1

Once upon a time and space

 

    There are things in this universe that are way beyond understanding, realms of unimaginable wonder. There are forces we can never know or even dream of. There are properties of time and space that escape our daily observation, colors and sounds that blend together into new entities. There are areas in the vast and distant regions, where realities are so far removed from our understanding, that trying to comprehend it all, would blow your mind, and somewhere in the universe…oh, let’s say…in the middle, someone’s imagination is returning home.

   The apartment above the old warehouse on Laurel Canyon Boulevard was what you would expect it to be for the location it was in. Old factory buildings of a once booming town surrounded the area. The broken windows were a reminder of their abandoned condition.  The apartment was big enough, but it was also drafty. The windows would rattle with the breeze and leak cold air in the winter. The steam heat would knock in the middle of the night as it hiccupped and jumped. The wooden floors were only covered with an occasional throw rug and the wallpaper was faded and ugly, but the walls were filled with psychedelic black light posters and Ronny’s artwork. Beads separated the rooms at the doorways. The smell of incense hung in the air. Fluorescent neon lit the posters with magic light. Mobiles of geometric forms moved in the air from a fan across the room. A card table and a couple of chairs by the window made for a small but efficient dining area. The mismatched furniture in the living room surrounded a large wooden spool turned on its side to be used for a coffee table.

   Through the window in the kitchen, you could still see the remains of an old outdoor stage on the riverbank where many an up and coming band had come through. Some of the bands even went big time. One day, the stage burned down from a flair- gun accident and no one ever cared enough to build it back up again.

   The TV was on, but the sound was turned down. The newsman on the radio was talking about a new comet called Kohoutek.

   “Ronny…Ronny, are you ok?”

   Kenny stood frustrated in front of the sofa where Ronny sat motionless, his eyes closed and his head laid back with his mouth open. Drool ran down the side of his cheek and into his beard. His head was bent back so far his neck looked broken.

   “Hey WAKE UP!”

   Ronny’s eyes popped open. He stared at the ceiling still motionless and seemingly unresponsive.

   “Hello? Are you in there yet?” Kenny said in a sarcastic tone.

   “Huh?... Yeah man I’m ok.” Ronny looked around to confirm his location.

   “Have you been astral-projecting again?” inquired Kenny.

   Ronny replied with a sheepish grin, “Just me an' Cid.”

     “Oh, great. Now you’re doing acid.”

     “I was all out of ‘shrooms.”

    Kenny shook his head in disgust. “Mushrooms, acid, what else are you doing?”

   “Nothing addicting.”

   “Well, how about dangerous?” Kenny interjected. “What if you decide to go fly off the roof someday?”

   “That’s why I astral-project before I get off. My body gets paralyzed so I can’t jump off the roof.”

   Kenny almost spoke, but instead he shook his head and walked toward the kitchen. Ronny followed him with his eyes. He waited a moment for Kenny to get a mug from the cupboard before he spoke.

   “I sold another painting yesterday.”

   Ronny knew this would calm down Kenny because it meant rent money. Kenny poured himself a cup of coffee. “How much did you get?”

   “Seventy five-bucks,” said Ronny as he reached in his pocket.

   “So you have some rent money then?”

   “Yeah, man. Here’s fifty bucks.” Ronny handed Kenny a wrinkled ball of bills. Kenny sorted it out with each face right side up and facing front.

   “You know the rest is due at the end of this week.”

   “I know. You’ll get it. You know I’m good for it.”

   Kenny was more relaxed now. He knew Ronny would have the rent. “I don’t know how you do it, but you do always come through…but it’s always just under the wire. It drives me nuts.”

Kenny sipped his coffee. He looked up at Ronny. “Which painting did you sell?”

   “The one with the pigs and ponies and drums.”

   Kenny shook his head. “That was one strange painting, man. Where do you come up with these ideas?”

   Ronny put his hands palms up and looked at Kenny from the side of his face. He let out a quick chuckle with a 'where-do-you-think' look.

   “Oh yeah,” said Kenny. “Astral-projecting with Cid. I wish you would stop doing that. It’s really creepy. Sometimes I find you and you look dead. Someday, you may not come back.”

    With a bit of a dumb look and a smile, Ronny replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll send you a postcard.” He couldn’t even finish his sentence without laughing.

   Kenny’s eyes rolled and went shut as a smile breached the serious look on his face. He set his coffee cup down. “I have to go to work, Ronny.” He walked toward the door. “Suzy is coming over tonight. Why don’t you clean the place up a little?”

   “Do you think Sharlina will come by too?”

   “She probably will. I’ll ask Suzy to call her. I’ll see you later.”

   “’K man. Have a good one.”

    As the door shut, Ronny could hear Kenny’s footsteps trotting down the staircase. He closed his eyes and put his head back. He was still tripping from the acid a little bit and he didn’t want to miss any of the inspiration.

 

2

Suzy and Sharlina

 

   By the time Kenny got home, the apartment looked pretty nice. Ronny had swept the kitchen floor and done the dishes. The living room was picked up and there was a table cloth draped over the spool. The black lights were on as well as the lava lamp. A pack of matches waited next to the sand candle in the middle of the spool that would be lit later that evening.  Ronny was working on a painting.

   “The place looks good Ronny,” said Kenny.

   “Thanks man,” replied Ronny as he dragged his paintbrush across the canvas.

   Kenny took the paper grocery bag to the kitchen and set it down. He took out a bottle of wine and put it in the refrigerator on its side. He put the pizza in the freezer and folded the paper bag and put it in the cabinet under the sink. He came back to the living room where Ronny was swishing a brush in a glass of black water.

   Ronny asked, “Did you talk to Suzy?”

   “Yes, and she talked to Sharlina, and Sharlina said she wanted to hang out, so Suzy said they would both be over around eight o’clock.” Kenny looked at Ronny. “I think Sharlina likes you, man.”

   “Yeah?” Ronny didn’t take his eyes off his work, but a smile grew on his face as his mind wandered. Kenny waited for a little more of a response that didn’t come.

   Finally, Kenny replied, “Yeah. So, you should get ready soon.”

   Ronny responded. “You’re probably right…Man, she may like me. That’s cool.” Ronny cracked a smile. “It’s a good thing my hair is getting good in the back.”

   Kenny smiled too. “That’s funny,” he said. Then he looked at the canvas that Ronny was working on. “What are you painting now?” He examined the picture.

   A background of a dark empty room with a window in the middle showed a night sky. The bright moonlight coming through lit the floor in the shape of the four pain window and on either side were two empty wooden chairs facing each other. On the window sill was an empty jar.  Kenny stared at the painting. “I don’t know why I like it, but that’s really good, Ronny.”

   “Thanks, man.” Ronny swished his brush in the water again and squeezed the bristles out with a paper towel. Kenny looked at the glass and asked, “How do you make your water so black?”

   “I don’t know,” replied Ronny. “All colors are supposed to make white, but it never works out that way.” Ronny looked Kenny in the eye, grinning. He took the brush that he had just rinsed and blotted it dry with a rag, stuck the bristles on the end of his curled tongue and gave it a spin. He then combed the bristles to a point with his fingers and set it on the edge of the table to let it dry.

 

   After Ronny got out of the shower, he trimmed his beard, tied his hair back in a pony tail, and put on a long sleeve shirt with a paisley pattern and a big collar. He left the top three buttons undone to show his gold chain and of course, the hair on his chest. His bell-bottom jeans nearly covered his platform shoes that made him about three inches taller. Kenny was a bit more conservative and dressed in a British style shirt with a sweater vest and striped polyester slacks. He dug out a pair of simulated alligator skin shoes he had gotten on sale a few months back in the fall. They were still like brand new.

   When the girls arrived, Kenny met them at the door. He took their jackets and hung them on the coat rack. Ronny was by his easel pretending he just got finished painting. Sharlina glanced his way and walked over to talk with him. Ronny was glad to show her his artwork which she seemed enchanted by.

    Suzy had brought a new record called ‘The Dark Side of the Moon’ which she asked Kenny to put on the record player. She warned him not to turn the stereo up too loud because the album starts off quiet. She followed Kenny into the kitchen while he got the oven ready for the pizza.

   Sharlina gazed at Ronny’s latest painting, still sitting on the easel.

   “This is really far out, Ronny.”

   “Thanks, Sharlina. I think you’re pretty far out too.” Ronny immediately wished he hadn’t said that. He felt stupid. Sharlina didn’t seem to mind. She smiled at Ronny and said, “Thanks.”

    She turned her gaze back to the painting. “What does it mean?” she asked.

   “Um…a lot of times I will paint something and let the observer decide what it means. This one, well…I’m not sure. I think it means something but I don’t know what… What do you think it means?”

   Sharlina thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It gives me a strange feeling…like…like an unresolved confrontation.” She continued looking at the two chairs in the painting. “Is it done yet?” she asked.

   Ronny hesitated. “Well…It could be, but I’m not sure.”

   Kenny and Suzy returned from the kitchen with a bottle and some wine glasses. Suzy sat down on the sofa. “Nice candle,” she said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a bag full of marijuana and a pack of rolling papers. “Would anyone like to partake?”

   “Roll it up,” said Ronny. He pulled a cone of incense from the desk drawer, lit it and placed it in the incense burner on the bookshelf. A wisp of smoke rose and a scent of ‘Nag Champa’ incense was soon in the air. Ronny also lit the sand candle, and set the matches down next to it.

   The evening went by nicely. The music was good and the wine and pot made everyone feel really mellow. Even Kenny tried smoking a little. He coughed a lot, but he said he felt something. The others knew he was high. They could tell. Conversation was light and playful. Ronny’s sense of humor had the girls laughing.  Then Kenny, with his arm around Suzy, bent to give her a kiss, and the room went quiet. Sharlina, with her hands in her lap and her chin in her chest, looked up at Ronny with a smile. Ronny put his finger under her chin and pulled her head up toward him and leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes and put her arms around his neck.

   In what seemed like only a few minutes, an hour went by, and the girls had to leave. It was after midnight already and they had to be at work in the morning, but they said they had a nice time. The guys walked the girls downstairs to their car. One last kiss and the car pulled away.

    “So, I guess Sharlina does like you then, huh Ronny?”

    “Yeah,” Ronny replied with a smile as his mind drifted. He watched the car as it disappeared around the corner.

    Kenny smiled at Ronny. “You sure have a way with words.” He chuckled and headed for the door. “Come back in Ronny. It’s late. They’ll be back again.”

    “Yeah,” said Ronny and followed Kenny back inside.

 

3

Made of clay

 

   Over the next few days, Ronny pumped out a couple more paintings to make rent, but the painting with the two chairs had found a place on the living room wall. He didn’t want to let it go. There was something about it that he just couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was what Sharlina said that kept him wondering. “An unresolved confrontation,” she said. Ronny hadn’t touched the painting since then. For the moment, until he could decide just what it meant, it was finished.

   With the rent taken care of, Ronny started another project. He had gotten some balloons of different shapes, some coat hangers and some string, a bunch of old newspapers and a bag of flour. He moved the table and chairs away from the dining area and spread out a large drop cloth on the floor and then proceeded to cut the strips of newspaper that he would use later. He still had his mind on the painting, and on Sharlina as well.

   Kenny sat on the couch and watched Ronny working on his art. “What are you making now Ronny?”

   Ronny was just a bit startled at Kenny’s question, only because he was deep in concentration.

   “Um…I’m gonna’ do a few things out of Paper Mache. I’ll use these wires and string for an armature and the balloons to make the frame and then cover it all with paper. “

   Kenny was interested. “Wow. That sounds pretty cool.” Kenny could see the thoughtful intention on Ronny’s face as he worked.  “You get a lot of enjoyment out of doing your artwork, don’t you, Ronny.”

   “Yeah, man. It’s a joy to me. It’s really relaxing. You should try it sometime.”

   “To tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking about it.”

   Ronny looked up from his work. “Well come grab it up. I got paints and pencils, pastels, paper. There is a canvas over there you can have.”

  “No,” said Kenny, “I don’t have that kind of talent. I would rather try some sculpting. You got any clay?”

   Ronny thought for a moment. “Um…Yes!...Yes I do. It’s on the floor in the back of the hall closet. It’s some stuff I had left over from a project I did last year. It should be fine. I wrapped it in plastic and stuck it in a shoe box.”

   “Do you care if I look for it?” asked Kenny.

   “No, go for it. I think it’s cool you want to try it.”

   Kenny got up from his chair and walked to the closet, found the box and headed for the couch.

   “Here, Kenny, that stuff is kind of oily. You should put some papers down.” Ronny handed Kenny some newspaper as he passed by. He spread out some newspaper on the spool and opened the box. Inside, he found part of an unused block of clay along with some chunks smashed back into it. He also found a few other items.

   “Ronny,” said Kenny, “There is a fork, knife and spoon in here. Have you been eating this stuff?”

   Ronny laughed. “Ha ha ha…No. I use those to sculpt with. You know…you can use the fork to make hair and stuff.”

   “Oh, I get it,” said Kenny. He pulled some of the clay from the box. It was cold and stiff. “This stuff is kind of hard.”

   “Yeah, well, you have to squish it around and get it warm and soft before you can work it. Haven’t you ever used clay before?”

   “Not since I was a little kid. “

    Kenny began to squeeze and work the clay. Ronny went back to his project for a moment. He looked up at Kenny and said “What are you going to make?”

   “An ashtray,” said Kenny. He smiled at Ronny. “No, not really. I’m not sure yet. I figured I would mess around with it for a while.  That’s why I wanted to try clay because if you don’t like what you come up with, you can start over.”

   Ronny thought about what Kenny said. It was true for more than just clay. He wondered of the painting of the chairs was finished yet.

 

4

Magic carpet ride

 

  The next morning, Ronny woke up late. He had tossed and turned through the night and his sleep was interrupted with confusing dreams. Usually, he only had dreams like that when he had a fever, but lately, he was becoming more consumed with the idea of an unresolved confrontation. Maybe there was something in his subconscious mind that had inspired the painting.  He thought that it really shouldn’t bother him. All of his artwork had been generated from some sort of inspiration or another, but this time, the origin was not clear. That is what bothered him the most. It was not the painting so much as the mystery of the origin of inspiration.

   He went to the kitchen and took apart the percolator to rinse it out before making a fresh pot of coffee. He was still asleep on his feet as he got the coffee going and then proceeded into the living room.  He walked over to the stereo and picked up an old Zappa album, but decided he would rather have silence until he got some coffee in him. Instead, he went to where his new project waited for him, and as he sat down, something caught his eye. An old mayonnaise jar sat on the floor right in front of him. Inside the jar were a few lumps of clay. Ronny picked up the jar and turned it back and forth to get a better look. From a certain angle, it looked kind of like a baby with its large head and its short arms and legs folded up next to its body. “Wow, that’s kind of creepy.” Ronny mumbled. Kenny was still working with the clay after Ronny had gone to bed, and, apparently, left it for him to find in the morning. Ronny didn’t know any other reason why Kenny would leave the jar in the middle of where he was working. He set the jar back down on the floor.

    The room was quiet, but the silence was not pure. He could hear the sounds of traffic outside and the clock ticking on the wall.  From the kitchen came the intermittent sound of the gurgling coffee percolator and the smell of fresh coffee.

   Ronny continued cutting newspaper. His mind was preoccupied, still bothered by his sleepless night and the dreams he had. The sounds around him slowly faded away as he continued working. His mind drifted. Why did this mention of confrontation bother him so much? Was it something within him? Was it something between him and someone or something else? Was it even real? Maybe he was making way too much out of the whole idea. Maybe there was nothing to it at all. Ronny glanced up at the painting on the wall.

   The scissors took a nip from his little finger on his left hand.

   “Ouch!” yelped Ronny. A moment later, his finger was bleeding and dripping on the floor. “Oh, man that’s gonna slow me down…Oh well, I guess I’ll put a little of myself in this next project.” A crooked smile formed on his face while he reached for a piece of newspaper to wipe his finger with. Blood dripped into the jar of clay. “Aww,.. I’m getting it all over the place.” He grabbed the jar, got up from his chair, and set the jar safely out of the way on the window sill. Ronny went to the bathroom where he got some alcohol to clean the cut. He put a band aid on it and went back to the living room to continue cutting strips of newspaper. This time, he would pay more attention.  Or perhaps, he needed a little more inspiration. He set the scissors down.

 

   As Ronny chewed on the mushroom cap, he began to relax to the state where he felt he could leave his body. Of course, he knew that all he was really doing was relaxing his mind so much that he could imagine himself anywhere he wanted. He got himself ready for meditation. Some people might have used a Yoga position for this, but Ronny’s favorite position was to melt into the couch with his feet on the spool and his head back.

    In a while, he could feel time compressing. The ticks from the clock seemed farther apart. In the mist of his imagination, he could feel the weight of his body melting. The sounds around him became distant and merged into a single note, like a cosmic unifying frequency that blended everything into a singularity of space-time. He could see himself lying back on the couch as his imagination lifted to the top of the room, up through the ceiling and out to the roof. Higher and higher, he lifted into the air above the old warehouse. He floated, cloudless and starless, over the city. He could see the cars and people and hear the sounds of the traffic that moved below him as they melted into auras of color and vibration. He felt a gravitation pulling him in the direction of the garage where Kenny worked.

    He had never been inside the garage before, but he had been past it many times. Kenny always talked about his job and the guy he worked with, but that’s all Ronny knew about the place. Now he was above the building. He looked down to the roof. He began to hear the clatter of metal tools and the harsh sound of music coming from a cheap transistor radio. As if a fog lifted, he was suddenly inside the garage. As he slowly drifted a few feet above the floor, he looked around the shop. Its dirty white walls were covered with fan belts and wiper blades, gaskets and shelves filled with cans. One wall was covered with tools hanging by little silver rods. By the door to the front reception area, next to the drinking fountain, was a toolbox that said “Bulldog”.  Above it was a clock with wrenches for hands and a calendar with a girl standing next to an apple red 1973 Mustang. A large guy in a jumpsuit was taking a tire off of a rim in the corner of the bay. There was a car on the lift and someone was working on the engine from below. It was Kenny. He was struggling with a hose clamp that was in an awkward position.

   “Hey, Bulldog.” said Kenny. “I had a really hard time getting this hose in place and I don’t want to let go of it. Could you hand me that other screwdriver on the bench? This one is too big.”

   “Yeah, just a sec.” Bulldog dropped the bar he was using and walked to the bench and picked up a black handled flat head screwdriver. He handed the driver to Kenny. “Here you go, Kenny.”

    “Thanks, man.” Kenny proceeded to work on the hose clamp again. “That works better,” said Kenny. “I need to get this hose down tight.” Just then Kenny let out a yell. “Ouch!” The screwdriver dropped to the floor.

 

5

Home again

 

   Ronny’s eyes popped open. He was back in the apartment. Sweat rolled down from his forehead and his heart pounded so hard that he could hear the blood surging through his ears. He sat up and looked around to reassure himself that he was back home again. He had never come out of a trip so hard before. His finger throbbed with pain. It was bleeding again. He must have bumped it while he was out.  It was probably the moment when he imagined Kenny yelling “ouch” that he bumped his finger and that, most likely, is what snapped him out of his trance.

   Ronny contemplated what had just transpired. The intense reality of this particular trip was more so than he had ever experienced before. The details of the location were sharp and solid as likewise the sounds he had heard. It was so different this time, but Ronny had never gone on a trip with something heavy on his mind before. That and the injury to his finger must have intensified the illusion so much that it seemed real. He looked up at the clock. It was going on five-thirty. He had been out for hours. Where did all the time go? It seemed like he was out for only a few minutes.

   Ronny got up and went to the bathroom to clean his wound and put a new bandage on it. He could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Kenny was home. Ronny went to the living room as Kenny came in the door.

   “Hi, Kenny. What’s up?”

   “Oh, you know…another day another dollar.” Kenny sat down and took off his shoes. “What did you do today?”

   Ronny stammered for an answer. “Well…I got up late…and I worked a little on my project… but that’s about all.”

   Kenny realized that there was no music playing. That was unusual for Ronny and he could detect something in Ronny’s voice that was not normal. “Are you OK man?” asked Kenny.

   “Yeah…I just had a really sleepless night. I got stuff on my mind.” As Kenny unzipped his jumpsuit, something caught Ronny’s eye. On Kenny’s left hand was some white tape wrapped around his little finger. Ronny’s heart gave a hard thump and his stomach turned. “What did you do to your hand Kenny?”

   “Oh, I stabbed myself with a screwdriver at work.”

   Ronny felt his knees go weak and his face went white. His mind was overwhelmed with confusion. How could he have imagined what really happened to Kenny? Did he really leave his body? He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say anything to Kenny about it. Kenny wouldn’t believe him anyway but he felt he better say something. Total silence would seem suspicious. He finally spoke. “I bet that had to hurt.”

   “Yeah, it didn’t feel so good.” He hung his jumpsuit on the coat rack. “Do I smell coffee?”

   “I made it when I got up. It’s probably old by now.”

   Kenny went to the kitchen. “That’s OK,” he said. “I could use a good strong cup.”

   Ronny didn’t want Kenny to see that his own hand was injured in the same spot. He felt sick. He went to the living room and sat on the couch. Sweat began to form on his forehead. Kenny came back in the living room with a cup of coffee and saw Ronny looking very weak on the couch. “Ronny, are you sure you’re OK? You’re lookin’ pretty bad, man.”

   “I’ll be OK…It’s just a dizzy spell…I just feel a little faint.” Ronny tried to keep his left hand out of view, but it seemed obvious to Kenny that something was up.

   “Are you hiding something, Ronny? What do you have in your hand?”

   “Nothing, man.” Ronny felt backed into a corner and he knew that he better at least show Kenny his hand. He raised his hand into view. “I cut my little finger today.”

   “Well isn’t that a trip? We both hurt ourselves in the same spot and on the same day. Does that bother you? I mean, you look really physically sick. Did you get something in your bloodstream?”

   Ronny figured he had better tell Kenny about the mushrooms. That would at least explain some things and keep Kenny from asking too many questions.

   “I did some mushrooms today.”

    Kenny looked a little disgusted for a moment. “Well, that’s probably it. You probably got hold of some bad mushrooms.”

   “Yeah…that’s what it is.” Ronny agreed. At least that would satisfy Kenny and stop the questions, but only the ones from Kenny. At this moment, questions were flooding Ronny’s mind. Questions he could not answer.

    Kenny continued. “As far as us both getting hurt in the same spot, well…it’s only a coincidence. What else could it be? I think it’s kind of funny, myself.  We like the same stuff.” Kenny started counting on his fingers. “We like the same TV shows, we have the same record albums, we like the same breakfast cereal, same food in general, really.  Green is both our favorite color. We even have the same taste in women, and now we cut the same finger. Heck that makes us boo-boo buddies.” Kenny smiled.

   Ronny forced a smile and chuckled. “Yeah…Boo-boo buddies...” Then with a half-sick cross-eyed smile, he said, in an exaggerated tone, “Right on man!” He gave Kenny a ‘thumbs-up’.

   Kenny laughed and said, “Well, I’m gonna’ hit the shower… What’s for dinner?”

   “I don’t care.” said Ronny. “Whatever you want is fine with me.” Ronny felt some relief that this confrontation was over, at least for the moment.