The concrete city
of Bunkr Parukářka closed itself around us. I was ready for the show. There
were wozzy burgers and booze; “Eat them before they eat you,” the bowler hat
yelled. We laughed. The lights in the concrete halls went from neon blue to
red. We populated these narrow tubes of stale air as the damp earth closed in
on us. We lingered there like mongrels around an abandoned bar; smoking, while
a man in t-shirt took pictures.
And there were
books. All the Equus titles sprawled out on the table; a black and white
picture of a woman's ass screaming up at you - Bataille. Some titles had
colored covers, and there was even a cover with a frightened monkey with
electrodes strapped to its head, imagine that. The prices were fair.
And then, at one
point, as the night was getting started (it's really a question of the chicken
or the egg), the gimp showed up. That's really the point of this whole thing,
is the gimp. A little pitbull of a man burst onto the scene. A latex hood
concealed his face, and sported leather gloves. All in black, he made up half
of Bruce Wellie's retinue (you DO know Bruce Wellie, Don't YA?), the other
being Artie Finkelsomething, Wellie's manager, agent, and possibly life-long
mate. The gimp fit in somehow, but it really all got lost in the general
hubbub. Artie stood there while Bruce strummed guitar and sang into a wobbly
mike. An old-time watch in one hand, Artie made sure that Bruce doesn't go
overtime. It happens. We laughed.
The atmosphere of the place was Fallout 2 meets Stalker, and many of us
fine people found ourselves wondering just how well we would fare if the
mushroom really did explode and sent the crystal death down on our heads. You should've
seen the toilets. But it didn't seem to matter in the end, because there were
two good ones up front by the bar. That's where the toilet paper was. I
checked.
And then there was
the book launch. Everyone really was waiting for that, even the gimp I think,
because he sat up front with the others. Armand was seen reading from his new
title CAIRO, which is really great (I haven't read it yet). He was sporting a
bowler hat and Lennon sunglasses- very steampunk. And there was also David
Vichnar, the publisher of Equus, who had on one of those Palestinian scarfs- a
Keffiyeh, dear sir. And there was some sort of really cool sax player, but it
all got lost in the general hubub.
Finally, the
Turpentine Ray finished the deal by playing some sweet American tunes. The
music went down like starstriped honey, occasionally goin' south for some of
that Mississippi mud. Mark Tierney at the mic sang with soul. Only the cello player seemed out of place,
because really, no one expects cello in a bluegrass band. He sat there
strumming that beautiful piece of dark wood, while the people around him howled
for guts.
 |
| Image credits: Veronika Vlak |
But in between all
this there was stuff goin' on, business taken care of, sh*t put on the
table. Thor Garcia was around, although, wait, get this, I overheard David
asking Thor why he won't publish the next book with Equus, and Thor was all
like, “No, wait, still working on it.” So that's a piece of info right there.
But it did all get lost in the general hubbub. Also, somebody told me that I
have a habit of rolling cigarettes furtively. Furtively. Now I'm not gonna name
names or anything, but it did happen, which I found kinda cold. The gimp walked
by. We laughed.
Jim Stein
