Eazy E

Los Angeles

Los Angeles

At the beginning of March 1996, I was asked to write for a hip-hop magazine called On the Run. The guy who created the magazine, Gary Daniels, was friends with everybody in the scene. One day he’d wander into work and say he was up all night doing backing vocals on Yo-Yo’s new album.

When he had his first staff meeting I told him I dug hip-hop, but I can’t write that style, that Source Magazine style. The readers would know I’m full of shit. I don’t call songs “joints,” and friends aren’t “peeps.” As the sole white guy on staff, he asked what I wanted to do, I said I wanted to write articles on what is affecting the community, stuff like how the Regan era introduced crack to the inter-cities, etc.

The staff meeting was at Angelina’s on Sepulveda in Sherman Oaks, great food.

A week or so later, Gary asked me at work if I had heard about “E?” I asked who’s E? He said Eazy E. I said, I know who Eazy E is, but we’re not on the first initial basis.

Gary said Eazy is in the hospital with the flu or whatever.

On March 26, 1996, we were supposed to meet for breakfast at the Denny’s on Ventura Blvd. Gary walks in looking haggard. I ask him what’s wrong, and he tells me that, “Eazy is doing really badly and people having been saying he has AIDS, not the flu.”

We sit, order and Gary pulled out his over-sized text-based pager and yells, “Oh, my god, E is dead.” He jumped up and ran out of the restaurant.

I didn’t see Gary around for a few weeks. When he finally came back to work I asked him about the magazine and the deadlines and he was burnt-up. He just gave up on the magazine altogether.

I only met Eazy once. Back when he lived at The Summit in Woodland Hills, he would hang out a lot at the Topanga Mall. I bumped into him at the directory in the center of the Plaza. I looked over and this little guy was checking three pagers, he looked over, lowered his locs and smiled. He said, “Too many women.” And walked off.

RIP Eric Wright

#michaelessington #misconceptionsofhell

 

 

Misconceptions of Hell

Misconceptions of Hell

Top 50 Musical Acts

Under A Broken Street Lamp

Under A Broken Street Lamp

Ages ago I was sent this list to complete. It was my top 50 bands that I could instantly remember seeing live. It was a fun trip down memory lane. I could probably add another 100, but here’s what I could remember:

1. Freddie Jackson
2. Color Me Bad
3. Eddie Money
4. Richard Marx
5. Celene Dion
6. L.A. Guns
7. Cher
8. Weirdos
9. Duran Duran
10. Luther Vandross
11. Andy Taylor
12. Belinda Carlisle
13. Beach Boys
14. Cherri Currie
15. Earth Dies Burning
16. Sheila E.
17. Cherry Bombz
18. Chicago
19. David Bowie
20. Prince
21. Tuff
22. Warrant
23. Poison
24. Wasp
25. Suicidal Tendencies
26. Youth Brigade
27. Wasted Youth
28. 7 Seconds
29. Mau Maus
30. Flipper
31. Public Nuisance
32. DOA
33. Sin 34
34. TSOL
35. Jeffrey Lee Pierce
36. Henry Rollins
37. Sebastian Bach
38. Helmet
39. Guns N Roses
40. Skid Row
41. Motley Crue
42. Kiss
43. The Pretenders
44. Steve Jones
45. U2
46. Secret Affair
47. Edgar Winter
48. Human Hands
49. Romero Void
50. Danzig

#michaelessington #misconceptionsofhell

 

 

Misconceptions of Hell

Misconceptions of Hell

Pancakes

Under A Broken Street Lamp

Under A Broken Street Lamp

I was having a cup of coffee this morning at McDonald’s because the coffee is better than Starbucks and I don’t have to see thirty people stare at their laptops. I was there for fifteen or twenty minutes when I felt like I was losing my touch. Absolutely nothing weird had happened.

As I stood up to leave, a short (five foot something) white woman comes running in the side door. She opened the door for the trash bin. Peeks at the counter opens the next trash bin, looks at the counter again. Pulls out a plate with three uneaten pancakes goes to sit down. As she’s walking, a short (an inch shorter she would’ve represented the lollipop guild) Hispanic, a female manager came over to ask her to leave.

“I told you to stop doing that.”

“I didn’t do anything. These are mine, I bought them.”

“One more time and I’m calling the police.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

The manager walked away. I stood up, about to offer her a cup of coffee to go with her hotcakes. Once I was, about, six feet from her, she leaned forward and kind of hissed. As much as I wanted to help, I passed this time. She was dirty and seemed to be either high or possibly unbalanced. Another time.

#michaelessington #misconceptionsofhell

 

 

Misconceptions of Hell

Misconceptions of Hell

Redline

Misconceptions of Hell

Misconceptions of Hell

Yesterday, I went downtown with my son. We took the Orange Line to North Hollywood. Then hopped aboard the Red Line and eventually the Expo Line.

Once we boarded the Red Line a homeless man came on. He had a huge bundle with him. Bags and sleeping gear all tied to a shopping dolly.

After the homeless man sat down, a rat-faced man in a Member’s Only jacket boarded. He stood in the middle of the train with his back to the doors.

Just as the doors were closing a Hispanic woman rushed on with a suitcase on wheels. She came in hurriedly while talking on her cell. While searching for a seat she banged into the homeless man’s belongings.

The rat-faced man yelled:

“God damn it! Get back here and say sorry. That’s just fucking rude. You bang into people’s shit! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The train went quiet. Everybody looking around to see what would happen next. The woman never looked up from her phone.

I guess Ratso was unhappy with the non-reaction. So, he turned to the homeless man and started yelling:

“And what about you? You leave all your shit blocking the aisle. What the fuck is wrong with you? Show some fucking class.”

Again, everyone went silent. The Rat spoke again:

“Shit, I’ve had it with you fucking people.”

And he walked off the train. The homeless man looked at me and shrugged. I returned the shrug.

#michaelessington #misconceptionsofhell

 

 

Misconceptions of Hell

Misconceptions of Hell

Anarchy

Lisa and Melanie of Whatever68 Radio

Lisa and Melanie of Whatever68 Radio

Back in August of 1980 a band called Jethro Tull put out an album called A. When it came out I thought nothing of it, I just vaguely remember seeing the album cover in an ad in, maybe, Creem magazine of something. Well, a month or two later I was at my uncle Rick’s place, and Rick came walking into the kitchen wearing a white dress shirt with a big red anarchy symbol painted on the back. Rick had created a stencil out of cardboard and painted this thing on the back. It looked cool as heck. The only problem was — I didn’t know, at the age of fourteen, what the hell anarchy was. So, in my ignorance, I ask Rick, kind of disappointed, “Do you like Jethro Tull?” He answers, “No, it’s anarchy.” I, again, answer stupidly, I’ve never heard of them. At this point Rick sits me down, explains the theories of Crass, the meaning of the Black Flag, and how anarchy isn’t truly chaos. It’s a concept of self-governing, the concept of elected government and man’s laws being eradicated. Probably, the deepest conversation I had had at this point in my young life, next to my father’s very bizarre version of the facts of life that I received two years earlier.

Fast forward two years, 1982. I am wearing a sleeveless T-shirt that Rick had made for me. It was a huge anarchy symbol on the front of the shirt. Rick had used the stencil twice. Sprayed it with red first, let it dry, and then sprayed it with black. It was cool, the black symbol, and it looked like it had a red shadow around it. Anyway, I’m walking to lunch and this long-haired rocker dude walks by me, looks at me and scrunches his face up and says “You like Jethro Tull?” Unfortunately, I didn’t have the patience that my uncle had with me, so, I said “Hell yeah, Jethro Tull Rocks!” And longhaired kid walked away very confused.

 

 

Misconceptions of Hell

Misconceptions of Hell