The King, The Queen, The Cure

Sunday night, April 19th, 2009, the eve of 4/20. 105 degrees daytime temperature, 80 degrees nightfall. The grand finale of Coachella… and its Jonnie King and Er-Er.

It is still a mystery of how we made it to the show after the two prior days of obscured drug use and halfway schizo-paranoia state of insomnia due to rampaged dilapidation of our corpses, but when you have a motivational factor such as myself, Jonnie King on your side, you will never say no.

With literally no voice left, no ability to breath through my nose, I felt as if I was running off the fumes of ’69 Dodge Dart that had no gas in the tank, where I was on about three hours of interrupted sleep in the past two days.

Our hotel room at the Riviera was checked out by the Fred Flintstone look-alike Irani we were staying with. We were broke with little to no cash, just a vehicle, and a few different mind altering narcotics- namely two tabs of high powered blotter acid.

Off we went to finish our epic mark on Coachella. Come six forty-five p.m. we arrived at the grounds to hear the Yeah Yeah Yeahs with “Zero” playing from amidst the long walk of destiny.

We had: Two water bottles filled with mouth-burning Commie-water, a couple tabs of Lucy, three Tamales, an eighth of Cali homegrown, a gram of Charly and a little over a hundred bucks for whatever else we could get our hands on.

We had a good buzz going on by the time we reached the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. A group of beauties from the previous night appeared and we decided to set up shop and mingle. After all, this was our game plan at this point; we needed a couple of women to stay the night with because there was no way in God’s given creation that I was driving the Silver Bullet all the way back to Holly-hood in these conditions.

The performance was amazing. Karen O really gave us all something to talk about. But the group of beauties were even more amazing. We had Mom, Uncle John, Mississippi, Clouds, Rabbit, and the Queen, besides myself and Er-Er.

Clouds begged and pleaded for a Tamale, and I insisted to the reluctant Er-Er that the only way she was receiving this offering was for him to drop with me. After a few moments of skepticism, he stuck his tongue out and the night began. The Queen followed by begging for my second Tamale, but at the moment I saw no need to heel to her wishes. The interest was not sparked… yet. Thinking nothing of it at the moment, we got up and ventured off.

Off to the Sahara we went to catch some time with Christopher Lawrence and the rainbow people. Along our journey we stopped to admire some of the most magnificent attractions Coachella had to offer. The man-made lightening exhibit really helped jump-start the trip. Ever see lightening on acid? If not, I suggest you do. Then to the wooden wonderland; where intricate architecture and music meet face. Alas, the Sahara. Lights, great beats, and colorful pill poppers. Surprisingly, we ran into a couple of cool friends of ours- Mr. March, and his good Bunny, yes thee Bunny from The Big Lebowski.

“Open your mouth”,

And the green pill I was granted by one of the rainbow people was swallowed by Mr. March. Thirty-minutes after, we were off to witness the quintessential-essence of the festival: The Cure.

It was just about time to peak. As fate would have it, somehow, someway we ran back into the beauties. At this point we come to find Mom had eaten some mushrooms, the Queen had found her pill, and Rabbit swindled her way into VIP. Clouds was rolling… HARD. The anticipation was setting in, and we joyously awaited the arrival of the headliner, all in good company.

A quick strum of exuberance came from about the fog on stage. A second. Then a drum. And the lights flare on. Clouds started to rave with me and Er-Er, then out of nowhere the Queen grabbed me.

“Can I have some of your Tamale?”

Thank god for the Blackberry Storm. Besides the fact of its benevolent incapability, it has a great blow face. Half the Tamale’s content were dumped onto the screen, and down the Queen’s shoot it went. Pure ecstasy.

“Watch out,” Clouds stated.

“It’s strong shit.”

“The End of the World” Kicked in, and so didn’t the drugs. On the snap of a chord, the Queen and I fell into each other’s trance, and if I was to ever feel that special moment with someone at first site, this was it. Her beautifully robed sixties swimsuit attire really excited the situation. From the backside, her cute little ass stuck out through the bottoms just enough to mix class with erotica. The sunflowers in both ears, and her sun-kissed golden hair illuminated the halo around her. She looked into my eyes and saw her knight in shining armor.

We danced as if no one was watching, but in reality, everyone was watching. We were the most beautiful spectacle right alongside the music… In unison with the music. Every beat, every chord, every melody we hit perfectly as our bodies moved to the breeze in the air. I noticed through my peripheral vision the spectators admiring us. The audience was snapping photos left and right, and it was of US. It vastly elated the moment knowing so many onlookers were admiring us. Simply put, we were a highlight reel for the pill poppers and standouts. If you were looking at us, you were saying,

“Wow, holy Jesus, these two really get it.”

We lay on the grass and became one. She spoke out some blurb about how beautiful everything was and how much she loves Coachella for this very exact reason we were sharing. There could not have been a more perfect moment for our first kiss. It was one of the most spiritually binding moments I had ever shared with someone.

“You’re a Libra aren’t you?” she asked.

“You guessed it right baby.”

“I knew it! I am too!” she responded.

If this was not enough coincidence for you… while trying to ooze out some of my machismo to win her over, I mentioned how we got backstage for TV and the Radio and proceeded to show her my picture gallery.

“Wait, go back! That’s the back of my head!”

“What the hell?” I flipped back.

“It is! That’s mine and Mississippi’s head!”

Too much coincidence going on here now. This must be fate. What I had left of my harsh, raspy voice whispered,

“I feel as though we are the only ones in the Universe right now”.

She went in for the kiss, “That’s because we ARE baby.”

Her kiss was all the ecstasy I needed.

At this point we were both peaking beyond imagine. We both lay on the grass, bodies sprawled out, holding each other’s hands staring into the sky. I threw my Ray Ban’s on which only intensified this affect.

Here comes “Just Like Heaven”, and the show lights illuminated the sky for the most beautiful spectacle I ever lay witness to. We touched, we shared. Every light, every noise, every instance of life became one for us. The only quick distraction that took my focus away was the sight of Uncle John jumping up from his solitary position of the night, grabbing his glow-sticks and dancing into the massive abyss of the crowd.

Then Rabbit popped out of nowhere and turned my trip into something out of The Doors. She frolicked above me and snapped her hair to the crack of a whip. Hovering over me, she moved her body like a lifer from Girls Girls Girls on Sunset Blvd.

I was so drained at this point that my vocal chords were fully depleted. My voice transmissions turned into little typed haiku’s on my Blackberry. The Queen loved it, and she spoke.

“One day. One day I will hear your voice.”

Shooting stars, and dreams akin, all that was not reality, was for once, reality. If you could ever imagine a perfect life experience, this was it. The Queen and I lost a sense of reality and confided in each other for every sense of realism we could find.

In all my concert hopping days, The Cure put on one of the most amazing performances I have ever had the pleasure to view. They played for over two and a half hours and showcased three encores. After every encore Robert shouted,

“The Cure!”

With a quick fist pump and a big scary smile on that fat, worn-out grill of his.

I cannot forget to mention Porl Thompson was presented as Elizabeth Taylor from the grave. Gotta love it!

At the end of the night Coachella literally shut The Cure off and they CONTINUED PLAYING. After Encore One, The Cure refused to die. In the middle of Encore Two, the speakers went off, but onstage amps were still powered. The energy was amazing.

Security Rails knocked down, and the crowd fleeted for the stage. I grabbed the Queen’s hand and we darted for the front. Up on the shoulders she went, only to put a perfect fairy-tale ending to this epic performance. We all sang to Boy’s Don’t Cry as if it were our own masterpiece. I, along with the few survivors in the crowd became one, and we fully understood “The Cure”. Memorable, unforgettable but better yet stated… LEGENDARY.

Now of course the night was not over just because the show was. After a long-but not lost search for the Silver Bullet in the masses of unmovable dust-mobiles, back to the Riviera we went, as Er-Er proclaimed,

“Jonnie, let’s go get our old room back!”

Three-Thirty A.M. arrival, with no concierge awake, we pulled off one of our best feats to date. Since the hoards of L.A. party-goers, and non-appreciative show-goers, went back to LA-LA-Land to catch a quick rupture of the early bird catches the worm theme on non-reality, we knew no one was staying in our palace. Ingeniously requesting to security that we were locked out of our room, they fully obliged to let us in without question.

And yes my friends, the rest was history.


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