Later That Same Evening
Cut to 1972. September 24th a nascent cultural icon from England called Davido Bowtie and The No Regrets For Dinner are scheduled to make their American debut in Memphis Tennessee. The Park kids, having recently found this new music figurative and literal, have tickets and are prepping the space capsule to ‘fly down’ for the show.
Space Cub At The Controls
Steven, Indian Joseph and another friend Giorgio Rubininski.are at Carzilla’s pad. (this is the mother-in-law's apartment over his parents garage.) Music is playing on the at the time state of the art record player. Carzilla is an audiophile and insists on having the best components available to cater to the Head Space continuums. A blue ceramic pipe in the shape of a walrus stuffed with herbs from Thailand is making the rounds. Carzillo made the pipe himself in his pot throwing class at Universal University. The Walrus pipe was a tribal relic, a marker of a time in place signifying a passageway of tribal ritual of one cult of youth amongst the myriad. A statue frozen in Dante's Inferno, Lewis Carroll playing a harp wearing mock turtle angel wings.
Carzilla; I don’t know man Davido Bowtie and The No Regrets For Dinner is a great album. I like Uncle Maury, their first album, even more.Those songs are heavenly heavy.
Steven:Totally Car, completely different moods, styles form. (Steven, later to be acknowledged as a musical prodigy, is able to recognize with uncanny aptitude a nuance that usually passes over Indian Joseph’s head.)
Giorgio: Takes a massive hit on Walrus Pipe and sputters mightily. Ehhhhwwwahhhkkkyyyysssss.
Joseph:”Don’t fake it baby, lay the real thing on me.”(Joseph typically just quotes the lyrics of pop culture musical icons with his head in the clouds and feet not often on the ground.)
Carzilla, who for whatever odd combination of factors is wearing a grandma looking old style puffy shower cap and a pair of plus size shorty pyjamas with stylized bear cubs wearing space suits printed on it as decorations jumps up suddenly and charges full tilt at Giorgio. Giorgio screams out a gigantic puff of Thai smoke and runs as fast as he can away from the oncoming Carzilla.
Just as Carazilla is about to tag the wildly fleeing victim of his epic chase,
Giorgio shouts: Know this, I shall never ever bow down to your gay gods sir!! You must speak the queens English you Cuban cubist.
Carazilla:Please man, what are you saying? You are totally freaked out of course you are.
Giorgio: No please you man, you are the most freaked of anyone, you are totally gone. You are on massive amounts of that stuff.
Carazilla: Oh Giorgio please you are certifiable, they are coming to put you in a straitjacket soon.
Indian Joseph and Steven Fancy caught a bit off guard by the impromptu nature of this spectacle burst into fits of unrestrained laughter.
Indian Joseph: Existence is its own straitjacket
Steven Fancy: Pleasssse man you are freaking me out, hahahaha!
As all this madcap kinetic energy is being released into the room Tappy T who is wearing a pair of cool rectangle violet Jim McGuinn shades arrives holding a golf ball sized package of aluminum foil in his hand.
Tappy T: What’s up fellas ? I scored some copium laced Afghani Smashish from a contact of Tam’s.
This should go just great with the Thai for the Memphis trip to see Davido Bowtie and The No Regrets For Dinner.
Tappy’s score is met with unanimously enthusiastic nods of approval. Much chaotic absurdity ensues. (These presumptuous youthful personae a static frieze of kinetic sparks caught in a time web. Inscribed in words they are unchanging. Yet, the words change and the moment’s gone.)
Carzillo aka ‘Space Cub’ has a light blue Plymouth Valiant supplied by his hard working immigrant parents. This is the space ship that the tribe will be flying to the Memphis Bowtie concert in.
Blue Valiant spaceship filled to the gills with exploding brain suns fired by Thai herb and Afghani opium laced hash that orbits the light speed celestial orb in a hand crafted totemic ceramic Walrus pipe. Coo coo ka joob eh.
Is There Gas In The Car?
Four tires on a Valiant space capsule on the way to Memphis. To see the Bowtie concert.
(Nothing’s going to touch you in these golden years.)
Indian Joseph:Check ignition?
Carazilla: Engine on.
Giorgio: Pass me the pipe
Steven Fancy: The Walrus is T
Tappy T: Here it is fellas I put some Afghani in there.
They actually made it to Memphis intact, more or less.
Perhaps the greater angels do protect children and fools.
On a delta pilgrimage to freak out in a Moonage Daydream
Memphis, the Cow Palace. Appearing tonight. Davido Bowtie and The No Regrets For Dinner. They waited in line for the doors to open. They came to the show tonight praying to the Light Machine.
Wearing Thai Dye pants and Afghani hats. Jumping in the aisles with phosphorescent smiles.
Laddies and Gentlebums welcome to the American Premiere of Davido Bowtie and The No Regrets For Dinner.
Speakers begin to pump out sound in the old Memphis opera house. Lights lower. The curtains rise. Bowtie and band glittering in the colored spotlights kick into their first number.
“She’s a tongue twisting storm come to the show tonight praying to the light machine”
It’s impossible to explain the alchemical effect of the visuals and music on those in attendance.
Indian Joseph and friends are up on their feet, out of their seats and dancing ecstatically in the aisles rushing to the stage edge in blissful abandon to the dance. This is confirmation to all their adolescent dreams and fantasies of how great and dramatic life can potentially be.
The single greatest hit to the young ganglia’s endocrine system imaginable. Pure endorphin and serotonin. Undiluted Stardust.
See Indian Joseph in those preliminary stages of blast off. Eyes wide open to the stars and heavens. Lead foot feathers on invisible launch pads, blind to the booby traps. Cannot know what is to come is another version of light heart stumbling ballet on a blind path of journey?
Ego event horizons appear in write time. Holes that swallow a presumed author drowning in drawing word sensations into sentences. It is a life sentence after all.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Written on 2026-07-23 at 17:22
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