When I woke up I noticed there was a strange person sleeping in my bed. Who was it? Did something happen with them?
Still.. “What happened last night?” I thought. Best not to think of these things, and push them far away into your head.
I looked at my hand and it had written on it, “You are free”.
I walked outside into Rotterdam, into the Netherlands.
It’s true. In 1970, the President of Pepsi-Cola called Richard Nixon.
“Dick, they won’t let us sell any of our suds down there!”
Ol’ Dick went to the factory to check it out. Chris sakes! They were right. Pepsi wasn’t selling in good ol’ Chile. He donated 10 million dollars of heavy artillery and weaponry from the CIA and rebel forces stormed the gate. Allende ended up dead.
Things didn’t turn out so good for the country, though. Chile fell under the brutal rule ofPinochet in the aftermath and 3,200 people were killed, with 250,000 being sent to political prisons, many being tortured, including women and children.
But you can now buy Pepsi in Chile, anywhere! It’s true!
Still, I prefer Coca-cola. Just tastes better I think. Pepsi tastes weird. Too sweet. Like 10 million dollars of sub-machine guns and ammo.
“it’s all over now, baby blue.”
All of a sudden, I scoped some major Casino-vibes coming out of this place, “Jack’s Casino”. (You ever see the film, “Casino” with Bobby Deniro? Major 90′s work for him.Joey Pesci has some awesome fight scenes, but he definitely dies in the end.)
“This is great, man.” His friend Pete next to him is saying.
“I know, right!” Jack says. “Two girls for every guy! Right?”
“Thanks so much for bringing me here,” Pete says with a longing tone. “I really care about you, Jack.”
“Hey, Pete,” Jack answers back. “What did I tell you about that, not here, buddy.”
I walked around the corner and checked out what was playing at the theater.
I checked my pockets but I didn’t have any money, so I walked to the venue. “No Satriani for you tonight, bud.”
Everybody was hanging out front, getting serious on the relaxation front.
“Get outta here!” I yelled. “Everybody, get outta the god damn way!” I said.
I got up on stage and let out a most powerful E chord.
She stared back, kinda obliterated.
I knew the vibe was on. I went outside and watched this giant street type sanding machine spitting off sparks into the air.
“Maybe love really is what it’s all about,” I thought. “There’s nothing more than loving and living.”
There was a stone man located in front of the sparks on the street, looking forward, frozen in time.
I thought of the stone man. I thought of his stone heart inside his chest as sparks started to hit by my feet. Somebody would say, that he was made of stone, that there was no way that a heart could be sculpted inside there.
“But this one is different,” I thought. “You can’t see the heart of just anybody, when you pass them on the street. But you know it’s still there, underneath.”
I figured it was the same with this guy. He wasn’t advertising it. There was no proclamation, but he was waiting there, waiting to be found.
I got into the bus.
“Goodnight Motherfuckers!” I yelled, into the night.
The men in the street looked up. I winked, and they give me an all-knowing thumbs-up, the ultimate sign of retribution the world around.
I watched the lights in the street go by out the window. I felt forsaken by the past, little images flashed past my eyes, of lovers, friends gone past. They were all passing by like these flashing lights, and I was going with them.
Cher really knew what the fuck was up. I mean, even when she’s dead, she’s still wondering if somebody’s gonna love her body from dawn till dusk. What do people do in Heaven? What does Heaven look like at night? Just Angels passing by in the darkness?
The next day I would be going to Berlin for what I assumed would be basically an all-night sex orgy 24/7 all the time. Hope to see you there.