The Flu is still hanging in there, like a guy who is taking too long to finish his last beer at closing time. He doesn't wanna leave and the bartender is getting ready to throw him out. I think today will really be the last day of symptoms, and then by tomorrow I'll be mostly back to normal except for lingering congestion, which takes a couple extra days to clear up. I'm itchin' to feel like myself again. I haven't even done my walk for three days now (Good Lordy Moses, Ad!)
"Ad has gotta get back out there" - You.
That could be considered The General You or Any Specific You who said the above, and I certainly agree with You, so screw the flu. Tonight it's out the door.
No church this morn, as previously noted. Just more rest & reading. I did watch a movie - a good sign that things are getting back to normal - and it was a documentary that I'm sure you've heard of : "Beware Of Mr. Baker" (2012), about the life and career of Ginger Baker, the great drummer from Cream. This film got a lot of publicity when it was released because it was accompanied by a lengthy interview, maybe from Rolling Stone (not sure), in which Baker lived up to his image of an irascible tyrant and provided many controversial quotes about his musical peers and against the person who was interviewing him. I was expecting the same persona in the film, but he is really very calm for the most part, as he reflects on his life and career. Except at the end, when he hits the filmmaker in the nose with his cane.
What I was most impressed with is his drumming. As I have mentioned numerous times, I have been listening to music since I was a small child, and by the time I was 7, I had my transistor radio planted firmly aside my ear for the better part of each day. There was a new band being played in the Summer of 1967 : Cream. I was most affected by the song itself - "White Room" - and I loved the sound of the guitar, but as was mentioned in the movie tonight, you couldn't help notice the drumming in the song because the drummer wasn't just keeping a simple beat. He was playing "around" the music. It sounded like jungle drums, and as it turns out, that's exactly what it was because Ginger Baker's major influence was African drumming.
There are many reasons to see this movie. One of them is to see the unpleasant "character" that was featured in the Rolling Stone interview, but that side of Baker is not much on display here. Mostly, his nasty side is related by others close to him, in stories from the past. He is an old man now, and a former heroin addict. Life has taken a toll on Mr. Baker, but he is tougher than nails, and that is the real story. That, and his absolute love of drumming and music. I've been looking for live footage of Cream recently, from their original incarnation in '66 to '68, and I've been very impressed with what I've seen, astounded even. The live playing of those three guys set a standard that few have matched in the years since. It sounds like controlled chaos, or a jet engine taking flight. So that's "Mr. Baker". Watch it if you have an interest in the history of rock music, or even as a story of human interest. I found Ginger to be a gentleman to have sympathy for, rather than to be shocked by.
I very much want to get back to my examination of "D" and his Starter Pistol, and my overall examination of the minutiae of what I am now referring to as "1989". It seems that drugs play a large part in the roles of my friends in the overall scenario. I won't go into depth tonight, but I want to say that "D" has always been my friend. That is not in question here, but at some point in "D"'s life, "D" got involved in some serious cocaine dealing. "D" became involved with a bigger dealer named Gary Patterson, whose name I mention because I name all violent criminals in the 1989 scenario. Gary Patterson is one such person, though he is not important tonight. What is important is the cocaine, and where it was coming from.
In the 1980s, I lived a naive life. I thought I was the "hardcore" one in our crowd, doing speed in the early 80s, and then taking diet pills and smoking pot and drinking gallons of beer for the rest of the decade. But in retrospect I was nowhere near as hardcore as some of my friends were. In fact I was a straight arrow in comparison.
"D" dealt cocaine out of a music studio he rented in Sepulveda. He got his cocaine supply from the aforementioned Gary Patterson, a sociopathic drug dealer who figured very large in the events of September 1989. It was rumored at the time, by another friend of mine, "F", that Gary got his supply of cocaine from a person named Eddie Nash.
Google "Eddie Nash" and see what you get.
My friend "F" was even closer to Gary Patterson than was "D". Both "F" and "D" were heavily involved in cocaine in the 1980s. "F" was addicted to it, and "D" was selling it to a slew of regular customers. And both got their coke from Gary Patterson, who very likely got his larger supply from Eddie Nash, or someone just a notch or two down his supply line.
As I mentioned, I thought I was hardcore because I snorted speed in my early twenties. But I was nothing compared to my buddies, who I don't see much of anymore, and who will not talk about 1989 at all.
We will be discussing "D" and his Starter Pistol very soon, perhaps tomorrow night.
See you in the morn. xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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