...At some point down the street there lived a threesome of grown bros. that were Civil War reenactment enthusiasts... As though it wasn’t good enough the first time around. They were the classic, happy, Santa/biker ZZ type, with a home full of dusty American antiques and a ready musket leaned near every window. The booby trapped barb wired back acre was decorated with litter and half organized with destitute VW parts, (we where expecting?) Within that motley pile and wonder weeds, there stood a heavy black cannon they fired off every Fourth of July.
I imagine other locals knowing the date and time and moment of the annual explosion. On the expectation of it hurrying willy-nilly to hold down the urns and nic-nacs keeping the piano in place as in the scene from Mary Poppins when Admiral Boom blasts the canon on-the-dot.
Lisa, Terry, Lonnie, and Mark will shutter along with me remembering the gun shots over Oakland that would ring in the New Year. As though everyone let loose who owned a secret weapon and then, once over and concealed again, eyed each other suspiciously then on. Starting one minute till, with the final sound-off at five minutes after midnight. I’m sure the Vulcan in Oakland has become rather gentrified to a degree. When we lived there the inhabitants were working artists and artistic spirit types converting it into the groovy space we are allegedly known to occupy. Yet, as time passed it was inevitably commandeered by the (then) popular yuppies with bigger bank rolls and small children, who looked on their actions as the courtesy of patrons instead of a hostel takeover. Whoa, where have I gone...
Anyway, yes, New Years Eve at the Vulcan...of course most of this was during my white-out phase so I could be way off in recall. Also what goes around, again, so it could be totally trashed and on it's way back up in repeat by now....hey, Mark you think your painting is still the in the Vulcan Thai Café?