THE SUMMER OF LOVE

To the Venice Beach of the Sixties, Eddie and Freddie were a Beat Version of Batman and Robin, wearing their Blankets like Capes that hung loosely from their shoulders. At night, the same Blankets served to help stave off an occasional Rough Draft of Cold Air blowing in from the Mighty Pacific, as the Men sought Shelter under a Stairwell or in some Invisible Niche in an Alleyway. Indeed these Men slept wherever they could: under Fig Trees, in gutted Automobiles, on the Porch of a Designer of Lear Jets. Everywhere that is, except under the same Blanket.

Theirs was a Great Relationship, as they pursued their Art in Tandem, tracking down their Drugs and Panhandling in the Open Air. They frightened the Tourists, teased the Body Builders and drank the Derelicts' Wine. Recently they'd even gone so far as to Smoke the Hippies' Pot. Shit... these Two were a Piece of History in the Making: a Modern Day Version of Vincent and Gauguin.

But just as importantly they were continuing the Saga that Moses and Pharaoh had followed, the One Laid Down in the Ancient Garden by Cain and Abel, one of a Series of 22 Fundamental Equations that were Established in the Beginning of Word and had come to be known as The Law. Mathematical Formulae that Testified to the Unknown Structure of the Universe. Performing within their Capacities as Artists, these Men were, at any Given Moment (or Epoch) all that was known about the Structure of the Universe. Indeed, they were Pharaoh and Moses, or, on Alternate Days, their Scribes taking notice.

Well meaning People from the Neighborhood warned them to stay away from the Houses that contained the Heroin - not that either Man indulged in that sort of thing very often. Rather they were hooked into the Psychedelics of the Day, the little orange Tablets shaped like Sunshine and systematically swigged down like Candy by the Handful.

A Combination of Drugs, Alcohol and Art had Bound these Men to One Another, like two Siamese Twins running in Opposite Directions from a Lobotomy. But Life is Never really that simply defined, is it? In Essence, they were Honoring an Ancient Debt.

Similarly orphaned at Birth, before their Fathers' Blessings could be stowed, the Two remained Forever banned and disbarred. Thus in a State of Exile they learned to Live, about Six Inches Outside the Promised Land, like the two Cherubim that guarded the Gates of Eden. They pranced and danced and drank and otherwise made sport of the Vast Parade of Souls that gathered Daily Outside the Gate in Wonder. To the Occasional Soul who Entered, and to the huge Majority who were Daily Turned Away or Expelled, they always Offered the Congenial Nod of the Hat and a Proffer of Wine, like the True Court Jesters they were.

On one such Day, in the early Light of an Eastern Sun, the Two kneeled Reverently in the Sand, their joint Gaze lifted Heavenward to the Place where the Clouds formed. Theirs was a Magical Act performed obviously often and apparently without Effort. Simultaneously in supplication the Two reached into the Sky with Arms Lifted, coaxing the Clouds carefully away from the Air and depositing them onto sheets of Paper that the Two Artists spread liberally before them. "Drawing" they called it. Oh yeah, they were Drawing all right, in the most traditional Sense of the Word, birthing and pushing, pulling and milking, receiving and giving, and otherwise Wrestling the Revelations from their Source.

A sudden Shifting of the Clouds pulled at their Concentration and caused the Pages to ripple slightly in the Sand. As if from another Story the Mood Shifted to an approaching Cab, where Deep from Within its Interior roared the dissonant Siren Song of a beached Circe.

"Over here" towards where the Woman motioned was a Vacant Lot dimensioned on all Sides by Concrete Plot Lines that had become Partially Buried under Days and Nights of Shifting Sands. The Man-made Beach called Venice had steadily crept beyond its Limits at the Ocean's Edge, and over the Years had reached the Lot, Bathing it with the Aura of an Ancient Aztec Ruin. The Original Temple could still be discerned in the dusty Blue Prints of the feet of tens of thousands of passing Creatures. Such was the Vision the taller Artist set aside as he looked up at the Approaching Cab to greet the Female Occupant and her Bewildered Driver, both sharing the front Seat and a Bottle of Chivas Regal.

"She Says She Lives Here," the Driver's Gaze trailed over the Empty Lot in front of him. Upon closer examination One could see how the Lot had recently thrown off a Great and Heavy Burden, a Condemned Men's' Hotel that had Originally been Built and Balanced in Space by tons of bricks and mortar and broad beams that supported iron beds and the Bandits that slept in them. All of it Now Ceased to Exist in a final Crumbling of Rubble that would Soon Be Swept Away with the Wind and replaced with the Deep Indentations that traversed the Ground, to Testify of a Once proud and peculiar Procession of Men. A Tragic Testimony in Tears.

"She Says She Lives Here," the Driver's Gaze indicated the Woman at his side. Her Name was Judy, late Twenties, black hair and eyes from her Dead Mexican Mother, foul mouth from fending for Life in the Den of Thieves and Drunkards her Father had Abandoned her to. By the Time she had reached Puberty it was all she could do Maintain a Semblance of Sanity in her Lust for Life.

"I said pull up over there, Asshole!" Judy insisted with an Angry Eye on the Cabbie as she threw a friendly wave to Freddie and Eddie. "Over there" was situated Between two rusting and Abandoned Automobile Frames that offered the Cabbie a much-needed Moment of Anonymity. He was anxious to at last unload his Lunatic Passenger to her Fate and be on his Merry Way. He noted that the Autos were both Without Wheels, gutted and inoperable, the clumsy white Chevy Wagon and its little Companion Kharman Ghia, the latter appearing so much taller than it actually was, the way it stood upon its sturdy Cinder Block Legs. He noted with some Paranoid Relief that no One was likely to chase after him in those Skeletons.

"You're the One, Judy, it was you who was kicking Everybody's Ass." It was odd to be sitting Here a Dozen Years Down the Road, talking to Judy about a Memory they once shared.

"You know fucking well what happened! When I got there You and Eddie were drinking one of those fancy Lowenbrau Beers you were so fond of, acting like a couple of Nazi Officers patrolling the Perimeter. But then that dumb fucking Eddie had to go and offer the Cab Driver a hit off his joint. Ha!"

"Yeah. The Dude was a little too Paranoid for that!" They talked easily, years after the fact, sitting in a well-lit Room in Cincinnati Ohio, June of 1980.

That was for Sure. Judy never failed to flag Down the Right Ride, and you can bet that Driver had his own Flask at his feet. Nor did he mind wasting a little Time Down some Side Street long enough for Judy to unbutton and button his fly for him. She prided herself for giving the "Best Head In Town." And so he'd provided her with a Free Ride to the Liquor Store that Day, like so many others had provided before him. This Time Judy made the Two Artists especially Happy because she had thought enough of them to bring back a Bottle of their favorite Whiskey, a smooth-drinking Scotch by the Name of Chivas Regal.

"Yeah, like he really thought he was going to Collect his Fare from You Two! Ha! He almost shit his pants when he pulled up and saw the Gravity of the Situation!"

"Like any of us really gave a Shit!" Living Most of the Time Out of Doors, Bathed only by the Sun and Surf, with an occasional Mandatory Hosing at L.A.County Jail, the Pair did have that Forbidden Swamp Presence about them. But really it was just so Many Bottles of Cheap Wine spilled comically over the edges of their beards and blankets that rusted their surfaces. Truly rustic Individuals they were indeed, but at the Same Time pretty harmless ones - at least at this relatively Early Stage of Addiction.

"Damn, Judy, was there Any One on that Beach you didn't Fuck?" They continued to talk easily a Dozen Years later in a Room in Cincinnati Ohio, Judy's Wine Bottle resting on the table Between them.

"But Judy, You never were around when I wanted you." Ahh, poor Baby. Abandoned at Two and still seeing Loneliness Everywhere. The taste of Absence. The Absence of Mother's Milk, the Pacifier. The One Substance so necessary to promote Tears and Forgiveness completely Missing. Gone and replaced by a Pale Substitution, the Insipid Formula of Institutions.

"Maybe it was Because You Never Needed Me. Did You Ever Think of that, Fred? I wasn't Your Mother! I needed a Man. And besides that, the Cab Driver didn't want any Money from you, did he? I mean, I only brought him Home so he could show You and Eddie the Way Back to that Kid's House I stayed at the Night Before, because I knew that you Two would want to know about all the Pot he had at his Place."

Judy was Right. The Cabbie really didn't seem so anxious about collecting his Fare once his Paranoia subsided. He too seemed Content to sit for a while sipping Whiskey with the Men, as the Sea Gulls and their Songs began to Sound surprisingly like an Invention of Charles Ives. Back and forth they flew, casually tossing their cacophony over the Heads of the Men and the Woman. And Way Over the Heads of Everybody Else Within Listening Distance.

Still the Cabbie wondered about the ludicrous Scene he had stumbled into, the Now obvious fact that this Woman and these Two Men really did Consider this Vacant Lot to be their Home. When they had first approached the Place he thought that the Woman was joking, but Now he could See Beyond the Novelty of the Situation and Far Back into the Living Room. Thinking about this, he Discovered he was Happy they had invited him in for a Drink.

Actually it was Fred's Place. He lived on the Plot of Ground like the Settlers of Old plopped Down after a Day's Journey and pitched Tent. For a Number of Reasons he had taken to Living Outside for the Past several Months. The Drugs and Alcohol had begun to undermine his Fragile System and replace it with a Dereliction. On the other hand, he Chose more and more to emulate his Partner in an Art Effort that was becoming more of a Criminal Act the more they practiced it. The Streetwise and very Public Ed Newell could Fool some of the People some of the Time, but Most Everyone else could see that he was Dying on the Vine. Still, he had the Forethought to groom Burkhart as his Receiver. That's "protégé" spelled the Correct Way.

Then too there was the Mystery that Revealed itself to Burkhart's Soul as it Penetrated the Translucent Fog of Moonlit Nights to find him there Alone in the Sand, the Pacific Ocean breaking its Waves not 200 Feet in the Distance. Oblivious to the People and Animals and Rats, strolling and lurking and sniffing, not more than Ten Feet from his Head as he reclined or sat in Silence against a picket fence that separated him from the Folks next door.

In any case, this was Home to Burkhart, and as Real a Home as he'd ever known. As True a Home as the great Homer ever Hinted at in his "Tales of Brave Ulysses." But then it was still a Lifetime of Homelessness no matter which way you spelled it.

It was not Long After Fred moved into the Open Air that he met Judy, and not Too Much After that until she followed him Home to Live Happily Ever After in the Land of the Kharman Ghia, her first act of wifely penitence being to gut the little Machine and Convert it into a Master Bedroom. The Station Wagon would have been roomier, however it turned out to Serve a More Excellent Function as a Closet to house the Ever Increasing Possessions the Two were collecting as they set up Housekeeping.

"God, I remember that Station Wagon, Fred... I mean, We used to keep Everything We had in it, like a giant walk-in Closet!" Judy used to "shop" regularly at the Free Store. Back then the Hippies tried to Make it all Free by providing Food and Clothing Depots operated by the Diggers and dispensed out of the backs of brightly painted School Buses and Volks Wagons to One and all, regardless of Race, Gender or Religion. Which proved that there's a lot more to shopping than just plain old buying Things.

"Yeah, it was Twice the Size of the Ghia, that's for Sure." Judy insisted on owning and storing - but never wearing - Dozens of Out-Dated Bras that she kept as a Reminder of her Days as a Topless Dancer in the Hollywood Hills.

Judy's Innovations added a Dimension that had previously been Lacking in Fred's Life, and with each New Day the Place was beginning to feel a lot More like Home. Here was a Place where they could lay their Heads at Night, frolic and fuck until Dawn if they wanted to, drink Down and Throw Up the Rest of the Time. It was a Place to Hide Themselves away from the World. A Place to Dream their Dreams of the Future and Beyond. A Place to Feed their Fears to One Another for Regurgitation, to Give Purpose to Each Other's Anger and Frustration. At Last, a Place that Fitted Precisely into the Empty Spaces they called their Lives.

And thus and of such Stuff was their Love made. It was Created Out Of the same Vast Emptiness the Two had always Known but now had decided to Nurture and Share. In Time the Love would also Expand the Two of Them so they could Begin to step Outside Themselves and share Each Other's Needs. But it all turned out to be just Vanity and Emptiness, removed to a Higher Power. Words Forever Lost on Eulogizing One Another.

But it was definitely Love all right! Probably Still Is. It was a Love that met all of their Needs as they arose. In fact, this was the One True Love that continues to Operate Everywhere in the Universe the Same. It not only provides for One's Needs, it is the Very Need itself. The One True Love which placed the Desire in them in the First Place is what is was! Oh yeah, their tiny Needs were being met all right, their Daily Bread was at the Table on Time.

In the Beginning they Desired Nothing, because a Loving Creator gave Everything to them. Everything. The Original Desire and the Object of the Desire. All of it a Gift. Ahh, but that's Never Enough for Lovers, is it? It wasn't Enough for them to Possess One Another. Now they had to Possess Desire Itself. And so it was that they eventually stepped Out from One Another, to Seek and Obtain More Desire. That was their Addiction and their Downfall, so said the Buddha of Old. It was a Very Foolish Attempt at Satisfaction. And So It Was, and So It Is, and So It Ever Shall Be.

"Sure We were! Mom and Dads were a Dime a Dozen Back in the Sixties. But then all that Hippie Bullshit about Communal Living didn't even come Close to the Truth. Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden Alive and Well at a Hippie Commune?!"

"I'll give you a Clue, Judy. About Adam and Eve. That was a Pattern and it was a Very Good One Indeed. Our Real Moms and Dads were supposed to follow it for the Best Possible Outcome. It was More than a Pattern though, it was a Mathematical Formula, like E=MC2.

"I'm Serious, Judy. But it was a lot simpler than that, like A+B=C. One Plus One Equals Two. The Original Alphabets contained only Numbers, not Letters. These Ancient Peoples Composed their Texts with Numbers, not Letters, as they measured their Place in the Universe. It was All Measurement and Mathematics and Stuff like Geometry and Algebra and Calculus, but they didn't call it That. The Hebrews just Spoke it. It was Aleph Out Loud and Beth in the Beginning. The Greeks had their Alpha and Omega, while the Egyptians just painted Pictures and Hieroglyphics about it.

"Eddie was plugged into the Same Incredibly Fertile Moment in Time that Our Ancestors were when Someone came along and took a Chance and Combined the Pictures, the Letters, and the Symbols into Words. And then came the sudden realization that when they spoke these numbers in a Connected Fashion they induced Tangible Feelings to the Surface. These are the Sensations that provide us with Revelations and The Truth about the Universe. We use Language Today to do the very Same Thing. Or so we should. Only the Times They Have A Changed. Add it up, Judy: In the Beginning Was the Word, and that Word Became Flesh and Dwelt Amongst Us."

"You're getting closer, Judy! Jesus! That's the Name. That's another one of the Formulae. But Jesus is Much More that a mere Formula. He is the Key that Opens All Formulae."

"Don't laugh, Judy! That's exactly what those Hippies tried to do. Use a Pill to get through the Doors that kept Opening up to them. That's why you don't see the hippies around anymore. They all Disappeared behind The Doors, never to come back and tell anybody about anything. Instead, like their Feminist Heroine Alice, they only woke up to go Backwards, Back Home to Live Out their Parents' Wishes for them."

"Yeah, well when We were their age Elvis was the King and the Pink Flamingos Strutted Boldly Across the Papered Walls that We called Our Lives. Who really gives a Shit?!"

Judy was a lot like Jesus when She Spoke. If you could Follow Her. Or if you can Follow Him. Then You Realize Every Breath as a Step in the Right Direction. And you can always find Some Body just Hanging Around and Dying to Record the Very Next Word on the Matter.