[ Friday, March 05, 2004 ]
I'm nostalgic tonight. I'm gonna tell stories. Cause I think they're funny. Actually, this is inspired by Sam & a conversation we had tonight. Ever notice that people who run in the same circles tend to think that everyone outside that circle has deep-rooted mental issues? Maybe it's just my clan. Maybe it's due to isolation. I think I'm psycho-analyzing too much & I have no right to. Anyway, this one time....at band camp....nah....just fooling. I'm not musical. It's more like 'This one time in the hills of Eastern Kentucky, home of the infamous Blue People, Blackburn Pyro, Fuzz, Dan, Canyon Falls Ghosts & other local legends....
The stories:
The Blue People. Reportedly, there are several clans of blue people in Eastern Kentucky. One family is, I believe, located in Hazard, Ky. The crew I've heard about reside on Furnace Mountain in Stanton, Ky. I read a report that one of the Blue People actually attended Eastern Kentucky University for a while & while there was subject to numerous test & research projects. I can't remember where I read this. The Blue People get their name due to the transparency of their skin. The blue veins show through coloring them, uh, blue. A lot of people think this is due to inbreeding which I've read is not true. Apparently, it's due to a deficiency of something? which makes their skin transparent. I really don't know. But sometimes I like to act like I do & then I go and forget what they're deficient in & end up sounding like a total ass. Anyway. Our fascination with the blue people began in '96. Stanton was our stomping ground in those days & Billie, Andrea, Sam & I would load up faithfully in the Purple Camaro & make our way to the Holy Land. We were the shit. We thought we were the shit. Why were we the shit, you ask? Because Billie had red hair, I had blonde/brown streaks, Andrea was a hippy in a homemade hat, Sam was 15 hanging out with 18 y/olds, we were cruising a purple '70 something camaro & dudes in Stanton did not yet realize what dorks we actually were/are. My God, we were ahead of our time. Anyway, in Stanton we began hearing stories about the blue people. Who they were. Why they were the way they were. Where they lived. How you could only see them after dark. How they didn't come out in the sunlight. How Ricky Sheesh or Nathan or Bob or God or Beaner had actually seen one of them with his own two eyes. After dark of course. In the path of one or two high beam headlights. We started driving Furnace Mountain after dark. On a mission to spot one of the night loving blue creatures. We stayed on the main roads. Up and down Furnace Mountain. Hopeful. Scared. Not wanting to hear "Squeal like a pig boy (or girl), Squeal!!!". We never saw one of the blue people. Though we've talked about them since or read reports of them on the internet or heard mention of them in quaint classroom conversations and been able to say 'Yeah. I've heard about that. We used to look for them.' Sadly, the blue people never appeared for us.
Dorks. Yeah, we were dorks. Although at the time we embraced our dorkiness, reveled in it, shouted it. Which, by default, made us cool. ( I think. I'm still undecided.) 1994 or 95 Mission Impossible came out with the Tom Cruise cliff-hanging scene. Suddenly we were fascinated with being government agents, dressing in black suits & wearing wires. We purchased sets of head phones which we deconstructed & reconstructed into ear pieces that slithered into our black blazers. Purchased cool, new black shades. Decided we were going back to school on Monday, dressed as such. Outside we were laughing & saying 'Man, this will be so funny.' Inwardly we were thinking 'Man this will be so F-ing cool.' By F-ing, I mean frigging. The actual F word had yet to enter our vocabulary though frigging was pushing every limit set by man, Ellis Miller Jr., Linda Bowman & God. We skipped out of class to walk the halls. Although we actually never skipped class by just not showing up. We had important errands to attend to, had to work on the yearbook, had to do some shit for journalism, work on the set for the musical or do some assignment for the principal. My point? We got out of class legit. Billie & I strolled the halls. Ducked behind rows of lockers with our hands pointed in gun fashion. Made sure the coast was clear. Communicated through nods of the head & our fake ear pieces. We took that hall row of locker by row of locker. Ducking beneath classroom windows & moving past open doors with a shuffle of the feet & pointing of our gun hands. We stalked the assistant principal, laughing hysterically when he finally saw two forefingers emerge from the behind a cold grey metal locker, followed by our shifty eyes as we peeked to see if the coast was clear. He either thought we were creative geniuses or had severe emotional/mental issues. I'm still not sure which. But we had good laughs that day. Especially when I convinced a dim-witted fellow classmate ( I'll call him Brian C. ) that I spoke eight languages, five of which were made up on the spot. He asked for it. He turned around at his desk and said in his heavy unthinking accent "Hey, you recording me or something.?' I replied "I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you." He said "Hey man, can you, uh, hear across the room with that thing?" I played along. It was fun. He was fun. Especially when, maybe a year or two later, that same Brian C. fell asleep on the first row while we were doing our school's production of Hello, Dolly!. I sat on a couch in one scene, with Tammy Hall & Darrel Ballard. I was the matchmaker. It was one of those set-ups where the actors in one scene freeze while the characters in another scene do their act. Tammy, Darrel & I were completely frozen on the couch. Tommy H. & Dustin A. were in the middle of their gig set in the middle of a general store. During their scene there was supposed to be this big explosion with Dustin & Tommy emerging from a mock basement shortly after. Brian was asleep on the front row. I was supposed to be frozen. The explosion happened. Brian jumped up from his seat. Grabbing his head and hollered "God! What's going on!?" I could have died right there in front of everyone. I couldn't stay still. Spotlight on me and everything, I couldn't help but laugh & shake cause he just absolutely cracked me up. I'll never forget seeing that from that vantage point. It was perfect. I saw him years later at a ball game with a beer gut. He still cracks me up.
Entertainment back in the day was cheap. Hell, it's still pretty cheap.
There was the time I was almost removed from my home & sent to live with a foster family & had to lick my arm to prove that I wasn't being beaten.
World Civ. was the instigator. Boredom the cause. We had to do some project in a group & it involved several packs of Crayola markers. Billie, Tammy, Jodi, Andrea & I were in the same group. We finished our project early being the blooming geniuses that we were and are. One of us discovered that you can create a really nice tint on your arm if you dab a little yellow then wet it down and blend with spit. We all did it. Right in the crook of our arms. We decided we wanted track marks for the day. I added a little green & blue to the inside. Just inside the yellow with a random edge. I blended well. Then I added some purple to the very middle & some more along the edge of the blue & green. Again I blended well. Pretty soon I had the most kick ass bruise ever created in the history of man. So what did I do? Just like a Lay's potato chip, you can't stop with just one. I added bruises to my forearms. Huge random bruises. With yellow to indicate that older bruises were beneath the newer, more purple bruises. I dabbed some on the inside of my upper arms. And just for effect, I bruised up the opposite arm just a little. Then class broke & I went with Tammy to Algebra in Mrs. Neal's class. I made sure I looked real down. I kind of moped when I went in. Pretended to talk real seriously with Tammy. Then I asked to talk to Mrs. Neal. I pretended to cry. I showed her the bruises. She started to whisk me away to the principal's office. I laughed. Said 'I'm just kidding.' Then licked my finger, rubbed the bruise and showed her how it disappeared. She was FREAKIN' AMAZED. Mr Story, the assistant principal knocked on the door. She said "Let's get him." She told him she had a student that needed to speak with him right away. I walked to door, heartbroken & down-trodden, oppressed beyond belief. I showed him my arms then pretended to break down muttering "Last night, we got into an argument." His face turned all serious. He grabbed my hand, leading me away from Mrs. Neal & toward the office where I'm sure social services would have been called. I dug my heals in the white & blue flecked tile. Said "No. NO. LOOK." Then I licked my fingers again & showed him how the beating disappeared. I said "See, it's crayola." He shook his head then kind of chuckled. Again, he thought we were either creative geniuses or emotionally disturbed.
Later, Mrs. Neal got a kick when Tammy & I disrupted the class directly opposite our Algebra windows. We held up signs that read "Help, I'm being abducted by aliens." The students thought it was funny when we popped up in the window with our bright green signs. Mr. I Can't Remember His Name did not as we ducked back down when he neared the window to see what in the hell was so funny. Eventually we stayed still & let him read the signs. But only after his class had lost all focus on History for a good 20 minutes.
My history. My growing up is laced with all sorts of tales like this. Shit, the early part of my adulthood (and by that I mean up until this day) is laced with stories of this kind. Most people are still undecided as to whether we're creative geniuses or emotionally/mentally disturbed. I think if you're in the inner circle you've already decided that we're creative, funny brilliants who'll do anything on a whim if it involves having a good time. If you're on the outside loop, you might shy away from us when we walk by or hide all your prescribed medicines when we walk in the door. I myself have not decided which diagnosis is correct.
But I can say, I've laughed more in my short life than any one person should be allowed. And it doesn't take much to make me happy. Or to say that I'm having a good time. In '98 a bunch of us were sitting in a parking lot talking typical 20's jargon. Lenny, Ricky, Andrea & a bunch of us were there. This girl started talking about her boyfriend. How he was so good to her. How much he loved her. He had given her his classring. It was a big deal. She said, almost hopelessly "If I could give him the world I would. But I can't." Then she sighed and looked at her class ring. I was sitting on a concrete parking bump. It hit me like this sudden truth & I looked up at her & said "That's not true. You can give him the world. You just have to give him the world through your eyes. Alter his perception & let him see it how you see it. Make it new." Lenny & Ricky said something like...'Damn Beck. That's the coolest shit I've ever heard.' We started really talking after that & I felt really proud of that moment. Like something mundane had been altered. And we had taken the typical sitting around bullshitting atmosphere & turned it into something more. Like maybe we had transcended. I wondered at that same time, how many similar conversations were being had in a parking lot somewhere in some city.
But really I felt that almost every time we came together. The faces would change. The activity. The venue. More people in this field. Not as many around that campfire. But the conversation always became really deep & about something. About something real & vital & important. Usually focused around living. Living a good life. Living in the moment. Without fear or hesitation. Living fully. And truthfully. And uncovering. Revealing what is hidden about ourselves. What is true & good & maybe even bad, but just is.
I felt comfort with those guys. With Ricky, Lenny, Jeremy, Kelly Dawg. And the girls with whom I actually grew up--Billie, Andrea, Sam, Tammy, Tammy, Lisa.
I've had more good times than anyone could ever ask for. Surrounded by people who just knock my socks off, in one way or another. Each of them brilliant in their own peculiar way.
Much love,
~ Rebecca 11:52 PM [+]
