Monday, July 30, 2012

Legendes - Excerpt, Red Paint Volume 1 of 3 - Patriot’s Day Monday April 19th, 1991 “Hold your ground men. Do not fire unless fired upon. But if they mean to have war let it begin here.” Captain John Parker. April 19th, 1775, 4:45AM.

THIS WAS INSPIRED FROM THE RE-TELLING TO T IN CHI COURTESY OF J W G AS A WITNESS, CRUSH ME SUMMER, LONG LIVE GRETTA WE SAY NICE FOR PETE'S SAKE, VODKA AND COLLINS PLEASE 4 LYNX. :) LOVE U'ALL Patriot’s Day

Monday April 19th, 1991 “Hold your ground men. Do not fire unless fired upon. But if they mean to have war let it begin here.” Captain John Parker. April 19th, 1775, 4:45AM.

<If there were two words that my mother dreaded throughout my high school career, they were April Vacation more specifically Patriots day. The incident this year would cement the paralysis these two words invoked annually. It was the biggest day of the year in Astori.

If I couldn’t believe that Hasan had Donnie Walhberg’s beeper number clipped facing inside his jean pocket three weeks ago, I could never believe my entire career almost ended, again, on this day, April 19th, 1991. Patriot’s Day. And this time the culprit wouldn’t be a riding lawnmower it would be DYS, the worst three letters a JD and aspiring hoops / rapper ever wanted to hear. I’d never see Astori again.

But I didn’t know any of that on the morning of April 19th, 1991. All I knew on that morning was we were 9-1 as Freshmen playing basketball and that was the affirmation. I figured we test running the table next year as JV, I’d get called up with a couple others for the state tournament. I had a set of friends, a widely known gang called UNLV and the best rap connection in Boston. I was happy outside of this story a full-blown, run away panic attack.

It was also spring our first April vacation together in high school. We kept taking more risks not feeling the full bite of consequence for our actions we took more risks. And for all of UNLV, freshmen year would serve as a low point for GPA. The rope of having a clean slate and the freedom attached to that revealed our true maturity level. We were no better than 6th graders. I’d already broke the c-note for detentions. And life was happening. This April vacation would birth another “incident” while giving an even greater feeling of invincibility. After this week we were resolve in our ability to keep everything self-contained. If we did this, magic some traumatic news ensued. After all you can’t get away forever.

Fact: April 19th is a big day in Astori, a big day for Boston.

A national landmark here in Astori one of only five places in America where an American flag could by law could endlessly fly ala Iwo Jima or Alamo. Even at first glance it was a double take. The man defined greatness in America. The statue of our captain was about a solid five feet tall. Perched on top of a circular brick wall that sat about four feet high his muscles showed a farmers tone. Holding his musket he bears the face of a farmer throw into war, yes Star Wars borrows from the American Revolution.

Sometimes if I was creased at Jesus for whatever reason I would ask Captain John to let him know I’m not ignoring him but I’m just not praying to the fraud again until something good happened In the front of the monument just under his feet lay a stone fountain baptized every spring by robins and bluebirds gave a peaceful air to the historic battleground. Scattered around and about the Green stood Churches, grand Victorians, picket fences, colorful flower gardens and a better living dotted the palaces that bore naturally if they even detected a scent of the sweet smell given off from Astori’s blessed centers circumference.

On the backside of the green in between two of the churches the first women’s college in the country stands. Restored as a national historic site it now houses a family and only a plaque outside would clue any outsider into its profound significance. As we continue to wrap ourselves around the Green (the grass is like Fenway Park) we come to Buckmans tavern. For this was the local tavern in town at the time of the revolution. This was the site where many of the townsmen were that very morning. It was Astorians that were hiding Adams and Hancock. They wanted our leaders and guns. It had been brewing, and this was their big red play, one if by land two if by see. It’s so ill. And Paul Revere went on the ride of his life in the middle of the night and the rebellion started in Astori just like that * (snap).

The original Minutemen the men the men that were ready for war in a minute.

And in the end, on this canvas, cultivated in the shadow of a British monarchy that raised a country, we, just by living, bathed in its origins. Loyalty had a genetic effect on me, just being there, loyalty to Star Wars, to the rebellion and us. Going to class with basketball over was not enticing, having a choice against a risk-reward system spread thin made it hard not to crank. In other news my gang UNLV kept a status quo within a number of generally understood gang practices. These routines help keep us viable, I felt. All my friends had serious mental problems that made me forget my own. The combined dysfunction had garnered all sorts of mostly negative attention and disgust. But we didn ‘t felt that together we were happy, Monster always reminded us of the cardinal #1 truth next to deny, deny, deny, we gotta stick together. This would be a Patriot’s day to forget to remember only to re call a lesson.

Patriot’s day represented the momentous and world famous reenactment of the first battle of the American Revolution on the town’s storied center Green. Ten Thousand people made it festive.

It was Patriot’s day! An utter delight of a day here in Astori and I want to ruin it.

The angle:

Since we were now free from the chains of having to go to such events with our parents we’d flex our freedom. We’d see them there. That is if they were still so bold to wake up at quarter of four in the morning to attend the famous re-enactment that apparently we were still interested in. This was unlikely but cover was everywhere. You had the ringing of the Belfrey Bell which started at 3:30AM. You had the pancake breakfast, the shot heard round the world and a town parade. I’d planned and received a dozen commitments from UNLV guys to meet up at Candy Castle @ 2AM. You were either able or unable.

1:45AM. Sneaking out of my 2nd floor window holding my breath, praying to Jesus dressed camouflage donning full body spandex, not to get caught. Deep breath, go easy, be still and move off of my back in the lonely black night dressed all in black this was to be UNLV’s most daring act of disrespect yet. Our target: Victorian mansions on Miriam hill, our weapons, rocks, escape pods, Adidas. It was so exciting just to see the fellas out together at this hour. We could do anything we wanted so in long as we never got caught and always denied.

When you’re coming up it’s always great to have your freedom, it’s what you treasure the most. It’s why the people will always come out to vote in a landmark Iraqi election freedom is an incredible thing.

“Scully!” One by one they all appeared 12 guys I’d shorted showed, 14 years old, 2 AM in then center of our beloved Astori. All-in it was a great escape a tremendous feeling of independence. And we had nothing, no license, no beer, no house just our unfailing feet when we parked our bikes. So we threw rocks the cheapest and most destructive thing we could do a reminder I thought to never become complacent. “Are you guys ready?” The amplification was bursting the seams of our teenage department in charge of checking such mania. “AHHHH!” In cadence.

We brought it in. “Let’s fucking do this now!!” Monster screamed and off we dashed into an early night that was as black as ALL strings @ the University of Miami’s football secondary.

There was a high premium on the zilla who went first. And as we trotted the houses rich with savings and American history we were all looking. I figured for once, I’d give into the temptation of the glory of the after story, the first rock on a holy day in Massachusetts, for Astori for America. I’d always talked kids into shit but the first was the 1st and mine to claim.

I launched a rocket like Dewey Evans, we sprinted, window shattered and another 1 and another 1. We become high from the happiness that we received in destroying things as a unit. Monster was especially frisky this AM of course he’s also really high from the two joints I disgustingly watched him smoke with Scully. Drugs are for losers , I was still convinced.

“I love nature walks oooooh, oooh, ooooh!” Monster, he had a tone like Flounder (Animal House) saying oh boy. Monster was rubbing his two hands together quickly like he found the two last sticks within scarce acreage that were needed to light a survival flame. So the kids could stay warm on a cold night. That was the focused energy and power that his laser like eyes pontificated joyously. Wrapping his handle around how stupid his thoughts were and then going down the list without disclosing our secret “day breaking” voyages, Monster revved up the crew. His self-confidence was non-existent and Monster only found happiness bringing pain to others and destroying the town, god he his squirmy ass loved violence. Including Stevey Lee out of the fifteen of us there were now four more court documented juvenile delinquents. “I don’t give a fuck!” I screamed in havoc like a drunk coming home after being out all night having lost the deeds to the house on a greyhound. Bam bam bam we were crossing fine lines. We split and reconvened.

And once re-aligned and fully activated a rock was thrown, another, and another and another and we’d race to another neighborhood, repeat and fall back in, right around the time the shot heard round the world sparked to life the famous re-enactment 4 15am. And like Harrison Ford in the Fugitive on Saint Pattie’s day Chicago, we blended in LIKE NOTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY MIGHT’VE JUST HAPPENED.

There were thousands of people out, trucks, hardware and cameras all preparing for the parade after the pancake breakfast. There have been half-dozen fistfights between us internally button pushing stuff we were jacked. Since the whole town was out we linked up with “normals” who were also out and about loving the joy of being out and about so early without their parents. We were young and hadn’t yet realized there the Hells An gel’s were shooting Herion @ Grey nun’s which was a blessing be3cause it wasn’t us although I knew my sister was there.

I felt so gangster once integrating into the massive public eye. I felt so fast. I had my cursive UNLV leader hat on and was only 14. I felt like I was 28. I had twelve kids behind me willing to embrace retardation.

And we shook hands this was Astori. Talking to a few yearbook girls until our Italian friend, football and classmate Pos short for Pasquelli scored us an invitation to this one legged Jewish girls house. This was a mistake, rolling through fifteen deep word spread quick of our penetration onto her houses grounds and we were all asked to leave. We knew enough almost a year deep into high school that parties were the difference same for our parents social protection. I’d turn evil if someone was dumb enough to let me in their house. I’d already become entranced with my own reputation.

We “buffaloed” her. We started laughing one louder than the next. We raised the fridge for food and beer drinking made us feel like Frank Sinatra .

“Guys seriously like, just leave already! Oh my god! I’m calling the police.” Bitch you must be out your god dam mind, I walked into the kitchen and slapped a flower vase shattering as it fell from the mantle. “You like that?” Emphasizing who she was with no adults around as well a subtly warning against calling the local police with a gang leader on the premise. SMASH!

Monster fell apart laughing and started a chain reaction, the bitch was screaming and crying and I just thought it was funny. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Finally we run out and Pos cocked back his arm and gunned a rock through her living room picture window ear marking our escape. This was the first time we made homeowner eye contact and didn’t runWe didn’t even run. Feeding off Jay’s electricity inspired ten more rocks. By then we were running. And right outside the center of town, in the middle of the day high volume carnage, window after window unprecedented. We were ahead of our time at the time when it came to new acts of destruction and disrespect.

It felt like a gunshot.

It was still so early and the parade was happening. We were in the center of town in absolute denial. We fed each the and like a family kept throwing rocks at a blistering pace, while this synergy might bode well for a trained sales force it was not the energy meant to encompass 15 misdirected white kids that favored blacks. We grew up on Goonies and I was going to make sure we actually took it back wafting though the idle ado0lcenst tools America bid and by it’s very nature inspired to unhinge.

Bam, Smash, Boom!

What were we doing? Again?

After leaving the party and de constructing the neighborhood fifteen of us jetted down a little side path, slipped a steep woodsy hill, hopped a fence and wham! We strutted right back into the parade like atmosphere of Patriot’s day parade and that of Astori Center hours later. Our imminent shuffle back towards the public brought an unforeseen run into the Fornicate brothers. “What a treat guys look who it is!” Assailing towards these fools all jacked and being the leader of the gang I stepped up and spilled his Coke Classic on his shirt right in front of his defenseless younger brother. The older kid jabbed something verbally. The rush of a feeling when all your dawgs swarm on a kid at the first notice of disrespect was one life’s great emotions. I was a gang leader, this was my gang and this was the type of afternoon shit gangs like us participated in. Kicking his kidneys thinking of spray paint I was laughing uncontrollably with Monster, Hank, Paul and Steve until my sneaker got scratched.

“This is a brand new insert for my Sky Jackers dumb ass. Watch what your doen homo.”

The next day and I had a most coveted item, a schedule.

The next day and I had a most coveted item, a schedule, we all headed to Kevin and Kim’s afternoon barbeque. I felt like we finally arrived. “Freshmen year is way better than gay 8th grade.” I’d say to Scully so excited that afternoon having a beer in the afternoon with him at a barbeque. “We’re growing up fellas.” Magic would come over and state. It was better than Junior High and the party tonight was freshman exclusive and we had allot to celebrate. It turned out to be the event of the year. And we broke windows on the short walk from the BBQ to the party. Our first full, alcohol infused all night lock down party for all of us. That night the gig was stormed but not raided by police and even Santo’s dad (little league) crawled the roof searching for just one window that even one tiny peek of ADD could’ve leaked. Police, parents and pets alike circled but we applied a basic Astori party principle. If the Cops show up, lock all of the doors, shut off all the lights and pretend to call an attorney. Even though complaints have been received on several occasions from almost all of her neighbors they couldn’t break in the house. Not without just cause not in Astori not then. The party was a first for almost all of us very juvenile drunk. Hand molestation on any girl passed out with gongs sprung a hint of wood when receiving a nice dose of Tune in Tokyo.

“All night long, all night, all night long.” Lionel Ritchie.

I used to bargain with Jesus bartering infinite lawn mows for the one ability to freeze time like Zach in Saved by the Bell in the 7th grade. Just to touch the boobies. Santo ate cat food, the house was leveled, parents were on roofs, drugs took another quick step forward in the race to smoke crack and for us surviving UNLV members that stayed live and kicked the night away, it was even with great impending consequence very much worth it. We would never have to do something for an older kid just to hang out and have a life. That party was slamming and magic and I followed Scully upstairs and watched him merrily enter a private room with his girl Alley. As door closure became apparent we nestled our ears to the doors rear surface. With minutes Alley was screaming to “get it out of my hair! Losing it we fell through the door dying in the very worst way. From there we’re all called out to break up a Santo gorilla snap against a UNLV member. Santo was winning albeit bleeding and I wanted it to go on. Of course we broke it up and this pre cursed his cat food munch. It was high pussy, fight, beer action for six straight hours truly a Tiger magazine behind the music episode. Break ups, ego, depression, pills, pop music and self-pity. It was our first major score on the party scene. Stories were the benchmark as to how classic and parties undoubtedly I figured could take the legend into a movie. To take everything from Astori and live like Marlon Brando was my only ambition. Kim’s twin brother Kevin did the traditional white thing, ate acid with dared others and watched the Wall. I had a panic attack in five minutes just sitting in there sober, I’ll never ever take Acid

That next morning watching the sun come up with my Monster, Magic, Scully, TR and Santo it was finally time to head home and face the music. I was lucky in the fact that my mother was sick and my father hadn't been heard from in a week. The other guys would get it much worse. We’d all been caught in a lie and brought Goldy’s babysitter crashing down. The story of this party was already live on the Astori wire. In high consumption we returned all the beer cans and received about thirty in cash. We all head out for a Friendly’s breakfast before facing our mothers, relief, mine was always good about the big stuff. The little shit was worse and more Mclean’s (FN) and at my dojo it really wasn’t much ado. Leaving the door open while urinating would’ve caused a bigger explosion than this little cutey bahgudy, I was tired. I couldn’t sleep and for the first time in my life snaked one of my mothers Zanex for nothing more than to assist me in a solid sleep in my crashed X-Wing. I smiled twisted thinking how bad it was. After all I hate drugs. Sorry about that shit today Jesus just kids stuff, Amen yo

“It was a decade of a thousand parties.” F. Scott Fitzgerald. i Grew up younger than all of ya'll.... it does me credit and brings me down just the same, stay balanced fam!~

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