June the 7th of 1995 was a sunshine
daydream kind of Midwestern day; big blue skies, warm air with low humidity, a
breezy lakefront breeze and an easy flowing energy that seemed to radiate from
everywhere and everyone. Riding in my ’86 Pontiac with the top down, Kellygirl
and I made our way through the city to North Avenue and to a joint called
“Tattoo Tatu” in the Wicker Park part of town. With my hand drawn vine like
design of our three words, with several hundred bucks in our pockets, with the
good fortune of meeting a talented artist named Lacy and with several hours to
spare sitting in an uncomfortable chair while getting drilled with a needle
full of black ink and blood, we did it. We inked our love around our ankles,
forever branding ourselves for each other, a perfect pair of tattoos, that
forever reads “PEACELOVEBLISS”.
Truth be told this many years later, I am a
coward and did not have my whole tattoo completed. There is a thin section, on
the back of my ankle, near my Achilles’ tendon, where the two “ss” of Bliss are
not completely filled in; the tattoo artist had to stop because I was bleeding
so profusely by this time, she couldn’t see the work. I was supposed to go back
a few days later to have it finished off, but I never did; I still have not done
it and though I think about maybe having the ink updated for our 25th
anniversary, I don’t think I’ll have it finished. The fact that it is
unfinished has come to symbolize something in our relationship; we are never
quite finished with one another, Kelly and me. We, like my unfinished tattoo,
are a work of art still in progress.
“So these are like your engagement bands then?”
I remember the artist asking as I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth. She
was working on the thin part of my ankle in front and being the bleeder I am,
there was a mess of blood dripping from my ankle. We were branding ourselves
for life in the name of love and this suffering was worth the pain. The artist
made a scratching feeling and said, “That’s so cool, so romantic…” and then, in
the same tone, “this will hurt.”
“Love hurts.” I grunted as Cassidy played
drawing with Kelly somewhere behind me. I could see Kelly in a mirror and I
thought about how brave she was for going first. Hers was done and though she
was tender, she smiled at me. The artist again made that scratching feeling,
“Ahhhh…ssshhit!”
“Sorry about that…”
The Split/Apple, by June of 1995, was showing
signs of splitting itself into segments. There were different camps of people
who all felt entitled to run the operation yet because I was the primary
financial supporter of this loft and all that it contained, I remained in
control, and that made some people unhappy. Mark Gleason, in particular, was
pulling in a different direction than I was and by June he was ready to leave
the friendly confines of the loft. Other people had moved in, besides Kelly, we
had Atom Space, his girlfriend Nickle Winner and B. Bowls McDaab, a St. Louis
boy with filmmaking aspirations who were all siding with Matt; The Split/Apple
should be a private club and cater more towards filmmaking and less towards
music. My position, which was shared by Kelly, Josh, Dengler and The Indigo
Girl was that The Split/Apple should remain a public oriented thing and it
should just evolve however it should evolve…music, film, tattoos, whatever!
“It hurts Kelly!” I was complaining as she
rubbed bag balm on my tender ankle, “This is a big thing for me to do, being a
Jew and all, tattoos are evil things.”
“Tattoos are evil?”
“Well in the Torah, the Jewish bible,” I got
all d’Philosophical on her as she tenderly rubbed my fresh ink, “there’s this
thing about not desecrating the body God gave you…that means tattoos and
piercing…self mutilation…that is sinful stuff…But then there’s the Holocaust
thing about it…”
“The Holocaust thing?” her fingers felt
magically cool on the freshly singed flesh, “What do you mean?”
“The Nazis’ tattooed numbers on the Jews…” I
held up my wrist and showed her, “Right here, they would stamp numbers into
their wrists, before shipping them off to the chambers…”
“Really?”
“My Grandpa Jack’s friend Saul…” I shifted, “He
had one, it was creepy.”
“Don’t move…” she said with a Motherly tone,
“I’m not done yet…”
“Not done yet what?” Mark Gleason poked his
head into our room and smiled strangely, “You got tattoos?”
“Yeah…” Kelly held up her right ankle while
showing off mine in her hands, “Matching ones, they’re our engagement bands.”
“Engagement bands?” he was confused, “You’re
getting married now?”
“Yes!” I love the way she says yes, she
affirmed, “d’Philip asked me to marry him and I said yes, of course…”
“When did all this happen?”
“Last Monday.” I said matter of factly because
I knew what Gleason was thinking about Kellygirl being my Yoko. I pulled my
freshly saved ankle from my young bride and smiled with pride, “Like John&Yoko…we’re
going to be wed.”
“When?” Gleason was flabbergasted, “Wow, that’s
just so…fast. I mean, congrats and all, but wow…when?”
“Next month.” Kelly smiled, “After
‘Deadheads’…”
“Deadheads?” Mark used to always say this,
“What do you mean?”
“Deadheads On Parade.” I knew this was going to
be a confrontation and I sat myself up on our bed, “Over the weekend when The Grateful
Dead are playing at Soldier’s Field…we’re going to have our biggest event
yet…it’s going to make us famous and blow the roof off the place!”
“I thought we were going to discuss this more,
I didn’t know it was a sure thing or anything…” Mark sat on the end of the bed
and I held court; he made his appeal, “we’re not ready for it, I think we need
to talk more about it, it’s a big under-taking and not only do we have no
money, but almost no volunteers…we can’t do this event.”
“Yes we can and we are going to…” I held ground
like a pit bull boss, “I have the bucks to float it and we can always get more
volunteers.”
“You have the bucks?” Mark doubted me, “From
where?”
“From my sources…” I was ambiguous for a
reason; I had no sources and all the money I had left was about a thousand
dollars and a credit card with about $5,000 available. I continued my bluff, “So,
the money isn’t the issue. As for volunteers, I’ll get some of the new kids to
come through…”
“What new kids?”
“These kids from Hinsdale…” I bargained, “I
tell you what, Mark, if we do this thing I’ll not only fund it myself, but I
will pay you guys a fee, a flat fee and then if there’s anything left from the
venture, it’s mine.”
“It’s yours?” he said his famous line, “What do
you mean it’s yours?”
“All mine.” I was meaning more than just the
profits too, I was signifying that if we did this gig and it was as successful
as I thought it would be, the power struggle was over and the winner, being me,
takes all. I clarified for him, “What I mean is, I get the proceeds and we’re
going to do things my way around here after that, dig?”
“What if it bombs?”
“It won’t.” Kellygirl assured him.
“If it fails then it goes whatever way you guys
want…” I added, with a dramatic light of a cigarette, “…with or without me,
fair enough?”
“I suppose.” Then, with his bright eyes
squinting, “What sort of flat fee are you thinking about?”
“You guys would get $100 each, even if it
flops…” then I sweetened the deal he couldn’t refuse, “but if it’s as
successful as I think it will be, you’ll each get triple the amount, sound fair
enough?”
“That’s like $1,500…” he shook his long haired
head, “We’ve barely even made that much before; I don’t see how it can be
done.”
“I can see it, trust me…” I knew what I was
talking about. I held the ciggies like a prop and then, “So, sonny, you have to
ask yourself; is it a deal or not?”
“I can’t speak for everyone…” Mark smiled graciously, “But it sounds good to me. I’ll tell Bowls and Atom about it too, but I bet they’d agree too.”
“I can’t speak for everyone…” Mark smiled graciously, “But it sounds good to me. I’ll tell Bowls and Atom about it too, but I bet they’d agree too.”
“You do that.” I waved my ciggies with a casual
so long gesture and looked at Kelly, “but right now, me and my love have to go
get something to eat.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’re hungry…”
“Three Happiness?” Kellygirl asked, it was our
favorite restaurant in nearby Chinatown ,
practically walking distance away from the loft. She loves Chinese food, “I
could go for some chicken fried rice…”
“I was thinking Arranda’s” I named my favorite
Mexican joint for big fat burritos and added, “it’s a beautiful night for a
drive…”
“Top down?” Kelly beamed.
“Of course…” I turned to Mark, “Anything else?”
“No, I guess not…” Mark stood up and walked
towards the makeshift door on our lair, he turned back, “I guess I’ll talk to
you tomorrow about this then, right?”
“Sounds fair.” I stabbed my half smoked
cigarette to death in the ashtray, “You let me know in the morning.”
“But what if it’s not a deal?”
“It’s a done, dead deal.” I chuckled, “A done
Grateful Dead deal!”
“What do you mean?” he stood there, half in,
half out of the room, holding the door close to his thin, bare chest, “A dead
deal?”
“Just a metaphor, Mark…playing with words, that’s
all.” I swung my tender freshly inked ankle off the bed and stood up, “Let’s go
baby.”
“Okie-dokie, doggy daddy!” Kelly jumped off the
bed like Alabama Whorley in the movie, True Romance, she smiled “I’m with you!”
“We gone.”” I smiled at Mark, “Smell ya later,
skater…”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 |
| www.dphilipchalmers.net |
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The
above story is from the original manuscript draft of “My BiPolar Reality; How
Life Goes On…” and the reason I’m publishing it today, 8 June 2015, is because
it’s been 20 years to the day since my wife and I got our “PeaceLoveBliss”
tattoo engagement bands and I had that very conversation about Deadheads On
Parade with my partners at The Split/Apple…and now, as The Grateful Dead
reunite for a “Fare Thee Well” ride in Chicago, although my idea about resurrecting
“The Split/Apple’s Deadheads on Parade” fizzled, my wife and I are still very much
in love, very much married…But Mark Gleason, my primary partner at The
Split/Apple, the one who considered Kelly to be the Yoko of my undoing…is
finally getting married, on, of all days…our 20th anniversary, July
16th!
This
little d’Tale is a precursor to the next three (3) articles which I’ll soon
publish regarding those of you going to Chicago for The Grateful Dead’s Fare
Thee Well event on July 3-5 of 2015 (dude, that’s less than a month away)! When
we operated The Split/Apple, and on that weekend of Deadheads on Parade, I used
to pile people into my little red convertible and cruise them around Chicago,
pointing out the interesting and odd, the quirky and forgotten places of the
under belly of this city…We called the ride “The Tragical History Tour” and it
started at The Split/Apple, at 1720 South Michigan Avenue, travel from
Chinatown to Wrigleyville, along the lakefront, on lower Wacker Drive and
eventually back to where we started…but since I have no intention of returning
to Chicago, even for this show (it’s far too sad a memory), I thought perhaps I
would provide a hippie tour guide’s perspective of this historic, wonderful
city, starting with the rich and diverse history, extending into the deep
musical roots and ending with a photo spectacular of all the sights within
sight to see while you’re there…
In
closing, after a weekend without Internet (a service interruption because of a
massive construction accident), I have sunk myself into writing and trying to
stay cool, it’s hot here in The San Joaquin, in fact, right now…15:00 on Monday
6/8/2015 the temperature is a whopping 103 degrees! Summer has not even started
and we’re sizzling! This week is an easy week and I plan to keep it that way.
The past 12 weeks of promoting the book has taken a toll on me, a toll I’m not
even sure of what the damage is yet, but in truth, I just need to be aloof, off
on my own cloud…drift over to see The Grateful Dead in Santa Clara at the end
of this month and then, we’ll see how I’m feeling, right? I will post the “Chicago
Trilogy” over the next so many days, so be on the look out and in the meanwhile…Take
care, be well and stay safe!
Peace,
d’Philip
08
June 2015
The
San Joaquin Valley
Republic
of California
Earth
