Digging the Vein

by Tony O'Neill

  No more AA. No more NA. No more mind control. No more being a victim, no more looking for reasons in childhood, in God in anything but what exists in HERE. No more admitting I am powerless.

  Down the dusty Los Angeles sidewalks, down the urine stained London back alleys … there goes the connection fading into the crowd like a 1960’s Polaroid.

  “Business…?”

  “Whachoo need…?”

  “Chiva…?”

  END.

  London, October 21st 2003

  Bonus Tracks: B-sides, Rarities and Outtakes: Digging the Tunes

  Track-by-track playlist of all songs referenced in Digging the Vein. You can listen to the complete playlist by following THIS LINK.

  “Almost Blue” by Chet Baker

  Putting something appropriate on the CD player. Chet Baker, maybe, singing Almost Blue. That's always good. Slipping he belt from my jeans and wrapping the cold leather around my upper arm. Flexing for a vein, needle grasped between my teeth. I almost don't need the shot, it's true. I am already altered, transported, fixed.

  “Life on Mars” by David Bowie

  I’d fled London because I sensed an encroaching darkness there, one that threatened to swallow me whole. I’d somehow thought the endless California sun might banish it, or at least keep it at bay. But now I knew the darkness had traveled with me and there wasn’t enough booze in the world to drown it in. Back at the house I cracked open a can of Steel Reserve and listened to David Bowie singing Life on Mars.

  “Trans Europe Express” by Kraftwerk

  We got back to Daschel’s spacious apartment off of Sunset and Benton, and listened to music while sucking down beers. Kraftwerk’s “Trans Europe Express” turned the mood kind of odd, but the mad look was disappearing from Tate’s eyes so I knew that violence wouldn’t be on the menu tonight.

  “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” by Mantovani and His Orchestras

  A Korean barmaid looked over at him with a sour expression as he laughed and looked away. A musak version of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” played on the jukebox, and we greeted each other with “heys!” and hugs as we took our seats.

  “Brass Monkey” by The Beastie Boys

  We had taken over the jukebox and the bass line of The Beastie Boys’ Brass Monkey caused the floor to vibrate.

  “Season of the Witch” by Donovan

  Tate was wearing a long black wig and I was laughing hysterically, both of us in Joan’s bedroom while Donovan’s Season of the Witch blasted from the stereo.

  “She’s Lost Control” by Joy Division

  In the background a rhythmic pop-pop-pop told me someone had left a record on the platter. I walked over and took it off the turntable. I put another on, picking out a dog-eared copy of Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division. By the time the rhythmic, metallic thump of She’s Lost Control had started up, we were kissing.

  “Praise You” by Fatboy Slim

  The taste of chemicals in my mouth and Praise You by Fatboy Slim blaring from the hi-fi and the fire in my nostrils creeping up into my skull…

  “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” – Karaoke version

  In the bathroom I was doing key hits with Joan and Spencer while outside a drunk Asian guy who looked at least seventy years old crooned “roosy in the sky with diya-monds,” into the karaoke machine.

  “I Wanna Be Your Dog” by The Stooges

  I Wanna Be Your Dog blasted out of the jukebox and I drank beers, saying “hi” to everyone who passed by, including a completely blitzed Francisco Engel who alternated screaming incoherently at his pretty blonde girlfriend and shaking my hand with a desperate urgency, staring at me hard and grinning, “We’re the same you and I. We’re the fucking same, dig?”

  “Brown Sugar” by The Rolling Stones

  The band were flailing their way through “Brown Sugar,” while a couple of drunk peroxide blondes were dancing up front, mouthing the words back at the band. Mick blew them a kiss and tried to replicate that famous Jagger chicken walk, badly.

  “Superstar” (unreleased demo) by Southpaw

  The show dragged and I played badly in my vomit stinking shoes. Songs like Superstar and Fade Away that had once seemed to vital and spontaneous now dragged, every bit of life and had joy bled away until nothing remained but a junked out shell of what once was.

  “Odessey and Oracle” by The Zombies

  “You know Odessey and Oracle? Like, The Zombies’ album?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He said the production on it was “faggy.” That was the word he used – faggy.” Atom shook his head as if still galled by the keyboard player’s ignorance. “I mean, it’s a fucking great album.”

  I had to agree there.

  “So we left him in Kyoto airport,” Simon drawled, half nodded-out. “Cunt’s probably still there, wondering where we are.”