Book Two Part One > 1/90 - 4/90 1. At a school with banks—like the Gardena Grade School. Me, Jeff and someone else. We are trying to figure out if slalom poles can be put up on the banks. A local is showing us holes where the poles can be put in. The holes are about two inches in diameter and seem to be filled with soft goopy asphalt. Just then (it’s dark out) a patrol car screeches up to the gate of the school yard and a cop walks out. He is loaded down with guns and ammo. He is sweating, maybe with a cigar in his mouth. Every one of the locals runs and the cop shines a flashlight on us, so we put up our hands to show that everything is cool. The cop yells and asks how long we’ve been there. “15 minutes,” I say. He asks us again. “15 minutes,” I say again. I can hear these words being repeated again (my voice) over a radio. I’m becoming scared that shooting may start—many more police have shown up and the locals are scattered. Now it seems to be daytime. Slow motion. A large group of kids (gang kids?) are running from the left into a large group of cops on the right. Both groups clash. Dusty. The kids all had guns and weapons of some sort. No shots are fired but I notice something like a melon being smashed. I assume this is someones head. Then, as soon as it had started, it ends and the gang kids run off leaving their wounded. A small girl turns and fires a handgun into one of the wounded kids on the ground. I think to myself that she is wanting it to look like the cops shot him. Now heavy gun fire breaks out from the police side and many go down. We are being detained in a school room afterwards and bodies are being dragged in. Hispanic teenagers. Male. One has a headband tattoo on his head and many chest tattoos. He stares blankly. He looks like a South American Indian. I begin to cry heavily. Convulsing. I meet Jeff again, in the room—we had been separated somehow. He is shirtless and in complete shock. Dazed. Mumbling about something, “I lost my...” I ask him what he said and he repeats, “I lost my...” I figure out that he’s talking about a gun/rifle that is very old and had some sentimental value. 1/25/1990, 10am. Redondo Beach, California. 2. I am walking across the street and I’m being watched. I feel danger. I head for a parking garage. My legs are not functioning properly, they feel numb and keep knocking into each other. My stride is not rhythmic at all. I reach the other side of the street and as soon as I step on the sidewalk my stride becomes normal and I extend my hand to a black man standing there. We shake and he asks me to follow him around the corner. The feeling of doom comes back... and I think I was hesitant because the man says something like, “Come on man, I just need to take a piss,” trying to get me to sympathize with him. As we walk we pass a large black man just off the sidewalk. He is wearing a knit skullcap standing with his arms akimbo watching us. I feel threatened. Just then a youth appears to my side—a bit behind me—and pulls out a large handgun. It is so big he’s having trouble holding it on me. None of the three say anything at all as I loose control of my legs and collapse onto my ass against the building, facing into the street. I am grabbing at my pockets, “Here, you can have everything I have—it’s not much but you can take it.” Waiting for the bullet to strike me somewhere in my left side. 1/27/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 3. In an elongated, dark room, facing out onto murky moat-like water. Three amps sit facing the water (audience?). I am with Mike Smith and some other guy. We all have guitars and are playing Mike’s Naked Ape—only it sound’s like the Violent Femmes’ Blister in the Sun. I’m playing my guitar upside down. The amps belong to me and Lew—and Mike keeps saying, “Cool, we can come over and plug in whenever we want...” Sometime while playing I go to the bathroom at the end of the room, look at my hair and get a drink of water from the sink. Later... Same room except now a long table is in the center. I am eating with two men. They are both dressed in Medieval clothing and seem bored with existence. Wise and bored. I find out they are immortal. The one sitting right across from me is big, has very long hair and a beard that just runs along the rim of his face—he is describing to us what he is looking for to take to his queen (also immortal). He wants a very large silver serving platter. 1/30/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 4. In a dark theater with stages. One stage sits in front of the other. Jeff and Lew and others are doing a sort of dance on the back stage as I do wheelies in a circle on a bike on the front stage, dressed in an all black Dyno uniform. The others are dressed similarly. 2/7/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 5. Something about a party. Myself and Jeff are walking along side a house and about ready to go in when some kind of confrontation starts between us and the two guys in front of us—who I think are gay. The next thing I know I am on the ground holding my mouth. No pain, just numbness and liquid. Jeff looks and says, “It’s too bad your teeth are loose.” Sure enough I feel the teeth on the upper left side of my mouth and one comes out in my hand, then another. A quick look in the mirror confirms that two of my earrings were pulled out as well. 2/8/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 6. I was given a small tattoo on the top of my right hand—a fish skeleton of some sort. Maybe prehistoric. I had to get away from something or someone. I was given a trials motorcycle and told that if I ran into this guy—a sinister looking guy like you might find in a Chuck Norris movie—driving a red car, I would be eliminated. So I took off riding. Up and down slightly wet dirt roads with the fear that I would see the red car coming around every bend. The terrain reminded me of the American Northwest. The red car never showed itself but I rode down a steep hill onto a beach and met with two guys near a house construction site. I am now on foot and have the feeling that I’ve survived the ordeal, but one of the men—a large, balding, white-haired man—is telling me otherwise, “It’s over, give it up.” But I sprinkle sand into his face from a small box I am holding and try to run away. The ground is too loose and I can barely move. I continue to throw this sand in his face in hopes of getting away. 2/12/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 7. I am in a band with Kelley, Roger Bridges, Jeff and I think Lew. We are being chased through a forest. Suddenly we are in a city street scene—New Orleans style. We jump off our ride and try to blend with a crowd of high school kids. We are wearing band uniforms. Kelley needs to go to the bathroom, so we go to a bathroom. I begin to draw a face on the wall of the bathroom. During the drawing Kelley is watching and a girl walks up and begins telling me I look like someone she knows. The drawing is a 3/4 view of a face and the mouth is wide open showing the man’s teeth... it is not coming out right at all. The bathroom expands into a living room and I am now drawing on a piece of paper on a glass table. The far wall is glass and on the other side is the outdoors. A dock and then the ocean. As I am drawing I notice a wiggley reflection on the glass table, I realize it is a shooting star. Startled, I yell out to Kelley, “Did you see that shooting star?” and run to the glass wall to look at the sky. What I see now is incredible. On the horizon are three dimensional figures made out of stars. Jeff is outside on the dock pointing and going crazy. I go outside as well where everyone is starting to notice this divine happening. It is truly incredible. Lew is on the dock as well and asks to borrow my black book but I tell him to wait because I am writing a dream down andI might forget it. I am getting a ride on the back of a Blazer after we pull someone from a mudhole. I am holding onto the spare tire and tailgate as we cruise down the freeway. It is cold and mud is flying about. I pull a sweatshirt hood over my head. Kelley and I are walking towards a beach noticing a row of houses that are right on the beach, feet from the water... in fact, the water comes right to their doors. Looks dangerous. Kelley says she would like to live there. I say it would get too loud. 3/3/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 8. On a ship—or sort of a ship, combination hotel-type thing that is grounded in a remote area. There are many passengers on board. For some unknown reason, everyone on the ship is threatened. Then I notice men are shooting at us from boats. One of the passengers is shooting back but missing horribly. I take the gun from him, aim, and hit both shooters with two shots. We take the Uzis from the bodies. We, the ship passengers, crew and myself, set up a sort of militia to help protect the ship. I have two rooms and am roaming back and forth between the two looking for guns and bullets. Then a conversation takes place in which the inferiority of the Uzi is discussed. Now we are outside the motel/ship on the land side. On watch. There is only one entrance to the ship and we see shadows milling about. Suddenly, my angle of view changes as though it were edited and I see a little boy crawling out of the big entrance hole after something he had just thrown out. He is about 10 or so and is playing his game oblivious of all the danger around him. 3/17/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 9. I am with Kelley. We are seated in the middle, right section of an amphitheater-type area waiting for some sort of event to begin. Apparently this is an open-air zoo. I sense animals in cages around us though I do not see them. I have my skateboard with me and I am fidgeting with it a lot. People are still entering and sitting down. A couple of men step in to view the crowd and one says, “I guess skateboarding is dead.” Apparently there were more skaters present at an earlier similar event. A man walks in at the front entrance. He looks like Sammy Davis Jr. Snappy dresser. He pulls at his cuffs grinning, then finds a seat. I am getting restless and occasionally skate to the back. People are asking for food from the snack bar man but he is saying, “Not yet.” I notice once while seated that Bob Schmelzer and a friend of his are seated behind us some five rows and to the left. 3/18/1991. Redondo Beach, California. 10. Kelley and I have a class together. The desks are all pretty big and cluttered. I come in late feeling anxious. Project is due. Kelley is busily putting on the final touches to hers and is ignoring me. I am frantic to finish—it is a Xerox project of some sort. Some are hanging on the walls already and most all feature a figure with oversized halftone screen effects. I am not getting much done. Kelley already has copies of hers made and is passing them around to the class. I am piecing mine together and now attempting to copy it. Kelley leaves class after finishing. My copy comes out of the machine all wrong. I am confused. Kelley’s mother Helen comes into the class and we say, “How are you?” at the same time. She says, “Oh, that always happens to us doesn’t it, Andy?” and pats me on the back. 4/25/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 11. In a house usually occupied by myself, Kelley and Jeff but at the moment Jeff and Kelley are gone but a girlfriend of Jeff’s is staying a few days. I am in my room reading when she comes in topless but with her breasts covered. We talk about something and hear a loud noise. We go into Jeff’s room which has an excellent view of the ocean. Looking out onto the Redondo pier, we see a strange sight. A battleship is being tossed into the pier by violent seas, over and over again. A small figure of a man is on the pier. The battleship is extremely under proportioned—too small. The battleship reaches a wooden boat which is a bit bigger and begins to punch holes into it with it’s sharp front section. The wooden boat sinks—I believe a cheer goes up from the gathered crowd at this point. The man on the pier is Kirk Douglas. Were they filming a movie? I never saw her breasts. In a house very similar to R.L.s, I am attempting to write a paper and am taking notes. The rooms of the house all have an array of people in them, none of whom I know. I am distracted from writing and go to the stairs to find Ceppie Maes standing halfway up them. His hair is cropped short and he has a mustache. I realize that I have a goatee and look similar to how he usually looks. Two girls come in the front door holding t-shirts. Ceppie signals them to come in and he tells them to show me the shirts while he explains that he has started a t-shirt company. Then he yells at the girls for only having two designs done and follows them out the door. As he is walking down the stairs raving I notice his hair is now very long and thin. I go back to my room and pick up my notes. I’ve hardly started. 4/26/1990. Redondo Beach, California. 12. Four houses, one in each corner of a square shape. I am driving a car in-between the four houses. Driving in a circle inside the square. I am full of malice. Driving fast and angry, I run into anything in my way—trash can, other cars. The circle enlarges until I start smashing into the houses themselves. Total destruction is happening. Somehow I stop or am stopped and am diagnosed; “Sexual Frustration” is stated as the cause. I am in one of the houses when they tell me. A set of young female twins are present. One secretly tells me she will help me out with my problem. I run sneaking into a field near one of the houses where a five person tent is pitched. There is snow on the ground and some has drifted into the tent onto a sleeping bag and some clothes surrounding it. I proceed to put on mismatched clothes that I find in the tent, in hopes of escaping. I am home in the old Table Mountain house—but of course it is completely different. Wandering around in the basement. My mom finds my old hiking boots and I put them on. This is when I realize Dan Jeziorski is also present because he comments on my boots. “You with hiking boots?” he says. Outside it is windy and the roof shingles are blowing off. In one section the plywood is even lifting. I tell my mom I will fix it as soon as the wind stops—a large ladder is already leaning against the roof. She begins to cry thinking of my father—who built the house. Then I am putting on a grey t-shirt—a familiar one. But as I put it on it turns into a 3/4 sleeve shirt, very thick and stiff. Dan and I head outside onto the prairie. I am smiling now and have a feeling of electric contentment running through my body. Dan is smiling as well. We reach a large hill that I recall as a sledding hill from childhood. Dan has a sled. There is a grouping of houses below to the right. Table Mountain, of course looks very different. We think of sledding down the hill though it has no snow on it. 4/29/1990. Redondo Beach, California. book two, part twobook onemenunote