CHAPTER III: Everyone Is Indeed In
“Sal asked me once if I’d rather live my current life 100 times so I could do it differently each time, or live 100 lives consecutively throughout human history. In the case of the second, each life would come after the next, and you would only be able to live each life once. I didn’t like that question very much. Not at the time anyway.”
The drive from The Playhouse to Venice Beach took practically forever. Darcy was driving the car by hand, which was apparently illegal on the freeway. I was of course used to people driving like that, so it seemed perfectly fine. She had a playlist called Slow Drip blaring so loud through the speakers I couldn’t hear myself think. On the one hand I was glad. It meant no conversation, and thus, no potential for awkward silences. On the other hand I was okay with taking that risk. Somewhere in between the two was the reality that occurred.
We were headed down the 110, and right before Chinatown she switched the car to Automatic. As we all know, there was a time that meant you didn’t have to shift through the gears manually, these days it meant the car drove itself. As soon as that occurred, the cab took on an entirely new vibe. Darcy had customized the daylights out of it. The dashboard was covered in a transparent membrane that could display morphing textures. The ceiling acted as a visualizer for the music. And, most importantly, the headrests were fog machines.
Or so I thought.
As the vapor took effect I realized my mistake.
—Why did you ask if I had any weed if you have marijuana dispensers for headrests?
I was practically yelling. She turned down the music and opened the center console.
—Because the cartridge is running low and I could’ve filled it up. This is the last of it.
I couldn’t think of anything clever to say in response. I was still adjusting to the fact that this was, in her mind, an average everyday car ride. Darcy shrugged her shoulders and cranked the beats back up. She then held out a pair of jet black sunglasses for me to wear. I laughed and waved them off, but she insisted. Once I had mine on she took out a pair for herself and leaned back in her seat. I hesitantly followed suit. After a few minutes the music melted, and I had very vivid thoughts about this scenario:
Out in the middle of the ocean there is an island known as Reil to a select few. Deep underground there is a multiplex. One gets down there via a spiraling stone staircase. Inside there are rooms where there are people. Inside one of those rooms is a single table and two chairs. A boy is sitting in one of the chairs. Outside the door he hears a voice.
—Okay okay, I’ll tell him. Just don’t you dare say anything to Morten.
The door opens and a man in a lab coat enters. He smells the way Bella thinks Edward smells in Twilight. Why that is an accurate way of describing it, I don’t know. His name tag says, STILL SLEEPY. He pulls out a notepad and sits down.
—James Blaire, Jimmy to some, and…what’s your middle name again?
—Which one?
—The middle. The most in-between one.
—Leeland.
—Are you aware of the meaning of this name? In English that is.
—Yes.
—How long have you been here?
—Five years.
—And you know this how?
—It’s the maximum sentence for justifiable homicide in the state of Oregon.
—Which applies to you how?
—I was falsely convicted, but due to my relationship to the victim, and the actions of the victim while they were alive, my crime was deemed justifiable.
—You know that you are innocent of this crime correct?
—Yes.
—Do you know the name of the man who actually committed it?
—Frank.
—Do you know who, what, and where Frank is right now?
—Yes to the first two. No to the third.
—When you leave this location will you tell anyone about your experiences here?
—Am I allowed to?
—Will your knowledge of inter-terrestrial’s cause you to experience any lapses in mental health?
—No.
—In your entire life, have you ever felt genuinely free?
—No.
—Do you sometimes stare up at the stars in the sky and think about the sheer insignificance of your minuscule little life, only to be overwhelmed with the sensation that the True Reality is the reverse?
—Yes.
—Are you bothered by the existential pangs of the universal birthing process in which we all find ourselves in until death sweeps its wide and unfair broom under our metaphysical carpet?
—No.
—Have you ever tried to make contact with something outside of your immediately observable universe by touching the air with a single outstretched finger?
—Yes.
—Were you successful?
—Yes.
—Are you afraid to knock on a door that leads into a room you know for absolute certain, is empty?
—No.
—And so, are you searching for a stone, a piece of fruit, a box, a cup, a grave, a sword, a savior, a fountain, a city, a planet, another galaxy, or merely another form of consciousness?
—I’m not looking for anything.
—Are you sure about that?
—I am not looking for any one thing.
—Will you be requiring it all simultaneously?
—No.
—Do the words, ‘Violet Sunshine Silver Mine’ mean anything to you?
—No.
—In that case we’re done here. Thanks Jimmy. You have a super good day, and we sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.
I remain sitting in silence.
—Well go on, you’re free to get the hell outta here.
—Seriously?
—Yes.
—Where do I go first?
—Up to you.
I leave the table awkwardly and head for the door with heavy hesitation in every step. I keep thinking he’s going to stop me. I open the door.
—Before you go Jimmy…
I pause.
—What?
—It’s called a Reconfiguration.
—What is?
—You won’t know it when you see it, but you’ll know it when you’re looking back.
—I don’t understand what you’re…
—Forget about it. Leave.
I left. And I also forgot.
Until of course I woke up out from my daze in Darcy’s car. We were parked a few streets inland from the beach. Everything was soaked in sunshine. I looked out the window and wondered exactly what a Reconfiguration was, and to what extent it applied. Could that have been what happened on the bus? I took off the mystery glasses and shook my head. I got the chills.
—You alright?
Darcy was looking at me like I was a little kid.
—What the actual fuck, was that!?
—So you liked the glasses?
—I um… I don’t know if it was the glasses or the THC, but that was nuts. I had this whole vision of myself being released from a Top Secret underground facility. There were details from my actual life, and my time in prison, and the reason I was there, but it wasn’t anything like the real life version. Are these some sort of dream glasses? Like they invent fantasies? How do they even work? How could that work?
—Oh I don’t know how they work, they’re a Red Rainbow thing.
—Really?
—Yeah, that place we’re going to after the show.
—No I know. I just didn’t expect…that.
—Well my Day Dream was about laying in a meadow with a shiny vampire.
—Sounds hot.
—Quite the opposite of that actually. Well, shall we um…
Darcy motioned to the outside world with her thumb.
—Yeah, lets go meet these supposedly weird friends of yours. Although I’m starting to wonder if I’m underestimating your concept of weird.
—You are.
After a sarcastic look, I exited the vehicle. It had been at least ten years since I’d been to Venice, so I was more than willing to put my thoughts on hold. Much to my surprise, it didn’t seem like things had changed much. The Front Walk was as eclectic and grimy as I remembered. I swear I recognized some of the street vendors. Obviously anyone can paint celebrities on vinyl records and old skateboards, but you know a personal style when you see it. There was one fellah there that I definitely knew from my previous visit. He was posted on the sidewalk with a cosmically decorated grand piano that appeared to be from a different epoch altogether. His demeanor is what triggered my memory. He sat there with his hands fluttering away at the keys like Chopin on crack, but his face remained downcast and unaffected. It was as if his hands had a mind of their own, and he was simply allowing them to do their good work. I didn’t have much cash on me, but after taking note of the empty tip jar I decided to empty my pockets straight into it. While I did that, Darcy wandered over to a pseudo-Egyptian storefront and began browsing a display table full of crystals and incense. She picked up a necklace and tried it on.
—Whacha got there?
Darcy turned to me with a smirk.
—It’s a chakra necklace.
—A what?
—You know, the chakras. Solar, Heart, Crown…
—I know about chakras. I mean what makes this necklace particularly chakra-esque?
I stuck out my tongue.
—Oh.
She held out the crystal, which was actually seven different types of stone layered together in the shape of an obelisk.
—Each different layer represents one of them. You wear it around your neck and it acts as a centering device.
—Of sorts.
—Of course. They also have a secret function.
—Yeah?
—Well, supposedly if you do this…
Darcy held out her open palm, face up.
—You take the necklace in your other hand and hold it over your palm like this, like a pendulum, then you ask it a question.
—Like what, for example?
—Um…let’s see…
Darcy looked at the crystal intently. She then rolled her eyes as if her next sentence was all too obvious.
—Should I buy this necklace?
She stared at the crystal for a few seconds, and it began to sway a certain way. My curiosity flared.
—What’s that mean?
—It means yes. If it moves back and forth the answer is yes. If it moves side to side, the answer is no. If it swings in circles the answer is uncertain.
—Hm…
I squinted my eyes.
—What, you don’t think it’s real?
—I don’t know. Seems like if you’re holding it in your hand, you could subconsciously be creating the desired outcome by subtly moving it.
—You seem to be forgetting that communication with your own subconscious is the whole point.
—Aren’t we all doing that constantly?
—No. That’s why it’s called a subconscious. It’s below your threshold of perceivable thought.
—I guess we’ve been reading different dictionaries.
—Whatever Jimmothy! I think it’s fun, and that’s all that matters.
—You’re right.
Darcy decided to ignore my comments and listen to the voice from beyond. She took a card out of her purse and went off to buy the necklace. Meanwhile I was distracted by a guy riding down the walk on rollerblades. He had a guitar in hand and an amplifier duck taped to his back. The riffs he played were somewhere between Black Sabbath and thrash metal. Every once in a while he’d throw in a series of funky harmonics that rang with laser-like precision.
—Here.
Darcy startled me. I was still slightly stoned from the car ride. Mr. Doof Warrior had me enraptured.
—I got you one too, even though you’re a non-believer.
I smiled sincerely despite the truth in her statement.
—Let’s go find Pete.
We set off south in silence. I was going to put the necklace on straight away, but then I decided to postpone my judgment and ask it a question. I tried to slow my roll and hang back so Darcy wouldn’t see. Unfortunately, she caught me immediately.
—HA! I knew you were intrigued. Skeptic my ass. Go ahead. Ask your question.
—No!
I sauntered off with my chin held high.
—Do it! You know you want to.
She caught up to me and started poking me lightly on the arm.
—Nope! The moment is over. Abandon it.
—There will be others.
I saw a flicker in her eyes. For some reason that concerned me.
—So who is this Pete, and what does he do?
Darcy looked off in another direction.
—He’s a pure-bred vagabond who makes sand sculptures and copper jewelry here in this freak-o-paradiso.
—How’d you meet him?
—My sister’s friend Julian Jackson introduced us.
—Julian Jackson? That doesn’t sound like a real name.
—Oh it is. He’s the singer of Relatively Hot Moms.
I laughed. More accurately snorted, which was embarrassing.
—I’ve never heard of them.
—They joined the Red Rainbow recently. You’ll meet ‘em.
—Okay, that’s it!
I stopped in my tracks.
—What the fuck is the Red Rainbow? Why do people ‘join’ it? and why do they have their fingers in so many pies?
—They are the pie Jimmy.
—I don’t even remotely know what that means.
—You’ll learn baby, you’ll learn.
—Um…
—Sorry, that’s a Michael Scott quote.
—Who?
—Michael Scott, from The Office. The American TV show that revolutionized a British TV show that revolutionized comedy world-wide.
—Do you just like saying the word revolutionary?
—Yes.
—You’re not going to answer my questions are you?
—Nope. Guess you’ll just have to refer to the crystal.
Darcy pointed to my new necklace and snapped her fingers. We resumed our southern trajectory. We were headed for the home of the Venice Beach sign, Windward Avenue. The Doors show was supposed to be taking place in the middle of that very intersection. A few minutes later we passed by the skate park and a complex of public restrooms. The first tripped me out because almost everyone was riding hoverboards, which I had always been told was an impossible creation, and the second, well…I’d never used a public restroom at this particular beach, but for some reason the prospect haunted me. Not because they were likely to be unsanitary. I could deal with that. It was as if by avoiding them I was avoiding a horrible disaster. Luckily we were past them in no time, and I could forget about my dark musings on a potential future that would never happen.
Off to our left was a small corner restaurant named Re-Mex. Bright green, red, and yellow chairs were strewn haphazardly around three sky blue tables. There was also a To-Go window on one side. I wondered exactly what it meant to remix Mexican food. Darcy veered towards it. She peeked down an alley where I could only assume they kept the dumpsters.
—Jimmy, get over here…Hey guys!
Turns out some of her friends were tucked back there. I found myself being introduced to a musical trio.
—Jimmy, meet Spencer, he’s the guy who names the songs. And he also plays the acoustic guitar as well as anyone I’ve ever seen at an open mic night.
Spencer sneered.
—Next we have Mister Jackpots. He’s normally a one man band, but sometimes, he’s one man in this band. And finally we have acoustic bass player and background singer who’s name I don’t know but who’s face I remember. Which counts for something.
Darcy did finger guns. Mister Jackpots alleviated the ensuing tension.
—We’re called At The End of Nowhere. We were just practicing a new song. Wanna hear it?
I was primed and ready to say hell yeah, but Darcy had other ideas.
—You can play the song later. Are you guys coming to the Doors thing with us? We should really get over there.
The guys consulted each other silently in a way that only band members can. An agreement was reached.
—Yes. You’re right. Pack it up boys.
Almost instantaneously, several guitar cases were snapped shut, harmonicas were pocketed, and a box drum was hidden in a trash can.
As we strolled the Front Walk, now a party of five, Darcy gabbed on with Spencer in a low voice. Whatever they were discussing was very light hearted, yet still apparently, a secret. I was left walking beside Mister Jackpots with absolutely no idea where to go conversation wise. I never like asking musicians about their music. I feel like if I were a musician, I would hate those questions. So that topic was out the window. He did have a shy disposition, so silence might’ve been okay with him.
—So you’re Jimmy huh?
I guessed wrong.
—Yep that’s my name. Had it my whole life. It was a birthday present from my parents.
—Are you going to the Red Rainbow with everyone?
—It seems like that’s the way things are going. What about you?
—Nah. Not tonight.
—I’ve never been. Is it not that cool?
—YOU’VE never been to the Red Rainbow?
—Nope.
—But you’re…
Mister Jackpots turned around to face Darcy and continued on walking backwards.
—Darcy. You take Jimmy to the Red Rainbow?
I squinted. The phrasing of his question threw me off. Darcy was equally confused.
—What? Yes I’m taking him there.
—No, I mean YOU take JIMMY BLAIRE to the Red Rainbow?
—Saying it emphatically doesn’t make it any clearer.
—This is Jimmy Blaire, he’s all sorts of wrapped up in that, do you not know?
—He is?
I thought to myself, I am?
Mister Jackpots was blown away.
—Holy shit, that’s crazy. So neither one of you has any idea what you’re currently doing?
Darcy brushed it off.
—I guess not.
My brain, of course, was trying not to explode with the thousands of questions piling up within it. But, I didn’t stand a chance. Next thing I knew we were rounding the corner at Windward, and the attention span of the group maxed out. I could hear a band in the distance doing a sound check to the germanic Alabama Song. Everyone hollered incoherently. Darcy cried out:
—It’s Pete!
She ran in the direction of a young man, late twenties, with dusty blonde dreadlocks and kind eyes. He wore more bracelets than I could count, khaki shorts, and some sort of flowing upper garment that struck me as the kind of thing Robert Plant would wear on stage.
I caught up to the two of them.
—So you’re the infamous Pete?
Pete’s eyes widened.
—Infamous? I sure hope not.
He glanced at Darcy inquisitively.
—Isn’t that what people say?
—I think infamous implies something bad.
—Pete the Famous Sand Sculptor then?
—I’ll take that. And you’re Jimmy?
—That’s me.
—I’ve heard a lot about you man. I think we’ve got a wild night ahead of us.
It was my turn to look at Darcy inquisitively. She was clearly blissed out, hanging on Petes arm.
—How much could you possibly have told him? You texted him like once on our way here.
Darcy never took her eyes away from Pete.
—I can say so very many things with so very few words.
—Apparently so.
Half a block away we heard the voice of an MC saying that the show was about to begin. Of course, he couldn’t resist throwing in the old, is everybody in? I love The Doors, so don’t read this wrong, but that’s one of those phrases that has been so cheapened by over use that every fan worth their weight has to fight the urge to roll their eyes whenever someone says it. Yet, at the same time, we always love it, because it’s Jim.
Hundreds of people amassed out of nowhere, and all the prime spots were taken before we could close the half-block distance. We found a spot side-stage on the sidewalk, which was alright with me. Even though the sound quality sucked, it meant I could smoke without anyone getting mad. Pete was a smoker too, so that stepped him up a few more notches in my book. The guys from At The End of Nowhere had higher standards. They pushed their way into the crowd and situated themselves in the center of the madness. All three of them were unusually tall, so no matter where they were they had the advantage.
The band soon opened with a deep cut, Orange County Suite. I was oddly proud of them for that. The singer had gone all out with the leather pants, pirate blouse, and snake skin boots. The three of us were thoroughly entertained. After the first number they cycled through the hits: Break on Through, L.A. Woman, Light my Fire, Roadhouse Blues.
I had no choice but to dip into another realm and time-travel back. I imagined Jim and Ray sitting in the sand connecting musical dots. I saw the beachside bungalow where they perfected their debut album. I saw myself sitting at the bar during the London Fog days. And, of course, I layered each fake memory with a heavy dose of LSD. I also added extra smog to give the images that burnt golden haze.
The concert eventually wrapped with a poorly executed—but extremely enjoyable—rendition of The End. That’s one of those songs you should never cover. But, yet again, whenever you do we’ll always love it. Because it’s Jim.
Pete, Darcy, and myself were shocked to find that two hours of music had passed over us. Especially because we were completely absorbed and hadn’t said a word to each other the entire time. Pete was the first to break the silence.
—Alrighty then…. Let’s just let that sit with us and we’ll discuss it when we get to The Stache eh?
Darcy agreed, and so did I by default. Riffing about it over drinks did indeed sound good. I wasn’t looking forward to the walk back to the car, however. But, as if my mind was an open book, Darcy came to the rescue.
—Trusty Rusty should be here in two minutes.
I tilted my head.
—That’s what I call my Mini Cooper.
—You mean it’s driving itself over here right now?
—Yeah. I just ping it on my phone and it comes and finds me.
—I guess I forgot that a car driving itself doesn’t require there to be people in it.
—Exactly.
We stood on the street corner waiting for said Trusty Rusty. People were dispersing in all different directions. A random whiff of kettle corn alerted me to the fact that I hadn’t eaten all day. I curbed the rumble in my stomach by lighting a cigarette and peering around for a distraction. I snickered at the little sanitation robots that had come out of the woodwork to clean up the trash left by the crowd. Fuckin’ people, I thought. Then I saw a piece of trash at my own feet. A piece of paper actually, and there was a poem written on it. I decided to pick it up before the robots could get their grubby mitts on it.
Darcy and Pete weren’t paying any attention to me. They were talking to the End of Nowhere guys and something down the block had hit their funny bone. They were transfixed on whatever it was. I took the opportunity to read. The paper said:
Of those who enter:
Never Exit
An inviting evil
Ever Present
Upon the Gates
Forever Shown
Shall be no sign
Or plans to close.
It appeared to be composed on a typewriter. I didn’t know what the poem was referring to exactly. But, it made my spidey senses tingle. I figured it was some hippie’s mushroom induced fantasy about The Garden of Eden, or potentially planet Earth. When you run across something so ambiguously written it’s easy to superimpose it on your life, even if it wasn’t intended to have anything to do with you. So, I wrote it off as a scrap of meaningless yet worth-keeping junk and put it in my pocket.
—Yoo-hoooooo…
I turned to see Pete waving at me like I was in a trance.
—Trusty Rusty is here.
I saw that Darcy was already in the driver’s seat. Pete had the passenger door held open for me. I stomped out my cigarette and got in the car.
—Wait a minute.
I sat up straight as I said it.
—What’s up Jimmothy?
—Darcy, you said we were going to the Red Rainbow with your friends. And yet, here I sit, with only one of them. Pete the Famous Sand Sculptor.
—Well the End of Nowhere guys aren’t going tonight.
—I know, but aren’t there others?
—Yes.
—Where are they?
—They were here at the show.
—Why didn’t we meet them?
—I forgot to text them where we were.
Pete took over.
—That’s what we were pointing at just now. We saw them walking away once the crowd broke up. It’s chill though. We’ll meet ‘em at the Rainbow.
Darcy told the car where to go, and we were off. Stereo blaring, obviously.
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