Kelly and I did not see each other again until a krill-fated night with the Hollywood cuts, namely Sativa Hemlock, one of the two Hemlock sisters, who had been torturing me since the 11th grade, and her gentle giant spouse Karl Vorkin, a Serbian six and a half footer with the hands of a skilled watchmaker, who could build anything with style and a flair of genius as subtle as his humor and grace...We were to go to a sushi clip joint where there would be something like 15 nibblers and with the energy I could taste that morning, the neutro-fill anticipation that coated my tongue said this very night was going to be ballistic, because frankly any night that included myself and a Hemlock sister was going to get filthy because there was always this shared Luciferian mischief between us that was sometimes chemical, nearly always sexual, and often times just short of suicidal...
The big birthday celebration of the giant Karl Vorkin, with fifteen screamers present, including immortal boyhood first friend Aaron Daney and my twin cynic soul the actor Gus Loon, who was everyday emerging from the world of the dead, ready to weep, who could buckle the knees of any mature woman with his French Canadian Kerouac but curly good looks and a Russian novelist honesty...yes, Aaron and Gus were both there, as was Hemlock 1 & her sidekick October, a lush 40’s belle damn madame there to support the image of absolute coolness...There was Scorpio and Trixie too, plus various other lost friends. And the minute we got in that place the damned sin began...I had scored a seat on the end middle, where my hind quarters practically hung off the edge to the table just below us, which held other offspring notables, of which The Jewess was one, dressed in her usual low cut loosish jeans with no underwear (I knew this because on the way in to the restaurant I had put my hand all the way down the back of her pants only to find skin skin skin) and a small and tight tanktop with no bra...from eye view, The Jewess had a nice handful of French tits, with semi-sonic nipples which were always showing to varying degrees due to the Jewess arousal principle...somehow out on that sidewalk I had been given the cosmo-permission to get intimate with her backside, because up to this point, we had never touched...
And so it went with me most of the time...I was afforded tremendous liberties on account of my brazenness and Venus smile—(mixed with high powered poison of the spirits)— Happiness from below (this long winded sexcapade) is sharp, but it is not lasting, and it is not sufficient to sustain the modern man, especially in America...”once a guiding light for everything new and progressive in the world.” And now? I was there. I saw. Waves of cynicism, pessimism, and doubt. Sex and greed. Merciless exploitation of the basest instincts...Yes, this was my starting point, the dead tail end of the dark kalpa...loafers, drunks, good family men, insensitive doctors, half insane inventors...and then, just base people working, coming home, watching television, bearing children, putting away horrible food, modestly dull, modestly cowardly, poached love and hatred both...
By the time things got rolling I had three bombers of beer and a few hot licks of sake down my throat, and with all the cast hitting their liens on perfect cue, I could do nor foresee doing anything particularly wrong, and in fact my standard for decent behavior had dipped so far below most of the fakers that I was virtually free to do whatever I pleased within visible law standards, so sliding my hand under my neighbor’s descending ass was my first stroke, and one she met with a mix of interpretations, one of outright glee and one of mock surprise... luckily she was a flirtatious wife, and her hubby had no problem with a little messing around...
And Hemlock, ever since the first day I knew her in Spanish level 3 in the high school was up to no good, or had the agenda of six witches both lovely and cool, a lure, alluring, lurid, diabolical, yes...was it her eyes? Her swotting occult voice? Able to control great groups of people with her aptly timid--genius really--barbs and questions, her asinine situations that are sodden with guttural human folly, tears, affairs, dreams, lawsuits, hangings, bloodlettings...really, there is no end to her creative imaginary lathes and blueprints and I love her to death for it because she’s out there breaking as many necks as she can, especially in her 15th and definitive edition of the enemy’s handbook, the greatest teaching text known to...(like all over the world there are trucks that run over good people at the rate of one a week.)...as I said, Hemlock Sativa was at it good from her head of the lap table nook, and this being Friday night, Karaoke night, that haunted pastime I found so revolting because I was so afraid of doing it myself with the sometimes falsetto/sometimes freakshow voice, the atmosphere had quickly turned from raucous derogatory to Caligula everywhere...it seemed that the hundred or so people in the restaurant were all maddenly drunk and festive, as was my humble table, and not forgetting we’re perched, and can see the tops of peoples’ heads, especially when standing up, which I was doing every ten minutes or so to show Tracy the wife of Scorpio my balls...
Tracy came from a long line of daring women straight out of Newport Beach California...and she was completely whacko, but in the greatest and sweet way...she could tell you to fuck yourself faster than your own buddhamind and then turn around and give you a sweet embrace or hear your sad story for hours on end with genuine ear...that was precisely why I was showing her my balls, I suppose out of gratitude but mostly because she could also laugh at anything dirty and listen to smut no end...The first time I got em out and left the rest in so that it looked like a flesh pear was attached to the front of my black pants...she nearly jumped six feet back (we were shielded by the backs of some standing friends, I made sure of this so there would be no arrests) and she pointed and guffawed and I laughed and played dumb, like what’s the problem, and she ran to grab Scorpio so he could see em too...apparently, this from a Vietnamese poetess from my past, I had large balls and some good hang...
-Michael Price
