I let pass without acknowledging to my only friend in the world, POKER, my beloved pop-eyed Siamese fighting fish, that yesterday was the 21st anniversary of the semi-great Northridge earthquake. I remember it was such a pretty day. At first I was fearful. Not then. Yesterday. Yesterday I was fearful that if I thought upon that day long ago I would fall into a blue grey melancholia. (Not really, I just felt like using that word.)
Alex Johns was up from San Diego to stay. We were young, smart, compassionate, talented, humble & very beautiful. Well gee whiz man, we were. This reminds me, Alex also used to say to me, “bragging isn’t pretty.” What the heck did that mean? I’ll never know. But we were happy to be together & that showed.
What did I tell ‘ya? Those were the good old days. All days past, present & future are the good old days … one day … some way or another … so these are the good old days too … come what may so they say … now … hmm … what was I just spewing forth about? Oh yes, the day the earth rattled the nerves of millions of people with lots of nerve.
Alex & me … were both gently bashed onto the floor from a mattress that was in the dining room because I was growing dope in my bedroom under two 1000 watt super metal halide bulbs.
We dressed quickly. The first thing we did was check on old lady Irene next door. She wasn’t phased in the slightest but I insisted on carrying her down to the street anyway. Five minutes later she wanted back up. She said she had enough so I carried her back up. She was almost 110 years old by then so I think she was kinda hoping the roof would cave in on her. Mainly because I suppose putting up with Richard (her gay pianist lover who was almost as old as she was) for so long had made her suicidal.
Irene was a piece of cake to haul around though. She weighed 20 grams if that, so it was no effort on my part. I should of tossed her into the hills. That would have been the time to do it but I was preoccupied with getting to trolling the neighborhood expectantly searching for mangled & bloodied corpses. Irene lucked out that time. I loved her like crazy though. If she were still alive she’d be close to 300 years old. I miss her still.
Alex & I went driving around looking for someone to help. Yeah, that’s right, help, sure. But everybody was fine … (damn it) … around us anyway. The only thing though, there wasn’t any electricity. You couldn’t watch the news or a good VHS porno on the boob tube, which is how I would have preferred to have spent that day. And you couldn’t get money from ATM’S … if you had any. We had a little sum on us; five grand at least & some change if I recall. Pocket money. Dope was a great business back then & it showed.
… Almost like out of a Twilight Zone episode, MEL’S DINER down the block up on Sunset boulevard was the only place in all of LA opened. I suppose they had a generator. Or they had made yet another pact with Satan as most folks on Sunset Boulevard do every day. “They did cook good omelets & stews & we might have stayed on with them there but our hearts cried out for you, California.”
Grateful & amused. More lucky then anything else. Not too many people had a warm breakfast that morning. And MEL’S was the place to be seen that day. But who cared really, we didn’t. Well, EVANGELINE obviously did but she deserved to be seen any time she wanted. So we had us some good Beluga caviar (farm raised in New jersey) omelets with diced palm tree shoots & lots of strong coffee then split.
What a great day that was. We had a lot of fun. I know some people were crushed to death that day, which is not funny, but everyday some people were getting crushed to death in LA. Nothing new. You wanna know something true? Everyday was a great day when Alex was still alive, every single day because he was astonishing, simply astonishing. No shit, Sherlock.