Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream pages 87-89

June 22, 2012

NOTE: This is an excerpt from the book I wrote way back in January  2018 and published in May 2020.

Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream page 87-89

How Jocko and his teamster pal Buck got over the scrap of indigo blow snort gavel, only a real scientist will tell. Examine them closely and you would never know they were table beef survivors. The tracking devices made them look cool and even lowered their temperatures but they were being watched. Every skip and jump over the sand dunes were known by Kaydick Industries.

“Jocko self serving through production of self right bbbbBuck?” Jocko asked with unquestionable certainty.

“Aww knock it off Jocks. We’ve been through this before. These feelings of inadequacy will pass. Drink this.”

Buck passed the chuckle juice to Jocko knowing it would calm him down and in turn calm them both down. Jocko took several swigs and starred into the several sunned blurry sky wishing he were still a civilian and not a runaway ex table beef. The Agency had no use for them but Kaydick Industries followed their moves for the fun of it more than any business matters at hand.

“Feel better now?” Buck asked.

“Yeah. I feel so inspired. Can I piggy back now?”

“You know you’re too heavy but if you need human contact I can ride you. Just remember last time I rode you. You tore a few stitches.”

“It’s ok. Ride me. Ride me.”

The temperature was rising near 1,046 degrees porfeos. Dry heat that humps your glands like a reptile. If you’ve ever been humped by a reptile then you know. They had no choice in a life situation like this but to keep moving. The other side of desert is the town of Gointhaw. They would be safe for a while there. One would think with a population of 456,890 they could get away and not be seen despite the high tech tracking system.

 

Meanwhile Ralph was helping me with my own problems. The center of my scrotum was unnerved during the last explosion. I needed Ralph’s strong hands to reach inside and “pull the strings” as the motthoppers called it in my day. Not sure of the proper medical procedure’s name. Ralph wasn’t medical. He was physical for sure. He stuck his hands right up in there, you see. And wiggled each finger one at a time until he saw my fantastic grin reaching each ear almost. Chagrin. Ouuuther.

“Thanks. I needed that.” I said.

“Uppers yup. For you I can do fritterpops. Wholesale style. Ya know.” Ralph said.

Now my only agenda was to take photo options for the Agency. They remote wired me for the mission. My brain would freeze as they send a signal telling me when to click the device resembling absolutely nothing like a camera or visual recording device. It was built into my forehead like a third eye yet invisible to the eye. It was under my skin yet the 3 kolopuy length and width lens could actually see from the far away Agency laboratory. The trigger/button was on the side of my nose and only about .006 Kintopuys. It looked like I was scratching my colossal sized honker.

It was a fairly simple routine besides the brain freeze but the Agency was cautious and paranoid so Ralph was by my side in case I ran into any trouble. In some countries and cultures scratching my nose and staring at someone would be considered rude or a primal way of saying “skitter over lipper”. Even an inactive agent like myself could get quite the head banging and artillery action for that. Ralph is there to break up any potential violence like that and multiple other types. He’s a good zoo, ya know, it’s fun to keep him around. He doesn’t need weapons. I told ya what those hands can do with my “problem”.

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Excerpt from My First Novel Yellow Socks Confessions of a Non Don Juan

June 4, 2012

An Excerpt from my 2010 novel Yellow Socks- Confessions of a Non Don Juan

 

Skeleton Woman or Things Like Me Don’t Happen To You

 

Christ it happened again. Another notch in my “girls that want to be my friend” belt. It made sense. We were perfect friends and she was real cute too. I kept thinking that I was ok with it. I’d be happy just being a friend again. I keep turning to God for strength to accept my fate as “Friend to all women” that I’m attracted to. My acceptance level seems to be ok. I go to my happy place. I go to my cave. I say the serenity prayer over and over I am sure that I will be ok with this. Yes I will. (no I won’t)

 

Cut to a scene from Fight Club

 

TYLER

Stop it! This is your pain — this is your burning hand. It’s right here! Look at it.

 

JACK

I’m going to my cave. I’m going to my cave to find my power animal!

 

TYLER

No, don’t deal with this the way those dead people do. Come on

!

JACK

I get the point, ok, please!

 

TYLER

No, what you’re feeling is premature enlightenment.

 

Ok. I get the idea. Feel the pain. Feel the hurt. Feel the rejection saturating my heart until I bleed more than just these words all over the place and finger my open sore of a brain as it wants to dwell on her over and over again. Screaming and roaring her name with anger and grief and sometimes a slight relief that it’s done and I know that she will not reject me again unless I go back for more and more or less or a little bite of her cheeseburger and a sip of her Pepsi to tide me over until the next one comes along with better food and spirits for my, for me for. Four scores of seven years itch as I scratch the weathered tired out mongrel of an ego that was left stray years ago in a pound for wayward hearts and letches that can only love and never be loved.

 

The pain of being a friend. A friend. I’ve heard that “Let’s just be friends” millions of times in my life as I gargle a new mouthwash and toothpaste hoping my breath will be the answer to my problem. My problem is as follows: me, myself and I. We altogether are the problem. We want to be loved so bad that we give off the vibe that scares the shit out of women so they just want to be friends. Friends. Friends. I think to myself that will be fine. Friends is ok. It’ll do. I can accept that. Bullshit! Feel the pain I tell myself. Embrace it. the pain is your friend. To hurt is to be alive. I’ve never been so alive. I’m alive. So alive.

 

“Did you ever hear about the skeleton woman?” Morton asked.

 

“Was that a Glam rock band from the seventies?” I ask.

 

“Ha. Ha. Nah. It’s an ancient Indian story. This guy was fishing in the middle of a lake. He was totally into it. He was relaxed. Not a care in the world except catching the next fish. All of a sudden he feels a tug on his line and he yanks it up. A skeleton appears on his line. He doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line and he gets scared. He starts paddling his boat away from it but it follows him. He still doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line. He gets out of his boat and runs into the village and he is carrying his fishing rod and the skeleton is still right behind him. He jumps into his Tee Pee and it follows him in. He lies down and tries to hide not looking at it for a while. When he finally turns to look at the skeleton it has changed into the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is his. The moral of the story is that he was minding his own business doing something he enjoyed and that’s when the right woman came along. In other words when you are not looking for love is when it will find you. ”

 

“I know that but it’s so fucking hard to stay focused on other things without thinking about how much I want to be loved. Fall in love. Ya know?” I responded.

 

“I know. I know.” Morton said.

 

“We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.” Tyler Durden

 

To purchase click here


It Thing Hard On: The Cramps Revisited

July 13, 2010

The Cramps were an American garage punk band formed in 1976 and were active until 2009. The band split after suffering the death of lead singer Lux Interior.[1] Their line-up rotated much over their existence, with the husband and wife duo of Interior and lead guitarist Poison Ivy the only permanent members. Guitarist Bryan Gregory and drummer Pam Ballam rounded out the first complete lineup in April 1976.

They were part of the early CBGB punk rock movement that had emerged in New York. The Cramps are noted as influencing a number of musical styles: not only are they one of the first garage punk bands but also by being the first known band to blend punk rock with rockabilly, The Cramps are widely recognized as one of the prime innovators of psychobilly, and they inspired many of the early goth rock bands.

On February 4, 2009 at 4:40 AM PST, Lux Interior died at the Glendale Memorial Hospital after suffering an aortic dissection which, contrary to initial reports about a pre-existing condition, was “sudden, shocking and unexpected.”  – Wikipedia

I wrote this after seeing them on October 13th, 2004.

Thursday, October 14, 2004

It Thing Hard On

John, my cousin’s wife Nicole and I walked into the Trocadero around 7:45 pm. Our night was set. We were to see the Cramps. Nicole thought she could get us in for free because her old room mate works there. He wasn’t there but she found this other guy she knew that said he’d get al three of us in for twenty bucks. It’s better than Twenty-two dollars a piece. This dude was big and black and ugly. Not just his face but his entire manner. His name was Beast. Appropriate. Here’s the real price. Nicole had to actually talk to this massive monster. He looked at me with confusion and assumed I was looking out for her or protecting her. “Don’t worry man. I ain‘t trying to get with the girl. You look like you want to protect her.“ he said to me. “I’m not worried.” I said. “This is my husband’s cousing, Rich” Nicole said. He shook my hand in some weird handshake and half hugged me. “What’s up, cousin Rick?” he said. “It’s Rich. What’s up” I said “This is my body gurad, John.” I said jokingly, introducing John to Beast. “You need protecting?” he asked. This guy gave off the strangest vibrations and I was uncomfortable and he and Nicole wandered off and I was guessing he was trying to get her back stage. I was just glad I didn’t have to deal with him anymore.

Nicole eventually came back alone to join John and I and we got ready to feel the Cramps. The first opening band was finished. We missed them. Oh well. The Gore Gore Girls were up next. I remember hearing them before and thought they sucked but I was hoping maybe they were better live. No such luck. At least they were eye candy. Four hot chicks in short skirts and boots playing instruments. I spent most of the time in the bar upstairs so I could smoke. No smoking in the main area’s of the Trocadero. Can you believe it?

I’m not much of a reviewer or review writer or what ever it’s called. Here it goes. After all I am Rock n Roll Rich and I ought to write about Rock n Roll once in a while, right? I Love Rock n Roll. Always have. Always will. The Cramps were everything Rock n Roll is. Some say that Punk Rock is dead. They are right. With the exception of Peelander-Z the Greatest Japanese Punk Rock Samurai Noodle band in the World and Anti-Seen.

I also heard that Rock n Roll will never die and that’s the point. Some bands rock so fucking much that they seem to go on for years way past the rockin’ abilities of their fans. Look at AC DC and The Rolling Stones. I don’t care how old these guys get as long as they still pump out the raw energy like they do Rock will always be the greatest music around. Feel it. Live it. Breathe it.

Yeah, my nick name in High School was Rock Roll Rich because I always wore Classic Rock or Punk Rock t-shirts. I was in several bands and all I did was listen to music. Zeppelin, The Beatles, Elvis, Black Sabbath, The Rolling Stones, The Doors, Jimi Hendricks, Alice Cooper, The Dead Kennedy’s. I didn’t give a crap about anything else except sex, drugs and Rock n Roll usually in the opposite order. My first Rock N Roll Show was The Rolling Stones at JFK stadium in Philadelphia. George Throrgood and Journey opened up. Even thought I was with my dad and I was about thirteen years old, I rocked out. It changed my life.

Since then I’ve seen The Who, The Clash, Santana, The Hooters, David Bowie, Rush, Yes, Frank Zappa, Ry Cooder, Bob Dylan, The Grateful Dead, Paul Mc Cartney, Robert Plant, Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, David Lee Roth, Billy Joel,((It’s still Rock n Roll To Me, ya know), Sex Pistols, Misfits, Lous Reed, Patty Smith, Guitar Wolf, Dan Bern Moxy Frouvous, The Ramones, Rob Zombie, Primus, Hot Tuna, The Beach Boys, Santana, Metallica, Macabre, Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osbourne, Neil Young, Sonic Youth, Gwar, Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Richie Havens, The Buzzcocks, The Specials, Brian Setzer, Bauhaus, Love and Rockets, KMFDM (or was it DMFMK?), Face to Face, Iggy Pop, Reverend Horton Heat, Anti-Seen, The Meatmen, Rollins Band, Jane’s Addiction, Kiss, Skid Row, Bon Jovi, The Cure, Dick Dale, Los Straightjackets, Link Wray, The Scorpians, Alice Cooper, Satan’s Pilgrams, Sylvain Sylvain (of the New York Dolls), The Moldy Peaches, Daniel Johnston, The Violent Femmes, Jayne County (formerly Wane County), The Murder Junkies, Rockets From The Crypt, The Bomboras, Peelander-Z, The Cramps, Morrissey and a load of others that I’m just too burnt out to remember.

Of all of the band I’ve seenperform live, The Cramps are the most Rock n Roll. Lux Interior dressed in his tight black leather pants and shirt is the front man for this Psychobilly extravaganza leads the night into an orgy of psychotic Garage Rock with a Rockabilly backbeat. Poison Ivy on Guitar dressed in the sexiest see through lingerie top revealing her red panties as she wails like A hot sexy female Keith Richards or Angus Young in their prime. They’ve been rockin’ it out since the mid Seventies and still give it the same youthful energy covering old sixties garage rock, reggae, and even Ricky Nelson like no one you will ever see.

The Cramps are everything Rock n Roll should be. Rock n Roll. Lux screams and sings and yelps and moans into the microphone as the band consistently blows out each tune with passion and a punch that you don’t notice that they aren’t always polished. It doesn’t matter. You can count on them to Rock. This was the third time I’ve seen them and each time was a true down and dirty gritty Rock n Roll experience. I wish there were more bands like this.

Despite the audience filled with posers and trend setting hipsters who just got tuned into the Cramps because Hot Topic sells their T- shirts, overall it was a good night thanks to The Cramps. We headed out of the show after the encore where they didn’t do Surfin Bird like they usually do. We filed out onto the street towards the car to recover from this night of rockin’ out.

On the way out we once again ran into Beast. Great. Well I guess I should be grateful to him because he got us into the show pretty cheap and all. He wanted to talk to us again. He hit on Nicole again. “You guys got any drugs? Weed, coke? Anything to get me high?” he asked us. “No.” I said. “How about a couple of bucks so I can get some drugs?” he asked. I figured the guy got us in to the show so I could throw him a couple of bucks and get the hell away from him. I reached in my pocket and started to pull out a few dollars. “Fuck you man! I don’t want your fucking money. You think I’m just some Nigger on the street.: I ain’t like that.” he said to me. He looked real angry. I was getting uncomfortable. Before i could explain anything he grabbed the sides of my head and face with both giant black hands and pulled me close to him. I went limp in fear of what he was going to do. I was going to get my ass kicked, I thought. I was in complete shock. He kissed my head then pushed me away and said something I can’t remember because I was to distracted with my own fear and desire to get the fuck away from him. I walked away slowly and towards the car. John and Nicole followed. I just got kissed by a big black man and I didn’t care. Why? Because the Cramps were that much more memorable

It was my third Cramps show and unfortunately my last.


Damned Yellow Socks: the Biography of a Novel

July 10, 2010

I started writing blogs in 2003 mostly on a social networking site called MySpace. I act like you’ve never heard of the now dying site. It was the beginnings of it’s popularity back then and my friends and I would write blogs day after day and comment back and forth and we even started a writer’s group that met in the real world once a week and read our prose or poetry or whatever and critiqued and commented on each other’s work. Good times. During this time I decided I was going to write a book based on a few of my blog entries on MySpace. One of the titles and storied mentioned a pair of yellow socks and won’t into it because that is the title and I want you to buy the book and find out for yourself.

Anyway, I decided on the title at the start. I knew how it was going to begin and decided ho it was going to end. I needed to write the middle. You know the book itself. So, it started as talking about my relationship with my natural parents especially my paranoid schizophrenic mother. The more I wrote this personal stuff I realized that I am going to fictionalize it. Although I drew from personal experience I added and made up a lot of great stories. It became a confessional fiction about a man’s relationship with his crazy mother and how it effected his future relationships with crazy friends and especially crazy girlfriends and wives.

I was extremely committed to writing this book. I had to write at least a few pages a day. Then one day my computer died out on me and when I put in the new software the 64 pages or so were gone. I freaked out and didn’t write for a little bit. Then I remembered that I posted some of it on MySpace and I emailed some of the stories to myself as a back up. I pieced a good portion of it back together and I was off to the races writing again. I was more determined to finish this and I kept backing it up on disk and emailing it to myself for safe measures.

Somewhere along the line I drifted away from it. I would only write occasionally towards the book. I never stopped writing blogs, journals, stories and poetry. It gave me a quick fix. The book was a slow endeavor. It was always in the back of my mind. Year after year I would move up 50 pages or more but I kept putting it on the back burner.

From 2004 or 2005 until 2007 I found myself in a band that I wa more committed to. Right before our final fall and break up I actually believed we were going to take it to the next level of making money at it for a living. Of course we broke up. Everyone was too talented and were going to move on eventually. Except for me. I play solo sometimes with my acoustic guitar but it’s not the same.

I tried again with a new band the end of 2007 to the middle of 2008 and my heart just wasn’t in it as much. I was also diagnosed as Bipolar and took some heavy drugs and I was on pain pills for my Trigeminal Neuralgia. Look it because I don’t feel like writing about it now. Painful disorder. The mix of all of the pills threw me for a loop. I couldn’t function well especially at my job that was giving me horrible anxiety attacks. I was the walking dead with frequent anxiety. Ha. What a mess.

I still dabbled in the book now and again. I managed to get reviews published in various online magazines and such but the book was this heavy weight that I knew in the back of my head I must finish. I wasn’t concerned about publishing it or selling it. All I wanted was to finish it.

Good things eventually happened for me when I decided to sober up from the pills I was taking. I was so far behind on rent. I was going to lose my job. I lost my girlfriend. I lost 16 years of continuous sobriety. I finally surrendered. I went to a new Doctor and lowered the medications I was taking. I stopped taking the pain pills. I started working harder at my job despite the anxiety.

Then I was given the opportunity to move back in with my adopted parents in March 2009. I was adopted when I was 11. That’s another story. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all good. My adopted father was sick and one of the main reasons I moved back in was to help take care of him. Despite his illnesses he was a constant creator of some fabulous art. His artistic energy was inspiring and I found myself writing my book again. My adopted mom is also a published author so she kept pushing me. It was a pain in the ass but it was working.

My adopted father started to get sicker and sicker in May of 2009. He died June 19th 2009. It was a little over a year ago. This set my depression and anxiety off for a long time. I took care of myself and my mother the best I could and continues my treatment, medication and AA meetings. I started to feel better then the beginning of November 2009 I had a breakdown for a few days. I literally thought I was going ot lose my mind and be institutionalized. I wasn’t. It was like a miracle. I woke up happy one day and I haven’t felt anything like that since.

Right after I pulled out of that funk I finally finished writing my novel. Yellow Socks: Confessions of a Non-Don Juan. I was so excited and I talked about it and told everyone and wrote about it and then I had to edit it. I asked around and had a bunch of people read it and one of my friends did a great job editing it and footnoting it but it was in a different file format and I had trouble transposing it to my documents. I priced editors and it was too expensive for me at the time. I had to do it myself. I was a bit deflated. I lost my enthusiasm.

Editing was a pain in the ass.  I had to read and re-read my novel and watch spelling (thank God for spell check), grammar, syntax and continuity. It was a slow process that I had to force myself to do. Again my mom bugged me about it. Months went by and I was still editing. “Almost finished. Almost done. Keep going.” I’d tell myself. I’d always end up writing other things. I have always preferred the quick fix.

On May 26th 2010 I lost my job. Well I didn’t lose it. I knew here it was but it wasn’t mine. I got fired. Read one of my first blogs –

https://richhillenjr.wordpress.com/2010/05/27/i-got-fired-from-my-day-job/

or my YouTube video blog about it –

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0cgoudLTGc

My mom was away and I was afraid to tell her I was fired like she was my wife or something. The first thing I did was file for unemployment. The second thing I did was finish editing my book/ I was in so much confusion about the job loss I needed to accomplish something.

Now it’s finished. I was a little disappointed when I reduced the typeface from 16-point type to 12-point type that it went from 286 pages down to 164. I thought to myself “I spent almost 7 years writing a 164 page book? What took so long?” Ha. Well I think I covered that.

So it’s done. I only found one publisher that I think is appropriate because some of my content is a little sexually graphic. Although, everyone that read it so far doesn’t think so. I finally got all of the requirements down for them and Ill hopefully be sending it out soon.

I asked a few of my published friends what they think I should do and they all agreed that I should self publish it. One gave me a website that will publish it and get it on Amazon.com and the Barnes and Noble website. They are a make as you buy company. In other words they only publish a book when someone orders it so it will only be available online unless I buy a bunch and resell them or give them to independent book stores on consignment. I figure most people buy online these days anyway and I’ll have my book out there and in my hands while I still shop for a publisher. My friend’s book came out really nice so I know that they are good quality too.

Meanwhile, I need a cover design. I had this vision when I finished the book of what I want the cover to look like. After about a month of trying to get a model to get photographed in Yellow Socks I’ve got a commitment for tomorrow with the photographer, model and other models for the back cover. I still needed a pair of yellow socks.

I figured I’d wait until the last minute in typical Rich Hillen Jr style. I did pick up a pair that were the right shade of yellow but not the right kind. Yesterday I went to Wal-Mart. Nothing. Actually. I found a pair hat were the wrong shade. I went to a dollar store after that. Nothing. A few friends suggested Target and urban Outfitters so today I was on a mission. I found one pair almost the right color at target but it had a leopard pattern on it. I bought them anyway. Then I tried Koels because it was in the same shopping center. Nothing. Next up was Sports Authority because someone had mentioned that soccer socks come in yellow. There was nothing there either. I went to Urban Outfitters across the street at the mall next. Ugh. I hate the mall especially after working at restaurant inside the mall for almost 6 years. Parking was tough on a Saturday afternoon. Luckily Urban Outfitters has an outside entrance so I didn’t have to enter the mall.

I looked around and the girl at the register asked if I needed help. I told her my dilemma and she brought me to the women’s socks section. There was nothing. She suggested I try the men’s department upstairs. I was directed near the show department and there they were. Yellow socks at last. They are going to be a little too big for the model’s feet but they will do. One more step closer to having my novel or book or whatever you call it published. One day at a time. Just like you put your yellow socks on one sock at a time.

The End (for today)


Pre-Game Jitters (Performance Anxiety)

July 3, 2010

What the fuck? What is this? Anxiety week for Rich? Now I have performance anxiety. I think that’s what’s causing it today.

I started off with my spiritual rituals and gave my day to God. I think I did anyway. I basically chilled out after that. I wrote a little bit. I did some of those surveys I was talking about in another blog. I practiced my set for the show I am playing tonight. I worked on some video and networking and stuff. I didn’t get much sleep last night so I went to lay down in the nice air conditioning and all of a sudden a panic attack crept up on me. I came back downstairs and outside to have a cigarette after taking some anxiety medication that my Doctor prescribed for such situations. I lit up a smoke and called a friend. It helped slightly. I can barely focus n writing this.

I have never had the “pre-game jitters” before. Sure, I’ve been nervous before shows but I never had an anxiety attack before one. Now I’m panicking that I might have one on stage.

I’ve really lost interest in playing out the past year or more. I don’t like to practice. I don’t like the bar crowds. I have no patience to sit (stand actually) through a bunch of bands even if I like them. My live band show tolerance has decreased tremendously in the past few years. Maybe it’s because I have seen too many over the years between booking bands for almost two years straight or playing out so much for three years or more. I’m a decent performer. I used ot love being in front of people. I’ve had the charisma and stage presence thing down but I’m not real interested in playing out anymore.

Last month I played for a friend’s birthday. He was a fellow band mate who has done a lot for me and my former bands. I couldn’t say know and it was a pleasure to play for him. I ended up spending most of the time there with another former band friend that doesn’t drink talking outside for a few hours. I really like the people that show up for the bands. I like the bands and the members too. I just don’t enjoy the entire experience like I did years ago.

Tonight I am playing because it’s a benefit for a friend and former band mate to raise money for his medical costs because he is very ill. It starts earlier than usual and ends later than usual. He will probably only be there for a short while because he is sick. I am only playing tonight because of him. I don’t want to sit there for hours just so I can do my fifteen-minute set and then stay even longer.

Maybe all of the pressure of the night is building up combined with the fact that I barely practiced and am barely prepared. Maybe seeing my sick friend has something to do with it too. Whatever it is I am trying to take it easy. Take one moment at a time. Whew. I pray I get through this.


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