Tuesday, March 20, 2007

The Rebel

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Her name was Sarah. A red headed beauty from Long Beach. I met her at a bar down on second street called the Belmont Station. It was a Thursday night and I was starting my weekend early. I was nineteen then, but according to the fake ID my brother made for me on photoshop, my name was Anuarth Batista, from El Monte, and my age was 22. That ID got me into many places back then: Mariposas in Long Beach, the Gig in Hollywood, the Silver Lounge in Bellflower, La Escondida bar in Compton, Las Violetas in Paramount. I finally got it taken away trying to get into Acapulcos in Downey. I herd they remodeled the place by the way.

Anyways, Sarah was a very proud girl who tried to stare me down this particular night. She shot me with those emerald green eyes from across the bar. I held her stare and squint my eyes like a cowboy in a shoot out at high noon. Finally, she budged and looked away with a smile. I waited a few beers before actually going over and talking to her,"whats happenin', my name is AB". She hailed from Dearborn, Michigan and was attending Long Beach State. I bought her an apple martini and told her that was the only drink Id buy her. My excuse was, "I don't like talking to drunks". In actuality, I don't mind talking to drunks, I find them very entertaining, Its just that you got to deny the woman something. That and I had already spent all my money down to the last piece of lint on baseball cards and bubble gum. When we danced she rubbed her body against mine and breathed hard against my neck. Her hands rubbed my back, hard, the way the Asian girls do down at the massage parlors. The brick walls of the Belmont station turned fiery red from the heat of both our bodies. I asked her for a smoke and we headed outside. I really don't smoke but the smoking patio was closer to my truck than the dance floor.

The sweet smell of a clove cigarette lingered over the smoking patio. It was a bit chilly that night and the nicotine from the cigarette made me tremble a bit. She puckered her lips around her cigarette and took a long slow draw. I could see her eyes staring back at me through the smoke of her cigarette, burning in bliss upon her lips. How I envied that cigarette. I held her stare till the smoke made my eyes water and in the back of my head amongst the tumbleweeds and cobwebs I could hear the howling voice of a wise man saying to me, "the red heads are crazy and wild to tame my friend, beware." So I proceeded with caution, "Its getting cold out here and this music is bunk. Let's go over to my truck and listen to somethin' else". She agreed and followed me. I fiddled with stations and lit another clove. She went on talking about her exams and mid terms as I sank into the truck seat and rolled with the vibrating effect of a couple of whiskey shots, a clove cigarette, and a blues version of "summertime" by Janis Joplin. I looked over at her, brushed my hand through her hair and and kissed her lips with a passion that can only be achieved after half a pint of whiskey. Her hot mouth sucked at mine to the point of hurting. I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, kissed, bit, and sucked at her neck as I caressed her lower back with my other hand. She asked if we could go back to my place but after much reasoning and lying we decided to head back to hers.

Sarah rented a guest house up on Anaheim and Junipero. The house was at the very end of the property and far enough to have comfortable privacy. She told me,"We can be as loud as we want, no one can hear us", I said, "Cool, I always wanted to watch the Late Show at full volume. Whydon't you kick off your shoes doll and lay in bed with me". We kissed for what seem like hours, our passion more intense every minute. I could feel her half naked hips grind against my thigh and all she could do was squirm with delight as I kissed my way to them. Her soft pale skinglistened with the hot and steaming sweat that covered both of us. My hands slithered, groped and caressed every inch of her body. I laid over that doll, her red hair and green eyes burning them selves into my memory, and shared every inch of my soul with her. I ran my handsthru her hair, nibbled her ear and whispered, "I'm going to look for a little nook in a dark corner of hell to hide us in baby, and if they find us, the devil himself will blush 20 shades of red."

Six in the morning snuck in with a hangover and I had a bad taste in my mouth. Thank god it was only morning breath. I got up and showered, combed back my feathers, gargled some mouth wash, and brushed my teeth with my index finger. I got dressed while sitting on the edge of the bed near Sarah so as to wake her up. Ididn't want to leave with out saying good bye and thanks. Half asleep and half awake Sarah said to me, "Thank you for last night. You better call me later,Anuarth"....Oh shnaps!... I had forgotten completely that I had lied to this girl about my age, name, and well everything else. I looked over at her and with a straight face I said,"Of course I will, baby". That little nook in hell is going to be mighty lonely for a bastard like me.

The sun in Long Beach for some reason burned hotter that morning. The humidity from watered lawns collected behind my ears and the smell offreshly cut grass made me itch without even touching it. Some old lady's little hairy rat like bitch of a dog barked at me as I walked by and I knew why. That dog not only smelled the guilt it also smelled the sad stench of a dirty mutt. My truck windshield wiper greeted me with a parking ticket for parking in a residential only street and my cab still smelled of clove cigarettes from theprevious night. I didn't complain, I deserved worse. I started my truck, rolled down my windows and searched for a soul in the pair of eyes staring back at me from the rear view mirror. All I found was a wicked smile and a nose hair so long that it must have grown from all my dirty lies.

-Red Rooster 2007

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Christinas red lips

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If their is one thing I'm a sucker for, its a pair of blood red lips.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Abstract Head

Ill be part of the Venice contemporary spring invitational show come March 24th. Hope you can make it.www.thevenicecontemorary.com
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I call this piece the abstract head. Once again I would like to thank my
good friend Phil Holland for doing such an awesome job of photographing
my sculptures.

I made this guy back in April of 2004 following my near "life" experience. I side swiped and flipped over a semi truck on the 105fwy while driving to work. My truck was completely totaled except for the 4x4 foot area in which I sat. All I walked away with was a bruised knee. Some people find Jesus after such events, I probably would have to if I didn't already know that Jesus is in jail. The reason I know of such info is because every homeboy I know that comes out of jail tells me that he found Jesus while he was locked up. (padump-dump-pishhh)

Instead of Jesus, I found my brains a bit rattled and an 8000 dollar check from the insurance company. So, what to do with an 8000 dollar check? The only reasonable thing to do, waste it on hookers, booze, and art materials. One of the positive things that came out of me running a muck around town with an 8000 dollar check was this abstract head that I sculpted over the course of three nights following the accident. Know that I think back to that split second of my life Ididn't have very much to say while I was staring down that semi. Some people say that their life flashes before their eyes or the words "dear lord", I believe all I said was "Awwwwwww Fuck!" And at the moment of impact I suppose my face did look a little like the Abstract head.