Part 6:
We are on the final stage, of the Aerosmith, "jumpabilly" tour, and it's a Sunday morning, more than one week later, after it all began. I am seated outside a cafe in Providence, Rhode Island, with my feet up on the opposing seat, to my right. I have just had a bagel, and some caffeine, and I am now busy, attempting to throw or pop, some peanuts into my mouth, as I very much view the sidewalks. I have spent the week, working somewhat, helping push boxes, sorting out documents, and somewhat acting as a messenger. Its not been a rough week, but I kinda feel satisfied with myself, and as I sit outside the cafe, Italian, I can't help but notice the women passing by, and I kinda find myself calling them skirts. Kind of partially disturbing to me, but I don't think too much of it, for some reason. Haven't gotten to see any concert yet, but that does not faze me really, as I am the kind of fella or bloke really, who now really prefers to be in relations with people they like, rather than attending an event, such as a concert. I would rather be in a bar somewhere, with Al Pacino throwing popcorn seeds at me, while musing to himself, rather than at most concerts. I am just about done, eating my peanuts, when the waitress, smiling at me, shows up with the bill, which I kinda look at, as I thank her euphemiously, before picking up the tab, to look plainly at it. Pay it off, leave some money on the plate, along with some change, which kinda makes me feel guilty. I start my way, back to the hotel, where everybody else is, and as I do, I pass by a poster of Cindy Crawford, which kinda takes me by surprise.
I get to the hotel, and open the glass door to it, and walk into the entrance. There are some people around, and near the elevators, I am met by Kim, who 'pointing out-ly', says to me, "They are looking for you". That kinda shocks me a little, as I kinda start to feel worried, and I find myself almost rushing to the elevator; am in it, punch the buttons, and am on my way to the forth floor, while looking around and about. I get there, and step out into the hallway and turn immediately, towards a spacious room some feet away, which is acting as a kind of storage and office. I get there, almost running, and as I go in, there're people everywhere, alongside equipment and boxes. I get there, and walk up to an Italian-American man, called Tony, and somewhat stand right infront near him. He on the otherhand continues to work, some writings, and when he is almost done, kinda looks up to me. "You-are late" he says to me, while glancing from the upper ends of his eyes, before pointing to some boxes somewhat far, eyes down, and telling me to open them up, and unload them. I head over to them, almost hurriedly, and when I get to them, I find them heavily sealed with tape. The same man, Tony, calls out and says, "there-are some cutters, there", while pointing to an edge of the long "L table", he is working on. I go towards where he is pointing, and get to a small wooden box, on the table, with pencils, cutters, paper amongst other things. I pick out a cutter, look at it, and decide upon using it, red handle, and off I am back to the boxes. I get there, cut open the first box, and stare into it, with surprise. In there, is a vase, large, white, which I look at, with even more surprise, as I pull it out. "Easy with that" shouts says Tony, from afar, "don't drop it". I pick it up, and for the first time in a long time, find myself asking a question, "What do I do with this?" I somewhat shout back at him, and he turns to look at me, and back to his work, and says, "Just leave it by there", while pointing towards a big window with long curtains, to my right. I do as he says, and after leaving it there, go back to the other boxes, and begin to open them up. Inside are vases too, one differs from the others, it is red, and I find myself looking at it, somewhat examining it, before taking it near the window. I have set all the vases down by the window, and I turn to look at work well done I imagine, and somewhat still stare at the red vase. I turn to Tony, and once more find myself being the interlocutor, in a conversation, as I say again somewhat loudly, "I'm done!!" He looks up glancing, shaking somewhat his head, and says, "take the boxes out to the back". As I begin doing so, I hear him say to me, away, "Is that a red vase?", which I turn to look at, and then at him, pointing at it, with a somewhat worried look on his face, and I say to him, "Yeah!!". "How did that get in there?" he says to me and himself, before getting up to walk to it, and take a look. As he does so, I begin to pick up the boxes, two, which I take downstairs, towards the kitchen, to a garbage room nearby. I get there, throw the boxes into the large garbage bin, and back upstairs to get some more boxes. Tony is back behind the table, and I notice that the red vase is missing. As I turn to take two more boxes away, and I notice it, near next to his feet. Twenty minutes later, I am done, and told I can leave.
I am back in my room, which I have taken a liking to. It's a two room hotel room, with the first, serving as a kind of entrance. My bed is big, with brown bed covers on. Most of the room, is actually, a shade of brown. I jump onto the bed, with my shoes on, and simply lie there, thinking to myself. I imagine to myself, how the concerts were for a minute, but don't dwell too much on it, as I tend to see myself, as being more "Big Gun" by AC/DC, rather than 'Crazy'. I lay there, for about ten minutes, until I hear a knock on the door, before it opens, and in comes in, a guy called Mikey. "Whats up man?" he says, as I look at him with surprise. Mikey is not Italian, but originally from California, does not have blonde hair either, but looks more, like a dirt bike rider. "What are you doin', just laying down there" he says to me partially enthusiastically, with a drawl to his voice, "Lets go out man" he continues. Mikey and I, have been somewhat hanging out together, as he has been kinda explaining to me, just about everything I need to know, about concerts. I thought I knew something about concerts, atleast partially, having watched Waynes World 2, about twice, but it turned out, I was just a rookie, as when I asked Mikey, where all the groupies were. I did this, while almost drunk. Mikey, has been taking me, on drinking sprees 'across America', where I mostly wind up drunk, and he always asking, "You ok man?" I get up from my bed, sit on it while looking at him, and say, "Whats up man?" "lets go out for some lunch or something" he says to me, and I get up, grab my jacket, and head out of the room, him first, me in tow. "Guess whom I met while I was down at the store today?" I look at him with folded lips to say, "don't know, who?" "Tina Fey!!" he says to me, while somewhat nodding his head up and down, as if to say cool. "Tina Fey?!!" I say to him, while somewhat surprised, really, at hearing that name mentioned to me. "Hmm!!" I say to him and myself, as we walk on, "she was buying some yoghurt and ice cream." I find myself once again saying, "hmm!!" as I see to myself, Tina Fey carrying some yoghurt and ice cream, in her hands. To me though, truthfully told, I think Sarah Palin, is hotter, than Tina Fey.
We are out on the streets of Providence, Rhode Island, and I can't help but notice, that Mikey, is dressed in leather jeans. All my life, I have always believed that me in leather jeans, looked like Slash in leather jeans, or atleast, Lenny Kravitz. I can't help, but feel a tinge of jealousy, as I somewhat glance at his pants. Never felt this way before, and as I ponder out my feelings silently, I somewhat miss out on what Mikey has been saying to me, all along. "What d'you think man?" he says to me, as we go along the street, and I find myself looking at him, with a dazed look while saying, "Oh, yeah, cool." And he says back to me, "Cool", in the same drawl like voice as before, while nodding his head to himself, and looking frontward. "This way" he says, as he leads me down a street, that kinda looks peculiar to me, and as I follow him, walk by him, a few centimeters behind, I kinda start to wonder, where we are really going. Its already too late to ask, male code of behaviour, and we go along, almost silently, until he gets to a door of the streets, and opens it, before turning back to me to say, "This way man" solemnly. I look in, as he opens the door, to find the place kinda dark, and as we both walk in, me following him from behind, anxiously, as if wanting to get out of the streets, I find myself in a bar, that I soon also discover, is an eatery of some sort. I begin to somewhat get used, not adapted really, to the sight around me, and when I finally take it all in, I am kinda surprised, to find that we are in a biker club. Most people out there, might believe, that I would be kinda frightened, of being in a biker club, since it is filled with apparently, scary white people. But I don't see it that way, I kinda see it from the perspective of competition. I don't believe I am of any competition, towards bikers. I therefore don't really feel any kind of friction, of any sorts. I look in, and I first notice, some blonde women, and then some biker men, looking at me, looking at their women. I walk in there, following Mikey, but very much on my own, as we head towards the bar itself. We get to the stools, next to the bar, and Mikey slides onto one of them, as I climb onto mine. "What will you have?" asks the bar man, looking at me, and I am kinda perplexed, because I don't really drink beer. I kinda see it, as an ancient drink, after all, it is mentioned in the Bible I think, and I don't think too highly of it. "I will have a lager" I say to him, as he looks at me a bit perplexed, I believe my accent, before turning to look at Mikey, warily. "Hey man, I-will have a lager too" he says to the barman, as the barman continues to eye him warily. "You not from around here?" he says to us, Mikey really, as he looks at me, when he returns with the beer, and, I kinda don't really know what to say, as I wonder whether to mention that am from Kenya, or from NY. "Yeah man" begins Mikey, "we're on tour, with Aerosmith." He looks at us again, shaking his head, but this time, eyeing me, wonderingly. He walks away again from us, and goes somewhere to the back of the bar, and while he is in there, one of the biker chicks, comes by, leans over the bar and somewhat loudly shouts, "Hey Jimmy, another beer over here." I do find myself looking at her, as she does this. She is kinda taller, atleast somewhat taller than me, not too taller, and I can't help but notice, she kinda looks like Alicia Silverstone, in 'Cryin', and I kinda start to think of her, or thinkingly think of her, as a badass white girl. Such women to me, as I now frame her in, my memory, are what I believe many refer to, as an 'All-American chick'. I look away, frontwards, then at my beer, as I notice from the corner of my eyes, that Mikey, is looking kind of straight downwards, at the bar counter. I turn somewhat, to look at him, side of his head, and I kinda turn to look at the biker chick again, as she kinda I believe, waits for the barman, Jimmy, to reply to her. She kinda turns while leaning over the bar, and sort of looks me in the eye, which surprisingly or not, is taken as a signal of interest, at the very least, of me, as an outsider. She does turn to look at me, as I turn away, and drink obstentiously, from my beer bottle, and not glass. She turns away from the counter, and I hear her, walk away, and back to the pool tables, to the left of us, inside. I don't know, I kinda find myself, attracted to her, though she is taller, than me. We sit in there, and slowly have our drinks, as Mikey, begins to turn somewhat noticeably by me, towards the pool tables. With time, he turns fully around, and is looking at the bikers, play pool, on one table, as if, I'm not present. I turn to watch the game too, and as I sit there, I notice the biker chick, play pool, and often at times, look up at me, towards me. Honestly said, it kinda makes me feel good, I don't really know why, as she is not the kind of chick, I would think off, when I am kinda thinking of chicks, to myself. I don't know why. I do look at her more openly, not caring too much about what the biker men are thinking, as I often view American men, to be highly logical, in just about any situation. I think, I can talk myself, out of anything, that happens. The biker men go back, to talking to themselves, as the biker chick looks less often at me, and I kind of start wondering to myself, why there aren't, any bikes, outside the bar. It also kinda crosses my mind, that the barman, Jimmy, hasn't show up with any of the beer asked for. "Nice shot" says Mikey, at the biker chick, when she clearly thoroughly, puts in a ball, in one of the holes. The men, turn to look at Mikey, and me somewhat, as I knowingly pretendingly, stare at the pool table. It is then that I kinda realize, that me alone, is 'good money' at the bar, but with Mikey, we probably are not competition, but maybe even, a threat. I openly, to myself atleast, take my eyes of the pool table, and kinda look inside, into the depths, of the bar, where the bikers are. As my eyes peeringly glance inside, I immediately notice, two or three biker men, looking at me, one dead eyed. I immediately look back towards the pool table, and at the biker chick, and I see her looking at me, openly but kind of decisively. I look at the jacket, no sleeves, and tummy, of the man next to her, as I begin to move my eyes, dazingly, across the depths of the bar, looking at nothing, and almost at everything at once. I feel the top of my head, near the brow, become ticklish, and I take my hand and scratch it, as my eyes turn towards Mikeys side of the head, and partial face. My eyes again, begin to move, as I think waringly about Mikey, and what he said, and I find myself looking at the biker chicks tummy, before making my eyes turn to look at the bar itself, and eventually making my way, with my eyes, to the bar door. I look at it, look upwards, and I kinda start feeling tingling sensations, all over my body, as it warms up, and as I sit there silently, I take in a noticeable deep breathe, to anyone watching me, and turn to ask Mikey, what time it is. He kinda looks up, corner of the eye, as if awoken, and lifts his arm, to look at the watch on it, and says, "Its kinda late man." I shake my head to myself, while looking straight at the bar, bar counter still behind, and I realize we still haven't paid for the beer, and the barman, Jimmy, is still not to be seen. Mikey seems all comfy and settled, in the bar, now leaning, back, on the bar counter, holding his beer bottle, and as I somewhat take another deep breathe, I look at the biker chick again. She is busy playing pool, aiming at a ball, and I notice her long darkish blonde hair, and her blue attire, and then lift my eyes again, to look at the biker man, besides her. He is now watching me, and I look at him, as if puzzled at his looking, and questioningly, at whats going on. I look quickly at Mikey, and his eyes are deadset on the pool table, watching the balls, and I immediately, turn to look at the balls myself, deadsetly. I remain in the same pose, until the barman Jimmy, returns, and asks if we want any more drinks, a query that I decline too, while looking at Mikey, who asks for another beer. I hear and feel, the barman, walk away from us, and hear him start removing bottles from somewhere. Moments later, from behind, he drops off a beer for Mikey, and I hear him circumvent the bar, and walk past us, into the depths of the bar, while holding a tray, with beers on it. He places two beers, on the front back edges of the pool table, with the biker chick, and sets the rest on a small table, on the wall, between the two pool tables. My eyes set themselves on the lower part of his body, as he makes his way, back to the bar counter. At this moment, I am feeling apprehensive, and I find myself thinking of the biker chick, and thinking, that she is not that into me. Honestly said, I am partially kinda thinking, that she hates me, and is probably out to hurt me. I turn once again to Mikey, and silently, I ask him again, what time it is. He glances peers at his watch and says, "one p.m.", and I kinda mention to him, we should get going. He kinda listens in to me, and says, "ok man", before drowning down his beer bottle, and he turns around and places some money on the beer counter, as I get up from my leaning position, back to bar, and start to make my way, out of the bar, with Mikey, somewhat following, in tow. I do not look at anybody, in the bar.
Its about 5 p.m., and I am in my hotel room, dressing up for two gatherings, later on in the evening. I am putting on a black suit, not really a suit, but black pants and an equally black jacket. I have my jacket on, have combed my hair, and I am setting out to the hotel entrance, where everybody will be meeting up, almost everybody. As I leave my room, and make my way to the entrance, I happen to pass by Mikeys room. I knock once, twice, then open the door, and walk in, to find Mikey, bent over his luggage. He is sifting through some belongings, and somewhat apparently, did not hear me knock and come in. "Whats up man?" I say towards him, as he turns around, lowly, on his feet to face me. "Hey man" he begins, "how'r you doin'?" I say, "cool, what are you up to?" Its at that moment, that my gaze catches sight of a red vase, the red vase from previously, next to his bed on the side away from him, and surprisingly, as I peek into it, filled with beer. I almost immediately, also look carefully onto his bed, to find about four long straws, lying there. "Whats up?" I say, "whats going on here?" "We're about to have a party man" he says to me, "you should join us." I look back at the whole spectacle, and find myself saying, while not really paying attention, "Nah, nah man, I've gat to go down, am heading off to some party you know." He turns back to what he was doing before, while saying, "ok man, I guess I'll see you later." I kind of quickly look around fast, and then turn around to leave the room, as I bid Mikey another goodbye, "see yuh later man" and he replies, "yeah man, later." I am back out on the hallway, and speed my way, down to the entrance, to be met by a group of us, waiting down there. For some reason, dumb maybe, I find myself seeking out Kim. I kinda just want to take a look at her, for I kinda like looking at beautiful things, staring really, unlike most. She's not there, and I find myself, feeling loose, as I await to see what happens next. I am not feeling too self-conscious anymore, but I do realize, I know nobody really, apart from Mikey and some of his buds. I do find myself seeking out the burly man I have been with, just to find out, whats the retinue. Hopefully, he tells it to me, if I stand near him. As we wait, or as I mostly do, I see Kim come arrive, and she heads off, to talk to a certain group. I look her for a moment, maybe a moment too long, but I change view smoothly unnoticeably, as I find myself looking out of the hotels big windows. "Okay everybody", a voice breaks me out of my dreamings, "lets move it." We all start to head out, me giving way, to just about everybody, and arriving at the exit last. When I get out, I do look and search, for the burly man, but see no one and I find myself feeling kinda nervous. I look at Kim again. Cars seem to arrive, and drive off with some of the group, at just about every few short intervals. I watch, what appears to be a spectacle to me, and I wonder about my turn. I see Kim go away. After a while, a sleek black car shows up, and the burly man, opens the front window, as the car stops by me. "Get in" he kinda motions, ordering me in, as I find myself quickly pacing to the back door, and jumping in. We're off, as soon as I am settled, and I sit back, into the seat, as we kind of speed off, to an unknown destination. We soon arrive, at a restaurant-bar, that seems to have some changes to it. We are inside, after a brief pause outside, as the burly man, kinda straightens the red carpet, leading to the inside, with his feet. I look around, wondering, what could be going on here. It is partially empty, when we get there, and the restaurant-bar, has two parts in it. One side, the side with the entrance, connects to a restaurant just outside, and the other side, is mainly a bar. The bar side, is slightly lowered, than the restaurant side. The burly man, shows me into the inside, when partially in, and says, "Go grab yourself a seat." I find myself walking, into the bar side, and kinda finding it mostly empty, I begin to stroll, make my way, to the bar that is at the end of the room. I do wonder to myself where everybody, Kim, went to. I order myself a drink at the bar, sit down on a table set, nearby, and drink it slowly, while musing, to myself. Its a brandy. As I am seated there, thinking of all that has happened, since my arrival in America, and even before, I see Kim, come down the small staircase into the bar side, and walk up to the bar. She kinda orders some drinks, and asks for them to be taken to the restaurant side. She does not see me I believe, and as she leaves and then gone, I do find myself, thinking about women. I kinda find myself, mythologizing, any serious relationship, I envision myself being in, with a woman. There are many myths out there, that most couples tend to live by. One of the most famous, is Beauty and the Beast. A tale as old as time, one that is really about self-acceptance. One seeks a mate, that will love them, enabling them, to develop self-acceptance, such that in the end, they are transformed into a Prince or Princess. Very American I think, and can be difficult. Then you have Aladdin, a tale of a jester, who falls in love with a Princess, and sets out to show her, a whole new world. I see how that works out, with those who seek out exotic mates, and find themselves always living, a new experience everyday. You then have Cinderella, very popular and famous, a tale of a young girl, who finds love, with a member of the aristocracy, and this love, is bound together, by each recognizing themselves, in each other, and realizing, they are really the same. Kind of popular in Europe, and very popular in Asia. You also have 'Coming to America', with Prince Akeem, a tale of a lonesome African Prince, who sets out to find a wife to keep him company I believe; the world is his oyster so to speak, and he eventually finds his desiring in, who would have guessed it, Queens NY. I have always thought, that this would be a perfect myth for me, until I realized, I look nothing like an African Prince. The tale is one, of self-discovery and re-creation, as one sets out on a journey to find or discover, whom they really are. Changing personalities, in a relationship. Very popular in Africa. When I was thinking of a myth for me and Carla, Carla Gugino, the first that came to mind, was Odysseus, by Homer. That was until I read the book, and then I was like, "hell no". It was then I came across another myth, that of Sleeping Beauty. A tale about a rich King, who offers any yearning princely character, the keys to his Kingdom, if he can rescue his daughter locked up in a castle deep in the woods, covered by thorns, bushes and protected by ogres, depending on the version of the tale. I kinda believe that this myth is perfect for me and Carla, as to me, it entails, a relationship, where either of us goes cold or distant, depending on who is playing Beauty, and the other has to break through and find heaven again. I kinda believe, that Carla Gugino, is the kind of person, who becomes really cold, when upset. Its okay, for I am the kind, who becomes really distant, when angry. I am seated there still, having these musing thoughts to myself, when I hear a kind of commotion from behind me, I turn around and hear the barman say to me, "Watch out, they're coming through." I stand up, after having turned to look at the barman, and pull off, towards the bar, as the doors behind the table set, open up and in comes a mass of people in a group, led by an intelligent looking Italian-American woman, Sicilian, but looking somewhat Eastern European. They make their way, towards the front of the bar side, where there is a podium, and she gets on it. She starts of on a kind of speech, kind of talk, above the raucus, that is going on, as people begin to stream into the bar, and look towards the podium. I see Kim again. The woman, gives a speech, and I realize that we are at a celebration, celebrating Italian-American contributions, to poorer communities, in several American cities. I do find myself staring at the woman, but kind of also realize, that she is above me, in many meanings, of the words. When the speech is done, and the people begin to clap, I join in too, the woman exits the podium carefully, and people begin to mingle with each other, as the lights in the restaurant bar, are dimmed. Its about 7 p.m. now, and I find myself making my way back to the bar, to sit there. I am seated there all alone, at the end of the bar, next to the wall and near the doors, and the bar begins to fill up. Its an open bar, where one can talk, to those they find there. I am seated there, kind of minding my own business and really minding it too, when a blonde woman, standing next to me, turns towards me, surprisingly, and asks me where I'm from. I find myself saying that I'm originally from Kenya, but now reside in NY. "Oh, NY" she says, when I am done explaining, and she asks me what I am doing in Providence. I tell her that I am on tour, with Aerosmith. "Oh" she says again, and kinda turns to take a good look at me, indirectly, and I find myself, feeling self-conscious again. She grabs her drink, while still facing me, turns around, in an arc, and then leaves the bar, as I watch her, walk away. "Nice", I say to myself, really thinking, nice girl or nice chick. As I am seated there, slowly sipping a drink, a vodka with coke, the bar begins to clear up, and I find myself somewhat knowingly unknowingly, sliding to the center of the bar, to sit there. As I am about to get on a seat, I look at the other end of the bar, and am surprised to see a recognizable figure, standing there, holding a drink, kind of imagining, to himself. I look closely, stare, and find myself looking at none other, than Josh Brolin. I am surprised, and he, who is now lighting a cigarette, seems to have noticed my presence, and I see his eyes darting somewhat from side to side, as if saying, "can I get a break here." I look towards inside the bar, and then find myself moving away, to the wall, Josh Brolin is leaning on. You tend to find, that most people who like Josh Brolin, want to be, Josh Brolin. I am standing some paces, away from him, and I do find myself turning towards his direction, and somewhat meeting his eyes, as they dart around again. I look forward again, and find myself taking in, the scene. The whole place, kinda feels Italian-American, and as I find myself looking around some more, I see myself, observing the people around and near me. I tend to find, that the way people relate to each other socially, is based on having a sense of power, or really, a sense of history. A sense of history, is at times confused, with history itself. When most people out there, seek out a sense of power, or a sense of history really, they often times, turn to one place: Ancient Egypt. From the perspective of a sense of history, whities, tend to envision an Ancient Egypt, ruled by an all-powerful, all-knowing Pharaoh, who goes around waging wars on neighbouring civilizations, and capturing or defeating them. Most whities, who often believe this is history too, are seen often, seeking out or chasing, the spiritual knowledge of the pharaohs, that will make them all-powerful and all-knowing, as that is how most whities, present themselves socially. For blackies, a sense of history, is also associated with Ancient Egypt, and often, with its 'street culture'. What you have here, is a sense of history, best personified by the likes of Akhenaten, whereby, you find a figure born poor, like Akhenaten, arising, to take the people out, of a bondage, of some sort. This sense of history, is often presented today, under what they call Afrocentrism, unlike whitie sense of history, which is known as Eurocentrism. All in all, Afrocentrism, claims that Egyptian, Nubian and even European street culture, and its figures, are of blackie origins. This Ancient Egyptian/Nubian street culture, is still seen in Africa today, as are political figures, like Akhenaten. What you see in general, is that blackies, tend to present themselves, as a kind of saviour, socially. Then you have brownies too, political brownies, who tend to have a sense of history, best personified, by the story of Joseph and his being sold, into slavery by his brothers, before rising to eminence, in Egypt. That's really how brownies, tend to present themselves socially, as having risen from the bottom. You also have religious brownies, whose sense of history, is associated with undergoing difficult or tough initiations and other such rites, and coming out the victor. Religious brownies, are likely to enjoy reading autobiography or biography books, of people, who have undergone crazy times, and come out much better, because of it all. They read such stuff and think, "that's kinda cool." One however comes to learn, they should be careful, for what they wish for. I am still standing there, looking around, when I turn to see, the Italian-American woman, who gave a speech before, standing somewhat directly infront of me, in a group, holding what appears very much, to be a white mink hat, somewhat bending, upper body, and pointing a finger, arm unextended, while circling it, and seemingly asking the person next to her, a woman, outsider to the group, "who is that?" I find myself taken aback suddenly, and I find myself also, pointing at me, and saying, "Me?!!" She does the same thing again, and I look at the woman next to her, who is staring at me dead straight, and I find myself marching towards her group and her, to say, "I am with Joe Perry, I am with Aerosmith." She stands somewhat upright and begins to say somewhat across the room, "Is Joe in here?" As I turn to look at the restaurant section of the restaurant-bar, I also catch a glimpse next to me, a bit far, of a person, dressed in a white shirt, black tie, whom I somewhat recognize, as security. I turn around again pretty quick, to look at the restaurant side, and see Joe Perry, making his way, down to where we are. He arrives and she asks, "Joe, do you know this person?" "Yeah" says Joe Perry, as he begins to and gestures to me, with two of his fingers, and says, "come with me." I find myself following Joe Perry, without looking back, and in time, we are up on the restaurant side, of the restaurant-bar. He takes me to a table, near the exit door, occupied by him, Steven Tyler and someone else. Steven Tyler is talking, and Joe Perry turns to me, as he sits on the opposite end and says, "stick around." I can't really hear what Steven Tyler is saying, and I find myself turning around, and looking into the crowd. After a while, am kinda thinking, this is my kind of scene, I could fit in' here well. I kind of recognize it, as being Sicilian-American, and I find myself thinking, if I can't be Sicilian, then I can atleast be part of, "other" Italian-Americans, such as Martin Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio, and even Gina Gershon. As I am standing there musing to myself, someone rushes past me, and I hear a voice say towards me, "Excuse me." I look to see a tall figure, rush by me, a brownie, and into the open lavatories, nearby, far. The figure is in there for a while, before coming out and I immediately, recognize him, as Will Smith, who then purports, to turn to the restaurant side of the restaurant-bar, while somewhat howling at them, and pointing his forefingers , one arm extended forward, the other above his head slightly, bended, and he begins to make his way out of the restaurant-bar. Those on the restaurant side turn to look, but its too late, as Will Smith is out of there, in no time. I kind of find myself thinking, "he's a party hopper." I am standing, just looking around, when I decide to turn around, and listen to what Steven Tyler is saying, as I can kinda hear him, from the back. ".....the man is running around, trying to hit the chicken, but can't seem to get to it" he seems to be saying, as I start to listen more closely, "after a while, he seems to get tired of it all, and is now hellbent, on smashing the chicken. His feet are practically off the ground, as he attempts to hit the chicken, with the baseball bat. After a while of this, he drops the baseball bat, goes of into a shed nearby, and comes out of it, with an axe." I somewhat get closer, not physically, but with my presence. "The chicken, upon seeing the man exit the shed, with an axe, gives him one look, head turned back, and then runs off into the sunset, before taking off, like a jetliner." The tale ends there, as Steven Tyler stops to look kind of closely at the man, he has been talking to. The man on the otherhand, turns to look at Joe Perry, as if asking, "what is this?" I find myself, for a split second there, believing the tale, as it is been told, by an American. However, on looking at Joe Perry, who is now looking outside the restaurant window, as if having not heard the tale, I somewhat quickly come to the understanding, that not all, is possible, in America. It is then, that Steven Tyler, turns to Joe Perry and asks, "What time is it?" Joe Perry, looks at his watch and says, "about 8:30" and Steven Tyler, looking downwards somewhat at the table, as he begins to put on his jacket, which is hanging by the long seat he is seated on, says, "we better be going", and he begins to rise, followed by the man seated next to him, and I somewhat turn to see, Joe Perry, pick up his jacket, as if to get on the move. As they are doing this, and the man seated next to Steven Tyler leaves, and I look at both of them, as if asking, "where are you guys going?" Joe Perry, on putting on his jacket, turns to me and says, "come with me", as if kind of ordering me. I put down my drink on the table, and follow both of them, out of the restaurant-bar, truthfully said, kind of feeling important. We get out there, and we are now all standing there, I feeling self-conscious, as I can feel some gazes on me, female I believe, and as we are still standing there, a stretch limousine, pulls up. I don't think too much of it, that a stretch limousine automatically pulled up, when we were all standing there, and when its by next to us, Steven Tyler opens up the door, right at the back, and we all begin to jump in, me, very self-consciously now. We're in, and I notice, there is a woman, in there, seated as if waiting. She has a black cardigan, over her shoulders, and she is seated at the ending window seat, and Joe Perry slides off next to her, Steven Tyler on the other end, and I seated facing them all, feeling, kind of silly. I look at the woman, who looks kind of homely, briefly, and at Joe Perry, who seems to be looking straight ahead, above me, and then at Steven Tyler, who is looking out of the window, while saying something about Providence I believe. We drive off, and soon, we are at a new location.
We step in, into a new social occasion, already going on. It is a different scene, and I can sense, that it is not one of "ours". The place, is similar, to the restaurant-bar, as there are two sections, a higher and lower level, joined together, by two staircases, at the ends of each section. The place is well lit, as there are chandeliers, hanging from above. I find myself looking at the down level, not at the people really, but at the place itself, and kind of, notice a bar, at one end, of the lower section. We start to move on in, but I kinda sense as we move along, that I am on my own. I look down again, and at the corner of the bar, one of its ends, I spot Jamie Foxx, with several women around him, listening to him talk, and kinda acting more cocky, than he did, on "Any Given Sunday". I kinda feel sensitive, as if self-conscious, as I watch him down there. I get to the bar, down the staircase, away from Jamies view, and after getting myself a drink, simply sit there, looking around. The room, smells of success, and as I kinda look around again, I begin to feel, self-conscious. I kinda tend to believe, that different groups, have different notions of success, or different senses of success. For instance, with whities, they believe in making enough wealth, to live a free life, doing nothing much, which possibly includes, taking trips into space. Blackies, tend to believe, in becoming, a kind of military leader, as a sign of success. The concept of the military, is very African in nature, unknown to most people. In the old days, militaries, in Africa atleast, were characterized, by a high level of fluidity. Most African cultures, are militaristic, one way or the other. Europe, never used to have militaries, they had armies. Militaries today, are highly characterized, by heavy artillery, while armies, have always been about low and mid level, artillery. The concept, of a born leader, or a made one, is associated, with militaries, and not armies. This is often not known, to many, in Americas corporate world, who organize themselves, like an army, but attempt to operate, like a military. The result of it all, is problems, with leadership, as loyalty in an army, is a result, of rising through the ranks. WW2 Germany, had a military, the rest of Europe, had armies. The most well known militaristic tribal groupings in Africa, are the Akan, and the Zulu. That's why both, were able to defeat a more well armed British army, compared to other African tribes. Many blackies, tend to rank themselves, amongst each other, based on their level, of militarization. When it comes to this, one finds that American blackies, reign supreme. You also have South African blackies, who also have a powerful military, and kind of look down, on other African blackies, knowing they can whoop their asses. In Europe, Russia, is the only country, with a military. This means, it is the only real threat to American power, and not China, as many believe. China, has an army, a big one. The Russian military, is organized, similar to the Zulus, while the American one, is similar, to the Akans. Honestly said, as a fan of militarization, I have always believed, that the Akans, could whoop, the Zulus asses. But that's just me. You also have brownies, political brownies, who have a notion of success, that is about, developing a high level of culture. Political brownies, have always believed, in developing, a high level stylistic culture, and this is where, they are similar, to Italian-Americans, who have always believed, in developing a high level, sophisticated culture. That's why brownies and Italian-Americans, have always mingled together, going back to the days of Sammy Davies Jr., and the Ratpack. The media on the otherhand, is all about being cool. Cool sucks. Religious brownies, have always had a notion of success, associated with developing intelligences. The goal of many religious brownies, is really, to become really intelligent, and many, tend to somewhat look up to the Japanese, and Japan, as a symbol of intelligence. Today though, most out there, don't think too highly of intelligence. One is likely to be labeled, a smart ass, or even, a smart aleck, for portraying intelligence. I keep on looking around, and decide, to move around, and somewhat mingle. I am encouraged in doing this, after having seen, some brownie faces around. I spot Lionel Richie, somewhere, far into the room. He is tall, and easily noticeable to me atleast, having grown up around, a lot of Lionel Richie. I kind of contemplate him, as I look at him, and with time, find myself looking elsewhere, still thinking about him and his music, somewhat. I get up, and begin to transverse the room. I look about and far into the room, I see Joe Perry, standing amongst a group, that includes a stocky looking person, white, dirty blonde, and whom with time, as I join the group, I identify as being a dude. We are standing there, me having joined the group, and kind of feeling good about it, when the dude, decides to take a hold, of Joe Perry's long hair, and somewhat says, "isn't this kind of gay?" I look at Joe Perry, almost somewhat really, immediately, and he seems kind of forsaken, with a look that seems to say, "not this shit again." He then kinda grabs the hand, of the dude, and turning it to its backside, quickly, lightly strokes it. He then asks the dude, "How does that make you feel?" The dude, kind of wiggles to himself, and says, "its kind of tinglish." "You see" begins Joe Perry, "gay, is someone, who identifies too strongly, with a womans feelings. A homosexual, on the otherhand, is a male, who responds to the sensual stroking, of another male. That my friend, kinda makes you, a homosexual." And with that, Joe Perry puts down the dudes hand, and still looking miffed, walks away, as the rest of us, stare at the dude, before walking away too. I kinda feel good doing this, but still find myself thinking, pity him. I do agree, with Joe Perry on this, as I kinda tend to believe, that people, who call Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Governator, are kinda gay; to me, the Governator, is the kind of name, a woman, would give to a man, in the bedroom. I walk off, to another group, made up of a woman and a man, both white, and a man, who kinda resembles, Al Roker, but is a bit taller. The mans name, is Pete, as his name is mentioned, by a woman, who passes by him, and somewhat silently calls out his name, as he turns to look, while still telling his story. This is what I garner of it: ".....which is the true human depravity, the fact that a human, can go insane, or the other fact, that a person, can desire a pizza, cooked by an insane person. Which is really, the true human depravity?" The man and woman, whom I now look at, look at him, with sort of glazed eyes, as if asking and wondering, "why are you telling us this?" The man, Pete, suddenly, but not too quickly, turns to me, while I am taking a sip, of my drink, and while pointing, with his free hand, the other has a drink, says to me, "They say, you have the hots, for Carla Gugino." I find myself, almost saying, "What!!!", as I spill some of my drink onto myself, and the word rushes, through my mind. The woman stares at me, almost wide opened eyed, while the man, slowly and methodically turns, to look at me, with one of his eye brows, raised. I am feeling cocky, and I find myself saying, "Why not!, Donald has Daisy." And with that, I turn to the side, chest first really, left arm imaginarily raised, hand closed, while saying to myself, "Hell yeah!!" I am off again, meandering about, and thinking, at the back of my head, of not joining, another group. I do get close, to the group, Lionel Richie is in, but I kinda feel his eyes on me, as I do so, and I travel on, passing by, as I find myself, headed back, to the bar. I am seated at the bar, taking another drink, musing to myself really, when a woman, a blackie, African-American, approaches the bar, and orders a drink. I find myself, kinda looking at her, as I am not, intimidated, by blackie women. I tend to find it easy, to talk to them really, and I look at her, and ask her directly, "Where are you from?" She kinda turns to me, quickly, but looks away, down into the bar, forearms on the bar counter, hands clasped together, and says, while still looking away, "California." I fold my lips to myself, looking forward, as I prepare, to take another sip, of my drink. I kinda tend to see California, as being either of two things: highways, skyscrapers, big trucks, or, Jack Slater. I have always believed, that if I ever made it to California, I would be Jack Slater. I kinda mention all this to her, and she responds by widely pouting her lips, lower out, and kinda observes me, as if I am wearing something peculiar. I don't know what to think, as she looks at me that way, but I tend to believe, that blackie women, are most attracted, to men, who are like rabbit-hat magicians. I think, blackie women, find rabbit-hat magicians, to be attractive, and even hot. She gets her drink, and walks away, without much of a word to me. I turn back to my drink, and keep on drinking, sipping, until my thoughts are carried away, once again. There is a song, playing in the background, I believe its Def Leppards, "When love and hate collide", and with time, I find my thoughts, turning back to Carla Gugino. Whenever I think of Carla, what tends to come to mind immediately, is brown hair, brown eyes, big smile. I am not, the kind to rush into a relationship, without analyzing, the dynamics of it all. How it works, on an everyday level. I tend to divide relationships, into three parts: a problem solving part, an everyday routines part and a pleasure part. When it comes to the problem solving part, I believe in pointing out things, rather than telling ones mate things. When it comes to everyday routines, I believe in caring, rather than being loving. When it comes to pleasure, I believe in playing tricks, rather than making an impression on, the other. The other modus operandi, is the kind, that characterized, former kinds of relationships, seen between Italians, and best portrayed by Madonna, in her "Papa don't preach" video. Very communal way of doing things, and requires a heavy investment, in terms of many things. It also takes into account age, achievement and background. Age goes along with pleasure and making an impression on, achievement with being loving and everyday routines, and background with problem solving and telling. My model, does not. Take pleasure for instance, I can see myself and Carla, sharing a plate of donuts, my half and hers, and it comes down, to one donut on the plate, my half, and she kinda points back behind me and says, "Whats that?" I turn to look, before I am hit by the realization, "the donut, she ate it", just to turn back, to find her, wiping her mouth, while chewing. My model is not new, in its entirety, as it is the same model, used by American Christianity, to model relationships, with God. I can see therefore, that this model, allows for one, to be religious, while in a relationship. I can see myself, aspiring to be St. Joseph, and Carla Gugino, as the Immaculate Conception herself, Mary. The American Church, has often wondered about, the decline in attendance in its churches, attributing this phenomenon, to Science. They believe, Science has made people lazy, via offering new modes of pleasure, and in concordance, destroying relationships. I believe otherwise. I believe that Americans, use the above model, in how they relate, to their pets. I believe I can prove this, in a seminally titled paper, published by Harvard or Yale, and called, "Pet Theori: A treatise on the decline of the American Church". Americans, tend to point out things, to their pets, and not to God. Aspiring to be a Saint, is what has made Italian Christianity, different from others. I can very much see, Joe Perry, personifying, St. Anthony of Padua. When I am just done musing to myself, I am made aware, that its time to leave.
I am back in my hotel room, and taking off my shirt, my jacket is on the bed, when I sense a presence behind me. I turn back, to find a vision, of Carla Gugino, standing there, looking kind of concerned.
Carla Gugino: "Whats that?" Me: "What?" *looking around my chest area* Carla Gugino: "That" *While pointing*
*look again at my chest area, and see nothing*
Carla Gugino: "The whole restless body movement thing, its like you see me as a mother."
I am kind of taken aback, and fold my lips, as I kind of turn to somewhat look at her. I look forward again, lips folded, when I hear a knock and find myself turning to look at where I was looking before, just in time, to see the apparition disappearing. The door opens, I hear it, and a head pops in, I sense it and somewhat see it, as a voice stereotypically calls out, "Bantu". "Its Al" I almost snarl back, as I turn to look at the door, and see Jamie Foxx, making his way, into my room. He walks up to me, makes a duck face, looks at me, while cocking his head side to side somewhat, raises his hands, and flickers the ends, of my collar. He then says to himself "hmm!", with lips folded, lower lip extended, and then turns around, and leaves. I find myself, standing there, almost taken aback, and wondering, what that was all about. I see and find myself, going to the door, to look into the hallway, and finding it empty, shut the door, thinking to myself, "Just another Jamie Foxx moment." I am undressed, I have put on my "pyjamas", and as I lay in my bed, going to sleep, I kinda sense and see somewhat, in the darkness, a figure, dressed in military garb, and a military looking cowboy hat, standing there, staring at me. I do eventually, go to sleep.
We are on the final stage, of the Aerosmith, "jumpabilly" tour, and it's a Sunday morning, more than one week later, after it all began. I am seated outside a cafe in Providence, Rhode Island, with my feet up on the opposing seat, to my right. I have just had a bagel, and some caffeine, and I am now busy, attempting to throw or pop, some peanuts into my mouth, as I very much view the sidewalks. I have spent the week, working somewhat, helping push boxes, sorting out documents, and somewhat acting as a messenger. Its not been a rough week, but I kinda feel satisfied with myself, and as I sit outside the cafe, Italian, I can't help but notice the women passing by, and I kinda find myself calling them skirts. Kind of partially disturbing to me, but I don't think too much of it, for some reason. Haven't gotten to see any concert yet, but that does not faze me really, as I am the kind of fella or bloke really, who now really prefers to be in relations with people they like, rather than attending an event, such as a concert. I would rather be in a bar somewhere, with Al Pacino throwing popcorn seeds at me, while musing to himself, rather than at most concerts. I am just about done, eating my peanuts, when the waitress, smiling at me, shows up with the bill, which I kinda look at, as I thank her euphemiously, before picking up the tab, to look plainly at it. Pay it off, leave some money on the plate, along with some change, which kinda makes me feel guilty. I start my way, back to the hotel, where everybody else is, and as I do, I pass by a poster of Cindy Crawford, which kinda takes me by surprise.
I get to the hotel, and open the glass door to it, and walk into the entrance. There are some people around, and near the elevators, I am met by Kim, who 'pointing out-ly', says to me, "They are looking for you". That kinda shocks me a little, as I kinda start to feel worried, and I find myself almost rushing to the elevator; am in it, punch the buttons, and am on my way to the forth floor, while looking around and about. I get there, and step out into the hallway and turn immediately, towards a spacious room some feet away, which is acting as a kind of storage and office. I get there, almost running, and as I go in, there're people everywhere, alongside equipment and boxes. I get there, and walk up to an Italian-American man, called Tony, and somewhat stand right infront near him. He on the otherhand continues to work, some writings, and when he is almost done, kinda looks up to me. "You-are late" he says to me, while glancing from the upper ends of his eyes, before pointing to some boxes somewhat far, eyes down, and telling me to open them up, and unload them. I head over to them, almost hurriedly, and when I get to them, I find them heavily sealed with tape. The same man, Tony, calls out and says, "there-are some cutters, there", while pointing to an edge of the long "L table", he is working on. I go towards where he is pointing, and get to a small wooden box, on the table, with pencils, cutters, paper amongst other things. I pick out a cutter, look at it, and decide upon using it, red handle, and off I am back to the boxes. I get there, cut open the first box, and stare into it, with surprise. In there, is a vase, large, white, which I look at, with even more surprise, as I pull it out. "Easy with that" shouts says Tony, from afar, "don't drop it". I pick it up, and for the first time in a long time, find myself asking a question, "What do I do with this?" I somewhat shout back at him, and he turns to look at me, and back to his work, and says, "Just leave it by there", while pointing towards a big window with long curtains, to my right. I do as he says, and after leaving it there, go back to the other boxes, and begin to open them up. Inside are vases too, one differs from the others, it is red, and I find myself looking at it, somewhat examining it, before taking it near the window. I have set all the vases down by the window, and I turn to look at work well done I imagine, and somewhat still stare at the red vase. I turn to Tony, and once more find myself being the interlocutor, in a conversation, as I say again somewhat loudly, "I'm done!!" He looks up glancing, shaking somewhat his head, and says, "take the boxes out to the back". As I begin doing so, I hear him say to me, away, "Is that a red vase?", which I turn to look at, and then at him, pointing at it, with a somewhat worried look on his face, and I say to him, "Yeah!!". "How did that get in there?" he says to me and himself, before getting up to walk to it, and take a look. As he does so, I begin to pick up the boxes, two, which I take downstairs, towards the kitchen, to a garbage room nearby. I get there, throw the boxes into the large garbage bin, and back upstairs to get some more boxes. Tony is back behind the table, and I notice that the red vase is missing. As I turn to take two more boxes away, and I notice it, near next to his feet. Twenty minutes later, I am done, and told I can leave.
I am back in my room, which I have taken a liking to. It's a two room hotel room, with the first, serving as a kind of entrance. My bed is big, with brown bed covers on. Most of the room, is actually, a shade of brown. I jump onto the bed, with my shoes on, and simply lie there, thinking to myself. I imagine to myself, how the concerts were for a minute, but don't dwell too much on it, as I tend to see myself, as being more "Big Gun" by AC/DC, rather than 'Crazy'. I lay there, for about ten minutes, until I hear a knock on the door, before it opens, and in comes in, a guy called Mikey. "Whats up man?" he says, as I look at him with surprise. Mikey is not Italian, but originally from California, does not have blonde hair either, but looks more, like a dirt bike rider. "What are you doin', just laying down there" he says to me partially enthusiastically, with a drawl to his voice, "Lets go out man" he continues. Mikey and I, have been somewhat hanging out together, as he has been kinda explaining to me, just about everything I need to know, about concerts. I thought I knew something about concerts, atleast partially, having watched Waynes World 2, about twice, but it turned out, I was just a rookie, as when I asked Mikey, where all the groupies were. I did this, while almost drunk. Mikey, has been taking me, on drinking sprees 'across America', where I mostly wind up drunk, and he always asking, "You ok man?" I get up from my bed, sit on it while looking at him, and say, "Whats up man?" "lets go out for some lunch or something" he says to me, and I get up, grab my jacket, and head out of the room, him first, me in tow. "Guess whom I met while I was down at the store today?" I look at him with folded lips to say, "don't know, who?" "Tina Fey!!" he says to me, while somewhat nodding his head up and down, as if to say cool. "Tina Fey?!!" I say to him, while somewhat surprised, really, at hearing that name mentioned to me. "Hmm!!" I say to him and myself, as we walk on, "she was buying some yoghurt and ice cream." I find myself once again saying, "hmm!!" as I see to myself, Tina Fey carrying some yoghurt and ice cream, in her hands. To me though, truthfully told, I think Sarah Palin, is hotter, than Tina Fey.
We are out on the streets of Providence, Rhode Island, and I can't help but notice, that Mikey, is dressed in leather jeans. All my life, I have always believed that me in leather jeans, looked like Slash in leather jeans, or atleast, Lenny Kravitz. I can't help, but feel a tinge of jealousy, as I somewhat glance at his pants. Never felt this way before, and as I ponder out my feelings silently, I somewhat miss out on what Mikey has been saying to me, all along. "What d'you think man?" he says to me, as we go along the street, and I find myself looking at him, with a dazed look while saying, "Oh, yeah, cool." And he says back to me, "Cool", in the same drawl like voice as before, while nodding his head to himself, and looking frontward. "This way" he says, as he leads me down a street, that kinda looks peculiar to me, and as I follow him, walk by him, a few centimeters behind, I kinda start to wonder, where we are really going. Its already too late to ask, male code of behaviour, and we go along, almost silently, until he gets to a door of the streets, and opens it, before turning back to me to say, "This way man" solemnly. I look in, as he opens the door, to find the place kinda dark, and as we both walk in, me following him from behind, anxiously, as if wanting to get out of the streets, I find myself in a bar, that I soon also discover, is an eatery of some sort. I begin to somewhat get used, not adapted really, to the sight around me, and when I finally take it all in, I am kinda surprised, to find that we are in a biker club. Most people out there, might believe, that I would be kinda frightened, of being in a biker club, since it is filled with apparently, scary white people. But I don't see it that way, I kinda see it from the perspective of competition. I don't believe I am of any competition, towards bikers. I therefore don't really feel any kind of friction, of any sorts. I look in, and I first notice, some blonde women, and then some biker men, looking at me, looking at their women. I walk in there, following Mikey, but very much on my own, as we head towards the bar itself. We get to the stools, next to the bar, and Mikey slides onto one of them, as I climb onto mine. "What will you have?" asks the bar man, looking at me, and I am kinda perplexed, because I don't really drink beer. I kinda see it, as an ancient drink, after all, it is mentioned in the Bible I think, and I don't think too highly of it. "I will have a lager" I say to him, as he looks at me a bit perplexed, I believe my accent, before turning to look at Mikey, warily. "Hey man, I-will have a lager too" he says to the barman, as the barman continues to eye him warily. "You not from around here?" he says to us, Mikey really, as he looks at me, when he returns with the beer, and, I kinda don't really know what to say, as I wonder whether to mention that am from Kenya, or from NY. "Yeah man" begins Mikey, "we're on tour, with Aerosmith." He looks at us again, shaking his head, but this time, eyeing me, wonderingly. He walks away again from us, and goes somewhere to the back of the bar, and while he is in there, one of the biker chicks, comes by, leans over the bar and somewhat loudly shouts, "Hey Jimmy, another beer over here." I do find myself looking at her, as she does this. She is kinda taller, atleast somewhat taller than me, not too taller, and I can't help but notice, she kinda looks like Alicia Silverstone, in 'Cryin', and I kinda start to think of her, or thinkingly think of her, as a badass white girl. Such women to me, as I now frame her in, my memory, are what I believe many refer to, as an 'All-American chick'. I look away, frontwards, then at my beer, as I notice from the corner of my eyes, that Mikey, is looking kind of straight downwards, at the bar counter. I turn somewhat, to look at him, side of his head, and I kinda turn to look at the biker chick again, as she kinda I believe, waits for the barman, Jimmy, to reply to her. She kinda turns while leaning over the bar, and sort of looks me in the eye, which surprisingly or not, is taken as a signal of interest, at the very least, of me, as an outsider. She does turn to look at me, as I turn away, and drink obstentiously, from my beer bottle, and not glass. She turns away from the counter, and I hear her, walk away, and back to the pool tables, to the left of us, inside. I don't know, I kinda find myself, attracted to her, though she is taller, than me. We sit in there, and slowly have our drinks, as Mikey, begins to turn somewhat noticeably by me, towards the pool tables. With time, he turns fully around, and is looking at the bikers, play pool, on one table, as if, I'm not present. I turn to watch the game too, and as I sit there, I notice the biker chick, play pool, and often at times, look up at me, towards me. Honestly said, it kinda makes me feel good, I don't really know why, as she is not the kind of chick, I would think off, when I am kinda thinking of chicks, to myself. I don't know why. I do look at her more openly, not caring too much about what the biker men are thinking, as I often view American men, to be highly logical, in just about any situation. I think, I can talk myself, out of anything, that happens. The biker men go back, to talking to themselves, as the biker chick looks less often at me, and I kind of start wondering to myself, why there aren't, any bikes, outside the bar. It also kinda crosses my mind, that the barman, Jimmy, hasn't show up with any of the beer asked for. "Nice shot" says Mikey, at the biker chick, when she clearly thoroughly, puts in a ball, in one of the holes. The men, turn to look at Mikey, and me somewhat, as I knowingly pretendingly, stare at the pool table. It is then that I kinda realize, that me alone, is 'good money' at the bar, but with Mikey, we probably are not competition, but maybe even, a threat. I openly, to myself atleast, take my eyes of the pool table, and kinda look inside, into the depths, of the bar, where the bikers are. As my eyes peeringly glance inside, I immediately notice, two or three biker men, looking at me, one dead eyed. I immediately look back towards the pool table, and at the biker chick, and I see her looking at me, openly but kind of decisively. I look at the jacket, no sleeves, and tummy, of the man next to her, as I begin to move my eyes, dazingly, across the depths of the bar, looking at nothing, and almost at everything at once. I feel the top of my head, near the brow, become ticklish, and I take my hand and scratch it, as my eyes turn towards Mikeys side of the head, and partial face. My eyes again, begin to move, as I think waringly about Mikey, and what he said, and I find myself looking at the biker chicks tummy, before making my eyes turn to look at the bar itself, and eventually making my way, with my eyes, to the bar door. I look at it, look upwards, and I kinda start feeling tingling sensations, all over my body, as it warms up, and as I sit there silently, I take in a noticeable deep breathe, to anyone watching me, and turn to ask Mikey, what time it is. He kinda looks up, corner of the eye, as if awoken, and lifts his arm, to look at the watch on it, and says, "Its kinda late man." I shake my head to myself, while looking straight at the bar, bar counter still behind, and I realize we still haven't paid for the beer, and the barman, Jimmy, is still not to be seen. Mikey seems all comfy and settled, in the bar, now leaning, back, on the bar counter, holding his beer bottle, and as I somewhat take another deep breathe, I look at the biker chick again. She is busy playing pool, aiming at a ball, and I notice her long darkish blonde hair, and her blue attire, and then lift my eyes again, to look at the biker man, besides her. He is now watching me, and I look at him, as if puzzled at his looking, and questioningly, at whats going on. I look quickly at Mikey, and his eyes are deadset on the pool table, watching the balls, and I immediately, turn to look at the balls myself, deadsetly. I remain in the same pose, until the barman Jimmy, returns, and asks if we want any more drinks, a query that I decline too, while looking at Mikey, who asks for another beer. I hear and feel, the barman, walk away from us, and hear him start removing bottles from somewhere. Moments later, from behind, he drops off a beer for Mikey, and I hear him circumvent the bar, and walk past us, into the depths of the bar, while holding a tray, with beers on it. He places two beers, on the front back edges of the pool table, with the biker chick, and sets the rest on a small table, on the wall, between the two pool tables. My eyes set themselves on the lower part of his body, as he makes his way, back to the bar counter. At this moment, I am feeling apprehensive, and I find myself thinking of the biker chick, and thinking, that she is not that into me. Honestly said, I am partially kinda thinking, that she hates me, and is probably out to hurt me. I turn once again to Mikey, and silently, I ask him again, what time it is. He glances peers at his watch and says, "one p.m.", and I kinda mention to him, we should get going. He kinda listens in to me, and says, "ok man", before drowning down his beer bottle, and he turns around and places some money on the beer counter, as I get up from my leaning position, back to bar, and start to make my way, out of the bar, with Mikey, somewhat following, in tow. I do not look at anybody, in the bar.
Its about 5 p.m., and I am in my hotel room, dressing up for two gatherings, later on in the evening. I am putting on a black suit, not really a suit, but black pants and an equally black jacket. I have my jacket on, have combed my hair, and I am setting out to the hotel entrance, where everybody will be meeting up, almost everybody. As I leave my room, and make my way to the entrance, I happen to pass by Mikeys room. I knock once, twice, then open the door, and walk in, to find Mikey, bent over his luggage. He is sifting through some belongings, and somewhat apparently, did not hear me knock and come in. "Whats up man?" I say towards him, as he turns around, lowly, on his feet to face me. "Hey man" he begins, "how'r you doin'?" I say, "cool, what are you up to?" Its at that moment, that my gaze catches sight of a red vase, the red vase from previously, next to his bed on the side away from him, and surprisingly, as I peek into it, filled with beer. I almost immediately, also look carefully onto his bed, to find about four long straws, lying there. "Whats up?" I say, "whats going on here?" "We're about to have a party man" he says to me, "you should join us." I look back at the whole spectacle, and find myself saying, while not really paying attention, "Nah, nah man, I've gat to go down, am heading off to some party you know." He turns back to what he was doing before, while saying, "ok man, I guess I'll see you later." I kind of quickly look around fast, and then turn around to leave the room, as I bid Mikey another goodbye, "see yuh later man" and he replies, "yeah man, later." I am back out on the hallway, and speed my way, down to the entrance, to be met by a group of us, waiting down there. For some reason, dumb maybe, I find myself seeking out Kim. I kinda just want to take a look at her, for I kinda like looking at beautiful things, staring really, unlike most. She's not there, and I find myself, feeling loose, as I await to see what happens next. I am not feeling too self-conscious anymore, but I do realize, I know nobody really, apart from Mikey and some of his buds. I do find myself seeking out the burly man I have been with, just to find out, whats the retinue. Hopefully, he tells it to me, if I stand near him. As we wait, or as I mostly do, I see Kim come arrive, and she heads off, to talk to a certain group. I look her for a moment, maybe a moment too long, but I change view smoothly unnoticeably, as I find myself looking out of the hotels big windows. "Okay everybody", a voice breaks me out of my dreamings, "lets move it." We all start to head out, me giving way, to just about everybody, and arriving at the exit last. When I get out, I do look and search, for the burly man, but see no one and I find myself feeling kinda nervous. I look at Kim again. Cars seem to arrive, and drive off with some of the group, at just about every few short intervals. I watch, what appears to be a spectacle to me, and I wonder about my turn. I see Kim go away. After a while, a sleek black car shows up, and the burly man, opens the front window, as the car stops by me. "Get in" he kinda motions, ordering me in, as I find myself quickly pacing to the back door, and jumping in. We're off, as soon as I am settled, and I sit back, into the seat, as we kind of speed off, to an unknown destination. We soon arrive, at a restaurant-bar, that seems to have some changes to it. We are inside, after a brief pause outside, as the burly man, kinda straightens the red carpet, leading to the inside, with his feet. I look around, wondering, what could be going on here. It is partially empty, when we get there, and the restaurant-bar, has two parts in it. One side, the side with the entrance, connects to a restaurant just outside, and the other side, is mainly a bar. The bar side, is slightly lowered, than the restaurant side. The burly man, shows me into the inside, when partially in, and says, "Go grab yourself a seat." I find myself walking, into the bar side, and kinda finding it mostly empty, I begin to stroll, make my way, to the bar that is at the end of the room. I do wonder to myself where everybody, Kim, went to. I order myself a drink at the bar, sit down on a table set, nearby, and drink it slowly, while musing, to myself. Its a brandy. As I am seated there, thinking of all that has happened, since my arrival in America, and even before, I see Kim, come down the small staircase into the bar side, and walk up to the bar. She kinda orders some drinks, and asks for them to be taken to the restaurant side. She does not see me I believe, and as she leaves and then gone, I do find myself, thinking about women. I kinda find myself, mythologizing, any serious relationship, I envision myself being in, with a woman. There are many myths out there, that most couples tend to live by. One of the most famous, is Beauty and the Beast. A tale as old as time, one that is really about self-acceptance. One seeks a mate, that will love them, enabling them, to develop self-acceptance, such that in the end, they are transformed into a Prince or Princess. Very American I think, and can be difficult. Then you have Aladdin, a tale of a jester, who falls in love with a Princess, and sets out to show her, a whole new world. I see how that works out, with those who seek out exotic mates, and find themselves always living, a new experience everyday. You then have Cinderella, very popular and famous, a tale of a young girl, who finds love, with a member of the aristocracy, and this love, is bound together, by each recognizing themselves, in each other, and realizing, they are really the same. Kind of popular in Europe, and very popular in Asia. You also have 'Coming to America', with Prince Akeem, a tale of a lonesome African Prince, who sets out to find a wife to keep him company I believe; the world is his oyster so to speak, and he eventually finds his desiring in, who would have guessed it, Queens NY. I have always thought, that this would be a perfect myth for me, until I realized, I look nothing like an African Prince. The tale is one, of self-discovery and re-creation, as one sets out on a journey to find or discover, whom they really are. Changing personalities, in a relationship. Very popular in Africa. When I was thinking of a myth for me and Carla, Carla Gugino, the first that came to mind, was Odysseus, by Homer. That was until I read the book, and then I was like, "hell no". It was then I came across another myth, that of Sleeping Beauty. A tale about a rich King, who offers any yearning princely character, the keys to his Kingdom, if he can rescue his daughter locked up in a castle deep in the woods, covered by thorns, bushes and protected by ogres, depending on the version of the tale. I kinda believe that this myth is perfect for me and Carla, as to me, it entails, a relationship, where either of us goes cold or distant, depending on who is playing Beauty, and the other has to break through and find heaven again. I kinda believe, that Carla Gugino, is the kind of person, who becomes really cold, when upset. Its okay, for I am the kind, who becomes really distant, when angry. I am seated there still, having these musing thoughts to myself, when I hear a kind of commotion from behind me, I turn around and hear the barman say to me, "Watch out, they're coming through." I stand up, after having turned to look at the barman, and pull off, towards the bar, as the doors behind the table set, open up and in comes a mass of people in a group, led by an intelligent looking Italian-American woman, Sicilian, but looking somewhat Eastern European. They make their way, towards the front of the bar side, where there is a podium, and she gets on it. She starts of on a kind of speech, kind of talk, above the raucus, that is going on, as people begin to stream into the bar, and look towards the podium. I see Kim again. The woman, gives a speech, and I realize that we are at a celebration, celebrating Italian-American contributions, to poorer communities, in several American cities. I do find myself staring at the woman, but kind of also realize, that she is above me, in many meanings, of the words. When the speech is done, and the people begin to clap, I join in too, the woman exits the podium carefully, and people begin to mingle with each other, as the lights in the restaurant bar, are dimmed. Its about 7 p.m. now, and I find myself making my way back to the bar, to sit there. I am seated there all alone, at the end of the bar, next to the wall and near the doors, and the bar begins to fill up. Its an open bar, where one can talk, to those they find there. I am seated there, kind of minding my own business and really minding it too, when a blonde woman, standing next to me, turns towards me, surprisingly, and asks me where I'm from. I find myself saying that I'm originally from Kenya, but now reside in NY. "Oh, NY" she says, when I am done explaining, and she asks me what I am doing in Providence. I tell her that I am on tour, with Aerosmith. "Oh" she says again, and kinda turns to take a good look at me, indirectly, and I find myself, feeling self-conscious again. She grabs her drink, while still facing me, turns around, in an arc, and then leaves the bar, as I watch her, walk away. "Nice", I say to myself, really thinking, nice girl or nice chick. As I am seated there, slowly sipping a drink, a vodka with coke, the bar begins to clear up, and I find myself somewhat knowingly unknowingly, sliding to the center of the bar, to sit there. As I am about to get on a seat, I look at the other end of the bar, and am surprised to see a recognizable figure, standing there, holding a drink, kind of imagining, to himself. I look closely, stare, and find myself looking at none other, than Josh Brolin. I am surprised, and he, who is now lighting a cigarette, seems to have noticed my presence, and I see his eyes darting somewhat from side to side, as if saying, "can I get a break here." I look towards inside the bar, and then find myself moving away, to the wall, Josh Brolin is leaning on. You tend to find, that most people who like Josh Brolin, want to be, Josh Brolin. I am standing some paces, away from him, and I do find myself turning towards his direction, and somewhat meeting his eyes, as they dart around again. I look forward again, and find myself taking in, the scene. The whole place, kinda feels Italian-American, and as I find myself looking around some more, I see myself, observing the people around and near me. I tend to find, that the way people relate to each other socially, is based on having a sense of power, or really, a sense of history. A sense of history, is at times confused, with history itself. When most people out there, seek out a sense of power, or a sense of history really, they often times, turn to one place: Ancient Egypt. From the perspective of a sense of history, whities, tend to envision an Ancient Egypt, ruled by an all-powerful, all-knowing Pharaoh, who goes around waging wars on neighbouring civilizations, and capturing or defeating them. Most whities, who often believe this is history too, are seen often, seeking out or chasing, the spiritual knowledge of the pharaohs, that will make them all-powerful and all-knowing, as that is how most whities, present themselves socially. For blackies, a sense of history, is also associated with Ancient Egypt, and often, with its 'street culture'. What you have here, is a sense of history, best personified by the likes of Akhenaten, whereby, you find a figure born poor, like Akhenaten, arising, to take the people out, of a bondage, of some sort. This sense of history, is often presented today, under what they call Afrocentrism, unlike whitie sense of history, which is known as Eurocentrism. All in all, Afrocentrism, claims that Egyptian, Nubian and even European street culture, and its figures, are of blackie origins. This Ancient Egyptian/Nubian street culture, is still seen in Africa today, as are political figures, like Akhenaten. What you see in general, is that blackies, tend to present themselves, as a kind of saviour, socially. Then you have brownies too, political brownies, who tend to have a sense of history, best personified, by the story of Joseph and his being sold, into slavery by his brothers, before rising to eminence, in Egypt. That's really how brownies, tend to present themselves socially, as having risen from the bottom. You also have religious brownies, whose sense of history, is associated with undergoing difficult or tough initiations and other such rites, and coming out the victor. Religious brownies, are likely to enjoy reading autobiography or biography books, of people, who have undergone crazy times, and come out much better, because of it all. They read such stuff and think, "that's kinda cool." One however comes to learn, they should be careful, for what they wish for. I am still standing there, looking around, when I turn to see, the Italian-American woman, who gave a speech before, standing somewhat directly infront of me, in a group, holding what appears very much, to be a white mink hat, somewhat bending, upper body, and pointing a finger, arm unextended, while circling it, and seemingly asking the person next to her, a woman, outsider to the group, "who is that?" I find myself taken aback suddenly, and I find myself also, pointing at me, and saying, "Me?!!" She does the same thing again, and I look at the woman next to her, who is staring at me dead straight, and I find myself marching towards her group and her, to say, "I am with Joe Perry, I am with Aerosmith." She stands somewhat upright and begins to say somewhat across the room, "Is Joe in here?" As I turn to look at the restaurant section of the restaurant-bar, I also catch a glimpse next to me, a bit far, of a person, dressed in a white shirt, black tie, whom I somewhat recognize, as security. I turn around again pretty quick, to look at the restaurant side, and see Joe Perry, making his way, down to where we are. He arrives and she asks, "Joe, do you know this person?" "Yeah" says Joe Perry, as he begins to and gestures to me, with two of his fingers, and says, "come with me." I find myself following Joe Perry, without looking back, and in time, we are up on the restaurant side, of the restaurant-bar. He takes me to a table, near the exit door, occupied by him, Steven Tyler and someone else. Steven Tyler is talking, and Joe Perry turns to me, as he sits on the opposite end and says, "stick around." I can't really hear what Steven Tyler is saying, and I find myself turning around, and looking into the crowd. After a while, am kinda thinking, this is my kind of scene, I could fit in' here well. I kind of recognize it, as being Sicilian-American, and I find myself thinking, if I can't be Sicilian, then I can atleast be part of, "other" Italian-Americans, such as Martin Scorsese, Leonardo DiCaprio, and even Gina Gershon. As I am standing there musing to myself, someone rushes past me, and I hear a voice say towards me, "Excuse me." I look to see a tall figure, rush by me, a brownie, and into the open lavatories, nearby, far. The figure is in there for a while, before coming out and I immediately, recognize him, as Will Smith, who then purports, to turn to the restaurant side of the restaurant-bar, while somewhat howling at them, and pointing his forefingers , one arm extended forward, the other above his head slightly, bended, and he begins to make his way out of the restaurant-bar. Those on the restaurant side turn to look, but its too late, as Will Smith is out of there, in no time. I kind of find myself thinking, "he's a party hopper." I am standing, just looking around, when I decide to turn around, and listen to what Steven Tyler is saying, as I can kinda hear him, from the back. ".....the man is running around, trying to hit the chicken, but can't seem to get to it" he seems to be saying, as I start to listen more closely, "after a while, he seems to get tired of it all, and is now hellbent, on smashing the chicken. His feet are practically off the ground, as he attempts to hit the chicken, with the baseball bat. After a while of this, he drops the baseball bat, goes of into a shed nearby, and comes out of it, with an axe." I somewhat get closer, not physically, but with my presence. "The chicken, upon seeing the man exit the shed, with an axe, gives him one look, head turned back, and then runs off into the sunset, before taking off, like a jetliner." The tale ends there, as Steven Tyler stops to look kind of closely at the man, he has been talking to. The man on the otherhand, turns to look at Joe Perry, as if asking, "what is this?" I find myself, for a split second there, believing the tale, as it is been told, by an American. However, on looking at Joe Perry, who is now looking outside the restaurant window, as if having not heard the tale, I somewhat quickly come to the understanding, that not all, is possible, in America. It is then, that Steven Tyler, turns to Joe Perry and asks, "What time is it?" Joe Perry, looks at his watch and says, "about 8:30" and Steven Tyler, looking downwards somewhat at the table, as he begins to put on his jacket, which is hanging by the long seat he is seated on, says, "we better be going", and he begins to rise, followed by the man seated next to him, and I somewhat turn to see, Joe Perry, pick up his jacket, as if to get on the move. As they are doing this, and the man seated next to Steven Tyler leaves, and I look at both of them, as if asking, "where are you guys going?" Joe Perry, on putting on his jacket, turns to me and says, "come with me", as if kind of ordering me. I put down my drink on the table, and follow both of them, out of the restaurant-bar, truthfully said, kind of feeling important. We get out there, and we are now all standing there, I feeling self-conscious, as I can feel some gazes on me, female I believe, and as we are still standing there, a stretch limousine, pulls up. I don't think too much of it, that a stretch limousine automatically pulled up, when we were all standing there, and when its by next to us, Steven Tyler opens up the door, right at the back, and we all begin to jump in, me, very self-consciously now. We're in, and I notice, there is a woman, in there, seated as if waiting. She has a black cardigan, over her shoulders, and she is seated at the ending window seat, and Joe Perry slides off next to her, Steven Tyler on the other end, and I seated facing them all, feeling, kind of silly. I look at the woman, who looks kind of homely, briefly, and at Joe Perry, who seems to be looking straight ahead, above me, and then at Steven Tyler, who is looking out of the window, while saying something about Providence I believe. We drive off, and soon, we are at a new location.
We step in, into a new social occasion, already going on. It is a different scene, and I can sense, that it is not one of "ours". The place, is similar, to the restaurant-bar, as there are two sections, a higher and lower level, joined together, by two staircases, at the ends of each section. The place is well lit, as there are chandeliers, hanging from above. I find myself looking at the down level, not at the people really, but at the place itself, and kind of, notice a bar, at one end, of the lower section. We start to move on in, but I kinda sense as we move along, that I am on my own. I look down again, and at the corner of the bar, one of its ends, I spot Jamie Foxx, with several women around him, listening to him talk, and kinda acting more cocky, than he did, on "Any Given Sunday". I kinda feel sensitive, as if self-conscious, as I watch him down there. I get to the bar, down the staircase, away from Jamies view, and after getting myself a drink, simply sit there, looking around. The room, smells of success, and as I kinda look around again, I begin to feel, self-conscious. I kinda tend to believe, that different groups, have different notions of success, or different senses of success. For instance, with whities, they believe in making enough wealth, to live a free life, doing nothing much, which possibly includes, taking trips into space. Blackies, tend to believe, in becoming, a kind of military leader, as a sign of success. The concept of the military, is very African in nature, unknown to most people. In the old days, militaries, in Africa atleast, were characterized, by a high level of fluidity. Most African cultures, are militaristic, one way or the other. Europe, never used to have militaries, they had armies. Militaries today, are highly characterized, by heavy artillery, while armies, have always been about low and mid level, artillery. The concept, of a born leader, or a made one, is associated, with militaries, and not armies. This is often not known, to many, in Americas corporate world, who organize themselves, like an army, but attempt to operate, like a military. The result of it all, is problems, with leadership, as loyalty in an army, is a result, of rising through the ranks. WW2 Germany, had a military, the rest of Europe, had armies. The most well known militaristic tribal groupings in Africa, are the Akan, and the Zulu. That's why both, were able to defeat a more well armed British army, compared to other African tribes. Many blackies, tend to rank themselves, amongst each other, based on their level, of militarization. When it comes to this, one finds that American blackies, reign supreme. You also have South African blackies, who also have a powerful military, and kind of look down, on other African blackies, knowing they can whoop their asses. In Europe, Russia, is the only country, with a military. This means, it is the only real threat to American power, and not China, as many believe. China, has an army, a big one. The Russian military, is organized, similar to the Zulus, while the American one, is similar, to the Akans. Honestly said, as a fan of militarization, I have always believed, that the Akans, could whoop, the Zulus asses. But that's just me. You also have brownies, political brownies, who have a notion of success, that is about, developing a high level of culture. Political brownies, have always believed, in developing, a high level stylistic culture, and this is where, they are similar, to Italian-Americans, who have always believed, in developing a high level, sophisticated culture. That's why brownies and Italian-Americans, have always mingled together, going back to the days of Sammy Davies Jr., and the Ratpack. The media on the otherhand, is all about being cool. Cool sucks. Religious brownies, have always had a notion of success, associated with developing intelligences. The goal of many religious brownies, is really, to become really intelligent, and many, tend to somewhat look up to the Japanese, and Japan, as a symbol of intelligence. Today though, most out there, don't think too highly of intelligence. One is likely to be labeled, a smart ass, or even, a smart aleck, for portraying intelligence. I keep on looking around, and decide, to move around, and somewhat mingle. I am encouraged in doing this, after having seen, some brownie faces around. I spot Lionel Richie, somewhere, far into the room. He is tall, and easily noticeable to me atleast, having grown up around, a lot of Lionel Richie. I kind of contemplate him, as I look at him, and with time, find myself looking elsewhere, still thinking about him and his music, somewhat. I get up, and begin to transverse the room. I look about and far into the room, I see Joe Perry, standing amongst a group, that includes a stocky looking person, white, dirty blonde, and whom with time, as I join the group, I identify as being a dude. We are standing there, me having joined the group, and kind of feeling good about it, when the dude, decides to take a hold, of Joe Perry's long hair, and somewhat says, "isn't this kind of gay?" I look at Joe Perry, almost somewhat really, immediately, and he seems kind of forsaken, with a look that seems to say, "not this shit again." He then kinda grabs the hand, of the dude, and turning it to its backside, quickly, lightly strokes it. He then asks the dude, "How does that make you feel?" The dude, kind of wiggles to himself, and says, "its kind of tinglish." "You see" begins Joe Perry, "gay, is someone, who identifies too strongly, with a womans feelings. A homosexual, on the otherhand, is a male, who responds to the sensual stroking, of another male. That my friend, kinda makes you, a homosexual." And with that, Joe Perry puts down the dudes hand, and still looking miffed, walks away, as the rest of us, stare at the dude, before walking away too. I kinda feel good doing this, but still find myself thinking, pity him. I do agree, with Joe Perry on this, as I kinda tend to believe, that people, who call Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Governator, are kinda gay; to me, the Governator, is the kind of name, a woman, would give to a man, in the bedroom. I walk off, to another group, made up of a woman and a man, both white, and a man, who kinda resembles, Al Roker, but is a bit taller. The mans name, is Pete, as his name is mentioned, by a woman, who passes by him, and somewhat silently calls out his name, as he turns to look, while still telling his story. This is what I garner of it: ".....which is the true human depravity, the fact that a human, can go insane, or the other fact, that a person, can desire a pizza, cooked by an insane person. Which is really, the true human depravity?" The man and woman, whom I now look at, look at him, with sort of glazed eyes, as if asking and wondering, "why are you telling us this?" The man, Pete, suddenly, but not too quickly, turns to me, while I am taking a sip, of my drink, and while pointing, with his free hand, the other has a drink, says to me, "They say, you have the hots, for Carla Gugino." I find myself, almost saying, "What!!!", as I spill some of my drink onto myself, and the word rushes, through my mind. The woman stares at me, almost wide opened eyed, while the man, slowly and methodically turns, to look at me, with one of his eye brows, raised. I am feeling cocky, and I find myself saying, "Why not!, Donald has Daisy." And with that, I turn to the side, chest first really, left arm imaginarily raised, hand closed, while saying to myself, "Hell yeah!!" I am off again, meandering about, and thinking, at the back of my head, of not joining, another group. I do get close, to the group, Lionel Richie is in, but I kinda feel his eyes on me, as I do so, and I travel on, passing by, as I find myself, headed back, to the bar. I am seated at the bar, taking another drink, musing to myself really, when a woman, a blackie, African-American, approaches the bar, and orders a drink. I find myself, kinda looking at her, as I am not, intimidated, by blackie women. I tend to find it easy, to talk to them really, and I look at her, and ask her directly, "Where are you from?" She kinda turns to me, quickly, but looks away, down into the bar, forearms on the bar counter, hands clasped together, and says, while still looking away, "California." I fold my lips to myself, looking forward, as I prepare, to take another sip, of my drink. I kinda tend to see California, as being either of two things: highways, skyscrapers, big trucks, or, Jack Slater. I have always believed, that if I ever made it to California, I would be Jack Slater. I kinda mention all this to her, and she responds by widely pouting her lips, lower out, and kinda observes me, as if I am wearing something peculiar. I don't know what to think, as she looks at me that way, but I tend to believe, that blackie women, are most attracted, to men, who are like rabbit-hat magicians. I think, blackie women, find rabbit-hat magicians, to be attractive, and even hot. She gets her drink, and walks away, without much of a word to me. I turn back to my drink, and keep on drinking, sipping, until my thoughts are carried away, once again. There is a song, playing in the background, I believe its Def Leppards, "When love and hate collide", and with time, I find my thoughts, turning back to Carla Gugino. Whenever I think of Carla, what tends to come to mind immediately, is brown hair, brown eyes, big smile. I am not, the kind to rush into a relationship, without analyzing, the dynamics of it all. How it works, on an everyday level. I tend to divide relationships, into three parts: a problem solving part, an everyday routines part and a pleasure part. When it comes to the problem solving part, I believe in pointing out things, rather than telling ones mate things. When it comes to everyday routines, I believe in caring, rather than being loving. When it comes to pleasure, I believe in playing tricks, rather than making an impression on, the other. The other modus operandi, is the kind, that characterized, former kinds of relationships, seen between Italians, and best portrayed by Madonna, in her "Papa don't preach" video. Very communal way of doing things, and requires a heavy investment, in terms of many things. It also takes into account age, achievement and background. Age goes along with pleasure and making an impression on, achievement with being loving and everyday routines, and background with problem solving and telling. My model, does not. Take pleasure for instance, I can see myself and Carla, sharing a plate of donuts, my half and hers, and it comes down, to one donut on the plate, my half, and she kinda points back behind me and says, "Whats that?" I turn to look, before I am hit by the realization, "the donut, she ate it", just to turn back, to find her, wiping her mouth, while chewing. My model is not new, in its entirety, as it is the same model, used by American Christianity, to model relationships, with God. I can see therefore, that this model, allows for one, to be religious, while in a relationship. I can see myself, aspiring to be St. Joseph, and Carla Gugino, as the Immaculate Conception herself, Mary. The American Church, has often wondered about, the decline in attendance in its churches, attributing this phenomenon, to Science. They believe, Science has made people lazy, via offering new modes of pleasure, and in concordance, destroying relationships. I believe otherwise. I believe that Americans, use the above model, in how they relate, to their pets. I believe I can prove this, in a seminally titled paper, published by Harvard or Yale, and called, "Pet Theori: A treatise on the decline of the American Church". Americans, tend to point out things, to their pets, and not to God. Aspiring to be a Saint, is what has made Italian Christianity, different from others. I can very much see, Joe Perry, personifying, St. Anthony of Padua. When I am just done musing to myself, I am made aware, that its time to leave.
I am back in my hotel room, and taking off my shirt, my jacket is on the bed, when I sense a presence behind me. I turn back, to find a vision, of Carla Gugino, standing there, looking kind of concerned.
Carla Gugino: "Whats that?" Me: "What?" *looking around my chest area* Carla Gugino: "That" *While pointing*
*look again at my chest area, and see nothing*
Carla Gugino: "The whole restless body movement thing, its like you see me as a mother."
I am kind of taken aback, and fold my lips, as I kind of turn to somewhat look at her. I look forward again, lips folded, when I hear a knock and find myself turning to look at where I was looking before, just in time, to see the apparition disappearing. The door opens, I hear it, and a head pops in, I sense it and somewhat see it, as a voice stereotypically calls out, "Bantu". "Its Al" I almost snarl back, as I turn to look at the door, and see Jamie Foxx, making his way, into my room. He walks up to me, makes a duck face, looks at me, while cocking his head side to side somewhat, raises his hands, and flickers the ends, of my collar. He then says to himself "hmm!", with lips folded, lower lip extended, and then turns around, and leaves. I find myself, standing there, almost taken aback, and wondering, what that was all about. I see and find myself, going to the door, to look into the hallway, and finding it empty, shut the door, thinking to myself, "Just another Jamie Foxx moment." I am undressed, I have put on my "pyjamas", and as I lay in my bed, going to sleep, I kinda sense and see somewhat, in the darkness, a figure, dressed in military garb, and a military looking cowboy hat, standing there, staring at me. I do eventually, go to sleep.
