There may be no relation between the astrological occurrences of late, and this night, however I am not taking any chances. I strike a match and light a bundle of sage, my crystals gleam, scattered around the altar, and a razor sharp katana lays like a pearl on the center stage of said altar, marinating in the beams of the full moon. I light a few sticks of Palo Santo wood. I light a bundle of hemp. I light my jazzy, “Mind if I do a J?” I speak to no one except my iced americano, boston cream donut, and hot cup of coffee. A competition of ‘most quantity achieved’ plays out between my collection of starbucks gift cards and my medical marijauna spending accounts.The moon light gleams also on my gold MacBook, as I glow-face in the star filled back yard. Eris tosses her heavenly apple above. The only sign of Noah, a whale constellation, shines bright east ward. Mars glows red and the nearest he has dared in eons. Andromeda and Triangulum lay behind the tail of a small comet.

Its ———— Birthday and he directs THE RAD with a loud voice to be heard over the music thrashing around the skaters skull. “Second position! lights! camera! action! ACTion! fuck!!! ACTION!” THE RAD makes a line for the curb and navigates between the street and the curb passing the camera swiftly. His body sways with an East coast swag and a west coast style. The Spirit crew has been touring the behind the scenes skate spots in AZ. ANOTHER SKATER beckons THE RAD up and down a half pipe with three crusty dollars. Later that night THE RAD turns to the camera grinning, “look ma, I made three bucks, skating.” His signature laugh is recorded before the short B-ROLL burst is over. The camera in the skaters’ hand flashes as he beats his body into the pipe. The crew is taking pictures now and a skate family cheers on the soldiers running the pipe.

As soon as THE RAD is payed his crusty comeuppance, the SPJRIT crew is off to another venue to be positively viewed. They show up with empty hands on a local skate shops territory and are welcomed once again by the guy running the place. He seems to be popping up at skate venues lately. THE RAD runs the gambit here in the front yard. A beautiful concrete run, right in front of a garage, now turned, skateboard factory. The SPJRIT crew mingles with the house crew and a possible deal is brokered for a run of skate boards and skate board wood products. The boss shows a pocket knife with a recycled skateboard wood handle. All with the cameras rolling and THE RAD, smiling saying, “skate life.” The Spjrit crew opens sodas and shout, “skate life!” THE RAD drinks his, and then says, “To Spjrit!” everyone yells, “to spjrit!” The director lights a jazzie.

The night hangs deep like a blackened piece of chicken left too long on the grill and the only illumination is artificial and hanging sweet and low on the horizon of a bleak city street. These are the desert city streets of downtown Phoenix and if you are able to roam these halls of amenties, The only Emerald tablets you will find are hanging on the street lights when they beckon the cars forward. THE RAD grabs a mask over his face and adjusts it to fit on the bridge of his nose and we both head into the infamous Mexican food joint known to those of the Garfield district as ‘sals’ and to those on google maps as salsitas. I shudder with chills as I remember the last time I had stepped foot on this part of town in this very joint I was on a  come down of the colloquially known designer substance, Molly. I had been unknowingly dosed by the lead singer of PLASTIC COWBOY. His intentions were to use this party substance as a truth serum for information that only I knew and in a moment of a monumental lack of clarity I explained to him with much veracity how I had not used clarity when with his girlfriend that one time in a mountain side town  as we both lay cold  and alone and chilled to the bone. Although that past friendship ended A new one was eventually born within “THE RAD” and such was my life; nearly verbatim to the fable of the Phoenix and how apt for this Greek tale To metaphorically grace my life as I grace the streets of a Greek named town. Phoenix is usually ablaze with the Rays of Ra, however at night time the only sun is found in the ground. reminiscence of the once blazing sun and now warming the inner core of the cement  and pavement, an intrepid heat emanates from the artificial earth now terraformed across the dirty city. We step into the hole-in-the-wall vibes of this south of the border establishment quite north of the once promised however non-existent walls. Once again, The only Emerald tablets you will find in Phoenix adorn the street lights on your path to and from home.  Our food is ordered and of course it is put on the spirit company tab for this is not a meeting of pleasure as much as it is one of business. Tonight‘s adventure ends with a tale of mythic proportions yet full of veracity and excitement. For THE RAD is about to reveal to me the inner workings of his mind and the relationship of such revelations juxtaposed to a history of hardship and happiness. “You know some people say skate or die Ben, but you know what I say? I say skate or life and if I wasnt a skater, bro, I swear I’d be dead” As he begins his story and with my preliminary questions out of the way I see to it as a good listener using the cheese enchiladas as fodder for my silence. 

[to be continued…]