Pee-wee memories

Having the opportunity to begin re-watching Pee-Wee’s playhouse, it caused a bunch of very visceral memories to arise.

Around 85-86 (I can’t remember precisely the year, you’ll see why.) I was in very bad shape emotionally, spiritually, physically. I was strung out, a drunk, as well as ingesting as much psychedelics as I could get my hands on. Yet I was hanging out with a lot of intensely creative artists and musicians, and some really beautiful, yet fucked up beings. Fer instance this is when I met Uncle Bunny. He and I were both a little off kilter at this time as I’m sure he’d be the first to admit. The DEA and AAPD were constantly chasing me and my friends around. Various people were dying, getting big jail time or turning over on the rest off us. All the crazy stuff that happens in such a scene. However I have some really good memories as well:

• Getting super fucked up with Michael Davis and singing “Child of the Moon” and other Stones and Bowie tunes together in his dingy little apartment on Division.

• Rolling around on the floor at Arrowwood and laughing so bloody hard I finally just peed myself. (Kids --only try that at home).

• Hanging out at the lake, tripping just so hard, watching meteor showers and feeling like I really had a deep soul connection with the humans around me instead of feeling isolated and completely cut off like I usually felt in that state.

• DeadElvis and his evil twin Vic who were some of the funniest, cruelest, sharpest wits ever and kept you dying with laughter while performing amazing feats of prestidigitation which looked great when you were psychedelisized.

• Oddly enough even the memory of being drunk off my ass with Steve and Nikki, and one by one throwing a couple cases of empty beer bottles and some of the furniture into the middle of Thompson Street. Then having to hide in the woodpile for an hour while the cops sniffed around, just seems really ludicrous and entertaining from this side.

• And I had my friend Selm, who I was (at least) half in love with and half annoyed as fuck at, his life of total privilege, the way everything seemed to just fall in his lap as well as being a marvelously talented artist and artisan, really good looking, and who ended up taking over my business when I became just too fucked up to manage it. So much that so I ended up with a huge debt to him (thanks for taking care of that Chad, wherever you are).

And more, tons more, painful, humiliating, sweet, bittersweet, enlightening and ridiculous scenes that I hope I never forget.

I love a good (made up) ritual and this was the Pee-wee ritual:
Selm and I would almost always end up hanging out at his efficiency on W. Madison by the end of every Friday night. We would make sure we were well stocked on everything and just hang out all night doin’ whatever was at hand. Usually there would be a third or fourth person, frequently Uncle Bunny. The ritual was to drink and whatever all night, but make sure you stayed up until Pee-Wee came on at 10:00 am. When it was about time for Pee-Wee every one left would cuddle up in a puppy pile and get all snugged down. Watch Pee-Wee, laughing our asses off for the last time that day/night/day (whatever you would call it). Then finally pass out.

And I remember now, how every time he would walk over to the ironing board, to open the secret compartment for his bike, my heart would start just aching. Another Pee-Wee was over, another day/night/day like never before and never again was over, the buzz was dying and in 8 hours I’d have to wake up to little or no money, to go wandering the streets to find some. Face the fact yet again, that I was pretty much reduced to just another crapped out, lowdown junkie whore until I could get fucked up enough to ignore it for another week.

I remember Pee-Wee getting banned, it happened not long before I did as well. It had gotten to the point where I was a real danger, in oh so many ways, to myself and others. There was very little fun anymore anyway. I don’t know, maybe the people who were not on the shit list were still having fun. As I would sit by myself in total poverty and squalor, becoming more and more paranoid and wrecked, I certainly imagined that they were all having all the fun without me.

But, so, I was watching Pee-Wee those first couple nights it was back on, and I was shocked at the sudden heartache I felt when he walked over to that damn ironing board.