|
|
|
Ocean Beach festivities
Saturday, June 26 1999
The hangover pain was dispatched with marijuana and analgesics while apologies were made for last night's sociopathic behaviour. Pretty soon Jason, his mom Patty and her boyfriend Kevin (along with occasional others amongst our neighbors) were out in the courtyard drinking booze and otherwise preparing for this especially festive day in Ocean Beach. It was, you see, the day of the Newport Street fair, which meant that Newport Street was closed and filled with vendor's tents. On Sunset Cliffs Blvd., on the beach, and somewhere in between three music stages were being set up.
Given my hangover, the distraction of the party in our own courtyard (and a number of other factors including an episode of the television action-adventure series Hercules - which is great to watch when you're baked), it took us awhile to make it down to Newport. When we finally went, we quickly blew all ten dollars of our money at a gyro stand. When we saw the line in front of the bank machine, we knew we weren't going to have the funds to slake our thirst unless we made a return trip home.
By now the gang hanging out at Jason's place was swollen with chums (and their girlfriends) whom he knows via his naval career. It was a leisurely festive scene, so we hung out with them in the courtyard for awhile. People were telling amusing stories as the sun (which, surprisingly, was out for most of the day) baked our hangovers into pink patinas upon our faces. Eventually my co-workers Kevin and Al called up from Kevin's cell phone trying to establish a rendezvous somewhere down on Newport Street, but we never found them when we finally returned to the street fair. But we did see several large iguanas, a number of Cockatoos, and an odd male-female "married dog couple." The female, a black labrador-mix, had enormous droopy teats and the male was a muscular, tawny partial-bulldog. "We have puppies," their master told us. There were also plenty of nubile betties on the hoof and I was certain that Kevin and Al, wherever they were, were having a wonderful visual experience.
By the way, on Friday, while terribly stoned, I realized how appropriate the word "bird" is for describing the human female. Ladies are bipedal, covered with fine plumage, make for devoted, protective parents, and men like to go places just to watch them stroll about, hoping not to scare them off. By the same token, men also resemble birds, some (Matt Rogers) more than others (your average Harley rider). Then I realized something even more profound: the human is the one mammal to have mastered the basic bird body form: head on top, two feet on the ground, with arms free to something else. It's the something else that gives us humans rocket ships and computers while birds have none of that stuff but can fly. Their wings give birds wonderful mobile abilities, but the wing is also ultimately an evolutionary dead end. Wings will never control complex tools. A bird can fly, but not as high as the moon.
Whoah, where was I? Back at the complex, Kim got into her little red dress in preparation for an evening of massaging men in a romantic Victorian atmosphere. Kevin and Al showed up, but we were all pretty worn out from a day of sunburn and drinking and I had nothing with which to entertain guests except kind buds and a lame movie, so we quickly lapsed into boredom. Al decided to call some chick he'd met on the internet to find out what she was up to on this festive Saturday. After a brief conversation, Al announced that we were heading to a party.
The party, such as was, was south of Newport in a third floor apartment overlooking the ocean. The chick Al was seeking actually lives in Pacific Beach, but she was here visiting a thin red-haired female friend, the female friend's somewhat hefty red-haired punk rock boyfriend, and his decidedly rotund black-haired punk rock wife. The "internet chick" stood out from the rest as a thin beauty with long black hair and legs that went on for miles. While Kevin was impressed, Al was depressed. Not only was this internet chick gorgeous, but it turned out she was an accountant who probably makes three times what Al does. In short, he decided she was way out of his league.
I contributed almost nothing to the socializing happening at the party, spending most of my time out on the balcony watching distant rays of sunlight lighting up a strip of ocean far out on the horizon, somewhere beyond the June Gloom that had rolled in to conceal the sunset. Eventually a contingent of very ordinary guys showed up at the party. They joined me on the balcony and hooted like Old World Monkeys at every pretty girl passing below.
Back at my place, I was finally alone for the first time in hours, so I took a bath. When, after at least an hour, I emerged from the water, I found several messages from my chum Eric the Web Developer on the answering machine. So I called him up and invited him over. We had plans of maybe stopping in at Salsa party being hosted by KD, one of the more geekly-oddball of our colleagues, but it turned out that none of us had the necessary directions. So instead we walked down to Newport and ate barbecue sandwiches at the only place open along the deserted post-fair street, talking geeky computer hardware talk the whole time.
Eric and I ended up watching Velvet Goldmine. This afforded me the opportunity to give it a second chance. Since I was rather stoned, I was paying better attention and the movie made somewhat more sense. But still it lacked some essential fundaments. Characters were introduced poorly (if at all), character development was mostly non-existent, and the acting was shoddy. These last two failings were especially egregious given all the bad dialogue scenes that could have so easily served to tie the movie together. Visually, though (and that's where marijuana is important), the movie was definitely an experience.
picture time...
The guys hanging out in Jason's doorway (from left): our neighbor Andy, Jason and one of Jason's Navy friends.
Kim and our neighbor Lisa (Andy's girlfriend).
Kim sucks down a Corona in the courtyard.
 
Sophie the Miniature Schnauzer somehow staying out of trouble in the shade beneath a couple of random girls who showed up at Jason's party.
Jason's mother Patty, her boyfriend Kevin, and Jason, our beloved "redneck surfer neighbor from Malibu"
 
Jason posing against the sky and with Kim.
Festive fair attendees stream beneath the palms in this westward-looking shot. The ocean is visible in the distance.
A throng of festive fair attendees stream by The Black, Ocean Beach's premier giftshop. It's got hardcore porno, weird books, lots of things made of rubber, and plenty of drug paraphernalia. But when you buy a bong, don't call it a bong. You have to call it a water pipe or else they won't sell it to you until you come back some other day using the correct terminology.
A number of people brought their pet lizards with them to the fair. Jason said that carrying pet reptiles in public is illegal in California and that he once saw someone getting a ticket on Newport Street for having an iguana.
The north side of Newport Street with (from left to right) the old Strand movie theatre (now closed), The Music Trader, The Electric Chair Hair Designs and Dr. Jefe's body piercing parlour.
Al looking a little like Beavis as he calls up to an apartment in pursuit of a female internet acquaintance.
Another typical June gloom sunset viewed over the rooftops of Ocean Beach, with the international beer of summertime in the foreground.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?990626 feedback
previous | next |
