RICK CASTRO: DIARY- 3/29/2020

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 3/29/2020

I went for my first walk this morning.

All this desert beauty I’ve been wasting, too neurotic to leave the property. Yes, I have a padlocked gate.. everyone does, this is the remote high desert. It's very sparse. Most are/were weekenders.. The local residents are shut-ins.. or parolee’s, or both. So on my virgin walk, I pass one homestead who must be a permanent resident. Nice place, very indigenous....  Oh no! There's a large black pit bull! Like the one from The Omen, with black cruel eyes, wearing a fluorescent orange, (raver?) collar. He hates me!… his growl is so deep.. There’s nowhere for me to go, but to pass him. The growl turns  into a loud bark that echoes down the lonely dirt road. In the high desert, no one can hear you scream. I make no eye contact.. Someone told me never to look at an angry animal. They will sense your fear and lunge. He is following me the  length of his property behind a chain-link fence. He is motioning to jump… Wait a minute!
 That fucking fence is low, he can easily leap over that. Maybe his fluorescent orange collar will get caught on the chain-link and that will bide me enough time to escape?!

With that crisis adverted, I am now approaching back to Bee’s cabin. Out of the corner of my eye I see a jet-black Pontiac LeMans, sleek, sexy and mean. Normally I like muscle cars, I still have my 1967 Mercury Cougar, (parked at me parents garage. She doesn’t work too good anymore). This LeMans is souped up with a muffler equivalent to the pit bull’s growl.  I’m reminded of that car in the 1983, John Carpenter film, Christine.

 I can’t see who’s driving, but in my mind it’s two Hessen's, hot, but wiley… they are bored, on crack and looking for someone to rob, 
or come back and rob..  The area is notorious for break-ins. I wait for the LeMans to cruise on by… 

I was afraid to take a photo, didn’t want them to know where I live… I felt  like they were lingering. I didn’t want to take any chances…. One they drive off, I unlock the padlock, quickly re-locking myself in Bee’s cabin and hide for the day…. 

Yes I’ve become that paranoid. Something about a plague brings out the best of  PTSD.

6pm: It’s happy hour!…..

I've always loved happy hour.. I love happy hour culture, I love happy hour petits aliments, and of course I love the spirits.  

I don’t mind tell you sometimes I’m a bit of a lush. Early last year my numbers went up, as in cholesterol & pre-diabetes, (I’m old) 
so I had to put one of my fave things on hold, (my other fave is teatime… I have much to tell you about that later!). My numbers came down considerably late last year. Then the plague hit. Under current circumstances I’ve resumed happy hour, now virtual. I have an ongoing happy hour date with my friend RichTimes. Every Saturday we hit the bottle. This Saturday I pour a nice Columbian Cabernet, from the only market in 100 mile radius, Stater Bros, and RichTimes guzzled a Kona Beer from Hawaii, 
( yuck) most likely Trader Joe’s.

 I came across some cocktail card’s of me dad’s; Bar Basics, circa 1977. 

They are a hoot! This one reads: Introducing Wine

Wine is a beverage made from fermented juice of grapes. 
The study and appreciation is a lifelong endeavor. 
Never completed by the most devoted student. 
Yet with only a little time and desire to learn, 
the beginning student can quickly acquire the 
fundamentals necessary to select good wines and serve with confidence. 
The purpose of this section is not to make you an authority on wine, 
anymore than an article about Dutch painting would make you a Rembrandt.

After our laughs, drunk as skunks, I persuaded RichTimes to belt out a tune.. After all he is a singer. 

That evening, tipsy and snug as a bug in Al & Bee’s garishly decorated bedroom, I have the most vivid of dreams;

In the dream I’m running for fear of my life, someone is out to get me, someone in a black Pontiac LeMans.  To get away I run into a bar circa 1977.  For whatever reason Don Knotts is the proprietor. I watch people come in and drink as their cars are being fixed by the mechanic next door. Up pulls the LeMans waiting to be serviced. I don’t wait to see who’s driving, I hightail it out there asap and now find myself walking home in downtown L.A. 

As I pass a grassy knoll, groups of students are conducting a sit-in, protesting the mis-treatment of medical people and demanding Mayor Eric Garcetti give the public monies to defray loss of income during the plague, instead of giving all to corporate L.A.

I totally believe in the cause, but don't wanna get infected..  As I get closer the students began to sing.. I was planning on ignoring the crowd, ( for self protection) when everyone starts to sing I am moved to stay. Next to me a stranger, I sense it’s a guy, (we don’t make eye contact) puts his arm on my shoulder as we watch the lovely crowd and begin singing together. After the harmony we walk into the crowd in jubilee. As we get to the other side of the knoll, for some reason we start to run. I tell the stranger who is now my friend, “I haven't run in years, I didn't know I could”, (permanent bike injury circa 1998) another stranger previously on his right side, now runs over to my left side and put his arm around me in embrace. This allows the three of us to run very fast.  Now for the first time we actually look at each other, The guy on my right is in his 30s, kinda looks like a better looking Adam Carolla, wearing a letterman jacket. The guy on my left, is about the same age, jockish with brown hair. Our new trio runs in ecstasy as a release for being in quarantine four months. We are yelling phrases of joy, how fast we’re going and how happy we are. “We run like the wind!,” we bellow. We are like lighting. 

We stop running in the exact spot where the black Pontiac LeMans is being fixed, the mechanic shop, next to the bar. It’s his black LeMans. We exchange high fives, I tell my two comrades, “your support enabled me to run again… I didn’t know I could …  
I burst into tears…. very emotional… they start to cry as well, and stay, “sure thing buddy.” 

We Three enter the bar. It is packed with everybody wearing their 1977 finest.

I see my longtime friend Billy Goodson, who’s been holed up in Milano for the duration of the plague. We are very happy to see each other. “Let me get your number!,”

 I scream over the music. I ask the bartender, (Don Knotts), “can I have a calendar?”

 He knows I’m gonna use it as writing paper, so hands me a cheaper calendar. 

“what happened to the regular calendar? I demand. Don Knotts points to the precious calendars, (depicting the end of the plague)  now in a glass case; for sale. I write my number, and Billy Goodson writes his on the cheaper calendar. The guys who just ran with me don’t wanna to leave.  Our run and cry together has bonded us.. I say to the driver, (better looking Adam Corolla)  By the way, I told the mechanic to do a good job on your LeMans, and to give you a good deal. He is thunderstruck that  I know which car is his and bursts into drunken tears. We all sing together……

Every Stranger 

I changed my life for you

Cried out my eyes for you

It’s not like you asked me to 

I moved across the town

Moved my life underground

All to escape my thoughts of you

And I wish you well

Though you drag me through hell

And I wish you well

Though you drag me through hell

Maybe there is a place 

Somewhere up in outerspace 

Where I may send my thoughts of you

If I could erase myself and come back as someone else

Maybe I could, be with you

Every stranger that you meet

Truly could me

Every stranger that you meet

Truly

song & lyrics by RichTimes-

So this is how the world will end.

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