A MONTH AT THE SLABS---Part 2

MY FRIEND AND FELLOW BLOGGER GLENN MORRISSETTE  http://www.tosimplify.net/ CHALLENGES ME EVERY TIME ME MEET TO "GO PUBLIC" WITH A POETRY PERFORMANCE---preferably as a busker. (street performer)  I've not done it yet--but here at the Slabs I can do a warm up by performing at the famous and infamous RANGE theater.  Shows every Saturday night, with a usual audience of 100 to 150 of the worlds most colorful characters.

Here's a rap performance.  

Builder Bill put me on the program and I stepped to the microphone to perform..  I began with my most furious poem "generators".

The ending lines are done in full volume: 

"They are worse than skunks and snakes and witches--

I HATE THOSE NOISY SONS-O-BITCHES" 

My over-the-top delivery perhaps triggered something in a borderline soul--forSuddenly out of the audience a mad man stormed the stage , taking off his clothes as he came, then seizing the microphone and raging incoherently at the audience.  I stepped aside (to the left) and watched.  For a couple of minutes he stunned even this tough audience. Eventually, several regulars came forward-- surrounded him and led him away.

I continued with a second poem. (polite applause)  THERE GLENN--I DID IT!!

Thanks to that mule riding (really) madman, my debut was memorable.

Big doings down the hill--A Rave is in preparation.

They construct a perimeter of old bicycle frames.

Then stand some old cars on their noses.  Hundreds of youngsters came--the music went on for 3 days and nights.  At the height of the event an explosion was set off--the loudest I have ever heard and I was 200 yards away.

The slabs have 3 large tanks with 14 ft walls--inspiring some artist to do quirky murals like this

and quality art like this 

and this!

All around the one square mile that makes up the slabs are houses---some makeshift like this hovel.

You can see more of them in this previous post.

Entrepeneuralism raises its head occasionally at the slabs.  This guy opened up a lounge called VIPer.

He enclosed an area--hired a band--made some seats and charges $5 admission on Friday nights,

AND THEN ONE DAY---THIS HAPPENED----A SANDSTORM.  Pict taken out my side window.
A dreadful experience because fine sand will seep into even well sealed rigs--coating your lifestyle with grit.

One day we motored our sunset group to Bombay Beach--and photographed it.....from the levee surrounding the town.

and the dead fish along its shore--a yearly phenominon.  Imagine a line of dead tilapia like this--about 3 feet wide stretching a hundred miles completely surrounding the Salton sea like a ghastly, smelly bathtub ring.  Soon, they dry up, however and quit stinking.

Read about it here.

RANDY COMMENTS:  I WILL RESERVE MY PHILOSOPHICAL COMMENTS ON THE SLABS FOR THE 3RD AND FINAL POST.
Curious about my recently published book: 40 YEARS A NOMAD--CLICK HERE