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stephenjaymorrisblog · 6 years ago

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Love In Hell

By Stephen Jay Morris

Monday, February 25, 2019

©Scientific Morality

It was the Summer of ‘69 and I was all of 15 years old. Life, at that point, had become a major exploration trip. I’ve laid out the details of that summer in my manuscript entitled, “Hidden in the Rotunda.” This article focuses on one Monday, that of July 28, 1969.

I went to my first Love In at Griffith Park, which took place at the popular “Merry-Go-Round” area, in 1969. During the Summer of Love, back in 1967, there had been a Love In at this exact location. By that time, the term “Love In” was laughably passé. About 500 people had shown up, clad in their head shop-slash-thrift shop, chic clothing, posing for the news media. The gathering was comprised mostly of art fart types who hadn’t had enough time to grow their hair long. But some of them had long sideburns and the females were sporting Carnaby Street fashions on their svelte, white bodies. Groovy, baby!

A couple of years later—1969—the unwashed masses amassed in this hilly, city park. Not only did the so-called Hippies show up, but there were also Bikers, Chicano gang bangers, homeless people, Krishna devotees, drum circle freaks, Anti War activists, Black Panthers, and New Left activists. It was an outdoor party and it was freaking me out, man! Oh, yes—the pigs (cops) showed up in full riot dress.

I don’t recall how I initially found out about this event. Maybe it was through an ad in the L.A. Free Press, or a friend had told me about it. In any case, I went. It was summer vacation and what better way to spend it than by going to my very first Love In!? I asked my friend, Philip, if he wanted to go, but his parents said “No!” My parents? I just told my mom I was going to visit my friend and I’d be back in time for dinner. What I didn’t tell her was that I’d be with a few thousand friends! My dad, well he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what I did on vacation. Matter of fact, the longer I stayed out of the house, the happier he was; shit breath didn’t love me at all. Only my mom cared.

It was mild for a summer day; the temperature topped out at 71 degrees. One thing I hated about summer in L.A. was the humidity. It was typically cold in the morning, so you’d end up having to carry your jacket around almost all day. I remember wearing a work shirt that once belonged to my grandfather. In knew my dad resented me for wearing it, but he never said anything. Go figure.

I left my house on Martel Avenue. Looking north to the Hollywood Hills, there was the familiar, brown haze of smog. In the wintertime and early spring, and sometimes in autumn, the view of the hills was crystal clear. Once, a few years earlier, I saw snowcaps on those hills, just after a rainstorm.

I walked eastward down Beverly Boulevard toward La Brea. I was planning to take the public bus to the event, using my student discount card. I wore my Levi’s jeans, a black Tee shirt, and black deck shoes. I’d put on boxer shorts as well, although a lot of “hip kids” didn’t wear underwear. I had my grandfathers work shirt on over my Tee shirt.

Now on weekends, buses kept different schedules than they did on weekdays. They came just once every hour and stopped running at midnight. By then, the oil companies had ruined public transportation in Los Angeles. I waited and waited on the northeast corner of Beverly and La Brea. Four gas stations flanked the intersection: Texaco, Chevron, Exxon, and Gulf. L.A. was indeed a “car town.”

Hitch hiking was the standard “hip” mode of transportation. It was viewed as an expression of collective sharing among your brothers and sisters; just like sharing a jug of wine or a joint. Taken to the extreme, there was the sharing of your boyfriend or girlfriend in the name of “Free Love.” As a rule, I didn’t hitch hike much. Middle-aged perverts who wanted to suck my cock would often pick me up. On the other hand, I didn’t want to wait another hour for a bus, so I stuck out my thumb and hoped for somebody who was heading for the same destination as I was.

Ten minutes later, a 1949 VW Beetle ambled up the street toward me, a trail of smoke behind it. At the time, a lot of young people painted their VW bugs with colorful floral designs and symbols, such as the Peace sign. Well, this little car was a real wreck! It looked like it had been entered into and ejected from a demolition derby. One taillight was cracked, a door was taped up, and the paint was peeling with age. The body was covered in dents.

But, you know what they say: “Beggars can’t be choosers!”

The door opened and the driver asked, “Griffith Park Love In?”

I said, “Yep!”

He jubilantly replied, “Get in!”

A passenger closed the door behind me. The driver looked like a college professor from the 80’s. He was a white guy in his 40’s with shaggy, curly hair and an unshaven face; his specs sat halfway down his nose. The radio was on; a vintage A.M. model with one speaker. It was tuned in to some Top 40s station; a teenybopper song was playing. I think it was “Baby I Love You.” When it ended, the DJ announced loudly, “That was Andy Kim! Going up the charts like a shooting star! Now the news! Headlines: Nixon says 25,000 troops will be withdrawn out of Vietnam in a couple of days!”

What I hated about VW Beetles was that noisy, sputtering engine and the smell of gasoline. I prayed we’d get to our destination soon, before I got asphyxiated! Thank Buddha, somebody lit up a doobie, which effectively covered up the gas odor. Hey, I would have been happy if somebody had simply burned some incense!

Someone from the back seat addressed the driver, “Hey, Dean! Are you going to that Woodstock Arts and Crafts festival?”

He blissfully replied, “Hell, yeah. I’m going!”

I asked, “What’s Woodstock?”

He laughed and answered, “Only the biggest concert in the history of humanity! It is going to be bigger than the Monterey Pop Festival two years ago. I heard the Beatles are showing up!”

Somebody said from the back seat, “I heard the Stones and Dylan are coming, too!”

I asked, “Where is this going to take place?”

“Upstate New York!”

I replied, “Oh.” I thought to myself, ‘They’ll be lucky to get Joni Mitchell to play at an arts and craft festival. Whenever I think of an arts and craft festival, I think of the Renaissance Fair. My dad took the family to that fair once and it reminded me of an outdoor mental institution. No thanks!’

Driving south on Los Feliz Boulevard reminded one of how poor they are. There were these giant mansions built in the 1930’s, worth millions upon millions of dollars! Even the Art Deco apartment buildings looked luxurious.

Finally, upon arriving at the Mulholland Memorial Fountain, I knew we’d arrived at the entrance to Griffith Park. Just a right turn on Crystal Springs Drive and then north to the park.

Today, though, was different. For the first time since I’d driven there with my parents, there was a traffic jam. Lines upon lines of vehicles, of all different shapes and kinds, were backed up to Los Feliz. Those inside were mostly collage-aged kids, smoking grass and banging on tambourines. Crystal Spring Drive was a two-lane road next to the side of a hill, a distance of about a mile and a half to our destination, the Merry-Go-Round. At a grueling 10 miles an hour, it took us about 25 minutes to get there! It was 11:35 a.m.

Only three bands were scheduled to play the Love In. They were “Ace of Cups” (stupid name), “Sons of Chaplin,” and the “Jefferson Airplane.” In December that year, I would see The Airplane perform at Altamont Speedway’s tragically-iconic, free concert in Northern California.

Behind the Merry-Go-Round, there was a small meadow in which hundreds, if not thousands of people, had gathered. An area had been set aside where the band would play; not an elevated stage or platform, just open, flat ground. This area was on an incline, so mostly people who located themselves far from it could see the bands. All of this was set up behind the public bathroom building.

I walked alone among the throngs of smelly Baby Boomers. There were peddlers selling everything—and I mean everything! I came across one member of the Black Panther Party selling his party’s tabloid, “The Black Panther.” I’m glad for that; all of the misinformation I’d been told was dispelled later that night.

Cops were strolling among the crowd. There were some kids walking around butt naked. This was supposed to be for making a political statement. If you’d asked me, I’d have said it was just good old fashioned expositionism! If you’d seen their bodies, you’d have hoped they were arrested! A cop would yell to one nude dude, “Hey! Cover up or you will get busted for indecent exposure!” The lawbreaker quickly tied a shirt around his waist. As soon as the fuzz left the area, he got naked again. It was the same thing with pot, which was still illegal in those days. Some cops would tell a pot smoker, “Put that stuff away or I will have to run you in!” Overall, the cops wanted to avoid any rioting.

The Chicano gangs were drunk on wine and barbiturates, or “Reds.” The Bikers stood by their Harley Davidsons while they got drunk on beer. The more they drank, the more pugnacious they got. Fights broke out everywhere. Ultimately, the event was more like a “hate in” than a Love In. What I could never understand was why Bikers attended every Love In or Antiwar protest if they hated Hippies so much! I suppose it was for the dope and the chicks.

The Hippies were just toking on weed and passing around gallon bottles of Red Mountain wine. Sharing like this was a sure way of getting Hepatitis C. I avoided the ritual as much as possible. The Hippie chicks had this proclivity of dancing by themselves. They looked like blow up dolls in the wind. Alas, everybody was compelled to express themselves in those days. It was a great argument for Fascism.

Oh, there was music…sort of…kind of. Two bands were playing your generic twelve-bar blues. Then came the Airplane. But, every song they attempted to play was stopped in the middle. Why? Because the sound system sucked shit!

I got bored and left. As I looked at the crowd for the last time, I thought, ‘This is not going to last. Most of these kids will get married and have kids financed by their careers. By the 1980’s, they will become Republicans.’ I wish I’d written that down. Who is going to believe I ever had those thoughts? No one.

I took a bus home, had dinner, and went into my room. I read “The Black Panther.”

I’ll say this, it was the most interesting Monday I’d ever had.

#60's music #60s #baby boomer generation #poets on tumblr #@anarchism #Poetry Slam #hippie #stephenjaymorris #jefferson airplane

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dirthavarens · 7 years ago

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spend some time;;ignoct

fandom: ffxv pairing: ignoct word count: 2152 ao3: [here]

i really wanted to write something for @caaelum for putting up with my neurotic ass last night. i appreciate it, love.

It’s a destitute club, a worn down hole in the wall, but there’s something about it that draws Noct, and his singular companion, further into it. The inside is accompanied by poor lighting, cigar smoke, and a mixture of too many colognes and perfumes. Bodies of all types are dancing close as the music plays on, conversations drowned out by guitar chords and fluid, rhythmic beats. Noct never was a dancer, but he’s in rare form and he knows Ignis is nothing shy of the best dancer he knows. Ignis is following behind him, an expression of disapproval fixed on his face, but does not voice his protests. He’ll relax later on, Noct assures them both.

Noct grabs an empty table and claims it by placing his coat there and encourages Ignis to do the same. When both of them are slightly more comfortable in the too hot room, Noct’s eager to grab them drinks and does not wait for Ignis’s answer before he’s bounding over to the bar and coming back with two identical drinks. Ignis narrows his eyes and gives the drink a sniff before he even considers drinking it.

��C’mon, Iggy. Don’t be like that. It’s our last night in Lestallum for now, let’s just enjoy it,” Noct urges and holds his glass up for a toast. Ignis relents with a resigned smile and clinks his glass to Noct’s before knocking it back. The drink is pleasantly chilled, the alcohol barely noticeable, and Ignis almost wants to ask Noct what it is until he notices the carefree grin on Noct’s face.

It’s easily been months since he’s seen a genuinely elated expression from Noct and the hazy light of the bar does nothing but accentuate the depth of emotion. Ignis can’t help but smile back as he delights in Noct’s happiness. The severity of their situation left them without much time to find peace amid the chaos, so if this club is where Noct finds his sanctuary tonight, Ignis knows he is in no position to dispute. Not that he would.

The song changes to something slower and the pair slip into comfortable conversation, sipping on the second set of drinks provided graciously by the bartender. Noct is rattling on about something Prompto did a few days prior on a hunt and Ignis gives him his full attention, even if he is focusing a little too much on the way Noct’s lips wrap around his words and the way his teeth reveal themselves as he smiles.

“He would have done better to avoid the confrontation altogether and let Gladio take the vanguard. Prompto is at his best when not on the front lines,” Ignis notes in approval of Noct’s previous observation. After all, what good is a strategist if he can’t hold conversation concerning battle?

“I didn’t bring you here to just talk, Iggy,” Noct says abruptly and slips out of his seat. He stands in front of Ignis and offers his hand. “I don’t wanna be that loser who doesn’t dance at a club. Even if I’m not any good at it, I have the best partner in all of Eos to keep me on my feet.”

Two drinks in and he already wishes to dance?

Maybe the trip finally took its toll on Noct and left him slightly less than sane. The prince was not one for dancing, but the extension of his hand offered a different version of the story. He always refused dances when it came to the galas his father would host, lest Ignis served in place of any other potential partner. On his own, Noct danced as gracefully as a fish flopped on land, but with Ignis as his guide, he could fall easily into step. That alone told him it wasn’t so much that Noct could not dance, rather he did not want to dance unless Ignis was involved.

Not that he was complaining.

Ignis reaches for Noct’s hand and together they make for the dance floor just in time for another song change. Extremely rhythmic and very easy to move his hips to, Ignis falls quickly into step with the beat, a smile fixed on his face as he focuses on nothing but Noct, who is still facing away from him. He grabs as Noct’s waist, pulls him closer, and rocks his hips against Noct’s back. Ignis feels him tense in his hold for a moment before relaxing his back against his chest and allows Ignis to guide him into a rhythm. The rest of the bodies on the dance floor melt away as Ignis tilts his head to place a kiss on Noct’s jaw. It feels like centuries since he’s been able to be entirely carefree, especially with Noct in his company, and he indulges in it as much as he can.

Hips rolling and hands wandering as they dance in time to the rhythm, Ignis and Noct are inseparable, unrecognizable as individuals, and neither bother to take note that eyes are starting to wander in their direction. For the first time in months, Ignis is hooked on Noct, and wants nothing more than to feel his body pressed against him for eternity. He grinds into him and Noct responds eagerly, happily developing an equal give and take motion to their dance.

Noct pauses for a moment and Ignis stops a second after. Still in his hold, Noct turns and stares up at him, a request blatant on his features. With eyes hazed, cheeks flushed, Ignis bends down to take Noct’s lips as the song fades into the next. The kiss is soft, light, but full of emotion and neither can help but grin as the new upbeat melody disrupts the intimacy of the movement. Ignis is the first to break contact and sets the pace for the next dance with Noct once again falling into step.

The night passes quickly between dances, drinks, and conversation and Ignis finds the thought of leaving nearly unfathomable until Noct mutters something delectable in his ear. He’s quick to grab his jacket at the suggestion and makes for the door with Noct the moment their bill is paid.

The streets of Lestallum are stuffy at night, and Ignis has no qualms unbuttoning the first two buttons of his patterned shirt; especially when there is a particular set of eyes eagerly watching his fingers work. He looks to Noct and then to the hotel down the alleyway before he’s pulling Noct into a narrow space between buildings. There’s barely enough space for the both of them to stand comfortably apart, but they make do. A question rests on Noct’s lips, but Ignis is too busy erasing any thoughts with a kiss, wanting only to give Noct the distractions he deserves. A man whose wedding got canceled on account of a dead father and fallen capitol was a lot to deal with, but tonight was the perfect night for a detour. Even if that meant postponing what was suggested.

Noct gives a noise of confusion but kisses him back with abandon until Ignis’s head is buzzing and then kisses him some more. They do their best to not make a commotion, knowing full well that the are still in public, even if they are out of immediate sight, and part with foreheads pressed together as their chests heave.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Specs?” Noct hums as they emerge on the side of the buildings facing the main road. They stop at a vendor and buy two bottles of water before approaching the overlook, Ignis reluctant to give his answer lest Noct is not yet prepared to hear the three words that have been said to him in the quiet of night time and again as he slept soundly beside him.

It’s only when they reach the furthest point of the overlook that Noct questions him again, pressing slightly harder as he slips his hands into Ignis’s and gives it a squeeze. Knowing he may acquiesce, Ignis lets a sigh slip from his lips and drops his hand from Noct’s. He leans forward, forearms resting on the cement barrier separating him from what would be certain death, and looks out at the horizon.

“Ignis?” There’s concern in Noct’s voice now and it sends a chill down Ignis’s spine.

“Do you remember the storybooks we would read as children?” Ignis begins as he glances at Noct. The question is an odd place to start, but he needs to start somewhere.

“Yeah, why?”

Ignis shifts a little and makes room as Noct mirrors his posture, their hands twining over the dropoff. He focuses on the way Noct’s fingers perfectly fit between the spaces of his own and feels his stomach do the same flip it’s been doing for years. He guides their joined hands to lips and places a gentle kiss on Noct’s knuckles before returning them to their previous position.

“Your favorites always involved the stars,” Ignis reflects fondly as he pictures a young Noct with eyes full of wonder as he examined the stars. “Eventually, I thought it would do you well to show you maps of the galaxy.”

“I still have those star charts somewhere, I took them with me when I left the Citadel,” Noct notes before his voice drops into something more solemn. “Or had...I guess. I hope they’re still there. What are you getting at, Iggy?”

“Would you go stargazing with me, Noct? We’ll stay within the city, of course, I wouldn’t dare risk a daemon attack when we’re both under the influence.” The inquiry feels almost silly coming from him, but it’s asked with sincerity. Perhaps if they’re doing something similar to the first time either one of them said it, it would come easier.

“It’s two in the morning and you want to go stargazing? I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done with Ignis, but hell yeah. Let’s go,” Noct playfully chides and brushes against Ignis’s shoulder.

Noct and Ignis walk hand-in-hand back into town and make their way towards the darkest corner they can find and climb up a fire escape until they’re atop a roof. Both know that what they are doing is illegal, but Ignis cannot find it in him to tell Noct no and follows him to a place where the town’s lights seem dimmer. He looks up and sees the heavens expose itself to him and feels a slight pressure at his side. Ignis need not look down to know Noct is resting against him with his eyes following the same path. Together, they lay atop the roof, mindful to be as quiet as possible in the event there are sleeping parties inside, and gaze at the night sky. The moon shifts in the sky as the time ticks by, but both are content with the silence until Noct interrupts it nearly an hour later.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s been on your mind?” Noct asks as he lifts his head from Ignis’s chest. There’s an underlying desire, an encouragement in Noct’s eyes reflecting from the city lights below them, and Ignis can’t help but imagine that Noct already knows what he wants to say.

“I have yet to decide if it’s worth saying, given our circumstance,” Ignis replies too tenderly for what is said and can’t help but miss the warmth of Noct’s head on his chest. He wants to guide him back down, return to silence for a little while before they return to the hotel.

“Yeah, I can understand that. But if it helps you decide at all, I used to say it every night after you closed my bedroom door. I said it when you’d leave my apartment or when I’d hang up the phone. I still say it all the time, even if it’s never aloud. And I know you know, and that’s good enough for me,” he finishes with a sheepish look to the side, as if he said something wrong.

The sentiment touches the deepest parts of Ignis and he sits up, immediately bringing a hand to cup Noct’s cheek and places a tender kiss to his forehead, his thumb brushing the velvet skin of his face. When he pulls away, he scans Noct’s eyes and finds not an ounce of hesitation in him. It the same look that caused him to fall for him years ago and Ignis falters as the words fall from his lips.

“I…” he pauses with uncertainty ruminating through him, though he’s not sure why. It’s not like the other half of their retinue didn’t joke about them at regular intervals or they didn’t do all the activities that lovers do. They’ve been together in every way humanly possible with the exception of spoken word. Even panted breaths and exclamations in the night, they excluded that particular phrase. “...love you, Noct.”

“Love you, too, Iggy.”

#my writing #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #ffxv #otp: always #ignoct #dallie #ffxv fanfiction

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