yet soft.
CT’s voice bleeds through the loudspeaker.
“People of earth: I come to you as an ambassador...from the planet of ROCK!”
With that, Grog slams the bass and the drums are off and running like a wild, hungry dog.
Let me tell you about the sound of Wolf Rainbow.
It is loud but it is a harmonious loudness. It is like the most beautiful woman in the world beating you up with her hair.
At the concerts of Wolf Rainbow, I curl up in a little ball like I’m trying to keep myself from vomiting. But what I’m really trying to do is hold on. When I hear CT’s voice going up through the clouds and then back down and up again at a dizzying rate, like an airplane showing off, I can’t help but feel that I’m suspended on the edge of a cliff or somewhere similar where the beauty before me comes with the price of danger. A lot of people who know about the view from the tip-top of a bridge or tall building are dead, because they climbed up in order to jump off. But sometimes I wonder if they truly planned on jumping or if the view was just so beautiful that they realized what a wide big net beauty is, and then wanted so badly to be caught by it. That’s how I feel about Wolf Rainbow–I’m afraid of falling into it, becoming the music and then losing myself there.
At this moment I feel a short kick at my ribs. Sister. She must have said HASHISH420.
“Look at your pupils. Do you need a doctor?”
I shake my head and get up, attempting to hug her.
She steps backwards and covers her torso protectively. “Please stay away. Let’s just get this done. What a complete nightmare . Do you know that reporters get a hold of my cell phone number? No matter how many times I change it? Normally I only pick up for people I know, which is, well, you, and doctors’ offices, but this time I answered every call. “Yes,” I told them, “I do have a comment on the latest fiasco: you and your boyfriend are crazy and I am publicly disowning you.”
“We got married,” I said. “Remember?” I would’ve invited Sister to the wedding if there had been time, but I didn’t actually become aware of the ceremony until it had already happened. Mescaline is crazy that way. Grog showed me a video, though. CT and I were slathered with divine jelly and rebirthed together as twins from the Womb of the Worm.
Sister stretches out her arm, handing me a manila folder with a pen attached. “I’ll show you where to sign.” Suddenly she cringes and rubs her temples. The band is starting in on a particularly heavy number titled “Reign of the Pig Women.” “My God,” she whimpers, “Do you have some aspirin, some water?”
The Worm Eternal is wise and sneaky. He will leave you all alone on auto-pilot and then suddenly come back to help you when you’re least expecting it. “Yes, one second,” the Worm Eternal tells me to say to Sis, and then I go over to Zapruder (one of the road crew) and ask him does he have anything. I’m in luck because he just scored five minutes ago, a great score since our entire stash had to be replaced due to the cop incident.
Deep down, I suppose I hadn’t really been dealing with the fact that Sister wanted to break contact at all; in fact I was in denial right until the second the Worm Eternal slid into my brain. “This is your last chance,” it told me. “You might never see her again if you don’t do something drastic.”
I return a few minutes later with a glass of cold water. “Here Sister,” I say, trying to seem nonchalant. I’m worried my voice sounds robotic since I’m being so careful with my words. I drop two pills into her hand. She’s still holding her temple and cringing but when she sees the pills she cringes even more.
“Are these aspirin p.m. or something? I just want regular aspirin; I don’t want to feel drowsy.”
“It’s regular,” I tell her, “it’s just from Europe. Most generic pills in Europe are neon green with a pagan star in the center.”
She
CT’s voice bleeds through the loudspeaker.
“People of earth: I come to you as an ambassador...from the planet of ROCK!”
With that, Grog slams the bass and the drums are off and running like a wild, hungry dog.
Let me tell you about the sound of Wolf Rainbow.
It is loud but it is a harmonious loudness. It is like the most beautiful woman in the world beating you up with her hair.
At the concerts of Wolf Rainbow, I curl up in a little ball like I’m trying to keep myself from vomiting. But what I’m really trying to do is hold on. When I hear CT’s voice going up through the clouds and then back down and up again at a dizzying rate, like an airplane showing off, I can’t help but feel that I’m suspended on the edge of a cliff or somewhere similar where the beauty before me comes with the price of danger. A lot of people who know about the view from the tip-top of a bridge or tall building are dead, because they climbed up in order to jump off. But sometimes I wonder if they truly planned on jumping or if the view was just so beautiful that they realized what a wide big net beauty is, and then wanted so badly to be caught by it. That’s how I feel about Wolf Rainbow–I’m afraid of falling into it, becoming the music and then losing myself there.
At this moment I feel a short kick at my ribs. Sister. She must have said HASHISH420.
“Look at your pupils. Do you need a doctor?”
I shake my head and get up, attempting to hug her.
She steps backwards and covers her torso protectively. “Please stay away. Let’s just get this done. What a complete nightmare . Do you know that reporters get a hold of my cell phone number? No matter how many times I change it? Normally I only pick up for people I know, which is, well, you, and doctors’ offices, but this time I answered every call. “Yes,” I told them, “I do have a comment on the latest fiasco: you and your boyfriend are crazy and I am publicly disowning you.”
“We got married,” I said. “Remember?” I would’ve invited Sister to the wedding if there had been time, but I didn’t actually become aware of the ceremony until it had already happened. Mescaline is crazy that way. Grog showed me a video, though. CT and I were slathered with divine jelly and rebirthed together as twins from the Womb of the Worm.
Sister stretches out her arm, handing me a manila folder with a pen attached. “I’ll show you where to sign.” Suddenly she cringes and rubs her temples. The band is starting in on a particularly heavy number titled “Reign of the Pig Women.” “My God,” she whimpers, “Do you have some aspirin, some water?”
The Worm Eternal is wise and sneaky. He will leave you all alone on auto-pilot and then suddenly come back to help you when you’re least expecting it. “Yes, one second,” the Worm Eternal tells me to say to Sis, and then I go over to Zapruder (one of the road crew) and ask him does he have anything. I’m in luck because he just scored five minutes ago, a great score since our entire stash had to be replaced due to the cop incident.
Deep down, I suppose I hadn’t really been dealing with the fact that Sister wanted to break contact at all; in fact I was in denial right until the second the Worm Eternal slid into my brain. “This is your last chance,” it told me. “You might never see her again if you don’t do something drastic.”
I return a few minutes later with a glass of cold water. “Here Sister,” I say, trying to seem nonchalant. I’m worried my voice sounds robotic since I’m being so careful with my words. I drop two pills into her hand. She’s still holding her temple and cringing but when she sees the pills she cringes even more.
“Are these aspirin p.m. or something? I just want regular aspirin; I don’t want to feel drowsy.”
“It’s regular,” I tell her, “it’s just from Europe. Most generic pills in Europe are neon green with a pagan star in the center.”
She
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