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RAINBOW PARTY 1996
The pain was gone. It was like a revelation. Like a
resurrection. Like a magic aspirin erasing the headache to the second. The load
was gone. I could feel the coolness of the morning breeze, drink the sunlight's
dawn, swim in the cold waters of Half Moon Bay while laughing at the idea of
conquering San Francisco.
This far to be again back! Welcome to myself! Home!
Blue sky, green hills, houses on the hills, a shield against fear. Home is
everywhere. San Francisco, Roma, Paris, there is no difference, everywhere is
the same, people is people. Everything depends on you. But the first time is
always the most exciting. And there is only one first time. Later on, when you
come again and again to the same streets, to the same pubs, to the same girls,
to the same shit, the magic is gone. Whether you are in Madrid, London, or
Athens, all and all is the same. The first time is like the first cut, the
deepest, or so says the song. More like the first love, you enjoy it the most because
you don’t deal with the real person but with the image of the love. I had an
image of San Francisco in my head, and I wanted to keep it the longer the
better. I could wait. I would enter her slowly, and straight to the Golden
Bridge. In my mind it was decided, I would have my 40th birthday in
the city of the Grateful Dead. Yes I would. It was the first days of February
96.
San Francisco is the line separating the north winter
cold from the southern springtime heat. You cannot head to Seattle until
springtime breaks in. And San Francisco had everything a street guitar man
needs to be happy, a METRO, when it rains is most helpful, and streets full of
people to find a spot and sing a song.
There was, too, a street where people play chess for
money, the perfect place for a guitar man to make friends, break into a natural
social jungle. I would have no Birthday cake, nor candle for that matter. So
what? I never had it. And I never will. Kid’s staff applies to no man. The
eighteenth’s birthday, the last. The child is gone forever. And anyway, I was
out of drinking, smoking, doing drug or hookers. Would I rather be back home
and eat a birthday cake as big as Notre dame Cathedral? Vade retro, Satan! Let
me be an alien with a guitar in my hands. Every time I come in contact with the
natives of this planet, man, I get hurt. It’s like all they know and can do it
is fuck each other. The more they fuck their neighbors the greater they are.
This people’s planet has a problem in the head. They treat their home-planet as
Earth was a whore, and a very very dirty whore to
whom fuck as much as they can. They do so and after that, they go drinking and
drugging and more fucking as what it was done to Earth is none of their
business.
In the beginning I thought always that this people got
to have a very very powerful spaceship fleet, once
they finish with their work of total devastation of Earth’s Nature they will
fly to the next planet, and so on and so forth. And then one day I found that
this people are nuts, stone age people killing each other for a fucking stone,
for a golden stone they can fuck their brothers, sell their mothers too for a
crystal stone call diamond, and for a gold in liquid state, color black, the
black gold they call it, they kill entire populations, by the millions, and
after they go together and gather together in a same place call the United
Nations, where the Butchers of those millions go and pray their God in public.
Animals call men!
And women, females, are equal to their males. They
procreate like animals, breed animals, and educate them to keep Earth’s
devastation to the last inch of the Planet. How would I know that San Francisco
was going to be there in a time 50 years from now?
The city look beautiful from the distance, but inside
was millions of those Earth’s motherfuckers, with a particular characteristics
that I was to find it out very very soon.
The Ancient City of Love has been turned into the City
of AIDS. Nowhere in the West of the USA had I seen the plague of the final
quarter of the XXTH century raging so hard and so widely spread as in San
Francisco. AIDS was in the air. Paranoia has taken place where before Free Love
Making had reigned absolute. You see a beautiful girl, and the first question
coming to your head is : But is she clean?
Junkies where everywhere. Actually were more junkies
in San Francisco than Chinese people. This is the first thing one got to do,
know where you are, who you with, the nature of the atmosphere where you gonna park your bones. There is people you want to be with
and people you want to dismiss; better make love with a fatty sweet woman than
with a pretty woman with whom you run the risk to get infected. Man, they are
great, the fatty girls, they are sweet and tender, make you love like a real
woman and smile like a little girl when you are gone, “take care sweetheart,
love you”. And that’s it.
Everything happens in South Market Street, close by
Union Square. You walk down Stockton Street and you fall exactly where the
Metro is. There is where the guys play chess for money, the freakies come and go and the Europeans like me end meeting each other. From this point
you walk straight to the Bay and under the Bridge, connecting the peers with
Yerba Buena Island. Alcatraz, the Famous Rock of the movies, is at your left.
To eat cheap and hot you walk Stockton Street from
Union Square up to the China Town. You cannot get lost, the smell of the spring
rolls acts like a magnet on your hungry nose. In the night you don’t need to go
far from Union Square-Market Street to find rock&roll kicking your ears. Abridging the whole thing, that would be my post for the
next two months.
Once there, it is a question to explore the city. And
first of all to walk the Golden Gate, that Red Bridge made famous all over the
world by Hollywood. From my daily post to the Bridge there is one Halleluiah
promenade through the city. You can do the round by the seaside of you can cut
through China Town. It depends your mood. I did it sometimes by the seaside, a
walk of many hours; and sometimes sneaking through the streets. San Francisco
Streets are all straights, you cannot get lost yourself, the only problem is
that the city is hilly and the streets run up and down. So what? And the paysage you get from the Golden Gate? I wouldn’t compare
the Istanbul Golden Bridge between Asia and Europe with this SF'GB; the
emotions are different, the views too. But to me SF'GB had a kind of likeness
with the IGB. Both mark a line. The IGB, mark the line between Europe and Asia;
the SF'GB, between the winter cold and the springtime heat, between North and
South.
You don’t want to hitchhike through North California
and fall in Oregon before Springtime is around. That is a mistake. February is
sweet in San Francisco, you can sleep beneath the starry night without problem
at all. One good thing of the Americans is that they understand pretty well
that a guy sleeping in the open he does it because he has no money to pay
himself an hotel. They leave you alone. Even the Cops. Here in Europe things
are different. There is a lot of guys incapable of marking the difference
between a guy sleeping in the open and a guy sleeping in the hotel. I was
robbed many times in Europe, and all and every time by the Arabs. It came a
moment when I slept with one Halleluiah sword under my head; man, once you show
them the blade they run like rats. I mean, are they good in the head? You come
to robe a guy who is playing guitar in the street? Why? Because you are a
fucking queer and you have no bollocks to rob a bank? Fuck you! It is an
offence in Europe to carry a weapon, whether of fire or a simple blade, but if
you are out there sleeping in the park of the city you’re going through with
your woman and your child, hey man, blood to blood, hell to hell! Americans are
no Arabs for that matter. They let you snore like a bull and will never do
anything to break your sleeping good time. No matter where, by the peers, or by
a Park, or by a church’s bench, no matter where you make your bed, if you have not
good dreams it is your fault. I loved that in America. In Europe you got to
sleep with one eye open.
Made some friends, made love to some girls, filed my
soul with great days, celebrated my 40th birthday, and finally came
Springtime. I was crazy about the North. The red Forests, Seattle. I had to go.
And I walked by a last time the Golden Gate. At the end of it a guy gave me a
ride to Santa Rosa, and from there I headed to Eureka, in search of the Redwood
Forests. But no man is perfect and the American is fucked up in the head too.
"You see all that? Make-up, man, simple make-up.
One you reach the top of the hills, there is nothing. We have sucked all the
Forest, this wonder of the Universe, this marvel of the Planet Earth, burnt to
the last red tree for money".
I got a lift leaving Eureka from two young guys
driving a hippy van on their way to Eugene. They were smoking grass all the
time. They passed me on the join and I honored their company. They were used to
the Redwoods, but I, I was crazy about it.
I wasn't excited, I was out of my mind. They halted
the van and let me wander on my own. I couldn't believe it. Pictures lie. And
lie a lot. You see that War of Galaxies' Scene where the guy drive a flying
motor through the Redwoods and you think that you can figure out their size and
beauty. You are wrong. Until you don't get there and you push your fingers into
their skin you don't realize how wonderful was the life of the Anthropos in the
days of the Dinosaurs.
The real wonder begins when you get deeper and deeper
into the Forest. Not all are trees are that big as the guy in Emily's Trip. But
they are so tall that is impossible to recreate the picture, you got to be
there. I had the Halleluiah luck of meeting a guy who was actually living in
the heart of the Oregon 's Redwood Forest. he invited me to expend some days
around. He was divorced, and alone, my company was welcome, I would had the
time to fill up my mind with the picture of those wonders for his every day’s
bread. But to get back to my two young hosts in their way to Eureka, once I had
make my first contact with that Surviving Wonder of Anthropos World, and we
were back on the road, they poured on me their shame.
"Not everything is pink and honeymoon. All you
see is that what has been left behind to hide the true crime of the total
destruction of the Redwoods from the other side of those hills and to nobody
remember now for how many hundreds of miles beyond".
"The Wild West".
"Our fathers were not Wild, man, they were Nuts.
Bricks grow not in the Forests. Wood, does. God gave us the country for us, let
us destroy it! And when the work was done they left us these few trees up, to
remember how beautiful was the Land they came to live, once upon a time".
"Shit, you sound dramatic".
"He is always dramatic. The truth is that we are
children of the Earth who have become aliens to their mother. And we do as
such. Where is the wonder? You know Rainbow?"
"No, I don't".
"All right. We'll take you in".
Eugene, Oregon, and a Rainbow Party going all night
long, up on the hills, and beneath the starry night. LSD for all. Not for me,
not this time. Too much fantasy to cover-up the fact of a free love making
party, make love with the one you with, forget about that "I like", "I
don't like" the girl or the guy, just do it. Absolutely childish. To make
love they need to go through all that pseudo-religious ceremony? Some old guys
invent this absurd rite to get back to the young girls that in another way they
could not make it? Lord, why inventing this stupid religious, ceremonial rite?
Look at that Italian mummy, 70 years old, a millionaire, and paying hookers to
play with his ass. That's not corruption, that is degeneration, mental
stupidity. How could a degenerated old man like that be President of Italy for
nearly a decade? In a way or another the aliens called "humans" need
to cover up their brutality, their hate of the laws of Nature, their madness in
believing that they can move on the Universe and create for it new laws according
to their animalism. The no acceptation of the facts of Creation lead them to
invent castles on the air and a word of science fiction to live in and to die
for as the snake swallows its own tail in a kind of demonstration of power to realize
a minute before its end that it's killing itself. Too late to wake up. LSD, no
thank you. To make love I just need a woman. And I need no religion to get me
one. I skipped the place and found me a stone to lay my head on and do what I
do best, sleep like a log.
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