Chapter One
Getting Had, Getting Took.
Ok, you all want to finally hear my story and do it justice, well that's great man, it really is. But for decades I let you drag my name through the dirt but no more! You freaks got it all wrong, you called me a liar, an identity thief, a, a fake rocker, and everything else under the sun! But I'm none of those things man, I'm not dead, I've been here all along man, I never changed for no one, and it's time to set the record straight! You talk about letting me finally get to tell my own story, well…here it is man. Take it or leave it.
It all started at the origin of all bullshit: New Jersey. Ewing Township, 1973. I was born in the eye of the bullshit storm. Nothing crazy, I wasn't raised by wolves, I just had the classic soul-crushing New Jersey upbringing. But I get it, you came here for the guts and grime, the Green room sleaze, you probably don't wanna hear about my totally lame childhood, where I grew up, my siblings, crushed dreams, the rents, all that Freudian crapola. Well too bad, it's my life story, my rules, if you don't like it, get lost! Well, anyway, where was I…oh yes!
The rents.
For starters my parents were both overly Catholic, mindless TV-dinner mavens, libertarian taxpayers with two chips weighing down on their shoulders, trust me dude, I'm just as bored as you are, but it gets worse. They were both remnants of the ever fading middle class, left in the current ever resentful, working class, working ever hard, for totally microscopic pay as both housewife and autoshop slave respectively. Burt and Florence Flatt were two grody freaks straight out of a all American test tube, nothing but two squares with sticks so far up their asses that i'm shocked they weren't made better puppet's of the state, and as the proud rock'n'roll sage you see before you, i'm still deeply ashamed and shocked to be descended from such a bloodline, dude it haunts me to this day, even now I get visited by the ghost of Bono in my sex dreams just to prove to me that i'm adopted and I'm actually his biological son! Anyway they were both raised Mennonite in Pennsylvania's famously racist and cheese friendly Amish country, I believe Burt's father was Amish but still let him arry my mother, a Mennonite, which was very controversial at the time, somehow.
They married in their late teens, in 64', but unlike most young people at that time, they were absolutely afraid, and whole heartily determined to convert every last hippie on the face of the earth. They hated them, they wanted Hippies, Black people, Jane Fonda, cars, modern medicine, technology, and just about anything at all outside of their own little sheep farm to either join them in pois boredom for all time or burn in hell. But naturally since being religious zealots is a lot of work and doesn't make much bank if you're starting out broke and all, especially if in the swinging sixties. It was even harder for them growing up in Amish country when most people in Yee old Hershey PA didn't wanna join their cult, I mean Church especially the hippies or even the normies and townsfolk. So, my Rents, god fuck their souls, as the middle children of two massive families, both with 15, 16 children each, felt compelled by the lord above to do the next best thing to make up for their lack of hippie converts and disappointed families, have a fuck ton of kids. And so they did go forth and multiply, just like their parents (or at least they tried.) Because that sure turned out…great for them, the first time around. My "WONDERFUL" parents and brothers are clear evidence of that. for the record i'm never having children , 8 billion of us is more than enough, besides being a father of rock is already so much responsibility there's only so much one guy can take.
But, even though my folks tried to have children, life doesn't always go as God plans. So afters after years for trying to conceive, my mother,must have been desperate for kids to brainwash, she really was pushing 25 now and still hasn't popped out a little Rugrat, what was going on in Womb Vile, trouble in paradise one might say? Well… at this point, you might be wondering why my folks were so gung ho about making babies and why they didn't attempt to pop some offspring earlier in their lives? hy didn't they adopt, or have any other purpose in life besides procreating, other than the whole replacing their failed hippie concerts thing. Having kids was always gonna happen but it was always gonna be for the wrong reasons. To this day I wonder, did they have some kind of scheduling conflict, Burt's blockage or was Florence maybe out of bullets or vice versa? You know, the truth is attempts were made, my mother was never the warm, nurturing type, I like to think the holy ghost of Jans Joplin cursed them for wanting kids solely to be Hippie Haters, but either way dude, shit was getting outrageous because now they were both starting to sweat and turn to some weird shit.
Their baby making attempts were getting so wild. In fact God must have started feeling bad for them, which is a scary thing when you're starting to feel bad for the worst two squares on the geometry board. Even though I still wouldn't be born for another three years by this point, some days I wish they had kept it that way and gone off, convert poor suckers in south amercia or somthing.
But by now my poor, awful mother was so stuffy and bitter even her eggs turned to dust. She would never give birth to the perfect baby boy to impress her neighbors, pastor and judgey parents back in the backwoods of Amish country. But both of them being too dirt poor to adopt however and too young to retire put a wrench in things for sure. Not to mention my father being too drunk, useless and pushy to remarry. So after all that, as a last resort, my narcs of origin decided the only option left on the table was to return to their second home; church. So they prayed to Jesus. Oh lord they prayed for days and nights by the altar like, they were chained to it. They wept, slept and had revelations of the rapture at that altar. All for the lord to bless them with a son, because they didn't think a daughter would work for their overarching evil plan. After a lot of hard work on their knees; Jesus, finally granted their wish. Nine months later, my parents returned to that same corporate baptist church on the side of the interstate to baptize Kent their first son. The next year, they returned again to baptize Kevin and I was baptized there only a year later, 1973 the same year my parents tried to ban us from listening to the radio because Crocodile Rock by Elton John came out that year and they were convinced it was promoting beastility with actual crocodiles only church radio for us from then on. They weren't shy about raising us from birth in their image, they had a burning hatred for what America had become they wanted us to replace the "indefels" they saw walking the streets wearing slutty clothes, kissing in public and listening to "the devils music."So to uphold the last remaining tenants of the American dream, they needed children to carry on their legacy. What legacy, you may ask? Just one of the boring Christian minority, living unlived lives in Newark, dying virgins and loving Nixon and consisting mostly of yelling at hippies to get off their lawns. Either way, that was their plan. To raise their three "perfect boys" in their holy image. Boys who hate change, love America, and most of all, grow up to make a ton of money that they can use to retire to an overpriced tacky Miami condo and never have to see us ever again. Oh, and how could I forget? Never question them in any way or you'll suffer at the mercy of the belt and years of unrelenting Catholic guilt not to mention guilt, dude how do you think I helped invent the new genre of music "Church-Punk" but I'm getting ahead of myself. Suffice it to say, they didn't really raise me, they more just brought me into the world hoping I'd be the "third miracle" instead I was their third mistake, they could never quite erase. If they knew how I would turn out at birth, I'm convinced they would have killed me right then and there, changed their views on abortion and everything. not shy about it, they talk about it all the time, Because they hate hippies but i'm worse than hips, at least hippies have the decency to sing about peace and love, and be happy in the face of injustice, instead of angry about it, being in the hard core, punk rock, stantioc loving, rock n roll crowd I run with. The rents really do think I'm the devil, whenever I refused to go to church or do what they say, they burned my clothes, even all my shirts, they would go so far as burn my neutral Guns and Roses print pajamas for being "idol worshiping" cult uniforms, forcing me to have to go to the mailbox in Kent's boring plaid all week, witch is a fashion crime. Or that time they stole my DIO shrine, or many many photo FLEA stash or old, porn collection, or even didn't give me a bandaid when Noodle aka the bully from ninth grade gym (we called him noodle because he'd stretch your arms into noodles if you come on his turf, but everyone's more afraid of his two little sisters everyone calls "Draw and Quarter" their the real demons)Noodle pulled out my piercing after he tried to steal my bike. Or all those posers who work at Camelot records who refuse to give me a job because I'm "not for real" and can't hold down a job. Or my folks saying it was my punishment from god when I started getting my stainins ``metal stains." I have every reason to believe they think I am the reincarnation of the devil himself, in a totally non-joke, somehow serious way. But they just told me I was a baby and to walk it off. Even though rock n roll was in my blood, no matter how much they tried to spill it.)
It was around this fatuul Era, the summer of 84'my parents realized I was the odd kid out. They just couldn't handle my raw animal magnetism. Legend has it, when I was a newborn, the doctor dropped me on a pile of Black Sabbath CDs and it cracked my little skull right open. There was blood everywhere. My parents screamed and almost blew a vein or two. But after the surgery, a piece of my brain had been replaced, the one that controls impulse control, of course. So I was reborn, like a rock 'n roll Frankenstein, the rock gods blessed me to survive and as I emerged from the operating table like Jesus Christ Superstar from the cross, the heavenly light flooded me as I sat up, and cried tears of destiny. It was that moment I knew I was destined to be a rock star. But I didn't choose rock 'n roll, rock 'n roll chose me. That's also how I got this gnarly scar on the back of my head.
Aside from thinking I'm the devil himself, my parents bought into the widespread panic around all things rock 'n roll at the time. They believed that satanic panic was running rampant and metal heads were sacrificing little girls to Satan. Who is also being summoned by Dungeons and Dragons and playing Led Zeppelin backwards. So naturally, as the signs of my emerging rock 'n roll ethos became undeniable, my parents started to sweat, and wonder if the lord of darkness was somehow involved. I mean, just look at my track record so far (these are just the highlights:) When I was 10 months old, my first words were "Lets get it on" (Marvin Gaye had the number 4. Song of the summer) When I was two, I sharpened my teeth into fangs on my mom's nail file so I could bite the hand that feeds me more successfully.When I was four, I stole my mom's eyeliner and never gave it back. and When I was five, I formed my first band with some first graders who couldn't play for shit. dude they were babies, they couldn't keep up with my clear path to rock n roll mega stardom.
When I was six, I refused to get a haircut so I could grow out my full hair metal shag (as god intended). When I was eight, I broke a kid's leg in the schoolyard while pulling my hair. But there was a silver lining, that year Mötley Crüe was formed, so I realized I was gay. But even when I was in middle school, my parents had already made it extremely well known to every family in the neighborhood they "did not approve of my lifestyle" They tried so many times to take me to church with them, bible school, Boyscouts with my brothers, Football camp, put me in a suit, brush my hair, introduce me to neighborhood girls, burn my rock s, they were just fascists dude you have no idea!? From day one of parenthood, they did everything in their power squeeze me into their oppressive, All American mold, that Kevin and Kent slid so neatly into. Well, I'll give it to them, their brainwashing worked on my brothers for fifteen years, but it never worked on me, and they hated me for it. I was living proof America was a dying empire and they wanted to hide the fat, rock n roll, proof at all costs, in case I made too much sense to the neighborhood rejects.
My parents by this point were desperate. They did what they always did in times of great desperation. They returned to the church's doorstep to give me the appropriate number of exorcisms. And as you know, the church was known for its totally not traumatic treatment of children.
But when that didn't work, and the demons had refused to leave my body (probably because they were having such a great time in there) our local pedophile priest, Joseph Angles, decided I needed "professional help." So after the electric shock therapy, hypnotizing, homeopathy, crystal healing, and helping to get a radio psychic's ratings up, everyone declared that I was absolutely, totally, undeniably beyond help. But if anything, their futile attempts at "setting me straight" only gave me more ideas for rock songs. Songs about how suburbia sucks butt, forming my own rock n roll alter ego, a perfect alternate self that I was disdained to become the rock n roll Jesus Christ he didn't have name yet, but my rock n roll alter ego that I was in my head, and my dreams and on stage in my future, was the subject of many a triumphant ballad, such as a bold, knight would be of many a bard's the of conquest in medieval battle. Also demons are hot and cool actually, funky red naked red dudes who wanna take over your body and make you horny and evil, but in a cool way and give The big J a hard time I don't know, man sign me up.
Yeah, the church had a way of making sin seem totally gnarly each time they wanted us to fear it, like a way to backfire hard, keep at guys, see where that gets you!
I was only thirteen years old,…what's the rush?! They had loads of time to try to shove me into that conformist mold. If they could have, they would've sent me off to war, but I was too young. Plus the Vietnam War was over and their patron Saint Nixon was old news. So for now they were stuck with me and all that came with it. But on the "bright side," they just elected this movie star guy named Ronald Reagan to the White House, so we'll see how that goes for them.
Meanwhile, my two older brothers were the most perfect little angels. They were as smart, obedient, Catholic, heterosexual, sexist, and boring as my folks could have ever hoped for. Then there was me, always cast aside, ignored, and put in a cage like a feral pit bull. By the time we hit middle school, my parents had totally given up on me, and man, they were not shy about it either. They constantly shoved their favoritism down my throat. They ran our household like a horse race, I swear to god. They would pit us against each other to compete for every little sliver of their approval, and you know just who the judges favored. They were so blunt, they even cut me out of family photos, and burned my birth certificate on the back porch. My mom lied to her ladies at the hair salon that she only had two sons, and my dad constantly denied that I was his flesh and blood. As a cover, he started claiming I was an orphan from Las Vegas they took in briefly, out of the kindness of their hearts. My brothers themselves were absolutely pampered. My folks made sure they had the best tutors, the best schools, the best school equipment, even when they could barley afford either. Not to mention getting them both the prettiest girlfriends (mostly daughters of their church ilk, trying to marry off their eldest daughters before they developed a personality.)
My oldest brother Kent was, expectedly, a royal cunt. He inherited the douchebag gene from both our parents. Kent really was just an extension of our parents' reign, getting straight As and being a straight-A asshole from 1st grade to 8th. So of course, as soon as we hit high school, Kent was at the top of the food chain. He did all the classic bullcrap popular nitwits like him got up to in 1985 like bullying the nerds, being star quarterback, and banging and claiming every pretty virgin from here to the city limits. So, naturally, every teacher, parent, student, and McDonald's worker in town expected him to go to Harvard, even when their grades and coaches were all pointing them towards a football scholarship, our folks always had to push extra hard. They wanted my brothers to become big shot corporate lawyers and bring the township a bunch of money, or something. Which gives them a get out of "jail-free card" for just about any crime you could think of. Never gonna happen if you ask me their heads are in the clouds, and either way all that shit grosses me the fuck out, sell outs like my folks and my brother, are the enemy of a rock god like myself, well I had to learn early.
But then there was Kevin. He was a rare gold nugget in an ocean of mediocrity. I held off talking about him until now, because he was the only fond memory of my childhood, so I had to save the best for last. He was absolutely crushed by our parents' ungodly pressure to be perfect and get perfect grades and pull the family out of poverty. Kevin and Kent were in constant competition, our folks constantly pitting them against each other, because no matter how perfect Kevin was, Kent was always better, and Kent was anything but good, douchebag of the year award went to him every time, future layer for corporate buttfaces no doubt, I hates his guts almost as much as he hated it when I blasted ACDC at 3am.
But Kevin was actually a good guy and after a while he grew up and quit being such a kiss ass. I mean, he still had to be perfect or else, but he managed to do it without being a raging dickweed in the process. He was the only person who didn't participate in the constant dog piling, and hostile climate against me that everyone seemed to be totally wrapped up in. He actually enjoyed spending time with me without being paid, in fact he often fought to do so despite the pressure. And lucky me, he had good taste in rock music to boot! He wasn't satisfied with listening to Bruce Springsteen in the corner and sucking his thumb like the rest of them. He even stood up against bullies and our parents when they were bringing down the hammer on me. He was a popular kid too, so he could get away with that, but unlike most he used his powers for good. Including playing with me in all my rock bands even when it cost him big time. Kevin gave up alot for me, this is just as much his story as it is mine.
Chapter Two
Playing in a Rock n Roll Band.
September, 1985
I was still a freshman in high school yet, I had already been in and out of more short-lived ands than Robin Hood. I'd been starting, forming, and rocking in band's since I was in the 1st grade. Probably younger, but you know how stupid memoires, can be, besides the rent trashing all Kevin's photo albums once I turned out this way. Most of these musical operations were short-lived, just grody, unsuccessful shots in the dark with more shuffling in and out Fleetwood Mac laying a game of Musical Chairs.
But I had two stand out member's who were in almost all my band's since the beginning of time. Dude, l'm talking about my long-time drummer Beans, real name "Ulysses, H. Frankfurt. III youngest of ten children, or some fancy crap, he's the son of some erman lord. He's old money lives and lives in Newark but the Chili's are here most of the time and Bean's stays with his best friend and our Keybaordsit Lenny when his family is away, which is most always. And lucky for us, his don't seem to notice, nor do his parents.
Beans was a skinny, pale, sort of dark, shy, and introverted type, always wearing dark purple and black lots of skulls and tight satin and silk, with a black Pixie cut covering half his face. And then there's my other man: Lenny, and Keyboardist , a wild, dopey, incredibly stupid kid wannabee California surfer type, has family out in California including this Uncle out there who works at Capital records he's always talking about. The ladies think he's a joke, he thinks he's the great thing since sliced wonder bread or gnarly waves, that he hasn't caught since summer of 82' but he likes to act like he surfs in the Olympics and gets his tan in San Diego and not at Long Beach over spring break, and that his buns don't burn.
Beans and Lenny are attached at the hip, my best friends I can always count on to be in my band. It's getting the rest of the lineup in this town that's always a challenge. Sometimes my brother will fill in as lead guitarist, I'm lucky that was one of those times.
Some of our best band's over the years have been: Monkey's In Berlin from 78-79, made up of me, Lenny, Beans, these neighborhood triplets, Rain, Pangea, and Lionheart. Lucky for us their parents were hippies (before they got chased out of town) Man, those were the days. Ya see, Monkey's was a psychedelic rock band we were recording several song's entirely backwards, including our biggest hit "Moss Tank Sex Carmel ride back home" a song about bringing the troops home, and also why homosexuality is beautiful and should replace heterosexuality, even though we were only 10. When the song came out it became a runaway hit, we did a lot of acid the whole time, (as you do) we had some good times with that band though, like that time we found ourselves backstage with Joey Remone, and I beat him at Rock Paper scissors therefore winning a bet and his one of a kind framed chipped tooth, thus causing a riot that would go down in history as the "Saber Tooth Riots." There's a plaque at the Mud Club now, to commemorate the event I'm sure you've seen it. Then I wanted to go darker, because psychedelic rock was kind of out of style and all that. So I formed Shot's in the Dark, from 81-83, a hard core metal band. With me, Lenny, Beans, this time Kevin, and a couple of Kevin's Eagle scout freaky friends, it lasted a while. We had some wild times too, played some crazy gigs, changed our image to look way more freakazoid Alice Cooper, and way less Jimi Henroiz on his last binge. We started to bang our heads and get into all that Satan crap. The deeper we sunk in scandal the more hated we were, the more hair metal, even though I havae a hate bonner for hair metal now, becuase it's all they play on the radio our band is gonna be so much more awsome then that shlop, so much more punk, yeah Punk I said it. But back in the day we became like the demented love child between Rob Zombie, Howard Stern, Ratt, and ZZ Top. Dude we were what was left after the trash-apocopyse, like that time we got into a fight with that Alace Cooper impersonator in Las Vegas, and he sang our song after apologizing and he sang it better than Alice. Or that time with the Manic Street Preachers before Richey went missing we opened for them and they thought we were trying to upstage them so we started a riot, or that time we closed for the sex pistols and forgot we were not wearing anything but Mesh and hairspray. Or that other time Tommy Lee couldn't think of the words to express his love for Rachel Roxx the Porn Star, so I wrote him a song, and that song became "Too young to be in love with you" by Motley Crue. Then a couple years later in 83 we had a great run with Ape Meat and the Social Climbers, with the same bandmates as before. Ape Meat was our Glam Rock, gender bending, bisexual madness, colorful, David Bowie, Marc Bolan era. I know we were half a decade too late but…it was honestly sad how few people seem to miss that era, we had a harder time getting these bands off the ground then the heavy metal ones despite the Hair Metal aesthetic being more flamboyant and glam then the glam rock band themselves! We had some crazy times with those glam bands too, like the time I snuck into Studio 54 and got stuck in the glitter shaft as a result and because I came out in the middle of a massive dance number, covered in glitter taking the place of a massive Disco ball. Andy of course had no choice but to declare to me that evening's hit work of art. People couldn't stop talking about it even Liza, Holston, and Freddy Mercury's shocked faces were on the front page right beside my glitter covered moon. Talk about making an entrance!
A couple more stand out band's I had the brilliant Idea' to start were: Mass Hysteria, The Acne Creamers, Suside Bridge, Girls are Gross, Robots and Aliens, and Flea Mania a red hot chili pepper's cover band focusing mostly on the Ethos of Flea, (he's my Favorite), and Ape Freezer (A cover band for our earlier band, Ape Meat…we had less reach that time around, but still played to our small devoted Ape Meat fanbase who we love like brothers)
But out of all of those band's, despite our colorful history of rocking harder than anyone has rocked before in this galaxy or any other, we still have yet to achieve long term mainstream success. We never had an agent, a rock n roll spirit guide or anything like that to help us grow into the massive unit we are today we are self made but there's so much as a band we still havent done, as we were on the prespsis of manhood, puberty will make you rethink things like this. And the big times were basically calling our names dude. But Now that I was in high school, I was finally ready to head into its primal call. I wasn't messing around anymore, man, I needed a real band this time, one that has what it takes to handle my overbearingly monumental talent, and I was ready to put in the work as band leader to take us all the way. So Kevin and I had vowed to start that very band, Sunday, September 5th 1985. Right now, we were sitting on the floor in my room reading my latest face melting yrics for our new Band, no more genre bending, trend hopping, no more hair metal lameness, no more messing arround, our new band was gonna be baddass, the real deal we were gonna be a real rock n roll band this time, these lyrics were really gonna melt some faces. Dude, I can already tell, Kevin is gonna totally digging these.
My room was the perfect place for great minds to incubate. My room or the "the tornado of shit" as my mother tenderly referred to it, was the only place me and Kevin could ever get any peace of mind. (You know, like the Boston song, one of their best next to More than a Feeling.) Kevin was leaning on my bean bag full of old shirts and trash. The door was bolted shut and had a massive dart board, metal "keep out" sign, and several nails sticking out where I used to hang my rape whistles. I had two lava lamps on my desk (both stolen), all my school junk, binders, scattered pencils and incomplete algebra worksheets, next to my second-hand Sony Walkman. Next to my desk was my weed stash inside my piggy bank, and my condom stash mixed in with my leftover Halloween candy in my empty NASCAR helmet. Next to that was all my rock 'n roll equipment I couldn't fit in my closet, like my bass guitar, my drum set, amp, stereo, and stolen keyboard from music class. My messy ass room was covered wall to wall with band posters, even on the ceiling: I got rare tour posters and full spreads of the Crue, Zeppelin, Europe, Guns and Roses, T Rex, Aerosmith, The Talking Heads, ZZ Top,The Misfits, Posion, The dead Kenadys, The Cramps, Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, Suside, Ratt, Meatloaf, Boy Gourge, The New York Dolls, David Bowie, and of course, my favorite band of all time, my heroes, my gods, The Red Hot Chili Peppers.
I had three giant posters of the Peppers covering up my windows. Out there, my family worshiped Jesus Christ and the holy spirit. But, here, I worship my rock gods, and pray to them nightly. I know if it came to it, I would do anything for them. Right now, Kevin is reading my lyrics. He is helping me come up with a name for latest band, the one I was forming out of our garage. The same garage I was fighting dad over, since he still hadn't found anywhere to relocate his autoparts. I ran some of my best band name ideas by Kevin, dying for his approval, he was the only person who's rock n roll opinion I value other than Flea's that is if he ever talked to me again (Flea if you're reading this…call me):
"Lester…are these, all of them? What about your backups, can't we pull from one of those instead?." Kevin handed the list back to me, unsatisfied, reaching under my messy shelf for one of my many song writing notebooks filled with badass, unused band names for the gods. But none of those would be right, for this, we had to try something totally new.
"No, no, none of those will work! Look dude, our name has to be something new, something sexy like 'Polyamorous Python,' 'Lavender Scare,' or the 'The Flying Purple People Eaters.' You know, something bold and attention grabbing!"
"Attention Grabbing, not…senses assaulting, besides is this a rock band or what's left of one? What are we meant do with a name like Andy Worhol's explosive holes."
"Man, that name is great! What are you talking about Kev, Andy is so rock n roll! He Discovered the Velvet's man, the elvet nderground that invokes sexy-mysterious-underground mystery. Ok,choir boy? That's what we should invoke."
"Yeah dude, well, right now, with these names, all you're invoking is Austin Powers in a porno with the cast of Jesus Crhuist Superstar, making love to Man of Mystery's sex bots, with a side of purple rain!? You always talk about wanting to be taken seriously, well, this isn't the way, 'Mr. Punk Rock. Hey you wanted my professional opinion, well there it is…."
"Ok since you're now the all knowing president of rock n roll, do you think you can come up with a better name, in fact, why don't you 'invoke' a whole new list huh? Come on man, don't you know I worked hard on this, I played hookie two weeks in a row today, come on!!"
"Sorry, didnt mean to diminish your accomplishment…im sure these names would be great, for…something, but dude, hey, at least they have fewer spelling mistakes this time…"
"Jesus Crist, Kev, what happed to us! It didn't used to be so hard to come up with band names when we were kids…Are we really this washed up, and creatively bankrupt, at 15…"
"Nooooooo, come on, chillax dude! It's like you always used to tell me when mom and dad would rag on me for getting 99, instead of 100 on a test, true brilliance comes from all sorts of places, you just gotta let it flow naturally! Like remember you told me you came up with the name for Ape Meat after some stalking some dude working in the Gorilla cage at the zoo all day who you swear was the spinning image of Eddie Van Halan…"
"Fine, fine, Your right dude, ugh! As always But you're not helping your just reminding me shit I already know -COME ON BRO YOU BEEN MY LEAD GUITARIST HOW MANY TIMES NOW? We need a name and fast- This is supposed to be the easy part!"
"Ok ok, chillax, chillax" Kev said rolling over on his side.
"Let's put on some tunes that always used to help grase the old idea engine back in the day," Kevin said with a smirk as he turned to me.
I rolled my eyes at his enrtnestness, as I shuffled through cassette tapes to put on for inspiration. Damn it! Did Kent steal my Aerosmith again?! Argh! I charged towards the bedroom door, fuming.
"KENT, GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING AEROSMITH OR I'LL BURN YOUR FUCKING PRE-LAW TEXTBOOKS RIGHT NOW!!!" I screamed through the door.
"FUCK YOU, LESSIE, I DIDNT TAKE YOUR TRASH MUSIC! WHY DON'T YOU CLEAN YOUR FUCKING ROOM, OR I'LL TELL MOM YOU JUST THREATENED TO BURN MY SHIT?!"
"SCREW YOUUUUUUUU, KENT! YOU NIMROD BUTTPLUG!"
"Aerosmith is low art. Besides, Steven Tyler's a filthy homewrecker!"
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK, MAN!!!!!!!!!!"
"MAKE ME, DIPSHIT!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Shut the fuck up! Man, don't you have like…a test to be studying for or something?" I sneered, unlocking the door. I aggressively swung it open, ready to tackle him. Kevin rolled his eyes, and intervened, like always, stepping between us, and shutting our fight down. As he slammed the door, sending Kent away in a huff, Kevin crossed his arms and looked down at me with boredom and disappointment.
I blushed, blurting out:
"Jesus, fucking Kent! I have this tingly feeling in my gut, he's still got my tape, man, I know his tricks! Like, Dude, he's not gonna even listen to it, he's just gonna hoard it just so I can't listen to it! Just cuz' he can! Plus he knows it's the last thing you ever gave me for my birthday, back when they still let us celebrate those!! Now I'll never get it back!" I whined, incessantly.
"Just forget him, dude, I'll get you a new Aerosmith, they're having a sale at Camelot this weekend ok?"
"Ok man" Kevins smile qiikcly disrmaned me. Kevn stepped out of the room to talk to Kent, agreeing with him not to tattle on our parents we had a fight, I overheard him warmly whisper somthing to Kent like.
"God, tells us to forgive thy brother or blah blah something like that."
Pfft, God? I foreegt sometimes he still lives by that crap, one day he'll wake up. My God is rock'n'roll. It's an obscure power that can change your life. The most important part of my religion is to play guitar…Lou reed said that, or was it Jesus? Either way, Kevin is better off with me then our wack job family. First Lesson of Rock you taught me, ignore the opinions of Posers who have no idea what Rock n roll is. I grumbled as he came back in adjusting his varsity jacket more sure of himself then ever.
"Trust me, he's not worth it." Kevin said in his classic comforting tone, giving me a noogie -hug combo as we sat back down on the , getting right back to business.
"Soooooooo is that it, man? Are you sure those are the best names for our band that you could come up with? Jeez, I can see the latex purple jumpsuits now and lighting now. Look, we gotta stay on track here, and ask the big questions"
"Like what Kev? Like what the hell are we doing with our lives…"
'No, I'm doing just fine with my life. Thank you very much. Like what kind of band are we trying to be? You know what happens to the bands that never consider this question? They become one-hit wonders, man, just another shot in the dark. I mean, the vision is all over the place. Like you got this crazy riff that I don't even think Jimi could play without a synth, and these lyrics…you just sound like another Queen wannabee…all these anthems about 'going to space' and 'finding a better race.' It's just another hollow moonshot with no depth. I know we can do better than this, dude. We gotta agree on the band's identity before we can even think about names."
As usual Kevin was right. So I rolled my eyes and slid the Sheer Heart Attack Queen cassette into the boombox."Killer Queen" started playing. I then scooted closer to Kevin, to show him my ideas for the band's new vision. It was much more coherent this time.
"Ok, I got it." I grunted
"Wow, that was fast."
"But before I tell you!-"
"Oh, here we go"
"Answer me this, Kev, what is rock n' roll really about?"
"Um, stealing Black music?"
"NO! I mean, yes, that is a troubling part of our history…But-"
"Get to the point, Les. It's almost dinner time." Kevin checked his watch.
"Ok. Three words, brother. Sex. Drugs. And…rock n roll? Right? That's what it's all about! It always has been. So, as a band, we gotta eat, sweat, and breathe it. Down to the bare essence, man. The world is hungry for some raw, untainted, wild stage power in their music! I'm telling you. Like, we gotta be as anarchist as the punks, as sexy and larger than life as Twisted Sister, as confident and grand as Queen, but most of all, were not your grandma's rock band. We are gonna really reignite the fire, and start our own revolution. Forget the purple jumpsuits, we gotta be the epitome of rock 'n roll, redefine what it means to truly rock!"
"Yes. Good start."
"These day's to stand out you have to be totally punk rock, boundary pushing and out of this world! But this time dude, We're gonna be more insane than ever before! We'll go to Skid Row to find the drummer, and the jail yard to recruit the bassist!" I belted, as I burst up to my feet.
"Yes!" Kevin said, with a renewed fervor in his eyes.
"We'll write songs that get banned on the radio, and piss off every conservative in New Jersey! We'll have the Christian Sunday book club picketing right outside the Sunset Strip! We'll do every kind of drug on earth, and perform nude, covered in wax and whipped cream!"
"Hell yeah!"
"We'll take a new lover backstage every night! and show up on the cover of the Cream and NME every morning, "
"Yes!"
"We'll have tons of regrets on the road, but even better memories. And we'll never win a fucking Grammy, or change our lyrics for Veterans Day. We'll never look back, and we'll finally get out of fucking New Jersey!"
"Yeah, now that's what I call a vision."
"And Don't forget, it's crucial we get arrested and record a protest album from our cell! We'll get into bar fights at CBGB's and have backstage orgies that will make the front page of the Village Voice. We'll live and die on tour, with no regrets, and we'll die young from a heroin overdose at the age of 27!!!!" I said with crazy in my eyes, the passion seemingly consuming me, body and soul. Kevin suddenly pulled back.
"Woah! You really have this all planned out, huh? But, you know maybe that's a little far, Les. I mean, it sounds bodacious as hell, but our band can't just be about making bad decisions."
"That's it!" I said, snapping my fingers, as a final lightbulb went off.
"What now?"
"Bad Decisions! Now, that's a name!"
"...Oh my god, Lester, you're a genius! IT'S PERFECT!" Kevin shrieked as he lit up, lunging at me. He pulled me into a huge bear hug, where he swung me around, jumping up and down and cheering like we'd just won the World Series.
"Bad Decisions, has a nice ring to it, man! Oh my god! I know just the guy to play bass. He's in my honors class, he's a total mall goth, a classic freak. Trent is a beast on the baseline. You know you two would totally get along. He also HATES his parents—and society."
"Wow, we have sooooooooooooo much in common," I droned sarcastically, coming down from the high of the moment. Now, I realized, came the hard part: actually forming the band. But, in Jersey, there wasn't a surplus of esoteric personalities or raw talent. So beggars can't be choosers.
"Yeah, though he can be kind of intense, pretentious even. He might be just scary enough to play bass , keep Lenny and eans in line, and take us to the next level just like you wanted. He's just the extra edge we've been looking for! Like your "main man," Flea, he's pretty wild. With all his pale face zombie makeup he could bring a real presence to the band. Besides, he's more Viking Death Metal than the badass new vision of hair metal-punk rock fusion we're aiming for or whatever I'm down to figure it out as we go. But I think he'd be a welcome addition. It's a band decision, though, so dude, your vote, should we recruit him tomorrow?"
"Is he a queer?"
"Pfft, wouldn't you like to know?"
"He's probably out of my league, anyway." We had to be quiet anyone heard us talking about this stuff we were both screwed, Kevin was the only guy I knew who was even a little chill about me being gay, if anyone else knew it would be like rock n roll (and not the David Bowie song or the fun kind)
"Lester, don't be silly, no one's out of your league. Trust me, all these cul-de-sac closet cases want nothing more than to play in your league.
"Yeah Kev your so right,They're just society's bitches, so they'll never admit it. Trust me, once we're in a band, we are gonna be swimming in it. Being in a band always makes you irresistible, just like Rubin Smiith and Rolling Vains man their Smokin…they get so many babes, and that song they played at Homcoming party last weekend wasnt even good"
"It was fine…but he better watch out, because theirs a new band in town-and we are gonna kick just as much ass, if not more-"
At that extact momment our party was pooped on.We heard our stupid Dad and his beat up old Hummer sped into the driveway, I winced as the front door violently slammed open.
"KEVIN! GO HELP YOUR MOTHER UNPACK THE GROCERIES! WE'RE MAKING MEATBALLS AND MEATLOAF PASTE!!!" Burt the brute barked, his voice echoing through the house like a wrestling coach over an intercom on the verge of hemorrhaging. Fun fact, Observe the heavy drinking, neglectful, working class, father in his natural habitat, notice how never never uses his inside voice or, carries his own meatballs, or improves anyone's lives by driving into them.
"Guess that's my cue," sighed Kevin, as he cracked his back standing up, stretching his sleeping legs before running out the door. Oh no Kev, don't go we were just getting started!
"GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE, KEVIN. YOUR BROTHER KENT CANT CARRY ALL THE JAMS BY HIMSELF. WHY DON'T YOU EVER HELP OUT LIKE YOUR BROTHER? YOU SELFISH DICKY, COME ON I'M NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER OUT HERE!" Dad always took every opportunity to remind Kevin he was still the second-place son. I just lay down on the floor, and sighed. I lit a smoke, lying flat on the floor, staring longingly at the ceiling, like I'm sure some romantic might. The lava lamps lit the room like a supernova in the night sky, on the brink of burning our house down. I lie there just staring at the Red Hot Chili Peppers poster above, like the chapel, honing in on Flea's famous lips. I let my mind wander to all the lengths I would go for them, the peppers, and they had no idea the true extent of my loyalty, my religious devotion. I thought, even if this new band doesn't work out, at least I'll have them. Hell, even if I end up dead tomorrow in an abandoned swimming pool, or lose my hearing and can never put the Led on again, or get in some kind of gay boobie trap, at least I'll still have my rock gods, looking down at me. They always looked out for me, I knew god doesn't give a shit about anyone, but they would never let anything happen to me,when I survive to rock another day, I know they are blessed with their rock god beams of light. I know I am their prophet…a prophet of rock. Sent to earth to spread the word of rock, and the teachings of Jimi Page, John Lennon, Mick Jagger, Eric Clapton, and all the other saints. I must serve them until I perish, even if I have to be sacrificed, and nailed to a mike stand to prove it.
Even if I never become anything more than a failure, at least I will have dedicated my life to rocking, something most people can never claim. A holy crusade, if you will. It's a comforting thought at least. I turned the lights off and slid the Chili Peppers second studio album, Freaky Styley, into my Walkman and turned it up to 11. Letting their holy hymns and Anthony Keidis's sultry voice wash over me, and drown out the loud dinner prep chatter outside. In my room alone, with nothing but my music and thoughts, briefly enjoying peace on earth or the closest I could get to it.But of course, my perfect moment of tranquil oneness was shattered as soon as it began.
"LESTER, DINNER IS READYYYY! GET OUT HERE, EVERYONE IS WAITING ON YOU TO SAY GRACE. YOU CAN'T JUST LIVE ON CIGARETTES, PIXIE STICKS AND THAT FAIRY MUSIC FOREVER YA KNOWS!!!" My mother howled, her shrill command cut through the musical harmony like a .
"AGH! I'm not hungry!" I yelled back, flusteredly shutting off Queen.
"Feh', you know Lester, don't waste your breath" Kent muttered to my father
"I had a hard enough day at work, why me, cursed with such a son!? Why does the boy do this every night! He's getting special treatment, we can't keep letting him just lay in his room every night, doing whatever he wants in there, what would Father Angels say? We do everything for that boy, and look what he does-"
"Dad, careful! Don't you think three beers is enough" Kent said, his genuine worry made me scowl.
"I swear to god, that boy is gonna be the death of me"
"Just forget about it!" I could hear Florance turn to my dad, trying to turn down the volume on his inevitable rage and give him that nightly reminder that I'm not worth the effort or the meatballs.
"Honey, please, he's not worth the energy. He can get fat off pixie sticks and smelling salts for all I care. He does this every night, good food is earned."
"YA HEAR THAT LESSIE, STAY IN THERE AND STARVE! AT LEAST THEN YOU'LL LOSE SOME GODDAMN WEIGHT!!!!" My dad whaled, making sure I heard every syllable.
As you can see, our household was clearly a functional one. Just rimming with love and understanding. The kind of childhood that in no way becomes a tragic super villain backstory that was too lame even for batman.
That night I remember sneaking out my bedroom window, and like every other night. I went where I knew Kevin would find me after dinner: the hill.
I took the classic road from our suburb strip, of cardboard popup houses, and white timeless quiet. That was only penetrated by the crickets chirping and the distant din of highway traffic and whatever New York City sounds like.
I walked by the high school, overrun by ivy and bird shit, it almost seemed abandoned in the fading twilight, no doubt invested with zombies. I know it was bad, but I could not resist vandalizing the front wall of the school. I whipped out my spray paint and covered it with the most gnarly set of words I could think of. The massive words read: "Bad decisions, the most badass band of this, or any other century. Try-outs after school at the Flatt residence, come if you dare." I guarantee tomorrow at school, this will get people buzzing. Kevin would be proud, maybe. He might have not approved of my methods, but he appreciates a good old-fashioned publicity stunt, afterall headlines are headlines. I strolled up the usual hill, to the hilltop me and Kevin claimed as "Flat Earthers point" Because the hill is so high, it really feels like the earth is just totally flat so much it would make you think maybe Galileo was wrong all along . The view of the highway and the river is always humbling as well as the untouchable New York City skyline. Kevin and I always come up here, to get away, especially on bad nights like tonight, like most nights, when your home feels like the trenches in a never ending war. If you had a brother, you'd understand. You know, you had your own private little backstage where the world just fades to black and it's just you two against the world. Like we couldn't afford a club house, we never had some cave, or clubhouse, local diner or secret hideout like some kids. It was just a flat earth hill that no one seems to care about or know exists that overlooks the highway and the full postcard spread. We had the finest industrial view in the tri-state area. Especially at sunset, it's simply too beautiful to describe, and I'm too cool to spend my nights rambling on about the beauty sunsets, so you'll just have to use your imagination. But trust me, this one was really a sight. The clouds were violet and peach. I'd rather just watch the sun take its time and see till it turns into bad moons rising. Now I'm not the kind of guy who should be musing on about these things, I'm not a real romantic type afterall. I doubt I'll ever meet anyone who's a true romantic, a writer that's a clean, well educated and wise man, who understands the world in a way I never could. Someday I'll go far away from here, and meet someone like that and maybe they'd make sense of it all. But not tonight and not here, here in Jersey, we are incapable of being romantic and sensitive, to be honest I don't think anyone in Ewing has stopped to smell the flowers since the civil war. But that's ok, because someday I'm gonna move out of here, far far away. New York City baby, just across the river. I mean where else would a guy like me go? Chicago? Ha! I know it's cheesy but I know I'll end up there, I can feel it. From here, I don't know why the city feels so close, and yet so far. it's just a river away, and yet It's never been still so intangible. I know the skyline is only the dick tip of the cities' majesty, and the Statue of Liberty is a symbol of false hope. But I stare at it every night like a snowglobe and let my dreams fester. like one day I'll disappear in those lights and never look back. All I know is that's where rock stars go to get broken in, before they get too famous, and head to L.A. This whole time I let my cassette play in my wackman, jabbing into my stomach, reminding me through pain it's there.
But for some reason, It keeps skipping on this one song, the song "It's a long way to the top, if you want to rock n roll." By ACDC, though, it was too fitting, so I gave up and just let it play, skipping over the most badass line. I just closed my eyes and let the riff, and Bon Scott's fiery voice just flooded me like a car wash. Man, that's what it's all about, letting the music consume you, body and mind, feel invincible like that song was written just for you, just to score this one scene in your life. All I want to do is make music like that, music that reminds you're alive. I sang the lyrics under my breath
"Getting hard, getting took! I tell you folks it's harder than it looks…cuz it's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock n' roll!" Such a good tune.
I watched the cars wiz by, blending all the lights together in my blurry vision as one giant blob of bright color under a mostly set sun. I watched as suckers got stuck in traffic on their long, draining commutes. I watched the world drive by, and I stayed stagnant, on my hill above it all, waiting to join the race. I lit a cig and let the wind blow through my black denim jacket, and my untied converse. I was totally chill dude, a rare moment of total peace, nothing could be better than this:
"Hey dude, I thought you might be up here." Kevin said, earnestly
I was wrong, now it's even better. We sat together for a while, just kind of taking in the view.
I turned to him.
"Hey, you survived dinner dude! it's a 'god ordained' miracle!, are you ok, any wounds, are you gonna make it through the night? I said, feeling him up, barely joking.
"Oh barely Lessie! It was awful', simply UNBEARABLE! I never thought I would live to tell the tale! Grace lasted longer than aunt Carol's wedding ceremony, Kent kept rubbing his "church fundraising" efforts in my face, as if getting into Harvard couldn't be anymore daunting. Now I have to solve world poverty, AND maintain a perfect GPA? I mean, how could you leave me stranded like that?" Kevin said jokingly, we laughed, but then it really hit me.
"Yeah, you know, I couldn't go to dinner anyway. I'm still on that cigarette only diet, so I don't know if going to dinner will really mesh with my current Lifestyle…plus I'm pretty busy, you know, freeloading, being fat, flunking out of school, so I might not have room on my schedule for all that, Dinner, family stuff."
"Lester…come on man. You know I told him to go easy on you, but every time they just say I'm soft and I shouldn't keep "enabling" you whatever that means. Every time I so much as spend time with you they act like im…spending time with my prison wife, its abusrd I dont understand it, it's the way they've always been…and you know it's not easy for me either…" I rolled my eyes at him annoyed. He sighed turning away from me with sad eyes to the distiant skyline.
"T-They….They keep saying that it's up to me to make sure they can afford to retire. Come on man, you know how much pressure I'm under, I love dad but he's a nasty drunk he doesn't treat any of us well, but..I know he rides you the most, and god will punish him for that. But, who cares! Come on man, you know your not really fat…right-"
"I don't know Kevin, do I? I mean Dad's right sometimes! reality is reality, it's about time I face the music, like, look at me, I'm not exactly frontman material, am I? Maybe if we want to be serious as a band…the others have been talking, you know I have the voice but you have the look, maye you shold be frontman this year, if we wanna make it big-"
"What no, Les? Your the heart and soul of the band, it wouldnt work otherwise-"
"You know, dad can't help but rub salt in my wounds, he syas I stuff my facr all day dnd sit arround in my room all day but I don't even eat…except sometimes when I run out of Camels. And yet, I still LOOK LIKE THIS AND YOU AND KENT STILL-"
"Lester come on, dont let him get to you-"
"it wouldnt hurt for once and a while you to speak up to tell hm off, but Yoru jock friends at school can't help but rub it in, they always beat me up and call me "Lardie Lessie" and you know I'm used to it, but that doesn't make it any less Grody man! I mean how did that happen? You and Kent eat all you want and still look like Greek gods! You got all the hot genes!"
"God make you different for a reason, he makes all his children equal-"
"Oh don't give me that! Ugh, You know maybe I should pick up a cocaine habit, that makes you runway skinny real quick. I mean, it worked for Bowie."
"No! Lester, shut up! You know dad is full of shit? Ok! Come on, you know that! I mean he's just pathetic, he can't even go a day without getting shitfaced. He's not healthy or hot and you should know by now listening to him will get you nowhere fast! The man's a drunken hypocrite. Why would you ever take the bullshit he spews to heart, the man doesn't know what he's talking about, and he hasn't since 1955, ok? Besides you're the one who told me, rock n roll isn't about how hot you are or your body, it's all about the music man! Appearances are just window dressing." Kevin tried to console me, patting me on the shoulder. As I nudged off his comforting advances, knowing my desire for him to stand up for me, was a fantasy, because he was just a trapped as I was, I sighed laying my head on his shoulder forgetting the words, and my songs, as we both sat there in solem comforting, silence watching the sun set, behind the skyline rendering the night dark set against the city's, hopeful window lights, a millow little golden lives belong lived, and reelected in the river below, relced in the stars above, I sighed as his heartbeat pounded into mine like a perfect drumbeat onstage as all the stars in teh night sky, turneed to the crowd of thousand I knew I would preform for one day, just as lost as me, as I felt his fingers fold into mine. The inuruibluirble possible futures of the world back to us flowed back , like constellations you can only see from the hightest point of the flat earth, from the here of you, and nowhere else on earth.
"You know, you don't give appearances enough credit, man."
"Now, what the hell does that mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Kevin. These days you can't deny the music is only half the battle, now you have to have perfectly sculpted abs to attract a repressed Catholic teenage fanbase. Take a page from Elvis! Now ya gotta look sexy on album covers, become the next male sex symbol of the revolution, AND make epic music that stays on the charts and the radio! How can I possibly compete, man!? I'm running out of time man, right now, I have to be a lot less Dom Delwauise and A lot more Mick Jagger! Like right now dude! I gotta get hot, right now!"
"Right now?"
"RIGHT NOW MAN!"
"Sooo, let me get this straight, you have to lose a completely unrealistic amount of weight, and get like a he-man gym bod at the age of fifteen, in Ewing township? Where most people only live off whiskey, cigarettes, and internalized rage, otherwise the masses will only see your mass and all go deaf at once to ignore your voice of a generation?"
"Yeah man! It's the only way!"
"Wait, wait, so see if I've got this right? You want to get the body of Mick Jagger, right this second, right here, on the grassy noel? Or your life will be over…even though you're not even old enough to vote, am I missing anything?" Kevin smugly refrained, raising his eyebrow. Forcing me to hear how ridiculous I sounded.
"Ok, like...I don't even really notice being a fat meatball most of the time, I never have time to look in the mirror anyway," I sighed, staring up at the full moon.
"Yeah because Kent never shares it." I forget how witty Kevin can be.
"Yeah because he's a narcissist, but all the ladies can't help but back up his ego"
"Look, man, It's like you always tell me, 'It doesn't matter what you look like Kev, rock n roll is all about confidence! All the ladies can't resist a guy who knows he's the shit and plays guitar.' You give great advice, man, you should think about taking it one of these days."
"Yeah, but there's just one problem with all that man"
"And what's that"
"It's bullshit! thats the prolem, I just tell you people what you want to hear, sure maybe it's good advice in the void, but right now it's just bogus! Like no matter what I do, dad always just HAS to drill it in, that I'm too fat to live under his roof, i'm never gonna be rock n roll enough for the world, I'll never be christian and all american and perfect enough for him and mom, I Just can't win, I'll be a failure no matter what I do"
"So stop playing by other people's rules man, that was never really your style. If you re-write your own rules to live by-you'll always be a winner-isn't that what rock n roll is all about?" I smiled, Kevin winked at me, the glint in his eye shining in the twilight. He knew exactly how to appeal to people, I mean he wasn't wrong…maybe I was a cliche for hanging onto his words, and giving a rats ass what our dad thought about jack shit, but unlike most nights where I could just shake off his cruelty, they were really getting to me tonight."
"Yeah but parents arent supposed to be…be like this right…I mean, their supposed to love you, and he cant love shit unless it serves him, he's just like all those fucking dudes in the white house man, expect he's in our house man, right now eating our food and talking shit about our grades and calling us fatties. Do you know he can't even look me in the eyes without reaching for his barf bag or weeping with disappointment. He just wont stop yelling at me till I crawl back inside moms' womb! It's like…he's punching down, man, DOWN! Why don't you ever try to stop him?"
"LESTER! That's not fair, you know I always stand up for you, when I can-" But sometimes you gotta face the music, and stop looking for approval down an empty well!...of approval, it's the…approval-well." Kevin said, trying his best.
"Nice metaphor genius. Harvard is for sure taking notes"
"Oh shut up, now you're punching down. Gimmie that!" Kevin snatched my cigarette butt, taking a long puff.
"Careful, it's about done." I said as he coughed, lightly burning his fingertips, he stomped out the butt on the wet grass. As he blew his remaining smoke stack into the polluted highway fog. We both lied back on the hilltop. Together, lying flatt again under the starless sky, getting our backs soaked in dew and letting ants crawl up our sleeves, exhaling in unison. You can't see stars from New Jersey, just clouds cloaking the full moon, waiting for the werewolves to come out and devour us whole I thought to myself, I wonder what a shooting star would look like from New York City.
"You know I'd trade places with you, in a second, man."
"What?"
"In a second."
"No way, man! You? The prodigal son, the golden boy, the future Harvard albumin, wants to trade places…with me!? Man, now you're really going soft. You know, once they have it all, they just get bored. Oh! That would make a great chorus.-" I whipped out a now wet sheet of loose-leaf in my pocket, jotting down the chorus to the lyrics for our first hit single, it's gonna be so raw.
Kevin just looked up and sighed, bowing his head as he chucked to himself .
"Yeah, but I get it man, the grass is always greener, especially since my grass doesn't use Monsanto." I joked
"No, that's because you smoke it" He knew me too well.
"What can I say, maybe you just wanna trade places with my blunt? Pfft I mean I would, unlike most guys, have special access to my mouth, and it makes me feel good."
"Ha, ha, no way, grody! But I still would trade with you, man, even just for a day. I know it doesn't look like it because I can make anything look good, but it's actually a lot of pressure, man, being me. And having everyone expect excellence from you, constantly. Hell, I hardly expect anything from myself. No one expects anything from you man, I can't imagine how much that sucks man, but also I'd kill to be that free. I just want one day, just one where no one expects a goddamn thing from me."
"Nah man…you wouldn't last a day-"
"Maybe not. What I do know is right now no matter how much I succeed I'll never be enough, I'll always be compared to Kent and I'll never meet anyone's expectations. You, no one expects anything from you man, so you can never let them down. You have nothing to lose if I were you man, I wouldn't play by anyone's rules, but my own"
"Wow… I'm sorry you've handed the life everyone wants on a silver platter! Boo hoo, what is, this bullshit, feeling sorry for myself all the time, all my rock n roll idols they didnt wast their time -feeling bad for themselves you know, they got in the stiudiio"
"What studio man"
with all the shitty thngs theur dad said, and the drugs they were trying ti quit and theur pain and an open road and all the crap in their lives and they made grat music man-!Thats what I gotta do!Instead of this whinney, time wasting crap, starting now, no more of this "im so fat, im so sad-crap I mean, thats just the way, if dad says shit like that anymore I just need to embrace it,turn it into a song or…fucking forget about it man becuase that isnt who I am man, it ruins the whole thing!"
"Alright man, let it out u know-"
"like our dad doesnt even exist man that is so unrock n roll"
"Man even rock stars have dads…like where do you think they come from?"
"I try not to about it to much man, it ruins the whole thing…"
"What whole thing?"
"Also! Now that I think about it…even if I had the chance I would never switch places with you, I would last a day, no five minutes before being bored as shit! No one epxects anything from me man and nothing was handed to me man, but that…gives me character man, grit struggle…or something you know, I mean, how's a rock star gonna sing when he's still gotta five spoons in his mouth huh? How's he gonna relate to the common man? You know?"
"HA, fair enough bro, you got me there, but you know…half of your idols might not not have pulled themselved up from theri bootsrapps, so…orgnaically if you know what they mean, labels can just get artists to lie you know about things to appeal to certain fans."
"You think they do?"
"I mean sure, half of them are all just playing characters, some more then others-"
"But even about their past, growing up poor, struggling"
"Dude of course, don't be neive, have since the dawn of time…now with everything being so corporate, it's easier then ever, but also harder in Econ last weel we had a lesson on the billboard charts and all that stuff It made me think of you and…well" It never occurred to me, in all these years how easy it would be for artist to lie, about…well everything and how we would never know, and how
like who do you think?"
yeah. But…listen to me man" Kevin's tone softened. He looked right at me, growing serious all of a sudden.
"The world is a groovy place, but thanks to Eve God made it a dark, horrible place too. The world is gonna try to cut you down man, it's gonna test you to make you feel like you're a worthless piece of shit and like you'd be doing everyone a favor by giving up, and I won't always be around to convince you otherwise. But you are such a unique incredible human being, your music is SOMETHING special and you are gonna change the world. That's a fact and I'm gonna be cheering you on the whole time man. The world is gonna try and make you feel like there's no place for you in it, but that's bullshit. Ok you're my brother and I love you, I wanted you to hear this from me before things get real. You're not a failure, mom and dad and everyone who will ever tell you otherwise is going to be proven wrong, all the great Rockers had haters in the start, you think everyone was rooting for Flea before he got famous? But seriously man, no matter how hard it gets, promise me you won't forget, you're not a failure."
"Wow Jesus Kev I don't know what to say-"
" Promise me, you won't forget."
"..."
"Les'...Promise me, you're really good at forgetting…and making shit up when you do-"
"Ok, fine! I promise."
We did our secret handshake (which I can't share with you here, as it is, in fact, classified)
"I know it's easy to forget, to get swept away, in the madness and pain. But I will always be here, man, to protect and support you, no matter what. Ok?"
"Heh, yeah, famous last words."
"Well I had to remind you sometime that I care, otherwise, who knows, you might forget by morning."
"I won't forget."
"Not a bad way to start off our new band, if I don't say so myself…"
"We've had worse, that's for sure"
"Ohhh I can feel it dude, we're on the verge of greatness! We're gonna make so much great music together, man, I mean I can just taste it, this is gonna be our year!"
"Hell yeah Kev! I mean how many band's have both the frontman and lead guitarist brothers!? What a wholesome American novelty!" I asked, jumping around him like a flying fish.
"Is that a rhetorical question buddy? I bet you can name a few."
"No I bet we're the first ever of all time! The first that will blow the back out of the music industry and have all their fans know exactly how they started. We should write a song about this very moment, memorize it in the lore, and the fans will eat it up!"
"Ha HA! Well, I hope our 'fans' never find out WHERE we started, next thing Ewing will become like Asbury park, we'll become their Whole Economy?! Ha, talk about pressure!"
We laughed and rolled around in the grass for a while, such a sickly romantic moment between two brothers. (don't read too far into that.)
"I guess I'm stuck in the middle huh?"
"Yeah, stuck in the middle with YOU!" I sang the Steve Miller band chorus, watching Kevin groan.
"Oh my god, how do you manage to make everything about rock songs?"
"Eh, it's a talent."
I noticed Kevin still had gross Price Club brand tomato sauce on his cheek, but as any brother would do, I will wipe it off with my lips.
"Ewww you mutt! Don't lick my face!" Kevin barked, laughing in horror.
"Ah got it! You know, if you keep eating pasta like that, I pity the poor girls in your grade."
"Ok, let's just say I think Kent has a hold over that market…"
"More like a hold on their necks, besides, I don't know how the girls haven't been all over you this year, you totally got hot last summer…."
"Don't be weird."
"I'm just saying! Come on, everyone knows Kent is an asshole, half his ex-girlfriends stopped going to church because of him, but you know what they say about those Flatt boys…"
"Um, third times a charm?" He smiled, jokingly punching me in the arm.
"Sureee…"
"Ok,Lester, I think it's time to head home. We have a big day at school tomorrow. I know Trent is won't be able to resist join Bad Decisions once I show him your sick lyrics from today, and you know, after I offer to do all his Bio-cem homework for a month.``
"Bribery? I'm here for it. You know he won't even need bribing once he sees how sick your guitar solos are? I heard he used to play battle of the bands every year and every time he wouldn't win him and his mall goth friends would curse the losers for all enetrity, he used to carry a gun and his bulldog bit that fascist pig in the neck after pulling him over on the way back from a gig, I heard legends he was himself for halloween, dude he's a total badass, the fact he's gonna be our basic is gonna give us instant band cred! I still can't believe you managed to bag Terror-Tonic Trent for our lineup? You really are letting Father Angel's sermon's saying you were blessed by holy fairy dust go to your head" I scoffed, elbowing him harder as we walked down the hill.
"Yeah dude, Trent is great, I can't wait for you to meet him tomorrow, you guys will hit off I can't already tell but even if he doesn't end up being gay for you, who needs a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, when our true love has always been, rock n roll baby! Wow, that really is fun to say." Kevin said.
"Hey, that reminds me, tomorrow at school, I got a surprise for you."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You'll see, you, along with the rest of the school."
"Oh good lord, let me guess, you actually did your homework for once? Ms. C will have a heart attack."
"No better, let's just say in case we wanted anyone else besides Trent to join our band, now us Pro Rocker's will have no issue getting the word out."
"...Oh good god, well on that ominous note, goodnight little bro, sweet dreams"
"Sweet dreams Kev- Sweet dreams of Flea and his perfect bass on top of me, telling me im the greatest rock star of all time, and that everything is gonna be alright…"I murmured into that sweet goodnight. Until me and Kev crashed on the couch, my poster of Flea's centerfold was the last thing I saw in the cracked door of my room before I dozed off into dreamland. We were spent sleeping for the few hours remaining until dawn, until Judgment day.