Pissing in the wind Ch4,5,6,

1

Madness2

We stayed in Salt Lake for about a week did some tourist things that aren’t very important and just kind lived at Charlie’s, taking it easy. Skattour Kids came and went. I read books with a vigor  I hadn’t experienced in years. I felt naked when I didn’t have one oh his books in my hands. They smelt of must and love filled passion that only an avid reader could manifest. Mostly it was poetry. I read a lot of Ginsberg and a lot of Karouac and endless amounts of e.e. Cummings. Beth insisted I write one poem a day, at least, and then read it to them after dinner. I really loved that part and my ego was stroked nicely. Charlie was a hard ass critic and always told me what I knew to be true in my heart. 3

None of my miscreant companions had ever read the Dharma Bums, so I read it aloud every morning during  breakfast. 4

Charlie threw the Maddest, craziest parties I have ever seen, he must have known everyone in the city and they all treated him with an awe like respect. What I really loved about him was that he was almost oblivious to the respect he got and acted like every host gets treated like he does. Beth too, people loved to hear her talk, and when things got out of hand,  (which they so often did, between one and four AM.) One look or one small little Beth cough would clear up any foolishness. All that would be left were toes grinding dirt and downcast shame filled faces. 5

Sometimes when the party was in full swing Charlie would duck out the back door taking me and James into the night with him to explore the shadow filled environment that be comes and almost evil Salt Lake city. A kind of illegal nightlife.  For hours we’d just walk the lonely city on the lake and I’d watch them drink beers while I sipped my green tea and made comments on life’s little attributing factors that make me bored and lonely. 6

“You need to get a ladyfriend.”  He told me one night. James had purposely lead us down the Boulevard of Broken Streetlamps. Shelburn Ave I think it was. I loved that road and would stand under a flickering light so it would illuminate me, and belt out sad little poems that rolled into my head word by word. “Hey Joel?” James started a little tenderly, “Why do you think about writing so much? You always analyze the concept of writing, so why write?” 7

“I don’t.” I answered, We’d eaten a lot of mushrooms that night we’d come out of it a lot more spiritual. “the words have already been invented, I just pick and choose previously existing word and string previously existing phrases to make poems, that already exist. It’s like the man who invented bottled water, we all knew it was there, we all knew we could drink it, he just packaged it up neat and pretty and now, he’s making a bundle.” We were quite for a while, then Charlie turned to me and told me I need a ladyfriend. I roared with laughter and told him I was just fine and hoped to have one at home. I had been away from Vanessa and hoped she still loved me.  She was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I missed her something awful. “I sure as fuck hope so” he said “otherwise this trip is kind of for nothing isn’t it? Are you gonna marry her?”8

I wanted to “If she’ll have a tramp like me.” He laughed “If she’s smart she’ll say no.” 9

“Yeah but if she’s kind she’ll say yes.” 10

He slapped his thigh “Ain’t ‘at the truth only kind ones marry guys like us.”11

James grinned at us. C’mon we need some fresh blood with us tonight. And Joel don’t deny it, you need some female company tonight.”  12

“Yeah,.” I sighed ready for the inevitable.  He slapped me on the shoulder and garbed Charlie’s arm. “C’mon let’s hit MaryJanes tonight. We’ll see what the low down on funky jambands is. Maryjanes had become our favorite bar, My drinks were free because I only drank soda and coffee, Charlie hadn’t paid for a drink since, “I was but a young fledgling preparing my takeoff for a writing career everyday.” James’ money was refused simply because he was so damn good-looking. We ran off in to the quiet darkness of the back alleys and sidestreets shouting jubilantly brilliant offensive poetry to each other in rhyme schemes we’d invent on the spot, but mostly freeverse. Lights in windows were flicked on as our echoes trailed off and all you could hear was Charlie: “Her vagina well forked she hung from the rafters.” Then James “Everything’s broken, dreams crack like plaster.” And me: “Stick your head in an oven for life’s a disaster.” On these nights we could make fools of only ourselves and we howled at the moon with sheer glee and exhilaration knowing fully what the other was thinking but, not anticipating his next move, until it happened. These were our nights in the glorious Godforsaken void that is Salt Lake.13