girls, and music. I didn’t even know why he applied to George Mason University – it was a surprise that he even got accepted, given that he hadn’t even tried to work hard for good grades in the first two years of high school. He baffled me constantly, despite how much I loved him as a friend. I had no idea what he was going to do when we had to go our own ways after college was finished.
Jake was the only one I saw going somewhere. He wasn’t just an awesome drummer; he worked hard in whatever he chose to do. He wrestled in high school and placed at states. He held a steady job in construction, somehow managing to do that and Juggernaut at the same time. I knew all about his father, too; how the man had been killed in a shootout in L.A. three months after Jake was born. This, in fact, was what brought me closer to Jake. He and I both knew what it was like to lose someone tied to you by blood.
Jake shrugged this dark cloud in his life off easily, however; he was the only man I knew that acted like it had never happened. The way he spoke about it, the look in his eyes; they were completely calm and serene. His conscience was entirely clear about the issue. He pushed on in life, disregarding what really hurt him. Jake was the only one I really saw going places after college. He was the only one I really saw being a friend in the future.
Oh indeed, loner I might’ve been, between being shunned by Jake’s successes and Mitch and Jessie’s hazardous approach to everything; and yet I felt a sense of peace in being a loner as well. A confidence that drove me, assuring me that no matter what happened to the others, I was gonna make it through all right. The kind of confidence where, during a time of struggle, when the smoke cleared out of the area of danger, I was gonna be the last man standing.
So I leaned against the metallic railing of the porch, squinting into the night, not really searching for anything, just looking. Noting the small sliver of the waning moon slowly creeping behind a cloud in the night, darkening the outdoors that much more. Noting the sound of thumping bass, the vaguely-hearable laughs and shrieks coming from inside of the house. The warm night air draped itself around my shoulders, and I felt at peace with myself and everything around me.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
It was a shame that my father couldn’t see this; I almost could drape an air of rebelliousness around my shoulders as I stared out into the darkness, wondering what would come next in this violent, drunken world. What would be thrown at me after I finished this cigarette, a guy too high to tell the difference between friend and foe, carrying a gun or knife on his person? A cop watching the house from afar, deciding to make his move soon, when he felt that the partiers would have their guard down? I knew that whatever it was, it would happen soon. Soon things would click into place, and I would have to take charge, dragging my fellow friends’ asses out of the house, away to safety.
This conclusion did not console me at all; it robbed me of my good mood as I pondered what the cops could do to someone like me. I hadn’t touched a single drink, but I was at the scene of the crime being committed by dozens of others, and I had no illusions of being too young to really give a care. I was – most likely – the eldest man here, if not one of them. Could they legally hold me responsible for the whole thing? This dawning realization scared me enough to finish the cigarette quick, so that I could duck back indoors, away from whoever was watching down the street, eyes always glued to the front door, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Back inside, I once again was hit by a wave of loud beats, perhaps some gibberish spoken here and there, and the smell of alcohol and weed in the air; the combination was powerful, and not in a pleasant way. The entire house smelled rank, and it almost made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t fathom how no one else seemed to notice it; probably because they were all too drunk or high to really care.
Mitch leaped out from the gaggle in the living room, a grin on his face, his shattered stump of a tooth out in the open for all to see. “Dude, this is awesome.” He shouted, leaning really close to me. “We should come out to these kinds of parties more often.”
“Yeah, you go ahead,” I told him. “Not me; too much stupidity in the air for someone like me.” That, and I was tired of younger kids as well. They were no fun at all.
“You know Janice and her sister are here, right?” Mitch said before I could start complaining some more. “Jessie wanted to bang her, didn’t he?”
“Who, Janice or Rachel?”
Mitch shrugged. “No idea. Does it matter? Both of ‘em are pretty good-lookin’ to me. Rachel needs more of a butt, but hey, I suppose that’s the only negative thing about her.”
His commentary got to me; I didn’t even know Rachel, but I suddenly felt defensive, and for no good reason at all. “Leave her be, will ya? Say what you will about Janice, but at least Rachel’s our age.”
“Ooh, hit a nerve, did I?” he was laughing about it carelessly. “What are you so worked up about? I’ve heard you say the same thing behind other girls’ backs.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him; not tonight. I was trying to enjoy myself, but the stupidity of at least fifty high schoolers was hanging high in the air with the weed and alcohol, and the longer we stayed, the greater the stupidity affected my friends. Mitch’s lop-sided smile was enough to piss me off. I shoved past him, going back upstairs to make sure that Jessie was still alive.
He was outside of the bathroom, looking relieved, shaking his head. “She okay?” I asked him as I got to the top of the stairs.
“She’s gonna be.” Jessie said. “Hey, where’s Jake?”
“I don’t know. Check the bedrooms if you really want to find him.” Mitch’s comments kept coming back to me, and I couldn’t take my mind off of them; I actually felt my temper rising a little.
I’d had enough of the party, and I wanted out. Fast. “Hey listen, do you think you can drive the guys home?” I nudged Jessie when it became evident he wasn’t listening to me. “Can you?”
“What, take ‘em home? Dude, I’m over the limit. Take them home yerself.” He headed downstairs. I followed after him.
“You’re serious? I don’t wanna be here anymore man. I wanna go.”
“Go? Go where? Home?” Jessie rolled his eyes. “Pussy. Can’t stand a bit of partying or something? What’s up?”
I couldn’t explain myself properly. Between the overkill of the partying, drugs, sex, and Mitch’s comments, I really had no idea where the line had been crossed. My only instinct was telling me to flee, and to flee soon, because trouble was ahead.
But was I just being paranoid though? Wasn’t this an instinct that had always been whispering inside of me, telling me to run away from all things that were fun and satisfying in life? A curse given to me from some unknown source?
Regardless of when this instinct had been conceived inside of me, I knew that I wasn’t going to make it through the whole night. There was too much anger in me; resentment at how Jessie and Mitch had treated me. I slowly started to make my way to the back door, where I could circle around the back of the house and the neighbor’s, and make my way to the car, where then I could get away for a while.
Managing to make it outside, I felt the crushing weight of being alone in my paranoia and lone-wolf persona dissipate. My body relaxed as I breathed in easily.
A voice hailed to me just as I was about to start jogging away. “Hey, hey!” it was feminine, and it came from the shadows of the house, where a trail of cigarette smoke drifted away.
“Sorry, don’t got any more smokes on me.” I didn’t want any kind of friendly banter over smokes. I just wanted to get away for a bit.
“Chad Palma, right?” she finally stepped out of the shadows, and I was frozen in my tracks as I realized that it was Rachel, smiling brightly while she knocked ashes off of the cigarette in her hand. The fact that she was standing there by herself, without a single babbling fool nearby trying to befriend her completely stole me by surprise. I couldn’t believe my luck.
And then I remembered what I was doing outside, and the desire to run away came back even stronger than before. “So how you doin’?” My plan was to slowly make my way towards the neighbor’s house before she delved deep into a conversation.
“You look like you’re leaving,” she said, laughing a little after I shrugged helplessly.
“Kids these days,” I tapped the side of my head as I spoke. “No brains at all; all the drinkin’ they do, it’s gonna catch up to them someday. Maybe not today, but another time it will. Maybe next week’s party, even.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame,” she said casually. “Need to get away for a bit, then?”
“Mm-hm,” I nodded.
She glanced back at the doorway, as if expecting someone. “Here, you wanna go get something to eat then?”
I nodded again. “Sure.” I once again turned to head in the direction I’d already started on before, but she grabbed me gently by the shirt and jerked me in another direction I hadn’t anticipated going towards.
“We’ll take my car.” She said.
And what kind of a fool was I to argue? Any gentleman at heart would’ve agreed, if only because he had had no time to offer driving her instead. At least, that was a logical idea to me. But given the state I was currently in, shaken and confused, I followed her like a lamb to some unexpected destination; maybe the slaughter. After all, women were dangerous in their ways and decisions. Following after them, most men knew, was a risky game that could ensnare you whole, and take control of your every move and thought if you weren’t careful.
But I obliged in playing the game anyway, accepting the risk, figuring that it was better to try this gamble than stay in the party house for another several hours without a breath of fresh air.
A wise choice, I hoped, that would pay off.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 5
We ended up at a gas station a few miles from the house, opting to pay for slushies rather than a whole meal at a fast-food restaurant. I paid for Rachel’s drink, assuring her that it was out of courtesy more so than anything else. She found it humorous and laughed while I handed the cash over to the cashier, wondering why she was making fun of my generosity.
So we sat in the car, both silent as we drank our fill; I had purchased something that tasted strangely like strawberry, but I wasn’t totally sure. It was a little more bitter than strawberry. Rachel didn’t seem to notice if hers was bitter or not; she sipped it down in rapid fashion, her lips a light shade of pink. The darker red fluid flew up through the transparent straw, bypassing through her lips, straight down into her belly.
She looked even cuter now, than she had back at her place yesterday. Her hair was tied back, but she was wearing shorter shorts, and they revealed much to me. Her shirt stopped at midriff, and I could help but stare at what her clothes teased at; physically, she had been put together very well, as if God had paid extra attention to her; instead of resting on the seventh day, he had instead created her out of sheer boredom, and planned on releasing her many many years after he had created earth, so that her beauty could truly be recognized by men of my age.
I honestly had no idea what I was doing in the car with her. I’d been with girls before, and most of them were great as far as looks were concerned. Rachel blew them all away. She was gorgeous. And her eyes, they were like twin beams of a high-powered frequency that could theoretically pierce a hole in my heart; I dared not look at them too long, for fear of this.
“You realize that you’re staring?” She caught me in the act, and I turned the other way, trying to act casual.
“Sorry,” I said, all confidence drained by this turn of events. “Just a bit wired.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea.” I really didn’t. I was still too shocked by her appearance. I was trying to make up a lie to convince her that I was not crazy; it was a failing act. She was no doubt starting to realize that I was generally a crazy person.
“Well, I can honestly say I’ve not heard that before.” She said instead. “Jessie told me you were cool. You never panic or anything, you’re never nervous. So why are you now?”
“I don’t like parties.” I think I said. “They always get me worked up, because I really, really don’t need a cop on my case. I hate getting caught when I’m not even touching anything that could incriminate me. I’m an obedient citizen, why should I pay for what the others are doing? I’m just a casual spectator of the Destruction of America.”
Had I really said that aloud? Her eyes said yes, indeed, I had.
She laughed after waiting a moment, probably thinking that I was just messing around with her. “Wow. You really are strange.” She shook her head. “Well, I guess we’d better get back. I really didn’t tell Janice that I was going to leave.”
As much as I wanted to have more time for just the two of us, I agreed to this as she reversed the car and put it back on the road, nimbly swerving in and out of traffic, as if she was a practiced Nascar racer. Frankly, I usually was terrified of being in the car with someone I hardly knew who drove like a maniac; especially when it was a woman. But I was transfixed on her, not the road or what lay outside, and so I took no heed of the danger around us.
“So you go to Mason too, huh?” Starting conversation was exactly what I was hoping for, and so I tried it as casually as I could.
“Yeah; Jessie told you that already, didn’t he?” She nodded. “Yeah, I do. I figured you did too.”
“Yup,” I was starting to relax; I could actually feel my breathing pattern slowing, and my heart beating less frequently. I could summon more courage than I’d had before. “A nice place. Pretty good distance between that and home, so I have plenty of space. Good times, good friends. What more could a man ask for?”
“A great education, maybe?” we both laughed, despite the obvious dig she was taking at me. “So is that why you’re going there? To avoid family?”
I waved this question away. “Not so much avoid them; I just like to keep myself to myself. Having a step-dad who’s military through and through doesn’t make the Home Situation any more comfortable. It’s not that I hate them or something.”
She understood. She said so. “I guess I’m lucky; my parents have never really gotten strict on me. So long as I keep out of trouble and don’t corrupt Janice in any way, they’re happy. I mean, they’re just happy I’m doing something with my life.”
“Why wouldn’t they be?” I hadn’t meant to ask, but my mouth was quicker than my brain, which had attempted to tell my mouth to stop a moment too late. I winced the moment the smile slipped off of her face.
“Well…” she tipped her head as she finished taking a sharp right that left me clutching my seat in a death grip. “Nothing personal, but I don’t think I know you well enough to speak about my family.”
“That’s okay,” I was just feeling glad that we were almost back at the party house. I felt that my life was being shortened by years due to her wild driving. “I’m not needling, really. Just trying to make conversation with a pretty girl.” It had slipped, and once again, my brain stepped in too late to stop it.
Great.
Much to my relief, however, she just smiled sweetly. “I appreciate that,” she said, barely getting the words out of her mouth before she hit the brakes at a break-neck instant. My forward motion was mostly stopped by the seatbelt, but my upperbody couldn’t withstand the motion, and my head hit the dashboard.
Rachel gasped. “Oh my God, cops.”
I saw them; two police cruisers, parked right in front of the party house, about two hundred yards ahead of us. My Flight instinct returned, and for a moment, I almost told her to turn around and head out completely.
But instead, she went down a separate, parallel road. “Call up Jessie and them.” She said. “Tell them to get Janice out of there. We’ll meet up with them down the road or something.”
She hadn’t known then what I knew. Jessie and Mitch were both drunk, and Jake’s legs were going to be weak from his antics. No way were they going to be able to sneak out with Janice safely and get away from the cops.
Nevertheless, I tried calling Jessie’s phone. He picked up after the first ring. “Dude, where the hell are you? Cops are outside, and they want us all to come out!”
“Now you see why I didn’t want you to drink,” I told him over the phone, glancing Rachel’s way. She was looking nervously in the rearview mirror, as if expecting a cop cruiser to start following us.
“Look, just grab Janice, get Jake and Mitch, and go out the back, they ain’t there.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know,” I said impatiently. “Because there’s only two cruisers, and both cops were standing at the front. Now get moving. If there’s a cop at the back, then use a window or something, I don’t care!”
He didn’t answer right away. I could hear a lot of kids chattering and cursing, and then I heard Mitch’s voice above most of them, as if arguing with Jessie. Mitch suddenly spoke through the phone.
“Hey, I’ll get them out. Where do we meet up?”
Rachel and I looked at each other. “Where should we meet ‘em?” I asked her.
“Where we turned into the neighborhood? Tell them to get there.” I did what I was told and Mitch confirmed this.
“No problem man. Jake and I are straight; it’s only Jessie that’s freakin’ out right now. We’ll get there,” he chuckled. “Be careful though; Jessie’s talking about how’s he’s gonna kill you when we meet up.”
I just smiled as he hung up. “Let’s get going.” I said to Rachel.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
We finally made it two minutes later to the entrance. Rachel had killed the engine, and parked near a house, so it would look to any cop like we lived there. Just to be safe, we both were ducked down, so no one could see us. I had told Mitch to call us when they saw the car. I had complete confidence they would make it shortly.
But Rachel was panicking. She’d never had to worry about Janice being left in the care of a few drunk guys before. She was fidgeting, and chewing on her lip while I tried whistling a little bit of the Chili Peppers’ “Under the Bridge.”
“How can you relax like that?” she asked me furiously. “Twenty minutes ago, you said you were wired. Now you’re completely calm?”
“If I was with the guys, yeah, I’d be a little nervous.” I did feel calmer; it was strange. Maybe seeing her in such a panicked state had forced my will to compose itself and be strong, for her sake. Kind of like a hero saving the damsel in stress.
Except I was no hero. I was just the random guy she had met yesterday, and I was not helping in any way, shape or form.
And then I remembered that our car was still back at the house. “Oh man.” I cursed, and then Rachel demanded an explanation for it. After filling her in, she rolled her eyes. “I guess this means we’re gonna have to wait somewhere until the cops leave,” I said. “I mean, we’re not parked right next to the house, but it would be best if they didn’t see us get into the car near the house anyways.”
“First, let’s just hope they made it out.” Rachel said. “I’m more worried about that right now.”
Sitting there with nothing but worry did nothing for my will. It strode to remain strong, but I was slowly cracking. Eventually the Flight instinct would return. Desperate to keep this from happening, I finally manned up enough to talk to her more earnestly.
“So what are you majoring in?” it was a dumb question, but at least it got the ball rolling.
She took a deep breath and smiled. “Religion.”
“Whoa.” It sure threw me off. I hadn’t expected this. “Really? So what, are you a Christian, or Buddhist or what? I mean, uh-” my expertise on the matter was limited, and she noticed. She smiled slightly.
“I was born and raised a Christian,” she said. “I’m studying other beliefs as well though. Honestly? I know there has to be a God. As for whether or not it’s Allah, or a Hindu god, or whatever else is considered a god, I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out for myself.”
“Oh.” I didn’t really know what to say, so I followed up with, “Cool.”
“What about you? What do you believe in?” I figured it was coming, and I didn’t have a single idea for stalling the answer that was going to come out of my mouth inevitably.
“Uh…” I shrugged. “Heh, uh…you know, I really don’t think about it much.”
“Why not?”
“Um…” I did not think that any conversation we could’ve had would come to this, and it made things awkward for me. I shrugged again. “What can I say? I just never did believe in anything. I just have too much else to think about, I guess.”
“Like what?” her simple, short questions were cutting me open like buzz-saws.
“Um…” I was starting to really feel stupid, but my mind finally got on track and unloaded an explanation. “Well, you see, I’m more than just a typical schoolboy. I’m an artist.”
Her smile got bigger when I said that. She didn’t interrupt as I continued.
“I’m a musician, see; I love music more than life itself. I guess that it takes up most of my time and my thinking process. You won’t ever see me without seeing me humming or tapping out a beat to a song in my head.” I looked at her, and saw that she was still listening intently. I was almost hoping she would get bored. “If I could just create music all through life without having to work a single day job, that would be heaven for me. I wouldn’t even have to have Jesus bless me or anything; I just wanna keep playing music. Nothing else really matters as much. Well,” I bit my lip in realization. “Actually, that’s not true. Of course, I wanna live the American Dream, and get rich, and have a great lifestyle. But I know that won’t come with making music.”
“Why do you say that?” She blinked.
“Because only the fakes and posers sell out their creativity to make a dollar.” I said slowly, pondering my explanation. “And I won’t ever let that happen. I’ll be lying on the streets cold and broke and drunk before that happens. You’ve seen me; I won’t even touch alcohol almost.”
She laughed at that. And then, as if some unforeseen presence had decided that enough was enough, my phone went off. I scooped it up from between my feet and answered. “Yeah?”
“Are you in the car?” Jessie’s voice sounded timid, and somewhat hesitant. “I’m only seeing one car on the street, and it’s not on-”
“Relax, it’s us,” I assured him. “We just had the power killed.”
“Right.” He hung up, and I sat up. Rachel followed suit, and we exchanged glances on last time before our privacy was shattered. She had a lovely smile on her face; one that I would be stuck in my head for the rest of the break.
“Chad, you’re a dick!” Jessie had been cursing at me for the last hour, after we had finally rescued the car from the party house. We were on our way home. “Leaving us like that, man! Some friend you are!”
“What?” I had been taking enough of his crap that my anger finally got the better of me. “You think it’s my fault that you got drunk and decided to stay when we could’ve gone home earlier? You’re an idiot. I told you that the cops were gonna show. Did you see that neighborhood? You honestly think that any normal resident wasn’t gonna get suspicious after seeing so many cars get piled up around that house?”
“Whatever man. I’m not listening.” I knew he was, though. Mitch and Jake were both just laughing, both relieved that they’d gotten out okay.
“And seriously, you had to know that high schoolers aren’t good at throwing parties and getting away with them.” I ignored it when Jessie punched me in the shoulder. It mildly stung. “Kid are kids. Let’s not forget that.” I look at Jake, who was sitting shotgun. “How was things for you?”
He grinned. “I got her number.”
“Nice.” I glanced back at Mitch. “You get into any fights?”
“Nah.” Mitch said. “Wish I had, though. Some of those kids were askin’ for it.”
“Yeah, I know, right?” the atmosphere in the car felt good; friendly banter between four good friends. It was almost five in the morning. I dropped Jake and Jessie both off at their houses. Mitch had decided to stay the night at my place.
“Your mom ain’t gonna complain?” I inquired as we parked in the garage.
“Nope. She’s outta town at a meeting in Vegas.” Mitch said as we entered the house quietly. I had almost forgotten what time it was, and remembered that Marvin was going to be awake soon, and I wasn’t going to get shouted at before I could even get some sleep.
Sneaking through the house, Mitch and I both crashed on the couches in the living room.
He fell asleep right away. I couldn’t sleep at first, because my mind was on two things. The first thing, and the more important one, was of course, Rachel. I really, really wanted to get to know her better.
In fact, I made that my primary spring break mission. I felt confident enough to approach her again, later. Maybe in six or eight hours, when we’d both slept off the horrible night we had just encountered. I’d casually talk with her a bit more, and then tell her that I wanted to see her again, maybe set up a date so that we could hang out more often. She would be pleased. At least, that was my hope.
The other thing on my mind came swiftly to me; I had the perfect riff that I wanted to play for a certain song for Juggernaut.
And in my current condition, I surrendered to my imagination as I plotted out this riff, falling asleep and hour later after numerous ideas to improve it.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 6
Marvin woke me up at ten, having the kindness to give me at least four hours of sleep. “Get your friend up,” he said softly as he went into the kitchen.
“What’s up?” he looked irritated by something, and I couldn’t figure out what could be bothering him.
“I have to go Richmond.” He said. “I’ll be back late tonight. I’m seeing an old friend. He’s in some trouble. You don’t need to know the details.”
I nodded. “And what do you want done?” I had learned the hard way over the years that if he hadn’t given me a task to do, I should ask him. It became a habit. And it was a wise one; he always was pleased when I did so.
“Yeah, I want you to clean the house while I’m gone,” he said. “Get Mitch to help if you want, but you and your brother do not go anywhere until you have the house completely finished, do you understand?”
“Yeah, yeah, relax. We’ll get it done.” I went over to the couch where Mitch lay in the fetal position and slapped his cheek lightly. He woke up after a moment. And then he beamed when he saw Marvin standing over us.
“Mornin’ sir,” he said. “It’s a real pleasure to see you again.”
“I’m sure.” A little smile came over Marvin’s face. “Hey, don’t destroy the house while I’m gone, huh? Let Chad take care of his work.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Hudson.” He sat up, while Marvin went back to the kitchen. Mitch grinned at me. I just rolled my eyes.
“Do you really have to be that way in front of him?” I asked when Marvin was out of earshot.
“Why not?” Mitch lifted his arms in a shrug. “He’s cool. I don’t see why you hate him.”
“I don’t, and you know that,” I started cooking some eggs, over-easy style, just the way Mitch and I both liked them. “He just gets on my nerves sometimes. Too much of a military man to take a chill for a day.”
“Dude, if I was you, I’d be happy to have a cool dad like Marvin.” Mitch said honestly as he sat down at the table. “I don’t see why he irritates you. I mean, he’s lived his whole life in the military, how did you expect him to act? Like a hippie?”
“No, but that would have been funnier.” I admitted as I flipped the eggs. “You wanna help me clean the house today? I’ll treat you to a beer sometime.”
“Says the man who won’t drink.” Mitch laughed aloud. “Fine. I’ll help. But I’m holding you to buyin’ that beer.”
Cleaning the whole house, a two-story building, was no real stretch when you’ve got a friend and a brother helping, and you’re blaring Sublime at the top notch on surround-sound speakers.
As the music droned on in the background, I finished mopping the kitchen. It was the final task of the whole cleaning shtick. Once that was finished, I went upstairs and grabbed my guitar, giving the rest of Juggernaut a call.
Jake arrived first, and he and Mitch just sat on the front porch, both holding cans of Coors. Our pianist, Bryan, along with our bassist, his twin Ty, came a bit later.
It was one in the afternoon, and the house was completely clean. Sparkling fresh; it could’ve been used in one of those cleaning commercials. I kept everyone out, wanting no one to screw up the house. Grant took a walk down the street, going up to a friend’s house.
With everyone there, the whole lineup of Juggernaut, and Mitch, who was just along for the ride, we all decided to chill and talk about the band. While the whole group brought along a case of beer to help the thinking process, I showed them the riff I had come up with.
Starting off slowly, I picked up an incredibly fast riff that would’ve made Dimebag Darrel proud, if he had been alive and present. A chugging riff, it didn’t slow down as I kept it up, tearing loose an improvised and short little solo as I finished it up a few moments later.
Ty, who was almost the spitting image of his brother if it weren’t for the blonde beard on his face, whistled slowly. “Nice. I can follow that real easy.”
“It sounded good,” his twin Bryan, who was taller, and heavier, said very slowly, almost animated. “But I thought we were starting the next song with a slower pace. You know, kind of playing off of what me and Jake were doing.”
Jake nodded empathetically. Mitch just chuckled to himself quietly, not saying a word.
I regarded Bryan with a steady eye. “In case you haven’t noticed, almost all of our stuff starts off slow. I’m getting bored of that. I think we need to speed it up a little.”
“Look, we all agreed last week before school closed that we were gonna do a slower, steadier album.” Bryan said evenly. “I’m not saying we always have to start off with me, then Jake. But our first album sounded more like Carcass than it did anything else.”
Jake laughed as I rolled my eyes. “Carcass?” I said, almost accusing Bryan with my eyes.
“Dude, it didn’t sound nothin’ like Carcass.” Jake was still laughing. “You want me to start playin’ ‘Vomited Anal Tract’ for you? Now that was Carcass.”
“You get my point.” Bryan said in an irritated tone. “C’mon, man. Don’t double team me on this. We said we were gonna explore more sounds, and I still hold to that.”
“And what about you?” I nudged Ty, who looked for all sakes and purposes like he was about to fall asleep.
He nodded vigorously at me. “I agree; Bryan is right. I mean, why not? I thought Juggernaut was all about ‘exorcising the personal battles that are inside of us’ that’s how you put it, anyway.”
Yup. That had been my way of describing the band in the beginning. It sure sounded cool. Like Maynard James Keenan’s way of describing his writing process. As much as I tried to believe that I was an individual, I knew that his writing with Tool, and Henry Rollins’ attitude in life were heavy examples of what I wanted to be. Confronting the darkness inside, while trying to be a real man in the world. It was funny looking back at when I had first helped Bryan form Juggernaut, because I had been a senior in high school, just wanting to be cool and be in a band. It got me girls, after all.
But I had changed. Older and wiser I was now. I had been noticing that as of late, my guitar play was no longer seeking, searching for a mystical sound, like we had done in our first album, a psychedelic/hard-rock piece. My play was picking up, speeding up, become something even more charged, and angrier. I had no idea why suddenly I had become content with tearing loose on the guitar, instead of gently strumming it like I had before.
“Well, are we gonna jam or what? I have to be at work at five.” It was only then did I notice that Bryan was wearing his work clothes; dressed and ready to go to work at a supermarket.
“Boy, your life must suck.” Mitch said as we all stood up, and went to go get our gear together.
“You have no idea.” Bryan laughed.
Later, we started out simple. Jake played a slower beat, while Bryan was plinking away to his heart’s content. Me and Ty did what we always did; follow each other along in a groove. Mine were usually a bit looser, and Ty followed along at a plodding pace, trying to keep up. Sometimes we’d find a real, real awesome line though, and the whole band would agree that we needed to keep it.
Today was not that kind of day. As hard as we tried, our stuff wasn’t clicking. We were fine, just jamming; but as much as we jammed, we couldn’t really find a song to work with.
So we just kept it up, enjoying what we were doing. I started play a quiet solo, while Ty deviated from the groove we’d been keeping in an attempt to find something more appealing, and all of this threw off Bryan, whose plinking faltered slightly. Jake managed to speed up though, as if he had expected me to speed up suddenly.
We kept going for at least twenty full minutes when we’d had enough, and Bryan stopped playing suddenly. Mitch was laughing at us, shaking his head. “I thought you said you were playing like a metal band,” he said to Jake as Jake sat down nearby him. “I’m disappointed.”
“I said that just to confuse you and piss you off.” Jake said smoothly. “Not that it matter much anyway.”
“That was good stuff, man,” Ty hit me in the back as he spoke. “Did you feel that? I thought we were getting somewhere.”
“Not me.” I said.
“Same here,” Bryan sighed. “It doesn’t help when you two start taking off like that. Gradually speed up the tempo, man.”
“Bryan, if you keep complaining, you’re not gonna ever get anything done.” I told him. “Let’s call it a day, shall we?”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
lol it sure does...what I mean is that i don't remember who's doing it, but somebody's writing a book about a band as well, but I'm not stealing his ideas or anything. I probably should've said that.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
I was glad when it was all over; when the Juggernaut crew left me, and I finally had the house to myself for the rest of the day.
Sitting in my room, clearing my head out with some Miles Davis, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of boredom. Almost is if I wanted to get the rest of this break over with so that I could get back to school. Get back to GMU, see some of the people that I wasn’t seeing here at home.
Why this sudden fit of boredom struck me was beyond my comprehension. Nevertheless, I spent countless minutes lying prone on the bed, wishing fervently that there was more to do here at home than just visit parties with a bunch of high schoolers and older, creepy college kids who couldn’t get girls their own age, so they went for the younger ones.
And on top of that, I was getting bored with Juggernaut; a feat that I thought was impossible.
The music was too slow for me now; as great as it had seemed a while ago, when we had started out fresh with hardly any idea what we wanted to play, now it seemed almost a cookie-cutter anthem for kids who wanted to claim they were ‘creative’ and ‘could push beyond the envelopes.’
In my first days of really absorbing music at its creative heart, I fell completely in love with bands that boasted their creativity. Tool, Porcupine Tree and King Crimson; what creative sound did they create that wasn’t already being played by someone else? Why did it seem like the hidden sound that every band scrambled and searched for was imaginary, or at the very least, indiscernible from everything else?
Was there even a point in trying to push beyond the envelopes? Trying to create something that already has been heard? A long time ago, I had heard on the radio a singer for a new band being interviewed. He was asked for his view on the music industry, and new music in general.
“Oh that? Of course it’s all about the money,” he said in a soft tone. I could hear more in that tone, however; the bragging that he wanted to do was hidden underneath his words that were chosen carefully in order to subliminally get his point across.
“Money, man, and now what? All we get is a product being sold by the companies.” The man cleared his throat, and as I turned the volume up a bit louder, I knew instinctively what he really wanted to say:
“Nobody is as creative as we are.”
However, he disguised this well with yet another rant. “There are bands out there that aren’t doing anything. All they want is the money. They don’t care about this country we live in, how it’s being run by a dictator. They don’t even care about the fact that we as a country are headed for a recession. They don’t care about anything except themselves.”
I had tuned out afterwards; I could hear a word here and there, a jab intended for the president or some similar politician, and an expression of personal freedoms spoken loud and clear. I had wanted to reach through the radio, out my fist all the way through the wiring, tap into the energy that carried their broadcast all over the area, and snatch this pompous ‘musician’ by the throat. And then I wanted to squeeze.
Too many musicians were in it for politics. As it was with those who wanted money, the politicians often more than not disguised themselves as musicians in order to spread their own brands of rights and wrongs all around to the kids, the listeners who just wanted the music.
Even now, I hated those kind of musicians as much as regular politicians; at least the real politicians were honest about being the bastards they were; they didn’t try to hide behind a band.
But as it was, that was how music was made these days; more emphasis placed on the message before the music. I can’t recall how many times when I was younger that I had sworn that I would never let the message take me over; here I was, and I was still strong.
For the moment.
As we all know well, it’s only when you let your guard down that karma seems to come back to you like a boomerang and deliver a kick in the ass. When your back is turned, that’s when your enemy sticks the knife in.
I had to get away from the depression of being alone, but I wasn’t going to call up the Juggernaut crew, obviously; I wanted someone I felt was a bit more on my level. Someone who was a perfect friend to have around when good times were sorely needed.
I gave Jessie Portwood’s cell a call, and picked up the answering machine, “What? Yeah, this is Jessie. Obviously I can’t talk right now. Call back another day.”
“Hey, you punk, where the hell are you right now? Give me a call when you get this.” I concluded my business on the phone quickly and hung up.
Well, I was done to nothing now, except to take up the mantle of solitude and strike out on my own. Seek adventures as a solo man, a lone wolf. Grasping the car keys in hand, I donned my Oakley’s, and headed out the door, shutting behind me an air-conditioning-chilled, clean house.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
The evening was coming on, and coming on quickly. The sky was now orange, with a scattering of pinkish clouds. The sun was also an orange, several shades darker than the sky that surrounded it. It was going down, down, down.
I had decided that there was only one place I could go; downtown Gainesville, a small town right next to mine. The central hub, Atlas Walk, was a haven for flocks of people in their early twenties, high schoolers, and older couples trying to have a nice time out with their kids.
Unfortunately for them, it was difficult to even move around in Atlas Walk without running into a group of loud and energetic teenagers. They were draped all over the place; resting on the benches placed throughout Atlas Walk, lounging around in the restaurants, talking with other kids who worked in the shops.
I was no exception, I suppose. I roamed around the small area, honking the horn at someone I knew, hollering out the window like a ranting maniac; I even burned out near the Target supermarket that was across the street, just because I could.
Finally, I had had enough of playing around and dismounted. Parking the car, I searched the area for someplace to post up, and wait. Eventually someone would come to me, and I didn’t particularly feel like jumping into a gang of kids looking for kicks.
Most of the restaurants were too crowded to get near, so I opted to lean near the ice cream shop, Sparkley’s. There were a few metallic tables and chairs outside of the shop, for those who wanted to sit and eat, but I stayed against the wall, arms folded, Oakley’s still on.
Kids passed all around me, more than a few of them glancing at me as they walked by. I didn’t flinch. I’m sure I represented a stone carving, I stood so still.
More often than not, I knew a few of the kids, as acquaintances. A few high school kids, yes, but then there were older ones, kids who either went to GMU or had graduated high school the same year I did. I didn’t recognize names or faces; it was all a large blur to me. The same person stood in front of me each time, it seemed. The face was just shifting and changing shapes constantly, growing longer hair, the hair darkening in color, or brightening. The jaws would either be cleanly shaven at one point, or grow stubble at another point. The size of the morphing character would either grow taller or suddenly get shorter.
It was sad that I couldn’t tell face from face, name from name, or personality from personality. My four years of high school were a quick blur to me now, even. So many faces, and yet, very few memories.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
One kid sat down nearby, at one of the tables in front of Sparkely’s. Built like a twig, his hair combed to one side of his face, typical of an emo-follower. Skin was pale, nails were bitten, and his countenance looked sickly. But his eyes were a different matter, as they turned to me, scrolling up and down as they studied me without a real care.
“How ya doin’?” I said out of obligation, disliking his stare.
He shrugged. “Not bad; life could always be better.”
“Too right, man.” I went back to my duty of looking back and forth across Atlas Walk, hoping some girl would walk my way. But no such girl came my way.
“You went to Morrison, didn’t you?” He disrupted me again, and I looked his way once more. He nodded, as if confirming his own curiosity. “Yeah, you did. Chad, right?”
That got my complete attention. Abandoning my post, I sat down across from him. “Yeah.” I said evenly. “And who are you again?”
“You probably don’t remember me. I was in your Latin I class.” He grinned. “Name’s David.”
Instantly, the blurry memory came back to me. I recalled instantly my senior year, stuck doing a foreign language class I had loathed with all of my heart. I had hardly ever paid attention in the class, and I had always looked for a distraction to entertain myself. One of the better students in the class, a David Steele, had sat right next to me. A sophomore that had the smarts I envied; I could recall multiple occasions I had cheated off of his tests and got away with it.
And then, remembering all of this, I felt bad about it. He had never caught me, and if he had noticed me cheating in the first place, he never complained. But seeing him here, in Atlas Walk, I observed how much he had changed. He was so nerdy-looking anymore; nor did he look like he was a shy little kid just looking to fit in. He had grown up well, if appearances were the judging point. His eyes could be read, and they proclaimed a maturity I had not seen in a lot of kids his age.
He brought me back to reality with another question. “You remember Latin?”
“I do now.” I said slowly. “Wow. So you’re a senior now. How does it feel?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “What’s it supposed to feel like?”
I laughed aloud at his question. “A lot of things,” I answered. “You want out of high school, right? You wanna get out of the house? Meet older and hotter girls? Be free for the first time in your life?”
He shook his head. “Actually, I’m content with my life as it is right now. I don’t have any qualms about still living at home.”
I couldn’t help but gape at him. “What?” I swallowed before speaking again. “You mean to tell me that you have no problem with living at home with parents who always tell you what to do, and never let you go out and have some fun?”
“Depends on what kind of ‘fun’ we’re talking about.” David said calmly. “If by ‘fun’ you mean partying, then yeah, I have no problem. I don’t party much.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” I had to give him that much credit; he didn’t need to be a party animal to enjoy life. “But seriously, how’s school going for you right now? Where you planning on going from here?”
“Well,” he tipped his head to the side, thinking about it. “Probably George Mason, or maybe VT.”
“VT, I wouldn’t be surprised if you went there,” I said. “But GMU? That’s where I’m going right now.”
“It’s all right with me,” he said, indifferent. “But I’m thinking about going to UVA as well. It’s where my parents want me to go.”
“And you’re going to go there just to satisfy them?” I shook my head, chuckling. “Be a man and tell them that you’re going to go where you want to go. That’s what I did.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I could do that. But I don’t know for sure yet. I’ve applied to all three of those places, and we’ll see where I end up.” He eyed me then. “You still in that band? Jug, or whatever it’s called-”
“Juggernaut.” I corrected him. “It’s called Juggernaut. Yeah, we’re still together. Still the same ol’ four-piece.”
I had forgotten how many times I had discussed Juggernaut with him. He had even come out to one of our concerts; a rarity, since Juggernaut didn’t perform live often. If at all. But I now recalled how much of a supporter and fan David had been, back in high school. I couldn’t believe how I’d forgotten this kid, after all the support he’d given Juggernaut.
“So how’s the band doing right now? You guys gonna put something out soon?” David inquired, looking very interested.
“No,” I had to be honest with him. “Right now, we’re not musically clicking. I feel like we’re missing something…I just don’t know what exactly it is that we’re missing.”
“That sucks,” he said, meaning it.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized what we were missing; I just didn’t wanna admit it to anyone. “I think we need a vocalist.” I told David.
“Maybe you should put out an ad for one, then.” Was his reply.
I sat there, feeling stupid at the suggestion. Why had we not done so, before? I instantly knew that this was wholly my fault; my fault because I hadn’t brought up the suggestion to Juggernaut in the first place, and my fault because I hadn’t thought about ads in the first place.
“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” I said to David.
He laughed shortly. “Yeah, I get that one a lot.”
And he deserved it. I felt the clouds of confusion in my heart part suddenly; I had a new mission in my life. Get Juggernaut a new additional member, and make the band’s sound even stronger than before.
A task that would not be easy, but I felt like I had no choice. It was either try, or lose my complete love for Juggernaut entirely.
And I would be damned if I gave in to the latter.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 7
No sooner had I said farewell to David had I found a group of girls I knew too well heading my way. Three tall, skinny gals, two blonde, the other an Asian. All three wore short skirts or shorts, shirts that revealed too much, and makeup smeared across their faces.
The Asian, however, really caught my attention. Christina was her name. She was maybe an inch taller than me, but she had a great bod that was practically irresistible. And the way she walked, slinking like a cat, she knew it, too; knew my eyes were on her, knew that I was thinking about her.
“Hey, Chad,” One of the blondes, Kaitlin waved to me, having spotted me. I waved back; trying desperately to ignore Christina’s teasing eyes as they stared at me, unwavering.
My mind was flashing two different images into my eyes while I conversed with them.
One image was me getting all three into my car and taking them out for a night on the town. It was a peaceful image, showing me that pleasure was in my grasp.
But while I kept talking with the girls, the blonde that had first hailed me, Angie, was starting to act incredibly dumb, giggling nonstop, saying stupid things like, “Chad, you’re such a sweetheart,” when she had only met me once at a high school graduation party.
And so, the second image popped into my head; instead of listening to her and smiling politely while doing so, my inner character stepped forward and decked her with a solid left hook. She would stagger backwards before falling hard to the ground. The other two girls would shriek while I walked away, grinning and chuckling to myself.
Of course, such an image was quite tempting to act out in reality, but I restrained myself and endured Angie’s tirade.
Finally Christina was able to get a word in while Angie answered a call on her cell phone. The other girl just looked around, as if she was just enjoying the scenery.
“So what are you doing later tonight?” she knew me fairly well. Better than most girls in town did. Her eyes were absolutely twinkling as she stepped close to me, our bodies inches from touching each other.
“I have no idea yet.” I confessed.
“Really?” She grinned. Looked at her friend, who wasn’t paying attention. Christina stepped even closer, and now we were touching. She was teasing me, and she knew it. Her voice was soft and husky. “Well, maybe we can meet up later tonight. You never know.”
“Indeed.” Angie came back at that point, and she announced that her boy and a few other guys were waiting at the Five Guy’s down the street. It was a queue to leave.
“Nice seeing you, Chad,” Christina said. “Catch you later?”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” her eyes never left mine for a moment, even when she was walking away; she looked back once or twice, with that sexy smile still on her face.
I was feeling very good then; the excitement elevated my good mood, and gave me a buzz of satisfaction. My loins were already starting to crave Christina, even though she’d only left moments before.
The excitement that ensnared me was rattled when a horn was honked near me, causing me to jump. I spun around, and saw Jessie parking his jeep about ten feet away from me.
“Where’ve you been?” I called to him as he jumped out of the car.
He shrugged. “Just dealin’ with my family. You know how it is.”
“I guess.” But in truth, I really didn’t know much about Jessie’s family. Originally, he had moved from Las Angeles. His Mom and Dad were hippies; at least, I could’ve sworn they were. The mother was Jewish, and Jessie’s dad a combination of Irish and a few other things.
They had always treated me very nicely; like I was a part of the family.
“Let’s go,” Jessie nudged me with an elbow. “C’mon. I wanna go get a slushie.”
We strolled towards his car, passing by plenty of old and young, some staring at us, some leaving us alone. I finally told Jessie what was on my mind as we were within reach of the Jeep.
“I think we need a vocalist for Juggernaut.”
“Yeah?” he said in return. “Wouldn’t hurt, maybe. But do you know anyone that really fits Juggernaut? Most kids these days are into stuff like Underoath and Devil Wears Prada.”
“That’s what frightens me.” I admitted as he turned on the Jeep and whipped us around, sending us hurtling towards the nearby 711 down the street.
I waited in the car while he got the drink he’d been longing for. He adjusted his seat, and gave himself some more room for his gut while he drove. “Hey, let’s go get your car and head back to my place.” He said, suddenly grinning.
“Your parents throwing a massive stoner party again?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Party, yes; but stoner party? Where’d you get that from?” he only had to look my way and see the large and irritating smile on my face. He knew what I was thinking right away.
“You prick,” he turned away, swerving us into the turning lane, cutting off several cars while doing so. “My parents might miss the sixties, but they’re honest people now.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” I laughed at the expression on his face; a combo of rage and amusement. “When you were a wee lad, did they explain to you the proper mechanics for rolling a joint?”
“Prick,” he said it again, with less conviction this time. “If only they could hear what you say about them behind their backs. Not nice at all.”
I just laughed, the whole way to his house, knowing that regardless of how he defended them, his parents were a wild bunch. I was like them, in a way; always roaming around, looking for a good time above all things.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 8
“Hey, look who it is!” Mr. Portwood, the tallest, gangliest bastard I’ve ever met in my whole life, bent ever to embrace me as if I was the prodigal son returned. “It’s great to see you again, buddy. GMU treatin’ you well?”
“Of course,” I answered enthusiastically. My chin didn’t even come up to his shoulder; he was about six-six, balding, teeth as white as you could get in these times, and a personality that reflected a view of love and peace. If there really was a Jesus Christ that had existed in the times of the Roman Empire, then Mr. Portwood was Christ returned to the earth as a normal human being, here to enjoy life and raise his son, not turn water into wine or things like that.
“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Portwood,” I stepped inside the house as he led me to the kitchen. “How’s things workin’ out here? How’s the company doing?”
It was still humorous for me to contemplate a man who as a teenager spent his life stoned out of his mind now ran a landscaping company that was really utilized all over the county. Mr. Portwood was proud of the company; he had once hired me and Jessie both to work for a summer. I’m not much for outdoor labor, and I didn’t last long, but Mr. Portwood was a good man to work for, and he didn’t get angry when I told him that the work didn’t suit me.
“The company is doing the same it’s always done, thank you.” He reached into the fridge as soon as we had entered the kitchen, and slapped a Bud Light into my palm.
He obviously had forgotten my aversion to alcohol. I handed it back to him, shaking my head. “No thanks,”
“What?” he laughed. “Didn’t you turn twenty-one a few months ago? Why the lack of enthusiasm?”
“I’m not a fan of beer. This,” I held up the pack of cigarettes in my back pocket. “This is my thing right here.”
“Oh yeah,” Mr. Portwood laughed as we started towards the back door that lead out to their spacious backyard. “Forgot you smoked. Used to be a smoker myself, ‘til I realized how badly it was killing me. If you’re smart, you’ll cut back very soon.”
“Maybe I should,” I had no intention of doing so, of course. But humoring Mr. Portwood was the very least I could do for him, since he was kind enough to allow me in his home during a family gathering/party/whatever it was the Portwoods were celebrating.
Outside in the back, Jessie stood watching the burgers and hotdogs and brats on the grill, spatula in hand. He wore a shirt with the inscription ‘Kiss the Chef’ on it. He grinned when he saw us coming toward him.
“Hey there, kid,” Mr. Portwood said to him. “Don’t burn those burgers. Remember what happened last year?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Jessie laughed. “You weren’t paying attention either, dad.”
Mr. Portwood laughed with his son. I sat on a stool next to them, slipping a cigarette into my mouth. There were plenty of people gathered. I recognized two of Jessie’s uncles, one of his cousins, and a few friendly neighbors that had come to have some fun as well. Everyone was talking, holding beers, or margaritas.
Jessie hit me with the spatula. I threw it off and threw a punch at his large stomach, but he dodged it, my knuckles barely skimming the edges of his shirt.
“Too slow,” He chuckled.
“So, boys,” Mr. Portwood rested his hands on his hips, beaming as he surveyed the back yard filled with people. “You’ve been doing the college thing for a year or more now. How does it feel?”
I had no real idea what he was getting at, but Jessie and I exchanged glances and shrugs, obliging him with an answer. “I guess it feels good.” I said for Jessie and me both.
“Why is that, though?” he had a funny look in his eye as he turned to look at me.
Jessie now had his back to the both of us, his eye on the grill. I knew he wouldn’t back me in the conversation. I was on my own. “Well,” I said. “I guess it’s because I’ve got more freedoms than I did. I’m older, wiser, and I can take care of myself now. I don’t have to have Marvin riding on my ass all the time.”
“And that’s it?” He was getting at something, but I just couldn’t see it from his point of view.
I bided my time first, making sure to really inhale the cig smoke and blow it out before answering, thus giving myself a bit more time to ponder the questions he was shooting at me. “I think there’s more to it, but I’m not sure what it could be,” I had no other way of putting it. I felt like I had failed some sort of test.
“Well you hit the most important parts of the answers,” he patted me on the shoulder, letting his hand linger there for a moment longer than I had anticipated. “But there is one more thing; school isn’t just about escape from home. It’s about discovering who you are through education.” He grinned that pearly-white smile as he looked at me. “Yeah, I know, that sounds dumb. But think about it – you too, Jessie – this is more than just you getting a degree so that you can get paid more in life. This is about making yourself into a real man. This is about developing growth and maturity beyond high school.”
“And we care because…” Jessie rolled his eyes rudely. I hit him in the side with a fist, trying to shut him up.
“You care because it’s not just something you blow through.” Mr. Portwood said. “I didn’t go to college; now look at me. I’ve got a decent company, yeah, but I could’ve done better with my life. I’m satisfied because things could always be worse, and we’re quite lucky as it is, living in the greatest free country in the world. But honestly? I wish I had gone to school like you two are doing. I’m envious.”
Mrs. Portwood called to him from the other side of the yard, so he excused himself, saying one last thing to us. “Don’t just party in college, guys. I mean that. Be the best you can be in all you do, and learn. I really mean learn. Life’s all about learning. The man who is successful is the one who learns how to adjust his strategies on the fly, learning how to adapt to situations and problems, and overcoming them.”
His words left me and Jessie in a daze. The moment he was out of earshot, Jessie gave me a baffled look, one eyebrow raised up his sweaty face. “What the hell was he talking about?”
“You think I know?” The truth was, I had understood him fairly well.
And the words echoed in me deeply, reverberating off of the core of my soul as I considered what he had said. A chunk of wisdom from a man who hadn’t even gone to college was a rarity.
So I stored it mentally in the back of my head, promising myself that I would think about it later. The sun was setting a stage for the evening, with an orange glow lighting up the sky, causing the clouds to change from a pure white to a mild pink.
I found myself in a trance after an hour of sitting with Jessie, enjoying the party. Jessie had moved on by then, finding family members to talk to, or goofing around with his dad, telling raunchy jokes. I had no energy then to really enjoy the vibes of the party, so I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Portwood for letting me come, and bid them and Jessie a farewell for the night.
“We’ll hang out tomorrow.” Jessie promised.
“Yeah,” I said. “We’ll see.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 9
The door opened with a slight squeak, but nothing in the house stirred in the darkness. I slipped off my shoes as I tried to sneak into the kitchen, praying that, somehow, despite the odds against me, Marvin would be asleep at the moment.
It was midnight, and I knew that if he was awake, there was no point in trying to beg for kindness; he would not grant it. The man was a stickler for being on time, wherever you had to be. It was just the military part of him, I suppose. It was one of the things that kept us apart instead of uniting us. Comparing his strict military background to my loose, casual and sloppy behavior, it was without doubt that of course, his will was going to bend mine, every single time.
And that was what I hated the most about my life, at the time; I had no real control over how things went in the home. Marvin dominated the house, and his intensity from his former pastime had seeped into his retired lifestyle now, and it was taking all of its abuse out on me. That was how my little half-brother Grant survived; he conformed to Marvin’s will, and acted according to the rules.
However, I had no real respect for the rules that had been added to my own set of guidelines; before Marvin had come into my life, I like to think that I was still a good person, morally, and that despite the occasional philandering with girls, God, if He existed, would accept me for who I was as a generally good person.
The very thought of a God that judges who’s good and who’s bad had always terrified me; what did God consider good? What was bad to him? Was it even right that we had no chance of defending ourselves at the seat of judgment in our final days? Why was it that only God decided what was was right?
And worse yet, what if He wasn’t real? What if all that was spoken of in churches all across the world was just lies created to inspire goodness? Wasn’t learning through experiencing the ultimate way to achieve wisdom?
There were no answers; not any that could really give sincere, concrete evidence of God’s existence. And that was what terrified me. As Hunter S. Thompson once wrote, “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” You always take a chance when you put your faith in something. And God was one of those things that either you’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.
I had hardly been in the kitchen for more than two minutes when the lights were flipped on and I heard Marvin’s heavy footfall coming through the doorway leading to the kitchen. His head popped in, his eyes surprisingly calm. He wore a poker face, and it was difficult to tell if he was even pissed off or not.
A dangerous game I now found myself in, I immediately scrambled to apologize. “Sorry I didn’t call you-”
“Yeah, I know.” His voice was chilled, but he wasn’t pissed. Yet. He came into the kitchen fully, shirtless, with jeans on. He still was ripped for an old man; it was always embarrassing to see an old man outshining his kid physically, as far as looks and body-builds go. I felt like a bum in the presence of an athlete.
“So where were you?” Marvin took a seat at the bar in the kitchen, leaning against the small counter, his eyes never moving away from me.
“I was at Jessie’s. His dad invited me.”
Marvin nodded slowly. “Haven’t seen Jessie in a while; in fact, I haven’t seen him since you guys came home.” He sighed. And then he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I told you to be home by eleven. And here you are, late again. I don’t care if you’re having a good time or being responsible at a party, or whatever it is you do nowadays, but all I ask for is that you be home by a certain time.”
“I know, I know,” I figured it was time to appear humble, so I stepped forward, tilting my chin towards, keeping my eyes level with his chest. “And I’m sorry that I’m late-”
“Have you been drinking?” His voice was now soft, but there was no mistaking the steel ring in it, forcing the question to be menacing by force.
“No; c’mon, you know I don’t drink.” I met his anger with my own.
“And how do I know you’re not just lying, huh?” he stood up fast, smacking the counter hard with a fist. “How do I know whether or not you’re just a really good actor?” He was now face to face with me, our noses only centimeters from touching. “Your mother was too nice with you,” He said in a low growl. “She let you run around and do whatever you want. I always warned her that it was a mistake to do so.”
“Why, because I’m not like Grant? Just because I don’t wanna be part of the army?” I snapped back, the words coming out before I realize what I had said.
Oh shit. Now he wasn’t just angry; he was furious beyond comprehension. He was all but trembling as he hissed in my face, spittle about to fly out of his mouth-
“You think you’re some kind of rebel or something?” he shook his head slowly. “Think you know everything you need to know about life, and that’s it? You think you’re smarter than me, Chad? That you know more than I do? That you’ve seen the world and understand everything about it?”
I had overstepped my bounds, and now I was paying for it. It was time for damage control. “I was out of line saying that.” I admitted. “Sorry. It’s just, you always seem to have a problem with me. No matter what I do, it just doesn’t seem satisfying enough for you. And yet,” he was already turning away, sitting back down. I had hoped he was calming down. “And yet you never ride Grant like you ride me. You let him off easy, and I always seem to take the bullet for everything around here.”
“That’s because Grant does what he’s told, and he’s respectful.” Marvin said. “He doesn’t have to be told to do something twice, and he does it right the first time around. You? You have to be forced to do something against your will, and you don’t even care. You just care about yourself.”
“Not true.” Now I was the one who was getting pissed. “But you’re welcome to your opinions.”
“That’s right!” he exploded, now shouting. “And guess what? Ninety-eight percent of the time, I’m right! And you? Who do you think you are, Chad Palma? You didn’t answer my question before. Are you some kind of revolutionary punk who thinks he’s better than his elders, and doesn’t need to listen to what they say? You think you’re above us? Above those who’ve worked our asses off so that you can have the life you have?” He gestured with his hands, “Look at this place. I worked my hands to the bone so that you, Grant, and your mother could have all you wanted. And yet here you are, going to college and everything, and now you suddenly think you’re too good for me.” He broke off, suddenly, shaking his head. “Forget it. You’re not worth it.”
And that was it. He stormed off, out the kitchen door, heading back upstairs. I didn’t know whether he was finished or if he was expecting me to follow him. I stood there for a moment longer, just waiting to see if he was baiting me, but he didn’t come back down. That was it. The war was over.
For now.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
That next day, only a part of Juggernaut came to work. It was just Ty, me, and Jake.
Instead of even trying to play some kind of improvisation like we usually did, we decided to take advantage of the fact that Brian wasn’t present.
We mostly just played songs we knew by heart and were fans of. Misfits, T.S.O.L., Dead Kennedys, The Damned; we played it all, knowing exactly how the songs would turn out. Knowing how to pull off the verses, choruses and bridges of each song. It was beyond radical…it was the best we had done in a long time.
A little while later, after we were finished, Jake offered to drive as we went out to Atlas Walk, discussing that the week was soon over, and what we would do when school once again came back to kick us in the back.
We sat down at the pizza parlor, inside the air-conditioned building, the only customers inside on a bright day.
“Today was good, man,” Ty said, leaning back as he spoke. He removed his sunglasses as Jake nodded in agreement.
“Really good,” Jake said. “Too bad we can’t get Brian to join us playing like that sometime. He just wants to play a Jazz sound forever and ever.”
“It’s not really appropriate talking about him behind his back,” I wasn’t going to stand for it; they should’ve known better. A pain in the neck Brian might have been sometimes, he was worth it. He was not only a great pianist, but also just an all around, multi-instrumentalist, enthusiastic musician. Jake may have had the fastest hands in Prince William County, and Ty might’ve been a great bassist for such a young age, but neither really had any other satisfaction than just playing their instruments. They wanted nothing else. Not even to push beyond that and try a different instrument or a new challenge.
Hence why I had brought Brian into Juggernaut in the first place when I had founded the band in my living room. I could remember what had been going on that day; we had been in my living room on my laptop, arguing over various Jazz bands and their relevance in the world of music. Then and there, we had both concluded that we wanted to collaborate.
And then it ended up becoming something larger when Brian had brought Ty with him the very next day, explaining to me, “He’s a great bassist. Trust me on this, we want him.”
After that, Juggernaut slowly became the band it was in the present. And though the rest of the band was starting to get irritated with Brian’s erratic behavior, I simply couldn’t oust him from the band or even try to force him to play another sound.
Which then reminded me of why I had wanted to speak with Jake and Ty that day in the parlor in the first place. I started by asking them, “Do you guys trust my judgment on things?”
Ty shrugged while Jake muttered, “Mostly.”
“Good then, listen up,” I had no time to get out what was on my mind as that our server had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and was smiling at us. The blonde bombshell had our attention from the start, and we didn’t speak until she was not only out of earshot, but out of sight as well.
“Did you see that?” Ty whistled. “Think I can get her number?”
“Can it wait until I’ve said my piece?” Ty subsided and rolled his eyes. I refocused myself. “Okay,” I cleared my throat to stall quickly while I formulated an approach to my suggestion. “Look, I think we…” Whatever momentum I had was lost as the blonde was back at our table with drink, smiling at me.
“Y’all need anything else?” she asked.
Ty was opening his mouth; I knew what was coming, so I cut him off as quickly as possible. “Uh, no, no thanks. Not right now.” She nodded and left again.
“Dude!” Ty protested, and Jake was shaking his head, cracking up. But I had more important things on my mind.
“I think we should get a vocalist.” It wasn’t how I’d planned on saying it, but after being disrupted by our server twice, I finally couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Jake’s eyebrows raised in surprise, while Ty shrugged again. “Well,” Ty said slowly. “It couldn’t hurt, I guess. But what suddenly got you thinking about it?”
“An old fan of ours,” I went over my run-in with David not too long ago. They didn’t speak until I had wrapped up the tale.
“David? I remember him,” Jake said. “He’s okay; maybe he’s right. It might put Brian in his place if we have someone singing.”
“Or screaming!” Ty’s eyes lit up with an inner glee that I didn’t like the look of it. “Think about it,” he said, chuckling. “What if we changed the sound into a Jazzcore band, like Naked City?”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Naked City was insane. But nobody could pull that off successfully, ever again. Especially not us; John Zorn was on a whole different level than we are on.”
“Hey hey, it’s only an idea…” our server was coming back for Round Three, and this time it was to take orders. So I watched at Ty kept talking, trying to engage in conversation with her. She laughed a little, flirted only slightly, and left Ty with a smirk on her face.
“She’s not even remotely interested.” Jake spoke for me.
“Just wait and see,” Ty said, grinning. “I’ll get her. I always get ‘em in the ending.”
Jake and I both rolled our eyes.
“Well, is that it? That’s what you were thinking?” Jake said. I nodded my assent.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
Jake looked down into his Pepsi, in deep thought. After a moment, he said, “Well, we’d better start talking with people who know people, ya know what I mean?”
“Yeah, that, and we’re gonna need ads.” I glanced around, looking for our pretty server. “Is she coming back with the food or what? I know it doesn’t take this long.”
“Maybe you’re just jealous that you can’t get her over me.” Ty said smugly.
“Okay, Ty, okay,” I didn’t rise to the bait; I just shrugged. “Some of us aren’t pretty boys.”
“Nah man, that ain’t it,” Jake was now grinning as well. “It’s not how you look; it’s how you talk. Why you think I’ve always got girls interested in me? It sure aint’ for looks.”
“Whatever,” finally, our girl was walking to us. “So, who’s hungry?”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
We finally finished eating and lurched out the door, each of us grinning from ear to ear, our stomachs fully satisfied.
“I think I’ll hit that place up more often,” Ty said with a sly grin.
“Bastard.” I muttered it within earshot, so I was surprised when he didn’t even seem to notice the remark.
“Yeah, we gotta get goin’,” Jake elbowed me. “Got a party to go to tonight. You wanna come?”
“What? Nah, don’t think so. I’m not feelin’ it today.” The truth was that I couldn’t stand another minute of partying with younger kids for the rest of the break. There was no reason to assume that it was going to be any better than it had already been.
“All right man,” Jake shrugged. “But seriously, man, you should lighten up. I know things at home ain’t pretty, but you should take moments like this and enjoy thme. I mean, there ain’t much time before the break’s over.”
“Yeah man,” Ty laughed. “Get some before the break ends; you’ll feel better for it.”
They were already getting in the car when I muttered at Ty’s back, “When’s the last time you got any?” just like the last time, he didn’t seem to hear this remark either.
“Okay, so you want us to drop you off at your place then?” Jake asked.
“Yeah. Take me home.” I leaned back, shutting my eyes.
The drive was fairly uneventful, with Ty cracking a joke or Jake repeating a rumor he’d heard. There was also prep talk about the party they would be visiting that night; I paid very little attention to it all, instead choosing to look outside the window.
At that moment, I wished more and more that time could just halt, so that this break would last forever. I had no energy for anything. I just wanted peace.
But I doubted I would get it.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 10
Two days were left before I had to return to GMU, forced to endure more lectures and studying that I really hadn’t wanted all that much.
I already was packing things I wouldn’t need for the two days, and slowly prepping myself mentally. It wasn’t that I hated GMU; I looked forward to seeing some friends that were elsewhere in Virginia, but I honestly was tired of the school scene itself.
I’d been tired of it before high school had even finished, in fact. And even when Mom had still been alive, I’d had the Dream.
Not just a simple dream of having a wife with a kid or two and a house of my own; I didn’t want a home. On a normal day I could be sitting in chair, finding myself twitching nervously or tapping my feet as if playing double-bass drums. It had always been my desire to travel the world.
And play music. The music was why I was here, on Earth. I was sure of that. That God Character had brought me here to write something that would blow peoples’ minds.
Mom had never understood that. After enduring her lectures on keeping focused throughout my first three years of high school, I could remember the day, after finishing dinner, I had told her that I wasn’t going to go to college. I instead was going to become a musician.
It had hurt her; they say the truth hurts, but I don’t think it’s supposed to. She had sat down at the dinner table and started sobbing openly. I hadn’t known what to do at the time, so I just left here there and went about my business that day.
And then, five months later, she had gone wherever the dead go when they lose their inner spirit. And now, I found myself in college, wondering if I was attending college because I felt sorry, or if I did it because I’d grown up and realized that the life of a musician is not the life I had once thought it was.
But I had no complaints, I guess. Despite the tragedy in my life and despite the frustrations I suffered due to the art I tried to create through music, I had a very interesting life. Not quite a rollercoaster, but not a boring lecture, either.
This is how it was, and how it could be throughout the rest of my days; I knew that the road I had chose to take in life could take me nowhere, and keep me running around in circles until I died from lung cancer. I knew that it might be that my music was never heard save for maybe a total of three hundred people; most of them friends would get their friends to listen, and so on.
I didn’t want it any other way. I didn’t want to be the man who came home from a job every day to a wife and kids, living a boring, middle-class lifestyle that had very little in it. I didn’t want to be the man who read the paper or watched the news every morning, drinking coffee.
What frightened me the most about suffering the Middle-Classed lifestyle was that when I was dead and gone, if there was an Afterlife I would probably be able to look back and study who I was at the time of death. Would I be a strong man, with no regrets, who had done everything he had wanted to do in his life? Or would I be just another sucker, who had some happy moments in his life, but nothing that really stood out? This haunted me nonstop.
And even as I shoved my clothes and everything I’d need back at GMU in a bag, I was dogged by this evil notion, whispering in my ear without cease.
To distract myself, I popped on some loud music, just to throw off my sense of worry; I rarely listened to it, and I often blushed if people I knew found out I was listening to it, but the 36 Crazyfists CD was in my computer, blaring before I could even realize what I had done.
Let it play. You haven’t heard it for a while anyhow. It sure beats listening to some other bands.
And so I let it be for the moment, instead focusing my will on making sure I had everything ready to go. Toiletries would go last; I had a few days before I made the drive to GMU. But laundry, textbooks, and things of that nature were all ready.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was forgetting something. Couldn’t think of WHAT, either.
The doorbell before any action as taken to figure out what I was missing. “Nuts,” I went for the door.
Marvin intercepted me as I made my way through the hall. “Still packing?” he inquired.
“Yeah,” I skirted by him, not even glancing at him. After what had happened between us a few nights ago had made communication sour. I had no reason to speak to him, and I’m sure the feeling was mutual for him as well.
“Well, before you go out, I want a word,” He called after me.
“Sure, sure,” I wasn’t really listening to him as the door swung open, revealing to me David Steele, smiling friendly.
“Hey man.” He said.
“Dude,” I was taken aback by his showing up on my doorstep. I didn’t really consider him a friend. “What’s up?” I let him in and shut the door behind him.
“Not much,” he said, looking around the house. “I’m not coming by at a bad time, am I?”
“What? Nah, man. You’re just in time to see me pack my bags.” I ushered him towards the kitchen. “Want a drink? Water? Whatever you want, man.”
“I’m good, thanks.” he waved the offer aside.
We both took up a chair; me at the bar, and him at the kitchen table, nearby. “So what did you want, man? I know you didn’t just come here to see me off.” I suspected as much, anyway.
“Not really,” He admitted. “I know we aren’t really friends. But I think I’m one of your biggest fans, right?”
“Well…” I never gave it any thought before. So I humored him. “Sure.”
“You put up ads for a vocalist yet?” he asked next.
“No.” I said, realizing what a slacker I’d been over the last few days. “To be honest, I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Yeah? Can’t blame you. It is spring break after all.” He shrugged. “Look man. I don’t really know how to say it, so I’m just gonna throw it out there, and you can either say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to it. If you say ‘yes’ then that’s great; I’m happy. If not, then that’s okay too-”
“Whoa, bro,” I cut him off, laughing at his sudden rambling. “Take it easy. Let’s hear what you have to ask for first, man, before we start getting into what happens if I say yes or no.”
“Sorry,” He sighed. “I’ve just really been thinking about this a lot lately. I wanna be the vocalist for Juggernaut.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment; I had first thought he was just kidding. But after that moment, when nothing was spoken aloud, it was obvious he was far from kidding.
“Dude,” was the first word out of my mouth. “Basically, you’ve been trying to let me know you wanted in the band since we met up last time? Why didn’t you just say so?”
“I didn’t want in the band; I just offered a suggestion,” he said. “I didn’t think about it much at first. But then I mentioned it to my sister, and then she told my parents over dinner, and they all think I should do it. They don’t think I get out enough as it is.”
“Out of what, the house?” I laughed rudely, before realizing that he was still being serious. “Wow, man. Well, hell, why not? I’d have to take it up with the guys first. But considering I’m the one who made the band in the first place, I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you; I’ll make sure you get an audition.”
His whole body relaxed; he’d gone from sitting quite still to a perfectly happy kid, tapping a beat on the bar counter. “Thanks man,” he said. “That’s a lot off of my mind.”
“It’s cool man,” I stood up then. “What are fans for? I mean, well-” I didn’t know what I was saying. I was too excited to think completely straight. Juggernaut seemed to have found its missing link.
“I know what you mean,” He grinned. “Thanks again,” we shook hands, and he then looked at the clock.
“Anyways,” He said. “I think I’d better get going. I was doing things for my mom, and I hadn’t really planned on coming here.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you.” I saw him out the door and said bye after that.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
The moment the door shut, I wanted to start Riverdancin’ I was so happy. However, before such a feat could be attempted, Marvin came out of his office, his face looking haggard and worn.
“Your friend gone?” He said.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Let’s talk.” He sighed deeply. “Look; what happened a few nights ago was bad. But it was my fault for exploding at you. It was inappropriate for me to do that, right in the middle of a conversation.”
Yes, a conversation, I could help but think. A ‘bad-vibes’ kind of conversation, but a conversation nonetheless.
“I apologize for my behavior.” He said quietly. “However, I want you to think about what I said while you’re back at school. I need you to start growing up, Chad. I need you to start making smart choices, and I don’t want you to think that you’re on some pleasure-cruise where you can do whatever you feel like doing whenever you want to. If I come across as an angry old man, it’s only because your mother would’ve wanted you to be a better role model for your little brother.”
“Grant doesn’t need me as a model; he’s got you.” I didn’t want that on my conscience anyhow; Grant was a better than me as it was. I didn’t want anyone putting the blame on me if he suddenly screwed up one day and took a dip on the wild side.
“I’m not good enough,” Marvin said earnestly, stepping closer to me. “He looks up to you, Chad. I know you act like you don’t notice it, but you know deep down that no matter who your real father was, Grant respects you for being his older brother.”
I nodded. This ‘conversation’ was getting strange. Marvin was rarely this emotional-seeming. He almost looked ready to give up on me; his eyes were glassy, and it looked like he’d actually lost sleep over our fight.
“Just do me a favor, please,” Marvin begged me. “Whether you admit it to yourself or not, Chad, you’re growing up. And while growing up seems like a bad thing sometimes, you need to stop worrying about it. You need to realize there’s more to the world than just you. Grant isn’t your age yet; he’s still getting molded by everything he sees in school, and in his friends. When you get back in a few days, please work hard, and come home with better grades than last time. Please act like the man you’re supposed to be. Grant isn’t the only one who needs to see that side of you; I do too.”
I had no idea what to say. The pure emotion in his voice was too powerful than the norm for Marvin. And looking at his eyes ruled out any immediate suspicion that the man had been drinking something strong. That was probably good; I had no intention of seeing what kind of man Marvin truly was after alcohol took him over.
“I know I’ve been hard on you; and I know it’s hard to lose both a father and a mother.” He was still going on, and I was starting to hope and pray that Grant would come into the room. I was hoping for anything that would create a distraction enough for me to slip away.
“I know what it’s like to lose someone too,” He said, turning away for a moment. “I lost more than your mother. I’ve seen friends pass me by, and turn out the lights on their lives in the war. I’ve lost good friends of mine back in college, too. Too much drinking, too much going on at one time. It’s a massacre. It’s something I want you to avoid. I don’t want to see you go out like that, Chad.”
He was looking back at me again, and this time, I kept my eye on him, instead of letting my eye wander about the room. He smiled. “You are my son, after all.” He finished then.
There was a complete minute of awkwardness between us, and then he suddenly caught me in a hug. It wasn’t an emotional hug, as I had expected. It was more of a token of respect. I returned the favor.
He nodded his head afterwards, smiling. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re gonna be a great man when the smoke clears.”
And hadn’t I told myself the very same thing once? Hadn’t I felt the same way, that nothing could actually beat me? Maybe some point in my life things would get twisted and force me to strengthen myself; but in the end, I knew that I was gonna be all right.
Between Marvin’s reassuring smile and my surprise as his sudden kindness, I felt at peace for the first time in a few days.
And for the first time in a very long time, things finally felt right between me and Marvin.
I spent the rest of the day, packing, mentally preparing myself for the continuation of the semester, and the forward progress of my life. It was time to see if I could make Mom and Marvin both proud.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
I've been gone for a bit...but I've updated the book:
Chapter 11
Confidence. Stayin’ cool in the line of fire. Cooler heads always prevail, as it was once said.
I was filled to the brim with said confidence and joy to boot as I strolled through George Mason University, once again prepared to get back to work in furthering my education.
The week-long break had dulled my senses; I had forgotten what it meant to simply be a part of the campus again, walking through the area, dodging cars as I crossed roads, taking in the beauty of central hub of buildings that made up the main part of GMU.
This was no haven for the little high schoolers; no, this was indeed a much better sanctuary than any high schooler could come up with. This was where the big kids played, and most likely got burned, if they weren’t careful.
But that was the greatness of it all; choose your cards right when you pick your classes. Play it smart, know when to fold your hand and drop your classes when necessary. Know when to walk away from the partying and learn to study like you’ve never studied before. I had become fairly good at this game; the game of college. So good, in fact, that I enjoyed being at GMU more than anywhere else in the world.
Paris? Maybe one day when the War over in the East was said and done for good, and the US didn’t meddle in the affairs of a race of people we didn’t understand in the first place. Italy? A fine place, if one has the cash, something I rarely ever had on me. Ireland? Was it worth going to get wasted at a pub, knowing there was more than a good chance that a fist-fight was going to break out? That sounded more like Mitch’s kind of place; not mine.
But I was more than content to be here, out of all places in the world, at this moment in time. I was a student, eager to learn, ready to show the world what I was made of. Was that not the reason why everyone went to college? To become something more than just a low-life with no real education, and no real job? That did not fit me, and although I prided myself on being a grinder, someone who could be relied on to be tough, I knew my limits as well. I couldn’t live that life as a man leaping from one job to the next; unsure of what the hell he was doing in this world in the first place.
And so there I was, in my glory, in the place I felt I was born to be a part of. And beside me, my good friend and comrade Jessie Portwood strode along, wearing a savage grin with his sunglasses. His parents followed behind by a few feet, talking quietly, admiring the campus.
“I never thought I’d be glad to be back here,” Jessie chuckled. “Funny how you hate it when you’re here, but hate it when you’re home with nothing to do after leaving here?”
“I’m not sure exactly what you’re trying to say; but yeah, sure.” I knew what he’d implied; I was just trying to bust his balls.
“Hey man, I gotta tell you something.” Jessie now sounded unsure of himself; his smile was gone, and he glanced over his shoulder to see where his parents were before muttering next to my ear, “Last time we were here, when we had packed up? You remember that?”
“I remember that I did pretty much all of the work,” I said. “Why, what about it?”
“Yeah,” He said slowly. “There’s a reason why I didn’t help you out so much.” He glanced back again.
“What?” His parents were now looking at the bookstore, a few good yards away from us. “What’d you do, man?”
“Uh…” he grinned widely now, almost sheepishly. “You remember Jessica Peters?”
“What?” I realized after a moment what he was about to say. The implications of it hit me harder than a bullet to the chest, and I begged him, “Don’t say it. Please, tell me you didn’t-”
“We did.” He affirmed. “I mean, it wasn’t a huge deal; we just messed around. But I thought you should know…”
“Dude!” The girl in question was a hot young blonde that was a freshman at the school. The mere thought of her with Jessie set me on fire as it was; but it was even more personal than that. And Jessie knew why too.
“I’m sorry, man,” he said, stepping back as if I was going to hit him. “I know you had a thing for her, but you never even went for it. You never tried to do anything with her.”
“I was working my way up to it!” Jessie’s parents hadn’t noticed yet, but I was hoping they’d turn at any moment and notice us. I wanted them to know what their son did; not because I wanted to get him in trouble, because they wouldn’t punish him for sleeping with a girl. I was just looking to show what a back-stabbing bastard he was. “C’mon, man! You knew that I was!”
“No you weren’t!” He retorted. “And you aren’t going to now that we’re back, either. And you know how I know that?”
“How do you know that?” I got right in his face. To his credit, Jessie didn’t even flinch.
“Because you have had your eye on Janice’s sister for the last whole week.” He said. His eyes were alight with the confidence I had felt only moments ago. “So don’t even get started on my case. You know that if you had to choose between Jessica or Rachel, you’d pick Rachel nine out of ten times.”
The boy had me nailed; I had no comeback. As it was, Mr. and Mrs. Portwood had caught up to us anyhow. “I just want to say,” Mr. Portwood spoke then, getting between us with his eyes still on the campus. “You guys have it so lucky being able to come to a place like this. I can’t believe how good kids have it these days.”
“Not our faults.” Jessie spoke for me and him both.
“I know,” Mr. Portwood. “I know. Just remember what I said, all right boys? Don’t screw around too much. Keep your head in the game.”
He had no idea how similar his idea of the college game was to mine. “Yes sir,” I shook his hand. And then Mr. Portwood pulled Jessie into a hug, and I watched as Jessie’s parents said their goodbyes.
While they went back to the parking lot, Jessie said to me, “Man, he has no idea how wrong he is. This time around, we’re gonna paint this place red before the semester’s done.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 12
Craziness. What world to live in, surrounded by good ol’ friends, and no real guidelines to live by. A world without Marvin, Grant, or anyone else who wanted to get in my way.
I was in my dorm room, having finished unpacking, and helping Jessie throw his stuff together as well. We took apart the bunk beds and put them in separate corners. This gave us very little space, but we were able to jam our desks around, making a small trail of space between bed and desk that led to the door. Boxes were crushed and ripped apart, and the room had a general ambience that resembled that of pair of bums living it out in a tiny apartment.
“You know what we’re missing, man?” Jessie said to me after we’d taken all the boxes out to the local dumpster.
“What?”
“We need some chairs, man. I’m not talkin’, you know, like normal chairs for the desks. I’m talkin’ real casual chairs. You know what I mean? The kind that we can just sit back in and relaxd.”
“And you honestly think we can fit two of such a chair in our already-cramped room?” I shook my head as we stepped into the elevator, headed for the fifth floor, our floor. “You’re crazy man. It can’t be done.”
“Aw, come on, it’d look awesome!” he grinned jubilantly, no doubt picturing it in his mind.
“And how would we be able to move around in the room?” I had to bring him back down to earth, as painful as it might’ve been for him.
“Uh…” he thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “Hell if I know; I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. But we could make it work.”
“No, we couldn’t.” The elevator opened, and we stepped out, past a few cuties who stared us over before walking past the closing doors into the elevator.
“Whatever man. You ain’t gonna be like this all the rest of the semester, are you?”
“Me? Of course not. I’m just simply being realistic.”
“Nah, you ain’t,” He pulled out our room key as we neared our room. “You’re just being a pesmit.”
“Pessimist. The word is, ‘pessimist,’ man.” I grinned as he rolled his eyes. “As it is, I’ve gotta call up the rest of Juggernaut and find out what they’re doing tonight. You down for chilling with us? We’re just jammin’ all night long.”
Jessie made a face. “As long as we can party later after that, I’m happy.”
“Dude, this place will be crawling all night; what are you worried about, a dry night?”
“Yeah.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Well don’t. As it is, I’ve got a plan anyways. We’re gonna playing at a friend’s house. He’s gonna be holding a party while we’re playing, so I’m sure you’ll meet plenty of people.”
Jessie was mollified by this, and he agreed to come along. I was relieved by this, and glad to hear that he wasn’t going to ditch me merely because of Juggernaut. I knew personally Jessie hated Brian and everything my pianist stood for musically. Although Jessie’s musical tastes weren’t that much different from mine, he and Brian had never gotten along well. Perhaps it was because Jessie wasn’t a part of the band, and Brian was. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Jessie had audtioned as the bassist for our band before Brian decided to haul Ty into the mix, and didn’t want Jessie in the band. I didn’t know the real truth behind their dislike for each other, but I couldn’t let it get to me; especially if we were going to be hanging a lot during the semester.
But that could be figured out later. For now, I just wanted to sit down and think. Let my mind move freely over the recent events, and just relax. Get away from the chaos that came with returning to school.
The sounds of kids moving back in were all around me as I sat down in my room, my front door open slightly. Already, bros were catching up, talking excitedly about things they’d done over the break. I heard a bit about the local frat, even. I could make out talk about an infamous professor on campus who’d lost his job because he’d partaken in some anti-war protest near D.C. and had got caught running around in public nude, screaming gibberish about Bush being tried and executed, “Facing his death like a man,” as it were. Such stories made me glad that I was just a normal guy with normal goals set for life.
And there were a few squeals of delight as girls ran into old girlfriends and such; the talking never ceased. I just tabbed it all as background noise, like Merzbow or Acid Mothers Temple & the Melting Paraiso U.F.O. was playing from my laptop, and made a mental list in my head.
Now that I was back, what were my plans? Where did I go from here?
Firstly, and most obvious of all, I had to maintain my 3.4 GPA or improve it, if I could. That was something I’d intended to do from the start, of course. Marvin would have it no other way, I’m sure. And besides that, I felt a moral obligation to accomplish this, if not for the sake of my step-father.
A second goal was to avoid as much chaos and self-destruction as I could while I was here. Hearing Jessie already talking about the parties that were going to be thrown, and the numerous amounts of alcohol that he’d cram into his body was an ominous cloud over my head; a bad sign of things to come. I could only hope that such a cloud of fierce intensity did not strike me with its lightning when bad fortune cast lots on every individual here at GMU. I was certain that, with careful concentration, that I could get through the semester without that much trouble. However, one could never tell what he was in for when he stepped out of his room. And I feared the worst at the time, knowing full well that I’d have to keep an eye on Jessie and make sure that he maintained a good GPA as well.
A third and final goal then occurred to me while I wrote all of my goals down on a small slip of paper to put in my wallet. Rachel. What was I going to do about her? She was here, after all, at GMU with the rest of us madmen, all of us single, and ready to get it on. Some of the guys had probably felt sexually repressed while on break, having no real girls to find back home besides the local, underage high school girls that frequented their towns. I was willing to bet that there would be more than one man after Rachel this semester; and I knew that I would be after her too, chasing after her like a puppy deserted by its owner at a young age.
Could I catch her, was the question? I had no idea. I wasn’t even sure as to what I was going to do to seal the deal even. I barely knew her, after all. What special bond did we share, apart from hiding out in her car for less than an hour once? Nothing that I could see.
But the friendship concerning Rachel; it would take care of itself, I was certain. I was very confident that we would meet again, and that I would be able to engage her in proper fashion. There was no doubt in that.
I leaned back on my bed then, feeling satisfied with myself. There would be no issues this semester; no obstacles that would thwart me from achieving satisfaction on a personal and physical level.
What I felt then was more than just seemingly-unstoppable confidence; it was also peace. Just a pinch of the stuff, pure and well-being, but it was enough.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
“Hello?” Jake’s voice was coming over the line in a static-like way. I could barely make out what he was saying.
“It’s Palma. Where you at? You’re comin’ tonight, right?”
“…Yeah man, it’s…problem at all.”
“Sure thing. I’ll see you there. You know the place right?” I hoped he did. Jake was the only one who’d opted to come back to GMU late in the day.
And in doing so, had ended up unpacking late. He had brought his set, but no one had any clue as to where he’d be keeping it. And so it was locked in a friend’s truck, and God knew what we were going to do about it.
And Jake had then decided to doze off for a few hours, leaving me hanging as I called again and again, cursing him for not picking up. Brian and Ty had picked up quickly enough; Jake was starting off on the wrong foot, clearly.
“…need to get…out of the truck…mean?” I barely caught any of what he’d said, but I said back-
“Yeah man. Just get there on time tonight, huh? We’ll see you there.” I hung up, somewhat exhausted by the effort. Jessie folded his arms as I sat back down on the bed across from him.
“Is he gonna be good?” Jessie asked.
“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged. “If he doesn’t come tonight, would you fill in for him?”
“I’d need his set.”
“Oh,” I had completely forgotten about that. “Never mind then. I guess we can play without drums if it comes down to it; it’ll just sound weird.”
“Too weird,” Jessie agreed. “But at least you could then say that you have enough talent to pull it off.”
“I doubt it.” And only then did I feel some discouragement about the evening. “Well, let’s get going. I’ll make some other calls if you drive.”
He got up eagerly, and fished his keys out from his pocket. We headed down the corridor as I dialed Brian’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Yeah?”
“We might have a problem,” I said. “Jake’s running very late.”
Brian didn’t say anything at first; but then, “You’re kidding me.” He didn’t moan or cry. He just said it simply. A sigh escaped into the receiver, and then he said, “Well, I guess I’m not surprised. He’s been lazy all day man.”
“Well, we may have to play without him tonight.” I winced as I said it, mostly because I didn’t want to bring up such an idea. Unfortunately for us, there wasn’t any other options to consider at the time.
“Yeah, like hell,” Brain scoffed. “If he ain’t coming, we might as well forget it. I’ll forget it.”
“C’mon man, don’t be like that,” Jessie was looking at me as we got out of the elevator and exited the building through the front door, barely dodging the same two girls we’d ran into earlier. This time, neither of them hid the fact that they were staring, interested.
“Don’t be like what? Is it my fault that Jake’s running around like an idiot?” Brian said angrily. “I don’t even know why we bother with him sometimes. He barely comes to practice.”
“You know that’s not true at all.” And frankly, I wasn’t happy hearing such words from Brian in the first place. It didn’t bode well for us at all. “And I don’t even want to hear that kind of talk man. Look, we’ll be fine tonight. It’s just a party, not a real gig.”
“Right,” He said. “This coming from the guy who wants to start doing the whole gig thing again.”
“Are you coming tonight or not?” I made sure to make the question sound firm; let him know that he wasn’t pushing me around. I was the bull here.
He didn’t answer right away. And then, “I guess not. Sorry man; my girl just showed up a while ago and all, and I’d rather hang with her than try to make ends meet. Especially when certain people drop the ball.”
So that was how it was going to be. Whatever. “All right man. We’ll hang another time.”
I hung up then. Jessie was already getting us onto the main road, his jeep handling the turns fairly well. “Well? What’s the verdict?” he asked.
“Not good.” I said. “not good, not good, not good.”
“What, he’s being a prick now? No surprise there.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. A sudden headache hit me hard.
“Great.” I muttered.
“Take it easy, man; thing’s will work out.” Jessie slapped me on the shoulder.
I hoped so. But now I was starting to doubt it. Even as Jessie started to blare Ted Nugent all the way to the house where we were bound, I had a nagging doubt follow me all the way there.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 13
The party had already started when we had arrived and set up our equipment. Just me, Ty, and Jessie. Everyone was staring at us, no doubt asking the silent question-
What band only plays with a guitarist and bassist?
I saw their stares, and tried to ignore them. Ty was having a better time though, saying hello to everyone that passed by, shaking hands with a few buddies whenever they came near.
Jessie had found a bottle of whiskey, and he went to town on it while me and Ty started to tune our gear.
Around ten or so, we started to play. It wasn’t a big deal; we were just screwing around, playing whatever sounded right. Ty would sometimes come up with some nasty funk beat, and I’d imitate John Frusciante and follow him along. And then, I’d pull out an Eric Johnson-esque solo or something, and he’d creep along, giving me backing.
We attracted quite a crowd doing this. People woudn’t even say anything. They’d just stand nearby, talking quietly, or drinking beer. One sarcastic bastard tossed up some change, and Jessie scooped it up in his cap, thanking the kid. “I’m in need of change for laundry.” He said. Everyone laughed at this.
Just to mess with people, I would wink at Ty, and we’d break out into a grindcore roll, and Ty would let loose this terrible-sounding bellow. It almost reminded me of what a moose would sound like if it got shoved into a meat grinder. Some people would clear out then, but anyone who knew Ty or me at the party just laughed, letting us be. It was just us, after all, being us.
“Hey man,” The owner of the house, Ty’s good friend Darren, thanked us. “This is awesome man. I heard you guys have a drummer and piano-player. Where they at right now?”
“Lost.” Jessie answered for us. “Who knows where the pianist is, and our drummer isn’t feeling it tonight.”
“That sucks man; it really does.” Darren stood a head taller than almost everyone in the room, and he bent over slightly as he said to me, “Didn’t you start up the band man?”
“Yeah man,” I said. “all by my lonesome. And then this kid got thrown into it.” I elbowed Ty, who nodded in assent.
“Nice work, man. Keep it cool. I’ll be back later.” He sauntered off towards a particularly large group of kids, leaving me and Ty and Jessie to ponder what he’d said.
“Did he just say to keep it cool?” Ty asked first.
Jessie laughed. “Who says that?”
I would. The phrase triggered something within me then, at the time. As we continued to play and roam over whatever musical territory we felt like, I contemplated this phrase.
Keep it cool. Did it mean to keep on rolling, to go even when the going got tough? Was it some famous saying-in-the-making? I had no idea.
But I liked it. It suited me. Even better, it suited our music; keepin’ it cool. We played what we played. There was no boundary for coolness when it came to music, because in a way, all music is sacred, no matter what shape or form it took. Jazz, rock, metal, hip-hop, trip-hop, trance, it didn’t matter at all. The only thing that mattered was that the music captured you, and took you far away from your stresses and pains, and made you whole again, even if it was only for a little bit.
And that was another reason as to why I played at all, I guess. The music had a healing side to it that very few took into count. Bob Marley was living proof as to what music could do for us; create not just great sounds, but create an atmosphere of love and peace. A world in harmony, brought together and united by music; a dream that every musician no doubt hoped to achieve.
But how close had we come? Bob Marley was no more; and I doubt that any musician of the 21st century could replace him, or outdo what he had done with his career.
And so, we continue to push on, hoping we can become the next big thing, the next Bono, or the next Hendrix. But I doubted that anyone from my generation, or the one after that, would ever come close to touching the glory that such icons from the past had held in their hands, or their throats.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
past had held in their hands, or their throats.
The door flew open then, and in staggered Jake, looking worn out. He was dragging with him his snare. Jessie leaped up to help him while Ty and I both stopped playing simultaneously.
“Decided to come after all, eh?” Ty grinned.
“You could say that.” Jake shrugged. “Rest of the stuff in is my friend’s truck. Can we get it quick man? He’s waiting for us.”
We rushed quickly to the truck and grabbed what we could, getting the whole set unloaded in a matter of fifteen minutes. Jake’s friend tore off right after I’d snatched the last bass drum out from the back.
“Where’s he off to?” Jessie wondered aloud.
“He’ll be back,” Jake said. “I told him I’d kill him if he didn’t.”
“Well, you’re gonna be pretty disappointed when you find out in a few hours that you don’t have a ride home.” Ty said with a smirk, and we all laughed at Jake.
“Whatever,” he said.
“Yeah,” I laughed a bit more. “Just think of it as karma for showing up late, right?”
“Screw you guys.” We all cracked up some more as we entered the house. We were lucky enough to have people clear out of the way for us as we finally set up the final piece of our little trio.
Jake warmed up a little bit, and while he did so, I made sure to get around the house to say hello to a few friends I might have missed. I could hear Jake pounding his drums into oblivion from the far side of the house, and even upstairs. He was playing thrash one moment, then skipping into blast beats the next. And then when I thought he’d scare everyone away, he’d break out into a Billy Cobham sound, attracting everyone again. Hearing him play somehow affirmed within me that it was a good thing to have him in the band still.
I was going back down the stairs, when I heard people cheering in the living room. “Hey, Chad!” Jessie came to the foot of the stairs. “Hey man, people want a performance.”
“Yeah, I’m on it.” I got down the stairs as fast as I could. Jessie handed me my guitar, and plugged it in for me, even. Everyone crammed into that small living room, and more were scattered around the hall. Most of the house was intent on hearing us play now.
“Okay,” I said after a moment, trying to get my wits together. “What should we do?” I glanced at Ty. He shrugged.
Jake did the same thing, but then said, “Planet Caravan?”
“I don’t think you can use a drum set in that song…” Ty said quietly, as if trying not to be heard. “A pair of bongos, maybe, but not a whole drum set-”
“Screw it,” I cut him off. “Let’s do it. We start with you, Jake.”
Jake started us out on four taps, and then we began. Black Sabbath had been one of my favorite ‘old-school’ bands back when I was a kid. I knew most of their good songs, and Planet Caravan was just another link in the chain for me; a song I knew in the back of my head. I didn’t even have to look at the strings to know what note to hit.
Ty was very much the same. But Jake, as TY pointed out, couldn’t play a loud drum set to such a relaxing song. Fortunately for us, Jake recognized this, and played the snare with a rim shot instead of a full bore smack like he always did. Ty approached the microphone and sang the words for us, coming fairly close to imitating Ozzy.
“We saiiillll…through endless skies…staaarrrss shine like eeeeyyyyesss…”
We played it well, and the crowd was captivated by our performance. No one moved, breathed even, it seemed. Everyone stood stock still, and a few people had their mouths open wide enough to catch flies. Regardless, Juggernaut played on, ignoring the reaction of the crowd, as that we were in our own world anyway.
Finally, the end came, and Ty creeped away from me as I slowly settled into the guitar solo at the end. No hesitation forced me off beat, and I felt like I was invincible. It was just me, alone in the world, playing what my heart was crying out for. I secretly hope that no matter whether he was in the afterlife or not, somewhere out there, Dimebag Darrel himself was nodding his head to the song, smiling as he saw me play just like he had during his time on earth.
The feelings that came on after we finished were incredible; everyone started clapping, and Jessie even ran up and hugged me. I just laughed at it all, as euphoria took over my soul, gently releasing it from any internal or mental aches and pains it was suffering at the time. I could swear, an out of body experience stole over me for just a moment, taking me high enough to sigh with relief, before I was brought back down to earth, among my peers, with a guitar in hand, and a heart filled with joy and satisfaction.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
“Well, I’m done for now,” I told the guys as I put the guitar back in its case. “I’m gonna go mingle, I think.”
“Mingle? With whom?” Jessie said. “And can I join? Are they high-society or low?”
“You’re an idiot.” I told him. “Go find a couple drunks to hang with. They seem more your type.”
Jessie flipped me off. “He’s right, man,” Ty chuckled. “He’s got a good point there.”
“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Jake leaped out from behind the drum set and sat down next to Jessie. “We’ll find some girls in this crowd. You in with us, Ty?”
“Stupid question. Of course.” I rolled my eyes as I watched Ty post up against the wall, checking out every girl that passed by, occasionally hollering something at one or two.
“That’s it; I’m out.” I needed to get outside and sit down. I left them there, hoping they wouldn’t get in trouble while I was gone.
Outside it was nice and warm. The sun had gone down, and the stars weren’t out, but I was happy as it was. I put my head back against the wall and shut my eyes, leaning my chair back as far as I could.
The sound of a car horn honking viciously nearby caused me to jerk and fall backwards, taking the chair with me. I hit the ground, and sprawled out of the chair, completely embarrassed.
Laughter floated to my ears as I scrambled to my feet, trying to get the chair back in place. “That was real smooth,” A familiar voice said.
Rachel came up to the porch, beaming. No doubt amused at my antics.
“That wasn’t very nice,” I said as I finally lifted the chair back onto its feet.
“I couldn’t help it.” She laughed again. “Were you sleeping?”
“Almost.” I had forgotten how good-looking she was. She wore jeans and a simple tee shirt. There was no short pair of shorts, no shirt revealing cleavage. But somehow this girl was far more attractive than any other girl at the party.
And far more attractive than most of the girls at GMU…
“So did you get moved in all right?” They say the best defense is a good offense, so I took stock of the situation and charged right in. She didn’t seem to notice my strategic posturing.
“Yeah, it went fine. How about you?:
“Not bad, not bad; could’ve been better, but Jessie brought a lot of crap with him that he doesn’t need.” She smiled at this, and I figured I had my way in now.
“So do you do this a lot?” I asked her. “Come out to these things, I mean? Parties?”
“Not really,” She admitted “I just don’t enjoy them like I used to. Too much emphasis on drugs now.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.” I sat back down in the chair, carefully this time, and she took one next to me. “So how’s Janice? Taking it well that you’re gone, hopefully?”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m glad she’s not here though. She’s really into this kind of thing,” Rachel waved her hand towards the door, making her point about the party. “I’m worry about her, sometimes. I don’t want to see her go down this path.”
“Doesn’t everybody go down it, though?” that’s at least how I had felt. I knew the treacherous paths of teenage angst, and how sometimes, it felt as though there were small things we could use to escape from that world of pain. In the end, the pain never left, but it was nice to think it could and did leave, for a little bit.
But most kids never understood that. They always thought that the pain could be permanently beaten, and that it would never come back. This was a lesson I was fortunate enough to learn earlier in my life.
“I did,” Rachel admitted. “What about you? Did you ever struggle with this?” she was pointing to the door again, where the party lay inside.
I told her yes. “A long time ago.” I made sure that she heard that as well. “I used to be pretty bad. Especially when mom went down.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” She seemed genuinely concerned, and it made me feel better in a way. “What happened?”
“What, to my mom?” Where did I begin?
“No, I mean, what happened with you after that? Too much partying?” she asked, leaning closer.
“Not exactly.” What could I tell as it was? That I was anti-social at a point, only wanting to be with my guitar in my room? Wanting nothing from the world or that God dud? “I spent a lot of time alone, and I did everything by myself. Alcohol, Cocaine, LSD; I even tried Heroine a few times.”
She winced when she heard this. “My God,” She said. “That’s horrible.”
“What about you?” I didn’t want to talk about me anymore; it was time to put her back on the defensive. Too many painful memories were coming back now, and I didn’t want to think about them. I could vaguely recall how it felt to hide bags of cocaine under my bed, and dispose of needles by flushing them down the toilet after crushing them first-
“Alcohol’s the worst I got into. I did pot a few times, but nothing ever serious,” She said, taking me away from Memory Lane. “I mean, I was an alcoholic for a while. I went to AA for it. My parents were really scared.”
“Did it work? AA, I mean?”
“Yeah,” She said. “It worked well. I don’t drink that much anymore. Maybe a little bit here and there, but not enough to get drunk.”
“The way it should be,” I smiled. “I guess I’m not the only one who’s got a bad taste in his mouth about the whole Party Generation.”
“What do you mean by that?” She laughed at me.
“Um…” I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but now I had to scramble and cover my ass. “This whole generation is bent on self-destruction. All you have to do is go inside the house to see that. We’re going down, and slowly, we’re taking America with us.”
Rachel nodded somberly. I leaned back against the wall, hoping that this conversation would end soon. It was bringing up too many painful memories. Memories I’d tried to forget over the years, after mom had gone.
I had been fairly out of my head because of her passing; and Marvin had never helped the situation back then, always yelling at me for the smallest of things. Perhaps I’d done most of the stupid stuff back then because I felt the will to rebel, to show him what he was doing to me. Marvin never knew what I had done, though, and I hoped then that he never would. Because it would kill him.
And what about Grant? During those times when I’d tried to destroy myself through substance abuse, I’d never given two thoughts about him. He’d just been there, in the house, an object, if you will. Just a piece of furniture, sitting on top of another piece. A talking piece of furniture.
I now found myself silently thankful that Grant had never followed after me. I had done nothing but lay down a path of Sin and Hate for him to follow, but he had always stood strong, taking Marvin’s side in everything. In doing so, he’d saved himself years of loathing and bitterness; and in a way, he was a better kid than I could ever hope to be.
“I just hope Janice doesn’t take that path,” Rachel burst out. “I don’t want that for her. I’m hoping she’s learned from me. The thing is, I think she’s learned to party more than study.”
I didn’t know if there was anything I could say to comfort her, despite how much I really wanted to. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” It was the best I could manage.
“Thanks,” was her return. I’d then had enough and wanted out of this depressing conversation. Entirely.
“You uh…” I stood up, wondering what to say. “You wanna go somewhere else, then? Take our minds off of this?”
“I just got here,” She laughed. “But you go ahead.”
“I can’t,” It then occurred to me that my ride was Jessie, and I had to watch over him to make sure he remained my DD. “But maybe we can hang out later, huh? What’s your number?”
What started then was a spark of hope. We exchanged numbers, and my confidence soared higher, until it was sailing among the stars.
Speaking with Rachel about the past had never been a plan I would endorse, but it had worked, and I’d felt something connect when we’d spoken. Now I wanted to know her completely, no more secrets, no more hiding behind the acquaintanceship behavior that everyone started with. I wanted her entirely, without any restraint.
And so, let the games begin.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 14
The next day started off with a rude bang as I crudely threw myself off of my bed, landing on the floor with a thump, leaving a tender bruise that would remain on my waist for at least a few good days.
Late for English. Was there nothing more frustrating than to wake up, feeling so fine and happy to lay against a soft pillow, only to notice that the clock read a few minutes before you were supposed to be in class?
Maybe so. Having to change a tire on the interstate highway was no fun. And neither was having to deal with customs officers during an airport fiasco. But those kinds of distractions were outside of my little world. I had no reason to travel through an airport, and I had just filled my tires up recently. Being late to class was the worst I could do at this time and in this place.
I didn’t even bother with breakfast. There was always afterwards in which eating a very large lunch could make up for a small breakfast, or no breakfast at all. Even if my stomach growled during class, I could endure such a treatment. It was something I’d been doing since I’d started my post-high-school-education.
Getting to the class proved no difficulties. I made it with little time to spare. Only a few kids in the large theatre noticed my entrance, and they didn’t really care.
Be patient, don’t cause a scene. Pick out a nice chair in the back. Sitting down, I couldn’t see very well, but the professor had a microphone, and at least I could hear his words fairly well.
But the voice of this particular professor was similar to that of the voice often heard in the Peanuts Gang cartoons; large, honking, completely unintelligible. Or perhaps to my ears it was unintelligible, due to my lack of attention, and the fact that I was trying to fall asleep again. I had a taller character sitting in front of me, so I had perfect position to be able to tilt my chin into my chest and shut my eyes.
“…So now as we take a closer look at the epic of Gilgamesh, I want you to keep in mind that…the gloves are off.
What the-? What was this? I opened my eyes as sinister croak emerged from the short and graying professor’s throat, his jowls trembling as he rasped continually.
“Blood stays warm in the sun…do not try to resist the temptation, rather, take the next exit and embrace it fully…”
I slapped myself hard, hoping this was only a figment of my imagination. The sharp sting of the slap woke me up fully, and the several glances I received from different students informed me that the professor wasn’t really crazy. I shut my eyes again, and the droning, nasal voice was restored. But I still could feel the creeping ice that ran down my spine from his previous voice, filled with menace and damnation.
How long would this class continue? It seemed as though I had been sitting there for hours, when it truth it had probably only been a few minutes. God, the man could talk. He was getting more excited by the minute, jabbering a thousand miles a minute, and I didn’t have the energy to bother keeping up. I barely could make out a single word in all of his ruminations.
Ruminations? Where had that word come from? I sorely needed a break or something.
Kids all around me were nodding off; It wasn’t just me that was getting bored. Two guys even started to snore quietly. I made it my duty to nudge them and make sure they realized that they were starting to be heard. The professor had started to look our way, but I was swift in judgment, kicking both guys underneath the chairs. Both of them glared at me, but only one of them looked like he was ready to swing at me.
But no blow came as the professor said loudly, “Excuse me? Gentlemen in the back, please pay attention. This is important. Thank you.” And I went back to leaning my head on the back wall, and so did the other kid. He shrugged at me. I just smiled back. He obviously hadn’t realized I was trying to save him from certain hatred from out professor.
I was half asleep when I noticed a pair of eyes that were on me. Dark, sharp, a certain glow about them. Teasing in nature; they offered me nothing but pleasure as I took them in for a moment, fully waking up then. She smiled as she then faced the front of the class again.
Who was this feminine beauty? Her back was now to me, giving me the uncared for details: dark black hair. Caucasian. Liked to dress in skirt and flip-flops. This was all I could surmise from behind, as captivated as I was.
She didn’t turn around again. The class continued on in its droning fashion. If I could’ve made a prayer to God, it would’ve been to at least give me control of time for a short while, at least until I could effectively end the class for the day.
Finally, the professor ended class, and an inevitable rush for the door ensued, leaving me strapped down into my seat. I watched as a class of three hundred fought and shoved to get out.
Finally, after a storm of students left, I took up my bag and opened the door, the cool air of the outdoors hitting me as the door shut behind me loudly. I strode along the campus, in a decent mood, a smile stretched tight across my face. I nodded to a few passersby’s that I knew personally. Most waved or nodded back.
Sitting down at a small, metal table outside of the cafeteria, I pulled out cell phone, intending to make a call I should’ve made a while ago. The person I was calling picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?” David Steele’s voice was unmistakable, and he cleared his throat after speaking.
“Yeah, David, it’s Palma.”
“Oh, dude! What’s going on? How’s campus?” his voice pitched with excitement as he pressed me with questions.
“Whoa, take it easy, man; you can find out when you get here.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement, as it were. He knew why I was calling, no doubt. “Hey, we can fit you in sometime this week. When are you good to drive up?”
“Uh…well, I guess I can make it up there tomorrow night.” He said. “So they’re cool with this? The audition, I mean?”
“Yeah man,” I laughed again. “They’re eager to hear you now. And for that matter, so am I. So you have that to look forward to tomorrow.”
“Awesome dude; really, I mean it,” He was sounded like he was genuinely about to piss himself. “Really, thanks for giving me the audition. Swear I won’t let you guys down.”
“I’m not worried about that,” I told him. “Just come prepared. Listen to both of our albums, and be ready to sing at least one song from both of them. Or something.” It then occurred to me I had no clue what I was going to do. How was I going to judge whether or not this kid was good enough? Or if he even fit our sound?
This revelation threw me. David didn’t even seem to care. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready.” We concluded our call, and he hung up first. I put the phone down, feeling stupid.
What now?
“Hey, Palma!” I found rough hands slamming down on my shoulders, scaring me horribly. I twisted around, almost falling over as Mitch cracked up, smirking at me.
“Douche,” I muttered as I sat back down in the seat.
“Not my fault you scare easily.” He chuckled, taking the opposite seat across from me. “So what’s good? Still doing well in class?”
“Getting there,” I admitted. “I’ll have a 3.5 or better before the semester ends.”
“So the old man Marvin finally got to ya,” Mitch laughed humorlessly. “How’s things with you two, anyways? I heard you guys almost got in a fist fight.”
“Not really,” I had no idea where he’d heard such things, but it was best to put the fire out quickly and leave no doubt. “Just your typical, run-of-the-mill argument. Nothing big.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s good to hear. I mean, it’s better than a fist fight, anyway.” He leaned back, the sunlight reflecting off of his sunglasses. “So what are you doing tonight man? You up for doing something?”
“Sure, why not? I don’t have any real tests or papers to worry about.” I shrugged. “What about you? You make it sound like you don’t have any real trouble with classes at all.”
“That’s because I’m an intelligent man, ya know?” he grinned, and the gap in his teeth showed brightly.
“Yup. I do indeed.”
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
I leaned forward, trying not to smile as I presented the big news to him. “Tomorrow night, Juggernaut may finally get a vocalist.”
His eyes lit up with surprise. “Seriously? No joke?”
“None, whatsoever.” I grinned fully now.
“Fuckin’ A!” he exclaimed. “That just made my day. So are you guys makin’ him try out tomorrow, or what’s the deal?”
“Yeah, tomorrow night,” I said. “We’ll see how good he really is; I have no idea. I would never have thought of this kid as the singing type.”
“What, you know him pretty well?”
“Well, yeah…he’s still in high school, but-” Mitch cut me off with laughter before I could finish.
“That’s hilarious,” he summarized after his laughter had finally subsided. “And you don’t even know if he can sing? What if you’re just wasting your time?”
“He’s been a fan of ours for a long time,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t think he’d waste our time like that. I hope not.”
“Yeah…you’d better pray for that man.” Mitch snorted, now looking impatient. “But listen, I’ve gotta get going. You stay out of trouble, eh?” he stood up abruptly. I had to shout after him.
“That goes double for you!” it was impossible to tell if he heard me. He didn’t turn around or even seem to acknowledge the call. I went back to sitting there, wishing that I hadn’t forgotten to purchase a pack of cigs.
And then the wishing turned into a deeper, stronger lust. A longing that wouldn’t quit; it overwhelmed my senses as I sat. It coiled my stomach into knots, and I felt a bit sick at heart. I knew by this feeling what exactly I was dealing with then.
It was the Desire. The desire to leave this place behind and travel the world. To play music at every club on every continent. To always know that I was making the most of my life, instead of being stuck behind a book in a dorm or a classroom.
My dreams had always been within reach subconsciously; there was no doubt in my mind that they would never really leave me, even in my older days. It was a god-given gift to be able to make your dreams come true, but it was humility when you felt them get set back by unfortunate circumstances in life. This was evidenced by mom’s passing, and this shithole called George Mason University, a school that was trying to mold me into one of their own.
Expand your horizons…explore who you are…don’t let others tell you what you are or what you can be; find out for yourself…question yourself and the power called God…
These were just a few of the things students of higher education – those that had risen above high school, anyway – were supposed to accept as the guidelines for their experiences in college, and ultimately, the trip called Life. A fair enough guideline, given the circumstances; but how could a man ever know if he would ever find that sweet salvation, that discovery of self? Was self-discovery even a possible concept? Indeed, I had ruled it out after my freshman year, having had enough of being told what to believe in a subtle manner.
I’d seen too many students forget where they had come from and what they had believed before college. Put a new kid in the classes for the higher ed students and they think that they’ve learned more than Jesus Christ or Plato could ever forget. It happens every time. Always learn both sides of an argument, I’ve heard professors say. And then they proceed to tell their own side of the argument, and shut down any dissenters who want to hear the other side of the story.
“I don’t believe in censorship. I believe in a power called tolerance!” an old professor of mine had exclaimed moments before kicking a girl out of class for daring to raise her hand and questioning his beliefs on the war.
Really? Such passion and hatred for or against the war is no surprise in this modern era; I certainly have my own views on it. Marvin has his views on the war and our commander-in-chief as well. But to kick a girl out for merely disagreeing with a statement made about the US government lusting for oil? How is that justified? To this day, I was secretly glad when I heard that the man had been arrested for his streaking incident months and months later. I had often imagined visiting him while he was in a cell, and while leaning forward to say something through the bars, spitting in his face instead.
It has always bothered me that professors were given such control to exert over the classroom. The classroom had once been a civil place to have a debate; now it had almost become a warzone of a different type. Or perhaps a dictatorship is a more accurate description of the average college classroom now. No man can enter one without the dreaded sense of knowing that if he doesn’t conform to a certain stance while in the class, he won’t survive the day.
George Mason was no exception to this cancerous society in which the liberal mannerisms had overtaken a crowd still stuck in a rut over the good ol’ days with men like Reagan and Bush running the office. And while the conservative extremists had been proudly striding around the country for years and years with the exception of Clinton, the liberal side had bided its time. And now it looked like there were going to make a power play and sweep the nation off balance.
Was America the Great truly ready for such a change? I didn’t know. I was worried about the reactions that would occur. More importantly, I couldn’t keep away the cloud of impending doom that hung over me, the sign that America had hit her apex, and was now due for a large fall. A fall that would send the country spiraling out of control, and maybe taking the world with it.
I needed a break. A nap would suffice. I stood up then, my mind made up that I would go back to the dorm and sleep on my desires, and bury the doom within my soul. Smother it, and hope that it would lay dormant for another couple of hours. If I was lucky, maybe it would be a few days before I was reminded of how far man’s fall was in the end.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 15
It was nine-thirty-three at night, and finally, things were working out smoothly for Juggernaut. We had managed somehow to find a house off of campus to set up our gear in, and while we were waiting for David to arrive, we mainly goofed off; excited for the new step we were taking.
That is, everyone except Brian, who sat near his portable piano, scowling. His eyes were a deep red, and I was fairly sure he’d had some to drink before he’d come over, because when I spoke to him, he took his time to answer, his words not as coherent as expected.
“I’m telling you, this kid might be good; I have no clue,” I told him. “Just don’t take my head off if he’s not something we can use.”
“Whatever man; it’s all gone, anyway. Nothin’ to do back at the dorms, not much going on here with the band either.” He shrugged carelessly. “I need to get laid.”
I had been on my way to the kitchen when he said this, and it threw me. I almost broke out in laughter, so humorous was the left-field comment. Even if Brian was supposedly seeing someone, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
The doorbell rang, and our friend and house owner Marcus threw open the door. David stood by himself, his car parked up on the curb. He looked like a freaking wreck; absolutely nervous. The eyes gave it away; they didn’t remain still, even when we brought him in and some fool, Jessie, tried to offer him a beer, which he refused.
“So what’s the deal?” he asked as we finished up setting our stuff up completely.
This was where the long shot came from. From here on in, I was improvising this little gathering. Nobody but me knew that there was no general plan for recruitment for Juggernaut. The rest of the band just assumed that I had a system or something in place. Really, I had no clue what I was doing. Whatever sounded right probably would work; at least, that was how I felt at the time.
“Right. Uh…we’re just gonna do what we always do,” I started off. “Which is jam and jam. Feel free to sit back and listen to it for a little bit; but after that, we’re gonna play some of the stuff from our first album. You know which one I’m talking about?”
“Is it the one that’s named ‘Tits and Tabs?’” he inquired with a raised eyebrow.
I could almost feel the heat of embarrassment wash over me. Jessie snickered, and Ty was trying not to crack up, but failing miserably. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “It wasn’t the title I had in mind, but somebody else in the band had other ideas, and I got out-voted.”
“That’s democracy for ya!” Jessie called from the kitchen, laughing loudly. “Nice going, Ty.”
Ty, the moron who came up with the album name, just smirked.
“We’re getting off-track here,” I managed to divert David’s attention back to me. “So we’re gonna play some tunes from Tits and Tabs, and you’re going to improvise on the spot. You get me? It won’t matter what you say to us – for now, anyway. We’re just looking to see if a vocalist is what we really need. If it sounds good, we’ll use it.”
“And lyrics?” Brian interjected before David or I could say anything else. “What about that if we do want him?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” I slapped David on the shoulder. “You ready?” I was just trying to avoid any more difficulty with Brian or anyone else in the band before questions about my flawed recruitment system could arise.
“Ready when you are.” He said, taking his cap off.
And so, the music began. We started off slow, like always. David just sat there, his eyes glued to the carpet, his head moving very, very slightly in beat with the rhythm. We all became one with the sound, in a way. Every man in the room, even Jessie, who was leaning against the wall with a beer, was intently frozen within the sound. It was almost like a bubble; each and every one of us was captured inside of it, and only the bubble existed. There was no outside world; the music was all we lived and breathed. It controlled us like we were just bodily extensions.
And then, after a little while of fooling around, Brian kicked it off with the eerie-sounding, neo-classical sound that we started Tits and Tabs with, using only a few keys, and playing them repeatedly. Eventually, almost at the same time, Ty, Jake, and I brought down this undeniable groove from our first track, “Benjamin Bribes Has Got the Jives”
The sound had shifted into such a groove that Josh Homme would have been proud, had he heard it. Maybe he had; perhaps some otherworldly creature had taken over my body during my play, forcing me to play these fiendish and incredible songs and not giving me any other choice.
I suppose it didn’t matter that much; what did matter was this it was my body doing the playing. My hands were moving up and down the fretboard, my pick hand moving rapidly over certain strings. I didn’t even think about the others playing. I just sensed them. Like a cosmic energy uniting all of us.
David found it absolutely fascinating. Before long, he was up, and moving around the room, his eyes darting back and forth; I could tell he was thinking rapidly, his mind firing on all cylinders. It wasn’t long before he approached the microphone stand we had set up for him, right next to me so that I could hear him better.
And then he blew me away; his voice was strikingly similar to John Garcia. He was softer-sounding than Garcia, and his voice had this meek trembling to it the higher it rose, but otherwise, the pure sound of it was staggering.
Glancing around at the rest of Juggernaut, although Jake and Brian couldn’t keep an eye on him, they were obviously feeling it. Brian no longer had a scowl on his face, and Jake was pounding the drums harder than ever. Ty had a large grin sprawled over his face.
Juggernaut’s new little high-schooler vocalist took no heed of the rest of us; he was rocking out to us, his voice still carrying the song. His hands gripped the stand, swinging it everywhere he went, and when the song finally finished eight minutes later, there was no need for us to consider playing another song for David’s tryout; we all agreed aloud verbally that he was definitely in the band. As to the question of transportation and band practice, we were sure we could figure it out along the way.
“Welcome to Juggernaut, man.” We all shook hands with him, and he was practically bursting out with pride and joy. We all felt the same way; finally, this could be the final missing link set in place. Finally, just maybe, Juggernaut had found what it was lacking this entire time, and we were finally going to hit our stride.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
The rehearsal/practice/tryouts might have been finished for the night, but the night itself was far from over. Since it was a Friday night, David was stuck with us, not wanting to have to drive home for the night. His parents had given him permission to stay in my dorm with me and Jessie.
And while Jake and Brian both claimed they were tired and were planning on hanging with girls separately, it ended up being Jessie, David, Ty and Me all driving out to yet another large party. This one was off campus, maybe five minutes away from the dorms. Another older GMU senior who was graduating soon, I had heard.
Names didn’t matter to me when it came to parties; I still felt uncomfortable around them, even if these college kids were supposed to be older and wiser than high schoolers. I hardly ever saw evidence of that claim being true; the only thing college kids knew better than high schoolers was how to slow the pace down and enjoy the night for a little while longer.
But despite this revelation, there was no general difference between the two kinds of kids afterwards. It was still a party, and there was still many strong drinks going around. The atmosphere was surprising; there wasn’t a crazy ambience throughout the rooms of the house. In fact, it was a chilled-out, relaxed hang-out session more than anything else.
I soon found the catalyst responsible for the self-induced calm. Marijuana by the ounce was being passed throughout the whole building.
“Don’t even think about getting into that stuff,” I warned Jessie as we both watch a pipe being used by a particular group of kids in the living room.
Jessie seemed shocked that I’d order such a thing. “What’s the deal?” he asked.
“I’m not even kidding. The last thing we need is for everyone to be crazed or out of their minds when the cops how up.”
“I think you’re just worried about nothing, man. Don’t let what happened the last time you partied bring you down a few notches,” Jessie just laughed at me. “I mean, seriously, think about it. That was a high school party anyway. Nobody said they were smart.”
Jessie took off upstairs then, and I was then left with David, who had found a whole six-pack by the door, and it was almost untouched, save for one missing beer. He had the rest of the cans stuffed down his pockets, and one shoved in between his shirt and pants. Looking utterly ridiculous, he shrugged at me when I shook my head at him.
“I’m good for a little bit,” he said.
“I can tell.”
David glanced around a little bit, no doubt feeling like a fish out of water. I patted him on the back, trying to comfort him. “Relax man. Eventually you’ll be at these kinds of gatherings all the time. They’re not so different from high school.”
David nodded. “So why don’t you drink?”
“Long story; one I don’t particularly feel like explaining.” I gritted my teeth for a moment, but relented. “Let’s just say certain things in life have a way of ruining the fun for you, and making you turn into something you never thought you could become.”
David blinked, surprised. “You sure you’re not just taking in too much second-hand smoke? That sounded unlike you.”
I burst out laughing, unable to contain it. “Trust me; that’s just how I talk about my past,” I proceeded to head for the front door. “I need a smoke. Let’s go outside.”
“Why? The weed’s in here. You can’t smoke cigs in here?”
“Apparently not,” I opened the door, and he followed me out. There were a few kids outside, but most of them had the common sense to stay out of the street, and remain near the back of the house, in case any cop did decide to show up. I planted myself in a small rocking chair while David sat on the porch steps.
“I honestly feel like a porch monkey right now.” He said it out of the blue; and for a moment, I suspected that he was actually drunk, and had been hiding it for the last hour or so that we had been here.
“Then drink another beer.” I felt a stab of regret the moment I said it, but the action had already been done. David then finished the can in his hand and yanked another one out.
Amazing.
“So…” David leaned back then. “What are you gonna do after graduation, man? Are you planning on taking Juggernaut that far, or is this just a screw-around kind of thing?”
“What do you mean?” I knew what he had meant in truth, but I wanted to hear him define it better himself.
“I mean, are you guys going to make this a life pursuit? Because, I can’t afford to keep driving back and forth with you guys doing shows and stuff if it’s going to mess with school. I’m not trying to be a jerk or anything, but my education is important to me.” He had a wince on his face, as if he expected me to berate him.
I did otherwise. “Nah, man. You can take comfort in knowing that I believe that Juggernaut is my God-given destiny to make a real impact on music. Or at the very least, give people some great music to listen to.”
“What do you mean by great music, though, man? Everyone thinks they listen to the best music in the world,” David glanced at me quizzically.
“Yeah, tell me about it. I know all about those types. The jerkoff pricks who think they are artists because they write music? Is that what you mean?” I stood up and sat down next to him now, trying not to blow smoke in his face as I explained “I’m not like that. I feel like my music is art, yeah; but it’s not an art that I take seriously. I can’t. Art itself is such a precious thing that we can’t just take it all serious and crap. Humanity in general just needs to take a step back from the whole artsy-pretense thing and grow up. Music should be fun, not hard.”
David agreed. “So why does Brian seem like a stiff neck in the group? I mean, I heard him talking with Ty earlier about how you and him differ on music a ton. It sounds like he wants you out of the band, almost.”
I knew he wasn’t lying; I had sensed the exact same thing from Brian. Brian and I both loved music with all of our souls, and we could definitely get along when John Coltrane was playing, or maybe if Porcupine Tree was on, then we could both jam out and forget our differences. However, that was the furthest our musical similarities went. He didn’t understand what I liked about bands like Sunn O))), and I didn’t get why he absolutely loved bands like Sonic Youth.
To hear that he wanted me out of the band came as no surprise, but it hurt regardless. David must’ve seen something in my face, because he kept going. “I’m sorry man. I didn’t think he was being serious. He started talking about it the moment you and Jake both went out to the cars with the gear though.”
“It’s cool. Just forget about it, all right?” That was what I wanted to do, anyway. Put asides the bad and embrace the good. “Juggernaut is my band, and Brian’s not kicking me out of it. He can kiss my ass if that’s what he thinks. Ty and Jake both got my back too. They would rather see him out than me.”
David let it go, and we ended up drifting in random subject matter, cover all kinds of topics from favorite bands, to tours we’d been to, and the general smattering of moshpit stories. It was nice to have someone who wasn’t drunk to speak to, for a change. Granted, David was close to drunk, but he wasn’t quite there.
“Dude, I’ve had enough. Let’s go back inside.” He stood up then, finishing the can in one long drain.
“Yeah.” I agreed. “Just don’t go crazy on the beer, will you?”
“Relax. I’m done after this.” He pointed at the two left in his pockets, one of which he pulled out and opened the can by somehow using his teeth in an incredible stunt of twisting his tooth and slipping it under the tab.
“That’s not very healthy.” I said as I opened the door for him, and then closed it after we’d both entered the house again.
We then decided we wanted to find a place to sit; however, the whole house was once again taken up by almost a moving mass of bodies, and seating seemed like a commodity that was out of stock. But luck then came with us as a couple went to the bathroom together, leaving their seats in the dining room open. David and I took the seats shamelessly.
“Awesome.” David beamed. “Should I pass out tonight for some reason, remember that you’ll find me here on the table, most likely.”
“I hope not.” I muttered at his back.
We had not been there a whole three minutes when someone stood behind me. “Hi Chad. Didn’t expect to find you here.”
It was Rachel, grinning that bright smile, lighting up the room. David and I both took notice immediately, as we scrambled to stand up. I made proper introductions quickly. “Yeah, uh…Rachel, this is David. He’s the new singer for my band. David, this is Rachel.”
“Hi,” she smiled nicely to him. David grinned back deeply.
“Pleasure to meet you.” He said it in a way that caused a white flag within my body to rise up. An uncontrollable fit of jealously stole over me, and I briefly considered different ways of getting Rachel away from David, and finding a place alone with her.
No such thing happened. Rather, somehow, Rachel ended up sitting in my seat, while David took his. The manner in which he had been speaking with me was gone; it was almost as if the fact that he was nearing hit level of alcohol had vanished, and he was no longer drunk. It was either that, or he was a great pretender. I wasn’t sure which one it was.
I did know one thing, however; this was my new vocalist trying to hit on a girl I had taken a great interest in. I didn’t want to make it obvious that I was jealous however. Nor did I want to shove David away because he was getting the better of the situation. I would feel bad for the kid it that happened.
So instead, I found a nice couch to lie on for the rest of the party, until I had to help get Jessie and David both back to the dorms without any trouble. The rest of the night I lay restlessly in bed, wondering what had just happened to one of my primary goals here at GMU.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
Chapter 16
The day was Saturday, and a week had passed since David had been admitted into the ranks of Juggernaut. Despite what had happened at the party that night, I was determined to brush it aside; forget about it, and just let bygones be bygones. Sure, Rachel and David had just met. It was just a friendly little gathering, was it not?
That was something I was hoping for, at any rate. Because after all, I genuinely liked David, and I really wanted our friendship to flourish, both on a personal level as well a professional one. I didn’t want to be the one who tore the whole thing up and cause David to leave the band merely over a girl.
Besides, I was certain that she had been acting friendly…and that was all. Right?
Keep telling yourself that, son.
-
To clear our heads of all that we had learned, it was agreed that for the day that Jessie, David, Mitch, and I would all take a short trip out to D.C. for the day. And why not? It wasn’t New York City or anything, but it was better than bumming around on campus. As it was, I was getting tired of campus already. The partying was held starting from Fridays until Sundays, and more often than not I counted at least eight or nine kids in every class of mine who came into class still drunk or hung-over. I barely was getting sleep, even without the whole drinking pattern added into my life. Jessie looked like a pitiful wreck, even as we got ready to head up to D.C. The bags under his eyes were enormous, and he was barely awake as he and I waited outside of the dorm for David and Mitch to meet us up.
David arrived first, surprisingly. He saluted me as he parked his car. “Thought I’d get up a little early for this. Thanks for inviting me.” He said.
“No problem man. We’re still waitin’ on a guy though. Have you met Mitch? I can’t remember.” I honestly couldn’t. I could’ve sworn at the time that he had already met the guy.
“Actually, I knew him a little bit in high school.” He must’ve seen the confused look on my face, because he elaborated. “We had two classes together.”
“Nice,” Jessie muttered. His head hung low, and it was obvious he’d gotten no sleep. I would know; he had been too busy throwing up in the dorm bathroom.
“What happened to you, Jessie?” David had just notice his condition, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the concern in David’s eyes.
“Take a wild guess.” I grinned at him, and he immediately understood. He laughed a little bit.
Jessie flipped us both off. “You have no idea what pain really is,” He groaned.
“And you have no idea what the words ‘pace yourself’ signify, do you?” David and I both laughed again, while Jessie just rolled his eyes.
“Where’s he at, man?” he said after a moment.
“Mitch? I have no idea-” I had barely finished this sentence when my phone started screeching, and upon looking at the caller I.D., I saw that it was Mitch calling.
“Where are you?” I said through the speaker.
“I’m almost there. Hey, I hope you don’t mind…but I told a few girls they could come along.” Mitch’s voice was hard to hear over the shrieking laughter in the background.
“How many of them, man?” I gritted my teeth then, slightly pissed that Mitch would pull this on us.
“Just two, relax,” he said. “Trust me, a trip to D.C. is not complete without a few girls, man.”
“Whatever; where are you? How soon will you be here?” I glanced at David and Jessie, and both of them stared back at me, waiting.
“I’ll be there in two minutes. Just wait.”
I hung up then, and shrugged at the guys. “Well, we’re gonna have a little more company than expected.” I said. “We might need two cars instead of just one.”
-
Two cars were indeed needed, and I ended up being the sucker. David and Jessie both dived in the car with Mitch, and one of the two girls; a blonde named Clarissa, I believe. She said a quick hello before getting back in the car with Mitch, clearly into him. Her hand rested on his knee as David and Jessie both got in the back.
I was too busy staring at the other girl to really care whether I’d been abandoned or not. The girl that stood in front of me was the same one that had caught my eye in English class. The same hot young thing, still looking hot. She was wearing a skirt, but my mind was quick to even go beyond that.
Mitch brought me back down to earth as he made introductions. “Yeah, Palma, this is Elicia. Elicia, this is that crazy guy I was telling you about; you know, the band guy? Yeah, this is Chad.”
“Hi,” We shook hands quickly, and she smiled at me. I opened the passenger side door for her before looking at Mitch. I was planning on asking him something, but his smirking eyes instead cause a cloud of embarrassment to swarm over me for a moment.
“You leading?” I finally got out.
“Yeah. Hurry up, will ya? It’s already eleven-thirty.”
Getting the car, I had never felt more awkward. She knew. I could feel it as I started the car and glanced at her quickly. “So you know Mitch?” it was a lame attempt at distracting her while I composed myself.
“Yeah.” She had a soft voice, and it drove me nuts. It was smooth, seductive; it was almost as if she planned on keeping it on that level of being a cat’s purr, more than a normal voice. I could already feel a certain tug in my stomach.
“You know, we have the same English class,” She said then. “You’re always in the back sleeping.”
“I wish,” and that much was true. “I don’t get enough sleep nowadays.”
“Nice,” She smiled. “So Mitch says you’re in a band. Do you guys play locally?”
The drive wasn’t going fast enough; I wanted nothing more than to use telekinesis to automatically get us straight to D.C. without this gorgeous creature disrupting my focus. But there was no chance of that happening, and I ended up talking with her anyways.
As it turned out, she was a fairly nice kid. There was nothing that seemed to scream ‘party-whore’ about her, and I was relieved when she admitted that she was more of a hard-worker than she was a party-girl.
I spoke a little bit about myself as well, but the conversation somehow always ended up with us talking about her; it worked for me, because I really didn’t feel like talking at the time. I just wanted to drive, and clear the cobwebs out of my head. During an intermission in our talk, I turned on the stereo, completely forgetting that I had been blaring T.S.O.L. for a party that previous night. Loud guitars and drums came pounding out, and I managed to turn it down while Elicia laughed.
The drive otherwise was a pleasant one; once again, I was on the road, and I was speeding towards what would no doubt be a fun day. The windows came down, and the wind blew through my car, tossing my hair behind me. For the first time in a week, I was free once again, and completely ready for whatever crossed my path that day.
__________________ I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds
