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Charleville, Arizona

from E​.​I​.​E. by Love Chaos

/

about

Crystalization of the crystal clear kind … Charleville, Arizona … sister city … unbeknownst to either town … to Charleville, France. … The kindness of strangers … strange similitudes and sarcastic situations seemed the best way to start. … Enough shit was smoked to soften the blows of Time … for now … and the Saints Sinning Swerved into the Sun … so take a load off the cargo ship and jump overboard yourself.

Smear campaigns smell nicely next to the Factory … the quaint yet arrogant Arizona tin foil known as Charleville … and all it’s excitements … awaited my heart … tongue, tip of toes, and fingernails … faster than any snail could travel to Tennessee and back. … The Bar at the End of the Road reared it’s ugly rear end … but it was attractive in it’s own way.

Well, no … But I … a Seer … had that power within me that all Martian Moon Based Mystics had … I made everything worthwhile … turned boring crap into art … Flat Land Into Mountains … Silence into Music. … Thus was the Job of any Backwards Eye or Third Eye Mystic … to See.

So this bar at the end of the road … and so aptly named thus … seemed one of the last family-owned businesses in Charleville ... Not that family-owned automatically meant quality … mind you … and often … unfortunately … for them and for us … the grave of family-owned businesses are marked by a self-destructive streak on the part of the owners …

… but not for Corporate Communards … who, when something or someone was not performing up to par … they were terminated … they were low in quality.

Small town Gentrification was across the street and nearby neighbors on the same side … McDonald’s, Taco Bell, Subway, Denny’s, etc. … The Bar looked like a log cabin … a toy log cabin, though … with logs that seemed more plastic than wood …

Inside the Bar were six people … three old men sitting at the bar counter … an elderly couple at one of the tables … and the bartender. … The three old men paid me no heed … but the elderly couple stared at me with Kangaroo Vagueness … yet Ice-Cold Cola Intensity. … At the same time they shot the vacant laser eye beams … each lifted their bottle of beer slowly … evenly, orderly, slothly, slovenly … as if in a locker room of Chinese chess players.

The bartender glanced in my direction … uncertain, nervous, almost afraid … but refused to acknowledge my existence for several minutes. … I sat at the bar and was there for a while in expectation … not waiting for Godot … but waiting to place my order. … The bartender was obviously busy with the high volume of customers.

While waiting for my church churl … I looked at the décor of the establishment … deer hunter’s gathering and beer drinking theme throughout. … Dead … frozen … framed … amputated some … others entire bodies … of Deer along the walls … everywhere. … Deer hunting was here then.

Mountains in the distance I noticed not too long ago off the freeway … with forested hills therein … thus the deer called that home … for my perception of Arizona was one large desert … it was the desert state … with no foliage whatsoever. … Well, all these dead deer on the walls contradicted the Desert Is Everywhere image.

What else adorned the walls and halls and ceilings and floors and all and all? … Not much else. … Some relics of the past … some excursions into the present or near past … some codification for clear-cutting the future. … Advertisements for Budweiser, Coors, and Michelob … from the last 20 odd years.

Not many but some photographs of real people … local people must be … townsfolk fond of each other … enough to take pictures together anyway … New Year’s Eve Party … the last day of 1995 … was framed with Party Central Tags. … Inside the frame and in the photo was a none too suave attempt … they took the picture from a distance … thereby revealing the empty space of where people should have been … at showing how much fun they were having that New Years in 95 …

About ten people were all drunk as could be and making faces and poses of the most idiotic kind … utter and complete desperation for fandom of any kind … Poor saps … poor sods. … Sold on the Network’s Netherworld of Nothing. … Other pictures sold their solidity and stoic system. … Deer hunting, of course … some of fly-fishing … some of birthday cakes … some of graduation ceremonies … a few celebrating the opening of Wall Mart … back 4 years ago.

- What’ll you have, son? … The bartender asked with a put-on tiredness … yawning after he asked me. … He truly was uncomfortable with me being there … risky nerves shot through his veins … even a slight shake … twist … turn in his hands. … He then sniffed … loudly, roundly … then sniffed again and again … with large, irritated, red nostrils. … Ah. … He was a snorter. … By his complexion … must have been some cheap local Arizona coke … desert snuff. … Before I could answer his question … he realized he forgot to check. … Sorry, son … I just remembered I gotta ask you for your ID.

- No problem … I retorted … and quickly pulled out the desired document.

- Thank you kindly. … So, what’ll you have?

- Do you have any Arizona beers?

- A what?

- A beer from Arizona.

- I don’t know what you mean. … All our beers are from Arizona.

- No, I mean a beer made from a company out of Arizona. … Some local beer company … not Budweiser, not Michelob, not Coors.
He began shaking … twisting … turning his wrists … hands and shoulders … his nerves over-taking him considerably … closed-caption style … with the undated carpet cooling required. … He then sniffed and sniffed … louder and louder … then collected an enormous amount of mucous in his throat … whereupon the wicca treatment from before sauntered into the sunlight … cans carved out cavemen … and he spat out a large spit nugget into a tin bucket behind the bar counter.

- I don’t know, he began … sniffing and shaking … what sorta code you’re speaking … but I ain’t got nothing you need nor want, son. … Ain’t anything I have to offer you nor do I have the proper connects to send you in the right direction.

- What’re you talking about? … I said … laughing and chortling.

- Huh? … The weather in West Berlin … I know there’s no West Berlin anymore, but –

- Yes there is … it’s just portioned off like hamburger patties and French fries –

- Right, exactly … my own sense of the situation over there … whether or not it’s true, that’s exactly how I feel.

- Sure.

- But when West Berlin borrowed all your William S. Burroughs books … I began to throw seeds into the corner of the farm … just to see if any cows would grow there.

- No, you got it wrong. … It’s boars …

- Eh?

- The animal, a boar … is what you’re thinking of … not cows. Cows fall from the sky during springtime.

- Not sure about that. … You’re an arrogant fellow, aren’t you? … Out-of-towner obviously.

- No, I’ve been inside this town before you were born. … Charleville, France was where I was born … as Arthur Rimbaud. … But enough of that. … Listen … it’s best you asked Henry the 7th and not 8th … about the Plantations. … I know he ruled before the Plantations could get started let alone the Americas be discovered, but there were already plantations of a similar nature in England, with slave labor and owned slaves, but most were in Africa.

credits

from E​.​I​.​E., released September 30, 2014
Words, Music, and Vocals by Derek Hunter

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Love Chaos Los Angeles, California

Love Chaos (Derek Hunter) has released 9 albums on Bandcamp:

- Black
- Love and Death
- E.I.E.
- Black Light, White Dark
- Life
- Waiting for Amanda
- Surrealist Saints
- Major Arcana
- The Light and the Dark

He has also written and published 5 books.

For more info go to -

www.love-chaos.com
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