End of the first of two nights sold out at the State Theatre. I spent time with an extravagantly high and happy Al tonight, following a self described “No ass went unkicked!” show.
I hadn’t (no-one had) seen him earlier today at sound-check – Then with much dramatic flair, Ministry was fully fleshed in time for Al to switch up the set list, 10 minutes before they took the stage. I’m figuring that the tension this last second song re-sorting creates in the band must be on purpose. Comfort would seem to have no place in a live Ministry gig.
After the show, the band are cavorting in the green room, drinking and smoking with a few giddy Industrial Metal connoisseurs. It’s a curiosity to see these tatted, pierced, leather-bound, and spike-studded ghouls, being so fucking polite. Especially when the pirate himself, Al, drifts through… It’s like they’re all 6 years old at the zoo seeing a Tiger for the first time, and they’re not sure if the want to play with it, or hide in mommy’s skirts.
But before there’s any photo op’s, “Alien” moves quickly to the bus. I follow.
I should have suspected, but did not know, that Al is extremely well read. We talked authors, from Foucault, to Faulkner, to Huxley, to Blake – And on that last one we stopped a short while, while Al took the pause that turbo-refreshes.
Al gives me a look, like: “Way too obvious dude…” And I stop video-taping the scene.
This is the first time since I’ve been clean, that I’ve been arm’s length (yup, same poor unflaggingly game to be perforated arm) from this IV shit. My dope brain is struggling to assure my self-preservation brain, that this is all some sort of “aversion therapy.” That, witnessing via both telephoto and extreme wide angle, this bloody-veined mess will further convince me to stay away. And it kinda does, but I fortified my resolve with a couple long pulls off his whiskey bottle.
In real life, Al hangs with William Burroughs and Timothy Leary, not just because they are a part of junkie mythology, but because they are all alike. I suppose they all feel they have way too much to bring to the party in almost every intellectual sense… so they just dope-dull it down to one sharp more enjoyable and more sociable blade.
The reality of substance “use” vs. substance “abuse” must be determined, each party animal/whore for him or her self. And so for me… Not today at least, on the dope tip.
I do drink too much booze. A troubling fact, if I’m claiming to embrace the whole gift of life. And I’m told many, many times how drug addiction and alcoholism are the same disease.
So… Comfy hotel again, no call-backs from other band member’s hotel rooms again, mini-bar boogie again.
Sphinctour dialogue of the day: Between lead guitar Louis, and 2nd guitar Zladco.
Zladco: …I know you won’t say you do, but you think it.
Louis: I don’t.
Zladco: See. But you do. You think there’s good and evil… But I don’t.
Louis: Yes you do.
Zladco: I don’t. There’s no good, and no bad, there just is.
Louis: Hitler? Stalin? That’s not some evil shit?
Zladco: I don’t believe it is. No more than an earthquake.
Louis: An earthquake doesn’t decide to kill. (the bus brakes rumble)
Zladco: We stopping? Thank God. Where? Not Denny’s… Lord help us!
Louis: See…who you praying to?
Zladco: Not just your mamma… but, all pussy. (indeed, the bus pulls into a Denny’s lot)
Louis: And you deny, this is hell… Breakfast served all day… that’s a fuckin’ trick of the devil!