A merry fucking Christmas from...

A merry fucking Christmas from Harry, Mark, and John -- who will soon return with new adventures. For real, man, for real.

oooohhh --- spoooooooky

Look at them! Harry and John, all dressed up for Halloween. Definitely frightning.

Mark, by the way, went as some other guy in Guns n Roses nobody remembers. Exactly. That one.

Contemplation of a ceiling fan

The ringing in John's ears is almost as loud as the whirring and clicking of the fan above, whirling on the ceiling. Thinking of helicopters and Nam he feels just like Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now -- but he feels like the world is ending without even bothering to get up. Or going all the way Laos. Was it Laos? Cambodia? Somewhere in the jungle, definitely. Yeah, and down some river. But right now there is no Doors playing. There isn't even a stereo of any kind. The sun light reluctantly runs through the blinds in a futile attempt to rinse the artificial dark of the room. A fly, buzzing lazily, finds its way to John's face and lands. Trying hard to stay awake (but why?), he raises his arm to wipe the insect away, knowing perfectly well that it will eventually return.
With eye lids as heavy as lead it is so hard just not to fall asleep. John concentrates on the mechanical movement above him. Whose bed is this? Where is he? Did he sleep here? How did he get here at all? It's definitely not my room, he thinks. There is no fan in my room.
His last ties to consciousness are torn and he drifts off ...off ... into this weird world of dreams, that's you pass on your way to real sleep. When you're neither asleep and dream nor wide awake-- when you think you somewhere else, even if only for one second. And then you "wake up" again - -
So does John. What the...? For one second he was in some jungle, there flies, mosquitos and stuff. Humidity was even worse than now. He wore some kind of uniform, carrying a backpack horribly heavy. His heard is beating hard right now. Not really fast, just with so much intesity, that it might hurt. Maybe I should see a doctor, some time. First thing tomorrow. By the way, what time is it? Damn it. John rolls over, just then: the door is flung open. There is Mark.
"Dude... have you ever in a war, man?"
"...just returned," John manages to answer, mumblig. Then he is gone again.
Fucking movies, fucking Coppola.

...get wasted

The boys are really busy at the moment, unfortunately. Most of the time they're getting wasted. Whatever time is left is needed for recovery ...to get wasted again afterwards.
On the fabulous snapshot on the right you can see the guys the other night at the last meeting of the debating club. Even though you might get another impression, they're just discussing the impact of the Russian Nihilist Movement on Czech literature of the early 20th century. A discussion which lends itself to getting wasted, as you might guess.

Shooting rats at the junkyard

That old junkyard, down by the river... you know the place, don't you? Have you ever been there on Sundays? Well, if you have, you might have met Harry, Mark, and/or John.
Usually they meet there to shoot rats, which is a funny way to spend your Sunday afternoons. At least better than bird-watching or trainspotting.

Later that year (19--)

Shortly after that night at the ----- club, Mark was kicked out by the ------ (his band). But he didn't give up making music (yet). Instead he actually co-founded a strange band called Capt'n Peanus and his Seamen. Yeah, really. The picture on the right shows Mark (far right; either he's left-handed or something's wrong with this picture) and two of those fucked-up hippies he played with back then. Those were the "seamen"; he himself was the Capt'n. They basically covered shitty 60s and 70s songs, nothing atcually worth mentioning. They smoked a lot of pot, otherwise you could barely do stuff like that. Most surprisingly they did rather well. Even better than his previous band, the obnoxious ------, who later (without Mark aka Capt'n Peanus) would score big-time. They sold out some venues, but hardly any place bigger or better than the ----- club.

Meanwhile both Harry and Mark were in band, too. Even though Mark tends to forget that now (see previous fragments). Together with some other guys they formed a Yoko Ono-cover band called Just Plastic No Ono -- soon after that they dropped the "No Ono" part. The reason to form a Ono-cover band was that no one of them could either sing or play any instrument. They basically just screamed. They only "played" one show - ever. On New Year's Eve that year. Some "festival" featuring cover bands only. What ridiculous idea... Well that's how Harry, Mark, and John met once again.

Mark couldn't afford the rent for his flashy loft anymore... so he was looking for roommates. Eventually Harry and John moved in. But this story seems just as made up as the others, doesn't it?

Hmm... or did Harry and Mark move in with John? He was always broke since he spent all his money on coke. Who cares.

Back, in the Men's Room at the ----- Club

... John is rubbing a remainder of white powder on his gums, when Mark opens the door. John turns the tap and splashes his face with some cold water. By coincidence, Harry just steps in as well. "Dude, we shouldn't meet like this," he says. "That's really strange. People might--" Without even listening John walks out.
"I hate conversations in the men's room... --"

... caught some really big fish

Man, that was a weekend. Some time last summer (or was is the year before?) Harry, Mark, and John went fishing. Some friend of Harry got a boat... in a small town near -----------. The left on Friday and were back on late Sunday night. Whatshisname said he met them the night after. John brought this photo (see left): it's Mark and John with some really big fish, Harry's not in it since somebody had to take the picture, you know? Anyhow, he didn't catch anything to bragg about (...please let's not say "anything but a cold" -- that'd be too poor a joke).

Speaking of poor jokes: Gotcha! Did you actually believe that Harry, Mark, and John went fishing? ...Dude, look at the photo! Those guys hardly look anything like Mark and John.

down in the park

Harry, Mark, John and some of their "friends" are sitting down in the park. You know the place, those trees, near some pond or something. Somebody brought a guitar. Must have been Mark, since he's playing now. Lousily. Two or three chords. Over and over again. He just varies the picking, does some bending now and then. Stuff you would do if you wanted to impress someone who doesn't know much bout playing guitars -- or music in general, for that matter. While Mark is strumming, picking, bending and sliding on or along the strings and Harry leafing through some book somebody took along, John starts talking. He breaks the silence that has filled the stale summer air between them.
"Ever considered starting a band?"
Mark replies: "Dude, forgot how we met?" -- and adds (after a pause, short enough not to be recognized): "I'm definitely over that band stuff."
Harry puts down the book, looking annoyed, as if he was disturbed while doing something of vital importance. Before he opens his mouth to complain in a manner completely inappropriate in the situation, he takes a look around --and changes his mind about what to say. "Guys, have you notice that we're alone?"
Mark and John turn their heads... He's right. Where have they gone? When did they leave? Why didn't they... Questions like those cross their minds.
Mark manages to say: "When did... uh... Sally, whatshername, and that other guy leave?"
Harry: "... I don't know... -- by the way: who was he? Seemed kinda weird to me."
Mark: "You're right-- he was so... oblivious. I can't stand that."
John: "Guys... what about the band?"

picture perfect

The picture above shows "our heroes" -- dressed up for some occasion. Nobody remembers what that was. Maybe Sally got married. Or Jane.
...or did Sally marry Jane? (John would say: "Heehee... of course did Sally maryjane, I brought her some from..." "Yeah, John, alright.")
From left to right: Harry, Mark, John.
You might not guess from this picture, but they weren't that drunk. Somebody said that Mark was "designated driver" that night. How ridiculous.

One dark autumn night in 19--

(How Harry met Mark met John)

Shortly after Harry dumbed that Sally-chick-- okay just kidding: it was one of those nights in the last century that you hardly remember these days. Maybe because those days, back in the 1900s seem so undistinguishable now.
The weather was awful. Raining, pouring down. Cats and dogs. Whatever metaphor you like to describe fucking rain.
The band ------ was to play at ----- club. Actually Mark used to play the guitar for them. That was before they got into major record deals, big money and stuff. The ----- club was one of those venues were either shitty bands from around the corner would play concerts or shitty band from overseas you never heard about before. However, usually they were three-piece groups who liked to describe their style by using at least two genres which didn't seem go along at all. Like hiphop-polka, goa punk-rock or avantgard electro-folk.
Back then ------ actually labelled their style as "avantgard electro-folk". You might imagine what it sounded like, at least if you know their b-side compilation "----- and the ------ on -----" or the live bootleg recorded last year in Amsterdam. (Dude, those guys were stoned that night, you wouldn't imagine. Harry was there. But that's a completely different story.)

Back to our little story: Harry worked at the ----- club, as a bartender. But he never was one of the really cool ones. You knows, those who do tricks with bottles. Like juggling and whatever. He couldn't even mix a real drink. But if you remember the ----- club back in the 1900s you know that wasn't necessary. People usually drank Dutch beer from small green bottles.
John and Harry had already met before. They knew each other quite some time now (Maybe they're brothers. You never know. The don't talk about back then. God knows why.), but hadn't met for years or so. If you ever asked them you will have noticed that their memories of the 19-- are rather blurry. But whose are not?
Didn't somebody once say: "If you remember the 1900, you weren't really there"?
Why don't we stick to the story, for whoeveryoulike's sake!
John had been on a trip to... let's just say: "a foreign country". Some folks say he got his drug habit there. Those who say he has something like that. Well, he just got back to town and thought: "It's been some time since I last started a fight at the ----- club."
Back then, he really was like that. Liked to pick fights. Always wanted "to beat f*cking hell outa somebody" (as he said, incl. the asterisk!) and usually he ended up beaten, black and blue, butt-kicked.
Well, to shorten a story that grew too long already: John picked a fight that night, he tried to beat up the drummer -- during the show. All hell broke loose. It is said that after the fight was over, Harry, Mark, and John were the only who were left conscious. They were taken in by the police and spent the rest of the night together. In some cell.
Well this is how the story goes. It's what people tell. Nobody knows whether this really is how Harry met Mark met John. Maybe it's true. But most likely... it's not.

The other night

...Harry, Mark, and John are having a drink in some shady bar. One of those you usually pass without daring to ever step inside.
John: "Guys, I think things have to become even worse- before they get any better."
No response.
"I mean: as soon as the working masses have become miserable enough, there'll be a revolution. That's why I think we should stick to Capitalism, to exploitation and stuff. It's the only way to ever overcome."
"I wonder if you ever listen to what you're saying," Mark says. "I never heard such crap."
Meanwhile John empties his glass, takes a look around. "Do you guys know where the men's room is?" he asks.
Another minute just passed.

...are sitting on the kitchen floor...

...in that girl's apartment. You know who. Harry's smoking a cigarette, Mark is talking (more or less to himself) and John just returned from the bathroom where did a line of coke. Maybe. Nobody can tell - he always acts like he just returned from the bathroom where he went only to do cocaine.
Mark says, "You know, there's hardly a thing I hate, but if there is anything I hate more than faggots, it's homophobics" - Harry exhales looking at Mark. He's puzzeld. "Huh?" -- John asks: "Are you actually listening to what you're saying?" A question which - now that it was asked - seems to prove the coke theory wrong, since he seems to listen. Harry says, "Well, if I was gay, would you hate yourself more than me?" -- Mark: "You're gay? Dude, I didn't know." -- John: "Never ever heard of the concept of hypothesis?" -- "Man, that sounds horrible. Hope it's not infectious."