retroBlog

the voice comes to me in the dark of night. it never fails. as i lie in bed just as i’m about to fall into a deep slumber, the voice pierces the night’s silence …to continue its nightly torment.

“they’re all laughing at you,” the voice begins, sounding not unlike a cross between Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Brad Garrett from Everybody Loves Raymond.

“who? you mean the folks in my neighbors, my family, ..distant cousins, ..my coworkers ..uummm… or my friends?” i ask in a half-dream like state.

“they all are. look at you. you’re pathetic. you’re an old man. and you’re trying desperately to feel like you’re making a significant positive impact within the community and the world at large but you know what? it ain’t working. you’re pathetic and insignificant. you ain’t foolin’ anyone. you’re life means absolutely nothing,” the voice cackles.

“are you finished, because i wanna get back to my beauty rest,” i say disinterestedly.

“shoot, i’m just getting started. your relationship with your kids is a joke. how can you call yourself a father? you barely spend quality time with them. do they even know you? and your wife? how long do you think she can keep deluding herself in thinking this so called marriage can work? it’s just a matter of time, you know. she’s gonna realize it’s just not worth all that effort, pack up and leave you.”

“yadda, yadda, yadda. i’ve heard all this before, oh strange and mysterious one. now let me get some zzzzzz’s,” i say, getting a bit irritated by the lack of any new revelations.

“OK, let’s see. ummmm, you’re totally in debt. you’ve dug yourself pretty deep, my friend. you ain’t ever gonna get your head above water. plus you’ve got so much to do to get this house in a presentable fashion. i mean, how are you going to invite all your friends over when you got stains all over the carpet, no formal dining room furniture, no formal living room furniture, and basically not a lot of anything. …. oh wait a minute, oh, i forgot, you HAVE no friends. i mean, you *know* some people and you can *invite* them over and stuff but can you really call them “friends”? who can you really confide in? who can you put your trust in? you don’t trust any of those people, ain’t that right? they can stab you in the back at any moment.”

“yeah, well, ummm, .. i like to keep to myself, you know… i’m, ..i’m self-reliant,” i stammer back.

“and what about faith? you call yourself a christian but you’re just going through the motions. where’s the fire? where’s the drive? how are you bearing “fruit”? you’ve lost that years ago. why even bother, my friend?” the voice’s deep tones reverberate within the pitch-black bedroom.

“thanks. like i really need your help in getting depressed. anything else?” i ask just hoping the voice would just shut the hell up.

“let’s check the list here. ..your old, … your family … no friends… no faith.. no money. hhhmmmm. yup. i think i covered all the topics for today. don’t worry, i’ve got more for you tomorrow night,” the voice states with a hideous laugh.

“hey, i got two words for you. breath. mint. use it. man, for a disembodied voice you sure do have a mean case of halitosis” i say reacting to the smell not unlike that of sulfur.

“dude, that’s for effect. you know, to keep the whole evil mystique and all. i’m supposed to assault you on all fronts, including smell.”

“well, you know what, it ain’t workin’ for me. just work on your content. haven’t you heard? content is king!”

“you know, i’m going to be sure to swing by at a later time in the night when you’re more in that sleepy/comatose-state so that i won’t get so much back-talk from you.”

“yeah you do that. good night.”

“until next time ol’ friend.”

zzzzzzzzzz.

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Motoring, what’s your price for flight? You’ve got him in your sights,
And driving thru the night!
Motoring, What’s your price for flight? In finding mister right?
You’ll be alright tonight!!
Don would scream along with this song at the top of his lungs into his hair brush in the middle of our dorm room in only his boxer briefs…. and usually while i’m over at my desk trying desperately to figure out what the hell i’m going to do about my chemistry exam i had scheduled at 8 the next morning. ah, just your typical night in the dorms. oh, the memories. it’s funny how things that truly aggravated you back then can somehow evolved into a fond faded memory. take Don, one of my ol’ college roommates for example. Man, we were definitely polar opposites. THE odd couple on campus. the guy was six foot seven (but couldn’t play basketball to save his life..heh) and i… wasn’t six foot seven. he grew up in a military town listening to Ratt, Poison, Dokken and Winger. me, i was born in germany and grew up listening to the beatles! you should have heard us go at each other with our respective boom boxes. i’d blast The White Album while he was trying to go to sleep and at other times, he’d sing along to “round and round” by Ratt an atonal piece of crap song that should forever be banned from being played on anyone’s stereo system ever again! not only did we have different tastes, i swear the dude had Cameo tourette’s. whenever we happened upon some ‘dead-air’, some moment of silence or a lull in conversation, Don took it as a cue to fill it with some goofball impression of Larry Blackmon from the R&B group Cameo. “OOOWWW! looks so nice! Wrapped up tight!” Don would cry out all of a sudden with his right hand over his crotch sounding strangely like a cross between a constipated Barry White and Groucho Marx. as for life outside the dorm room, ummm, our meals together were arduous, for lack of a better term. in typical Don fashion, he’d bark at me “hey, hey, hey, lookit her!” several times during a meal. it had become sort of our cafeteria routine. he’d call attention to some passer-by and i involuntarily look up from my plate knowing full well it’d be a waste of effort. the fool had a running commentary on all the girls that passed our way as we ate. i wouldn’t have minded so much if he took note of the many fine lookin’ girlies that were around but nooooo, i ended up with a guy that enjoyed going out of his way to point out the flaws in people. “The girl’s got big-bird’s beak for a nose!”, “dag, wide-load comin’ through”, “man, where are the ankles on that one?” were what would typically came out of his mouth. and as you might have guessed, he basically talked non-stop. i don’t know. maybe he was just compensating for the lack of info coming from my general direction. with all that talking, he’d end up giving a little TMFI. too much freakin’ information. you know, i really didn’t need to know about : which condom he preferred to use, it had to be extra thick so it wouldn’t break, used geoffrey downes’ The Light Program and mike oldfield’s Islands as their let’s get it on music (what, no dokken?), he had an ex-girlfriend that he still saw from time to time, they both had an understanding, he was almost caught during a time of ‘understanding’ and had to climb out of her bedroom window with only his socks and boxers on… TMFI. OK, i admit that i didn’t REFUSE to listen to his tales but hey, he didn’t HAVE to tell me these things.
but it wasn’t all fun and games. living with someone never really is. we did have our blow-outs. especially early on. but like all guys, we’d just let it blow over and things got forgotten. surprisingly, we ended up getting along pretty well in the latter half of our time together. i even got used to his Cameo tourette’s. hell, i did my own interpretation of it from time to time. although i could have done without being tormented by Ratt songs, i’m still glad i kinda got to know the dude. interesting how memory colours the past.

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The Band: Array
A RetroDan Flashback
setting: thursday evening at Andy’s house. our senior year. 1987.
band members: Andy- guitar and backing vocal, Johnny- bass, Daniel- drums, Rebecca- lead vocal, Kimmee- keyboards, backing vocal

“shit, boys, we are going to rock the house saturday night,” andy exclaimed as he gave me a hi-five. he turned to do the same with johnny but realized he wasn’t paying any attention. johnny was, as per usual, in his own little world, sitting back, smoking a joint and staring out at nothing.

a little perturbed by johnny’s lack of enthusiasm for the upcoming gig, andy picked up his guitar and played an intricate arpeggio that he had been working on the past few days. andy was a lanky rich boy who’s mom was never home and usually had the whole house to himself after school to play loud music in. he was the class clown and was even voted the “funniest senior” in the yearbook that year.

i played a couple of warmup drum fills on the tom-toms and then turned to andy and asked “are you sure we don’t need more rehearsal time before the party? i mean, i’m a bit nervous about it …and it’s like one of the biggest parties this whole semester, right?”

andy walked toward my drum set. actually it wasn’t mine. it was trey’s. andy stole .. i mean, had it on loan from Trey for the time being. “what are you kidding me? we are rock solid. you got that ‘neil peart’ thing down on the skins, i got the mad burnin’ leads on the geeettaarr and johnny boy over there …. he’s like the best damn bassist in our whole damn high school! what more do you want D?” andy asked while doing one of his motley-crue-rock-star-poses.

“i’m not talking about us necessarily. i’m more concerned about … uummm..” i discreetly motioned over to the two girls hanging out on the other side of andy’s oversized basement/activity/rehearsal room. rebecca was a bit preoccupied at the moment with getting her makeup “just so” in front of a mirror while Kimmee was lounging on a couch, busy yammering away with her boyfriend on the phone.

andy looked over and nodded. “look, i know they’re not the most talented, musically speaking but that’s not completely why they’re in the band anyway.”

i raised my eyebrows.

andy continued. “see, we (referring to johnny, andy and me) provide the musical foundation. we’re rock solid. no one’s gonna knock that. the girls, .. the girls.. are just the icing on the cake. they are our “hook”. there are a dozen other bands out there but with rebecca and kimmee, we stand out. rebecca’s out in front with the miniskirt and the tight shirt and then we got kimmee on keys and she’s smokin’ hot. you see what i’m getting at?”

“yeah. we’re a gimmick band,” i said crossing my arms, “a band with no integrity.”

“integrity? D, we’re in high school, there is no such thing. don’t worry, D. i’ve got it all worked out. i’m the mastermind behind the group anyway. i’m ‘Pete Townshend’ if you will.”

“who?” rebecca interrupted and then playfully grabbed andy’s ass.

“exactly,” andy replied back.

“if you’re Pete Townshend, does that make me, Keith Moon?” i asked while trying to be polite and not stare too long at Rebecca’s mini-skirted legs like i’ve tried to do this whole year.

“who?” rebecca again asked.

“YES” andy said while resuming back to doing rock star poses with his sunburst gibson les paul.

“no, i don’t want to be keith, he’s *dead* and all. but since you mentioned ‘Yes’ i can be ‘Alan White’” i said knowing that Rebecca would have no clue what i was talking about.

“nah. be Bill Bruford and i’ll be big ‘Chris badd-ass Squire’ on that mammoth rickenbacker!” Johnny interjected under a haze of smoke.

“whatever you guys are talking about, just stop it. it makes no sense.” Rebecca pouted. God she was so cute pouting like that. frankly she was cute all around but … but being “cute” doesn’t really redeem her from some of the bum notes she was trying to pass off as melody.

i walked over to andy and in a serious-down-to-business-tone tried to convince him to go over the set list with rebecca because i really didn’t think she knew all the words to *all* of the songs.

“don’t get your panties in a wad, Big D” Rebecca said to me after overhearing what i was saying to andy.

“you know i don’t like you calling me ‘Big D’” i said turning to Rebecca, “you make me sound like i’m fat or something.”

“dude, it’s a compliment. ‘Big D’ isn’t about your *whole* body,” she said with a wink.

andy stopped in mid-riff. “and how would *she* know this?” andy asked with all eyes in the vicinity turned and focused on me.

“she doesn’t. .. i mean… i DO… you know, i mean.. we didn’t … but size-wise..” i stammered losing all credibility.

as i continued to sink like the titanic, Kimmee waltzed back to her spot behind the Roland, waved at andy and asked, “now, Andy, show me how to do that C-chord again?”

a car is then heard pulling up in the driveway. andy ran upstairs and checked on who it was. “damn, it’s mom” andy said while coming back down. “OK, folks, we’re done here. i’ll see y’all at the clubhouse saturday, alright?”

on our way out andy raised his hands in the air and yelled “everybody, hi-fives, we . are . going . to . rock . the . house !”

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