Nobody Remembers The Dead End Tuesdays
Hyperposession: Study A-764 Delta
Nobody Remembers The Dead End Tuesdays
by oliver mattson
The DET's were an infamous batch of hellions with a pseudo musical talent type thing. (they made loud rackets) on weekend days and partied like there was no tomorrow. Sometimes they would run amok in Ukiah, other times in Redwood Valley and Calpella and Hopland and in the Bay area, and Lake county.
some moved on.
some "grow up"
some don't play anymore at all.
Some go nuts
"Don't listen to the lyrics... I mean, like, in your head, just let them fall around you, go through the song like a tunnel, don't let the darkness of the fuckin' lyrics hit you and creep up in your head, head down, straight through, don't let em get in, okay, man?", Alex barked at the crowd. Assembled loosely in a living room, out onto a patio, and into the yard, the night was strangely warm. October 29th, 1999.
The crowd responded with a liberated and inebriated Howl back that could be heard rolling back at them through the microphone and the amps. Drums were tuned. Guitars are tuned. Vocalist was getting ready to assault the crowd with a carpet bombing of lyrics, rage and pure full throttle noise. The band had no clue.
He was getting either Oblivious, or higher than a kite on a power beyond comprehension and ready to release something on the world that was either brilliant, or damning. In his case, it was a tad bit of both, as well as a highlight of the hell to come.
Minutes before he yelled at the crowd about the fact that the lyrics were going' to be "weird" that night, he was sucking a girls tits who had hidden in the bathroom waiting for him to go in there. He forgot her name, even though they had met at least 16 times before, smoked weed on occasion and drank shots at parties and showed kindness and want to be around one another before. Alex was a tad shy, and his social skills were dogshit. "Animals know when they want to fuck each other, Alex, Dogs, Cats, Lizards & Fish, you're 23, Alex, what the fuck.... We've hooked you up with so much tail before, as per your bawling your eyes out drama prince ass requested, and they've even gone in your back room, WITH YOU, and you've BEEN NOT GETTING UP IN THERE, YOU FOOL.... What The hell's wrong with you, MAN???", Alex recalled Ben Dixon (named after the Robotech - Macross Saga Character), his current lead axe man and party assistant yelling at him in the Subaru back from Modesto after a 4 day party trip to get high, drunk, and laid. Alex didn't pick up on the girls advances, even when they were lying right next to him, he was somewhere else... He was there, physically, but... in his head... holy shit. "I don't know what the hell it is with you, man, if you don't find a way to relax you're gonna, I dunno, end up in a mess or beat up, or going gay... what the fuck, man?", besides having his head in his music, he also had his eyes on the unobtainable, a girl, whose nickname was Razer, who worked at a coffee shop, and that he had a most intense crush on, for 3 yers or so before.
"WHAT are you talking about, I just can't relax right now, man, gotta get money, gotta get drugs gotta get back home, got things to do, got songs to write, art to deal with and pushers from New York to maybe talk to.", Alex replied, putting out the lit cigarrette in the 1981 Subaru 2 door 4x4's nearly overflowing ashtray.
"You can't just leave me alone, can you sometimes, huh, Dixon??", Alex locked eyes with Bennie, before smiling like Clockwork Orange and looking at the front of the car... Alex looked around all over, examining the condidiotns... light... nope, cars around, nope.... okay, weed vision should kick in good in five... four... "Three Two One and . POW", with that Alex's grinning teeth were all that Ben could see of his hell bound driver's face, his eyes opened up like a popped top of a beer can, Alex shut off all the lights, except the yellow running lights, and turned the dashlights all the way off. "You know, you should just relax yourself, silly", Alex popped a roach into his mouth and slowed the car down, still swerving, intentionally, from rightmost side of the road to leftmost, back and forth over a lane and a half wide back road, he lit it up, grinned again, "Mellow Down, Man", ALex pulled the car over, turned up the lights, and asked his axe man if he wanted a hit. "NO way, You know I don't do that shit anymore, man, shit's illegal, how'm I gonna get a Job to get equipment?? And What the FUCK was that back there, you moron, you cuold have... We could have....", "I know I know", Alex said. "Gotten us into a wreck, sorry dude, I just wanted you to be told something, look, I don't know what it is, now who's doing it, but I got a fuckton of stress right now, and I don't know what to do about it, Thank YouVeryMuch".
"Just smoke that, and lets try to get back to main highway and get the hell back home". Ben Said, grabbing a half smoked cigarette from the ashtray, rubbing off the end. "Need a light?", Alex asked, grabbing a yellow Mini Bic from his shirt pocket and passing it to his friend. "Thanks Bro", Dixon responded, understandingly, and patiently, he put the mini lighter on the dash where Alex always liked it put while smoking running down the road, especially at night, especially at high speeds. There was a small dip in the dashboard where one could place their cigs and a lighter comfortably, Alex thought it was custom, or different than the rest of the Subaru's he'd seen that were similar models to his. He parked many a Foster's can there at ngiht, writing poetry, and reciting it to girls that would forget about him hours after they talked. Shame really.
Nobody Remembers The Dead End Tuesdays
by oliver mattson
The DET's were an infamous batch of hellions with a pseudo musical talent type thing. (they made loud rackets) on weekend days and partied like there was no tomorrow. Sometimes they would run amok in Ukiah, other times in Redwood Valley and Calpella and Hopland and in the Bay area, and Lake county.
some moved on.
some "grow up"
some don't play anymore at all.
Some go nuts
"Don't listen to the lyrics... I mean, like, in your head, just let them fall around you, go through the song like a tunnel, don't let the darkness of the fuckin' lyrics hit you and creep up in your head, head down, straight through, don't let em get in, okay, man?", Alex barked at the crowd. Assembled loosely in a living room, out onto a patio, and into the yard, the night was strangely warm. October 29th, 1999.
The crowd responded with a liberated and inebriated Howl back that could be heard rolling back at them through the microphone and the amps. Drums were tuned. Guitars are tuned. Vocalist was getting ready to assault the crowd with a carpet bombing of lyrics, rage and pure full throttle noise. The band had no clue.
He was getting either Oblivious, or higher than a kite on a power beyond comprehension and ready to release something on the world that was either brilliant, or damning. In his case, it was a tad bit of both, as well as a highlight of the hell to come.
Minutes before he yelled at the crowd about the fact that the lyrics were going' to be "weird" that night, he was sucking a girls tits who had hidden in the bathroom waiting for him to go in there. He forgot her name, even though they had met at least 16 times before, smoked weed on occasion and drank shots at parties and showed kindness and want to be around one another before. Alex was a tad shy, and his social skills were dogshit. "Animals know when they want to fuck each other, Alex, Dogs, Cats, Lizards & Fish, you're 23, Alex, what the fuck.... We've hooked you up with so much tail before, as per your bawling your eyes out drama prince ass requested, and they've even gone in your back room, WITH YOU, and you've BEEN NOT GETTING UP IN THERE, YOU FOOL.... What The hell's wrong with you, MAN???", Alex recalled Ben Dixon (named after the Robotech - Macross Saga Character), his current lead axe man and party assistant yelling at him in the Subaru back from Modesto after a 4 day party trip to get high, drunk, and laid. Alex didn't pick up on the girls advances, even when they were lying right next to him, he was somewhere else... He was there, physically, but... in his head... holy shit. "I don't know what the hell it is with you, man, if you don't find a way to relax you're gonna, I dunno, end up in a mess or beat up, or going gay... what the fuck, man?", besides having his head in his music, he also had his eyes on the unobtainable, a girl, whose nickname was Razer, who worked at a coffee shop, and that he had a most intense crush on, for 3 yers or so before.
"WHAT are you talking about, I just can't relax right now, man, gotta get money, gotta get drugs gotta get back home, got things to do, got songs to write, art to deal with and pushers from New York to maybe talk to.", Alex replied, putting out the lit cigarrette in the 1981 Subaru 2 door 4x4's nearly overflowing ashtray.
"You can't just leave me alone, can you sometimes, huh, Dixon??", Alex locked eyes with Bennie, before smiling like Clockwork Orange and looking at the front of the car... Alex looked around all over, examining the condidiotns... light... nope, cars around, nope.... okay, weed vision should kick in good in five... four... "Three Two One and . POW", with that Alex's grinning teeth were all that Ben could see of his hell bound driver's face, his eyes opened up like a popped top of a beer can, Alex shut off all the lights, except the yellow running lights, and turned the dashlights all the way off. "You know, you should just relax yourself, silly", Alex popped a roach into his mouth and slowed the car down, still swerving, intentionally, from rightmost side of the road to leftmost, back and forth over a lane and a half wide back road, he lit it up, grinned again, "Mellow Down, Man", ALex pulled the car over, turned up the lights, and asked his axe man if he wanted a hit. "NO way, You know I don't do that shit anymore, man, shit's illegal, how'm I gonna get a Job to get equipment?? And What the FUCK was that back there, you moron, you cuold have... We could have....", "I know I know", Alex said. "Gotten us into a wreck, sorry dude, I just wanted you to be told something, look, I don't know what it is, now who's doing it, but I got a fuckton of stress right now, and I don't know what to do about it, Thank YouVeryMuch".
"Just smoke that, and lets try to get back to main highway and get the hell back home". Ben Said, grabbing a half smoked cigarette from the ashtray, rubbing off the end. "Need a light?", Alex asked, grabbing a yellow Mini Bic from his shirt pocket and passing it to his friend. "Thanks Bro", Dixon responded, understandingly, and patiently, he put the mini lighter on the dash where Alex always liked it put while smoking running down the road, especially at night, especially at high speeds. There was a small dip in the dashboard where one could place their cigs and a lighter comfortably, Alex thought it was custom, or different than the rest of the Subaru's he'd seen that were similar models to his. He parked many a Foster's can there at ngiht, writing poetry, and reciting it to girls that would forget about him hours after they talked. Shame really.
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