Chemical_laugh_of_Benzedrine

All Fucked Up
2002-03-01 05:02:45 (UTC)

Hollywood Hustler: A Beautiful Boy

Haven't seen him in over a year and don't think much of the
situation either. However, he is often on my mind and I
routinely find it hard not to think of him in those late
night hours when the only sound is that of the badass Union
Pacific trains blowing their staff and roaring in one huge
bulge from Santa Monica clear across to the Atlantic.
Afterall, we were going to be train outlaws once we "grew
up" and eternally ride the rails in our black Zorro masks
and holsters thoughtfully equipped
w/45's....naturally. "This is a highjack!! Stick 'em up!!!"

He calls every now and then but rarely asks for me even
though we were once true kinsmen of the western sun. Yet, I
don't feel as bad as I use to whenever he'd choose my
sisters over me-- I've grown up considerably since he's
left and nothing pains my battered soul anymore. But this
morning was different-- he asked for me. "Duddde!" he
screamed, shaking me from my golden slumbers, "How the hell
are ya, fucker?" "Wow, man....you're sober!
Bitchen...you??!" "Takes a bitch to know a bitch, bitch!
I'm equally as bitchen"

We talked about life in general...life in the raw-- all the
bitterness-- his climb to respect, his endless stream of
loose lovers, the horrors of hallucinogens, his struggle
for faith, the endless luas that spawned So.Cal's best
surfers and ignited the hills of Malibu...everything. Even
his life as a hustler, to which I was unaware of. He'd
travel through scarred alleyways in the phosphorescent
Hollywood night looking to clip a score-- anyone. Anyone
desiring a slow fuck in the evening

"It's not a world for you," he remarked in the tone of a
man still struggling willingly in self-realization, "You're
too good for that. You...you run along and take to sea."
Thus spoke my brother to me that warm So.Cal morning as the
sun streamed through the bamboo curtains and the Union
Pacific agitated loudly across the wooden tracks. The words
of a seasoned Hollywood hustler whose seen life through
naked eyes

"And it's visions of Johanna that conquer my mind"-- Bob
Dylan