Viva La Gloria II: 21st Century Breakdown

I rolled over, to stare at the red analog clock numbers. Waiting for it to be my official rising time, no faking from that clock. It would make sure you knew to get your ass out of bed by sending off it's annoying buzzing sound then it would automatically switch on the radio, to my favorite radio station.
RW2 Scotts bluff music radio channel.
They always played Green Day songs but up until the announcement of there new album, not much has happened in that lane of life. Maybe it's because Billie Joe Armstrong (The guy I kidnapped) was kidnapped two weeks ago. And that's been top news on every news center in America. And it shouldn't have been such a big deal. But fans with a lot of money have the cash to pay local news broadcasting services to do a big segment on Billie Joe's brief kidnap.
That's when the nasal buzzing went off. And I rolled unprepared out of bed and ended up flopping on the floor. And the song that came on was truly one of my personnel favorites outside of green day. ‘Hallelujah’ by Paramore. One of my secondary favorite bands besides Green Day. But don't worry, I'm not going to kidnap them...
The room looked the same as it did every morning, dirty egg shell white walls with heaps of dirty clothes all over the floor a typical room for a typical Green Day fan that does absolutely nothing but sit on the computer tracking all their concerts. I hummed shallowly throughout the song cleaning up my room as I went, something I don't do unless I'm happy or exited. And I was, Billie. Whom had had no contact to me in that two weeks had agreed that he would call me on the 2nd of august to talk to me but however that only could occur if he is done writing songs yet and last time I called Mike was because Billie and Tré and Jason turned off there cell phones. So every day I'd call and bother mike, to see if Billie was free yet. To no avail. I was sensing that I would soon loose all contact to Green Day entirely. And I was utterly reluctant to that happening.
I got dressed as I swept the dirty clothes into neat out of order piles all over the room, I finished by the end of the song. To finish doing my daily work, radio wise that is. However I did clean the rest of the house on a daily bases.
To avoid being condemned from my lovely one story house by the river, my favorite childhood place to go. It seemed to be the only clear place to think, it was always so easy to think there. Maybe that's why I personally named it ‘East 12th Beach.’ of course there are a lot of beachy areas around it but this one was special to me. It takes an little work to get there though. I was thinking back to the time I was there the day before leaving on the ‘Trip’ I had gotten an call from my older sister telling me that she wished me luck then called me by the nickname she'd given me, ‘Glor.’ and when she says it, I think to myself ‘It wouldn't kill you to tack on two more letters...’ and it gets a bit tiring hearing that name all of the time. But I loved my real name, Gloriana Holly Andys. But I preferred Gloria over Gloriana. It sounded like one of those names rich, snotty, snobby girls have like "Gabriel" or "Jessica" everyone I've ever known that had that name, wound up being my enemy.
So flat out in easy words, I hated being called Gloriana. But people who have exotic or even less exotic names meant they were your different cup of tea. Like my newly aquatinted hopefully friends had names, even perfectly normal names. Seemed better compered to there faces, Billies in particular. But Tré's name always came up misspelled on my iPhone. But Mike and Jason had normal regular names but somehow they gave these ordinary names youth and new found meaning.
It was nearly noon. I had spent the last two hours listening to the radio, hopeful to hear something about Green Day. Better yet, to hear they where making a guest appearance at oh say a little town in the middle of Wyoming. Called Torrington? My life long home town, I didn't like to roam too far from home however in Billies haste promises to home had to be broken.
All of Green Day was too wonderful, and so to make a wrong move upon stealing Billie Joe from that concert in Austin Texas. Would have meant a instant death penalty of which the fans in the crowd would have gladly delivered to me. Like poison chocolates coming from a parachute but only much much harder.
You see, jealous Billie Joe loving fans get quite upset if they think your stealing their future husband. And so this is what was attempted to be avoided. And with all success on my side for that one.
However I still wonder, what he felt that night. I involuntarily rubbed my elbow at the memory. I was shot with a B.B gun, and dammit! It freaking hurt! A scar replaced the pain now.
It was now that the radio DJ announced that the next song they were playing was "Whatsername" I literally screamed at that one, having never really gotten over my fan girling issues... Whatsername is only one of my favorite Green Day songs, even if it left the ending of American Idiot a little dark and vaguely leaving no room fro future hope. I hummed to the pounding song on the radio. Until it ended.
Then through that anger I snapped of the radio to save me anymore song-ending turmoil. And then boredom attacked me with all of it's strength. My eyes immediately as if trained, bounced straight to the phone. No I shook my head bluntly. Ignoring it the way Billie was ignoring me. But I already knew I would be the first to cave on that compromise.
I marched high headed out of my room, only now did I realize I was surrounded by Phones! In every room I had had one of those talking machines put in, for emergency uses. But now they taunted me to call Mike. And I would hold up to letting Billie be the one to call first.
So I glanced at the black cell phone on the arm of the couch. It would be a dreadful fate to leave it here and Billie would call.
So snapped it up, grabbed my guitar and a pick out of the tray on the coffee table. And was on my merry way. I carried my guitar, strap across my chest while it dangled across my back. Laugh if you must when I tell you what it looks like... It's blue, an particular shade of blue though... The color of the sky. Light sky blue, slightly aqua. It had an crimson strap hanging from the pegs. Oh yeah, it's an Fender Stratocaster too, ok. Here's the part you'll laugh about, its got random stickers all over it, and one thing on the pickguard in crimson paint that screams obsessive. The initials, BJ. No it's not authentic. I made all the details myself, having gotten this as my first quality electric guitar on my thirteenth birthday. Having had enough of the impossible First Act brand.
Outside was hot and moist, the annoying offspring of living next to a river during the average hundred degree weather. My jungle yard looked as stunning as always, when I moved in it looked like a weedy rat hole. But now! Trees, short trees shrouded the yard. Leafy green grass spread out perfectly to the bearer wall of green leafy vegetation hedges.
My entire yard was concealed from the outside world, my soft green world was a very different one from the one outside of my white lattice gate.
I opened it and whistled some random tune, and headed straight across the recently trimmed weed grass. It was loaded with Goatheads .Very uncomfortable things when they get stuck in your foot or hand.
I was now under the shade of the Entertainment center. Crowds gather here every saturday to watch various small just starting bands play and bad magician do bad tricks. But it kept the kids from being out till 2 in the morning drinking. I sat at a picnic table at the edge of the small community center. It couldn't be any bigger than a 24x50 foot long building, stage was up front and bathrooms in back.
Sad fact was that this center was better takin care of than any other part of the park. The river would have plastic bottles floating down it all the time. So whenever I was bored I'd hike it down 200 feet away from my house to pick up any litter I saw. Sickos lived In my neighborhood, left and right.
But the only good thing about that was that they would never bother you to borrow a cup of sugar. Cause who has time for cooking when you spend all your time smoking pot.
I studied the beach and bay, the river was no higher than regular. Sometimes you'd be lucky enough to see that the water had gone down far enough to wade out farther into the cold inky black mass.
The sky a perfect cloudless blue, I don't tend to screw around with the weather channel. It's either the know it's gonna be sunny or you don't.
So I make my own observations on days like today, if it looks sunny it probably is. If an un-foreseen rain storm comes. You go inside. End of story. Go do something productive inside like paint or bake. When the storm passes, go outside and carry on with whatever you had been doing.
Now back to my concerns of a job. Last I heard from any of them, was two weeks ago. Billie dropped some hints about him needing a hit. A top hit for an album I'd never heard of.
Among the apparents. I had no idea they would be releasing another album in less than three months. So I couldn't help but wonder how that would play out. How can you release what you think is gonna be your best Cd yet when your trying to release it in such a small time frame.
So I wanted to help them. That is the same reason I came the 200 feet to the park. To get peace and quite here to try and write a song for Billie. Rather he liked it or not, I was going to have the guts to show him the song that was entirely unknown to me at the minute anyways. Not that I actually have any idea when or if I'll see them again...
I always had stage fright as a child. But because of my up bringing, I wasn't regularly required to be up on or have access to a stage. So my worries weren't used.
My phone rang so I nearly dropped my guitar. However I may not have dropped my guitar. But I still dropped my train of thought and my pick into a mud puddle at my feet. I answered breathlessly, leaving the pick in the puddle for the times being. “Hello!” it may have been breathless but nearly a shout.
“Hey Gloria! Whatcha doin?” it was my constantly bored jobless sister. I sighed and thought over a response. What was I doing? “Umm just sitting at the Entertainment Center at the park, playing my guitar.” I said. It was all truth and no lies, my sister hates lies. Although everyone feeds them to her on a silver platter. And she doesn't even notice it. Until it's too late.
“Oh, well I was wondering if you have the time today to hang out”.
“You know I can't...
I trailed off. Realizing I never told her about my blunt kidnapping in California.
“I'm expecting a very important call today”. I amended quickly. I didn't want to get my hopes to high to have them crushed brutally when he doesn't call.
“Well...I hope you get your call”. She said awkwardly, dejected.
“Yeah. Me too. Well I guess I'll see you around and I'll call you after I get my call”. And that may be a long time from now so I didn't make any promises.
“Ok see you later Gloria. Love you sister”.
She hung up. I sat on the cold picnic bench, spinning the black phone in my hands. The hot sun rayed down on the puddle at my feet. Making the pick revisable. I fumbled with the guitar to get it at my side, and leaned over to pick it up.
I had already forgotten the conversation. Wrapped up so deep on my own thoughts like wrapping paper on a gift on Christmas eve. The clock is nearing noon. He wasn't specific about time but he was with date. I could only hope he hadn't forgot, cause I don't want to go about hunting him down again. But if it is deemed necessary then I will.
I wrapped my guitar strap around myself so my guitar would be on my back, while I manurer the short tough terrain of the East 12th Beach. That's what I named it when I was going through tough family times. It became my home away from home, I loved it. Im sure that if your as big of an music enthusiast as I am, youll know where the name came from. But even now things aren't totally happy with that beach. Even though now gold tooth swingin frat boys have move in with beer bottles and cans all over the bay of the river. Cigarette buts everywhere. I've tried to salvage that beach so many times I gave up.
But on swift occasion, I go kick any butt-kiss whom is trying to claim the 12x12 foot area as his turf. I sometimes win at that... But not always. Anyways! But incase you didn't know, I didn't just spend my whole spring and half of my summer training to meet Billie.
Some of it was cause I was sick of ending up wading in the water because someone bigger and stronger threw me into the current. But today it would change. I was planning to go up there to the beach on the scrawny three foot high peak. I had my guitar as a weapon. And was very prepared to use it if trouble deemed necessary. It was very clear in my mind I was planning to walk out a winner.
But I don't usually screw around with People like Raoul's Crew. A crew with such dimension built here in the city of Torrington. That no one on there right mind would challenge them. And then there are the "Strays".
The ones looking for crew members to join there cult. But these cults are all in good fun, most of them anyways, there is this one guy named Goldie Chains, but I know that his real name is Vincent Rouge. He takes this stuff pretty seriously. Like kill you with an precisionly sharped knife seriously. He's not one to clap about with false threats... But still you've got to hold your head high in battle.
I reached it, first beach, biggest chunk of beach area around the river for miles.
The sandy beach, stretched out about thirty feet before it was covered in regrouping dark water.
It promised warmth and safety near it's waters, like it had in it's earlier days.
But truth is is that the river is and never was safe. It's deep and also promises a painful death if you screw to much with the deep end of the water.
Tall cattails still here since the dry years. The long log that washed up to the shore years ago, during a storm. Only a storm could have had the power to pull up a beast of a log like that.
However I didn't have time to gawk. Or talk.
I needed to do what I hadn't planed on doing today. Winning back my childhood turf. I grabbed my guitar by it neck and held it at the ready over my shoulder. I also scooped up a handful of soggy stinky stagnate mud and headed up over the timber graveyard. It was truly no more than a bunch of fallen trees that someone had the heart to heap into a pile.
This is the only way to East 21st beach. Any other way means death. Not truly but threat wise.
I approached the swarm of trees carefully. Watching all side of me.
First I checked the Dip. No one there.
I searched the area thoroughly, but no signs of the moguls. It seems I've won without a fight! Triumphantly I march down the Dip like I own the place. Swatting the handful of mud I'd planned on using for a projectile across the smooth aqua water.
I looked over the inky water, even in the sunlight. It is still no brighter than a ultra marine. But still beautiful, I watched the water, the islands. The way everything changes in the sun. Isn't it weird How everything changes when you grow up? When things change, the way we see things. Once horrified of growing up and eventually counting down the days till you can move out. But I wont bore you with my depressing life story. There are far better stories to be told...
“Hey watchoo doin in my crib?!”
I turned and looked up the edge of the dip. An tall guy was standing there.
He was an olive toned man, his jeans bag so low I can tell he is wearing plaid.
“Your crib? Nope sorry. Finders keepers, losers...well you know”.
That outraged him.
“Finders keepers! No. Now I think you had better move on or I'm gonna have to call in my boys. Sonny and Train."
Now it's Sonny that makes me quake like a tree in a storm. He is the same one who threw me into the river on numerous occasions.
I tried to hide my fear of Sonny and Goldie$Chains stupidly clever remark.
Me and Goldie go far back. To when I was about ten.
I'd come down here to visit my little claim. That was during the times me and my brother would come to spend the night with my sister.
She never cared. So I figured that I wasn't obligated to caring what she did either.
So I'd spend my days here, away from her. And she didn't mind that. In fact then I don't think she'd really notice if you came up missing.
Not when you can sit all day sun-burnt in a pink swimming suit. Talking up friends that couldn't give a damn what you did anyways. As long as they had a sort of connection to cigarettes and booze. There were two fat ones from memory.
But I remember one far clearer than the other.
She was Wide, had brown cropped hair. She had an annoying nasal voice that whenever you heard it, you felt like punching a tree in anger and annoyance. I still hold a fiery grudge against her. And if opportunity holds, I will someday do what should have been done a long time ago.
Another reason I ran away from life. I can't stand it, being a laughing stock of my family because of my dreams. It's not like it matters now. Cause they already came true.
I really wouldn't mind if I never get called. It would just hurt a lot.
I was brought back to the attention of Goldie$Chains.
“Hey you! Little lady homy! Off my turf! This be the dirty little city of Goldie Chains! Not chicky loos and shiny beat up geetars!"
“Dude.” I laughed “This is no city. It's an sand outcrop over the Platte River. I don't know where your getting all of this city stuff.” I grinned at him.
“I don't really think you belong here.” he inquired calmly. I knew instantly that he meant that I had to leave or there would be consequences.
I glowered at him now with full fury unleashed. “Do you think I just, I don't know. Brought this guitar down here to MY turf to play MY songs!? Or to have a double use for it!”.
I stood up now. Still holding it by the neck and headstock. Patting the body against my other hand.
“Perhaps a Beating Stick?!”.
I amended smiling an evil kind of smile.
His goofy smile subsided.it turned to a stupid little smarty pants glare. As he dodged toward me.
I lifted. With all of my strength. The neck, body, and headstock high above my head.
It wobbled a bit and then steadied perching into a ready position.
Ready to clabber down on Goldie's head.
He put up his palms, stepping back. He didn't look so ferocious and unearthly anymore. He looked shaken.
“Alright. You win this round homy! But I will be back! So don't you worry about having this place to long!”. He marched off toward the parking area under the dense cover of canopy trees. And cotton woods. Hopped into his car, glared at me one more time then speed off around the corner.
I'm not really sure if I should be worried to heed his warning or not...
I turned around and followed the trail out of the thin trees. Walking around the big rocks until I found my way back to First Beach.
I started walking down the pile of tree branches and logs. Back to First Beach, to perch on the log bench in the hot sun when my phone rang.
I planted myself quickly on the tree and pulled out my phone answering breathless again.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Gloria! It's me Billie Joe”.