[he waggles a finger at Constantine, grinning. he's about to demand that he share it, when John blurts out a word he's never heard before.]
Offies? I don't know what the heck an offie is, man, but I know where we can hook you up with booze and cancer sticks, no problem. There're a couple stores between the subway and my place. Especially in Koreatown, I've noticed, they're real big on keeping convenience stores open as late as they can. We can get a bucket of fried chicken too. Gonna sound weird, but you haven't lived until you've had good gas station chicken.
[The subway station stairwells poke up out of the concrete at the end of the block, and Ronstadt glances around. From the look on his face, he's looking for something he's not finding, but he doesn't seem terribly bothered by it]
And I'll tell you it. Eventually. Maybe tonight over our meal. [He tilts his head, it's so strange sometimes dealing with two very different takes on what is essentially the same damned language. But he's also in a fine mood so he can hand out lessons happily.] Offies, off-labels! The places you get your drinks and ciggies but you can't drink it there. Sometimes they've got other stuff, usually those shitty pre-made mixers and soft drinks, maybe something nicer ones in a while but it's really just for the booze. [He makes good use of those back home.] Doesn't matter where we go, mate. Long as we're going together and I get what I need. And that damn chicken. Gotta have that too.
[John glances around too, more than a little curious.] What are we missing?
[he's pretty sure that John just described 7-11 and Circle K, but ... then again, maybe these 'offies' are more like actual liquor stores, the outlets that are just aisles and aisles of booze sectioned by type. either way, there are a fair share of convenience stores in L.A. that sell straight booze, too, and a one-stop shopping trip sounds sublime, all things considered. a convenience store is more likely to let them walk out the door with a few bottles in their current state, to boot. he's about to say something to that effect, when John notices him looking around]
We're not missing anything, per se. I'm actually kinda glad.
[he leads John down into the station, where a busker is making a pretty decent go at Subterranean Homesick Blues. appropriate, Ronstadt thinks with a little smile]
There's a ghost who hangs out around here a lot, goes by 'Kneeslapper'. I don't mind him, but ... he's definitely an acquired taste, and if you let him he'll talk your ear off. I'm not in the mood for that, not when I've got better company.
[John doesn't care where they go, or what they do. They can wander around the city drunk for the rest of the night aimlessly as long as this mood continues. It's magical, it feels so much like new magic and youthful stupidity and it's a hell of a drug for John right now. Just the way he feels is enough to change the world in his opinion.
Too bad he won't feel so hopeful sober.]
Is that so? [John tosses a buck into the busker's open case, before continuing on with Ronstadt.] Kneeslapper? Sounds dismal. The more airs they put on the worse they are usually. I'm guessing the humor appeals to very select audiences. [John preens like a peacock at being called better company. He's having the best night he's had in ages.]
[every bit of loose change Ronstadt had left from his forays to the dispatchers' vending machine joins John's dollar as they pass and head for the turnstiles, where Ronstadt dutifully swipes his card]
Dismal is about it, yeah. He was a stand-up comedian when he was alive. The kind with a catchphrase, even. Some of his stuff is actually funny, but ... I think most of the time he's just glad someone can see him.
[Ronstadt is beginning to think that possibly everything nasty about Side B can be traced to the root cause of loneliness, and how desperate some people or things can get in the pursuit of company or approval. But that sort of philosophical shit is for a different flavor of drunk, one he's not even close to tonight, not anymore. He stays a comfortable distance from the platform, hands tucked in his jean pockets, waiting for the train.]
[John's mood is a little quieter after that, but not by much. It's not that his mood is much darker now compared to before, but it's hard not to have some sympathy for that sort of situation. He's so glad he's not a ghost. He's so glad he's alive right now. Most of the people he used to call his friends weren't that lucky...
Which gets him thinking of the past, and then back to music, and he figures he'll see if anyone on this side of the pond has ever heard of his absolute shitshow of an awful band. It's not like they went anywhere, besides right to literally bloody failure. But it's still kind of nostalgic for John to think about. Which perks things up again, even with the context of what happened at The Casanova Club.] You know a lot about music. Ever heard of a shitty band called Mucous Membrane? British punk.
[there's a tinny ding above them, followed by the announcement that their train is approaching the station, and the far away whoosh and chonk of the subway cars lurching down the track. as the car screeches to a halt and the sets of double doors wing open, he nods a little]
Yeah, there's this indie punk station I can get to come through some nights, I think they might've played something by them.
[he climbs aboard and, like an overexcited kid, uses one of the silver support bars to swing himself into a seat, crossing his legs and feeling far too smooth and cool for the giant dork that he is]
[He speaks with some small fondness though, as they head inside and onto the subway car. And he keeps talking about the band while he flops down near Ronstadt.] No, I mean it mate. They were so bad. If you heard them, there was only one thing that they even made worth a play. [He grins, there's something almost joyful about being able to look back at something with some sort of pleasant feeling. Yeah yeah it all ended up a shitshow, as usual. But he really thought that he'd go places with Chas, so there's warm feelings there still.] They had one awful single, Venus Of The Hardsell. Absolute shite.
[He doesn't have the voice for punk, that was part of the issue. He's improved a good deal over the years, but it's just not his genre as far as vocals go. Normally he wouldn't sing in public, much less this, but he's buzzed and with his favorite person. So it doesn't hurt to have a moment.] There're new uniforms at the church bazaar, fanatics got the rising star. Thin dark streets ring with marching men's feet. Past the billboard bride, troops the national pride-It's all supplied by the Venus of the Hardsell. [He laughs, and shakes his head.] Utter shit. That's it. I wouldn't say they were the worst of punk, but...
[he nods along with the little snippet of song, his mouth moving silently at the words when he remembers them, until "It's all supplied by the Venus of the Hardsell", which he actually sings along with him in a voice that's not half bad but also clearly not made for punk]
I remember it now. Definitely not a chart-topper, but you could tell they liked what they were doi--
[the lightbulb comes on]
Holy shit, John, are you ragging on your own band?
[he has the strangest little thought: he should have done more with the one about the double-decker bus driver. where the hell did that even come from?]
[His grin is so bright then, it's strange the affect that Ronstadt has on John. Once upon a time, he'd be too miserable to talk about the band, too ashamed of their shitty quality and failures. Further hurt by the connection to the Casanova Club, Astra, and all that came with it. Now? He's able to talk trash about what he once thought was his future with a sense of genuine fun.]
Maybe a little, mate. But really, if you recorded that shit, wouldn't you? [He feels so good right now, in a way that alcohol alone really can't provide for him.] Chas and I thought we were gonna be stars. We practiced on brooms and buckets, until we managed to get enough together to fund the band. [Fame in the music world was never in the cards for John Constantine. But they did manage to get somewhere. Just all the wrong places.] So I'm no rock star, but I managed well enough for myself anyway.
Ukulele? Can't say I'm any good at that. I've only played it once, absolutely hammered, and it sounded so bad that my mate snagged it out of my hands and broke it over the bar. The barkeep thanked him for it.
[The noise of the train is familiar, even if he's worlds away from the rails he knows back home. And Ronstadt's smile is welcoming and keeps John's mood pleasant.] Dunno. I wanted to get some drinks and ciggies too. [He looks comically serious for a moment. Then John nods suddenly, like the decision is entirely clear.] Alright! Vinyl first, then we'll grab my smokes, food last. We want it to be hot when we eat it anyway.
[Ronstadt laughs, even though he feels bad at the same time. good ukuleles aren't cheap, but then again, given how indie John's band was, it was probably the cheapest available, so. eh? that serious look on John's face only serves to make him laugh a little more.]
Alright then! Defiant Records it is.
[and he leads the way off the train, up through the station, and a few blocks down to a little hole-in-the-wall store that is clearly all about the music. unlike most modern stores that sell old vinyl, Defiant is without frills, the owners well aware that the music is the real reason people are there. The crates are organized by genre, then artist, then chronologically through the discography. One row off to the side separates "New Arrivals" from people who donated or sold their old vinyl, and "New Releases" from the bands who're releasing new stuff ... or re-releasing remasters. there's an R.E.M album playing quietly, but a curtain off at the back has a sign that designates it the Listening Station, where people can check an album out to see if they like it enough to take it home.]
[John nods, approvingly.] Always was one for a bit of defiance.
[John follows without question, if this was his old stomping grounds he would be the one leading the way to the records. But this is Ronstadt's territory, so John trusts him to take him right to the good stuff. And goodness, he delivers. No frills indeed, but everything seems legitimate and carefully curated. It's a music lovers paradise, at least for the ones that like their music without fuss and in well cared for vinyl format.]
Looks like they know their stuff. [He's seen more pretentious types of these shops, meant for a younger looking and more expensively dressed crowd. John doesn't fit in there, not in stores like that. Here, he's right at home.]
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Date: 2021-10-05 10:27 pm (UTC)[he waggles a finger at Constantine, grinning. he's about to demand that he share it, when John blurts out a word he's never heard before.]
Offies? I don't know what the heck an offie is, man, but I know where we can hook you up with booze and cancer sticks, no problem. There're a couple stores between the subway and my place. Especially in Koreatown, I've noticed, they're real big on keeping convenience stores open as late as they can. We can get a bucket of fried chicken too. Gonna sound weird, but you haven't lived until you've had good gas station chicken.
[The subway station stairwells poke up out of the concrete at the end of the block, and Ronstadt glances around. From the look on his face, he's looking for something he's not finding, but he doesn't seem terribly bothered by it]
no subject
Date: 2021-10-05 10:55 pm (UTC)[John glances around too, more than a little curious.] What are we missing?
no subject
Date: 2021-10-06 02:43 am (UTC)[he's pretty sure that John just described 7-11 and Circle K, but ... then again, maybe these 'offies' are more like actual liquor stores, the outlets that are just aisles and aisles of booze sectioned by type. either way, there are a fair share of convenience stores in L.A. that sell straight booze, too, and a one-stop shopping trip sounds sublime, all things considered. a convenience store is more likely to let them walk out the door with a few bottles in their current state, to boot. he's about to say something to that effect, when John notices him looking around]
We're not missing anything, per se. I'm actually kinda glad.
[he leads John down into the station, where a busker is making a pretty decent go at Subterranean Homesick Blues. appropriate, Ronstadt thinks with a little smile]
There's a ghost who hangs out around here a lot, goes by 'Kneeslapper'. I don't mind him, but ... he's definitely an acquired taste, and if you let him he'll talk your ear off. I'm not in the mood for that, not when I've got better company.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-06 02:51 am (UTC)Too bad he won't feel so hopeful sober.]
Is that so? [John tosses a buck into the busker's open case, before continuing on with Ronstadt.] Kneeslapper? Sounds dismal. The more airs they put on the worse they are usually. I'm guessing the humor appeals to very select audiences. [John preens like a peacock at being called better company. He's having the best night he's had in ages.]
no subject
Date: 2021-10-06 03:22 am (UTC)Dismal is about it, yeah. He was a stand-up comedian when he was alive. The kind with a catchphrase, even. Some of his stuff is actually funny, but ... I think most of the time he's just glad someone can see him.
[Ronstadt is beginning to think that possibly everything nasty about Side B can be traced to the root cause of loneliness, and how desperate some people or things can get in the pursuit of company or approval. But that sort of philosophical shit is for a different flavor of drunk, one he's not even close to tonight, not anymore. He stays a comfortable distance from the platform, hands tucked in his jean pockets, waiting for the train.]
no subject
Date: 2021-10-06 03:37 am (UTC)[John's mood is a little quieter after that, but not by much. It's not that his mood is much darker now compared to before, but it's hard not to have some sympathy for that sort of situation. He's so glad he's not a ghost. He's so glad he's alive right now. Most of the people he used to call his friends weren't that lucky...
Which gets him thinking of the past, and then back to music, and he figures he'll see if anyone on this side of the pond has ever heard of his absolute shitshow of an awful band. It's not like they went anywhere, besides right to literally bloody failure. But it's still kind of nostalgic for John to think about. Which perks things up again, even with the context of what happened at The Casanova Club.] You know a lot about music. Ever heard of a shitty band called Mucous Membrane? British punk.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-24 05:34 pm (UTC)[there's a tinny ding above them, followed by the announcement that their train is approaching the station, and the far away whoosh and chonk of the subway cars lurching down the track. as the car screeches to a halt and the sets of double doors wing open, he nods a little]
Yeah, there's this indie punk station I can get to come through some nights, I think they might've played something by them.
[he climbs aboard and, like an overexcited kid, uses one of the silver support bars to swing himself into a seat, crossing his legs and feeling far too smooth and cool for the giant dork that he is]
no subject
Date: 2021-10-25 03:14 am (UTC)[He speaks with some small fondness though, as they head inside and onto the subway car. And he keeps talking about the band while he flops down near Ronstadt.] No, I mean it mate. They were so bad. If you heard them, there was only one thing that they even made worth a play. [He grins, there's something almost joyful about being able to look back at something with some sort of pleasant feeling. Yeah yeah it all ended up a shitshow, as usual. But he really thought that he'd go places with Chas, so there's warm feelings there still.] They had one awful single, Venus Of The Hardsell. Absolute shite.
[He doesn't have the voice for punk, that was part of the issue. He's improved a good deal over the years, but it's just not his genre as far as vocals go. Normally he wouldn't sing in public, much less this, but he's buzzed and with his favorite person. So it doesn't hurt to have a moment.] There're new uniforms at the church bazaar, fanatics got the rising star. Thin dark streets ring with marching men's feet. Past the billboard bride, troops the national pride-It's all supplied by the Venus of the Hardsell. [He laughs, and shakes his head.] Utter shit. That's it. I wouldn't say they were the worst of punk, but...
no subject
Date: 2022-02-01 09:51 pm (UTC)[he nods along with the little snippet of song, his mouth moving silently at the words when he remembers them, until "It's all supplied by the Venus of the Hardsell", which he actually sings along with him in a voice that's not half bad but also clearly not made for punk]
I remember it now. Definitely not a chart-topper, but you could tell they liked what they were doi--
[the lightbulb comes on]
Holy shit, John, are you ragging on your own band?
[he has the strangest little thought: he should have done more with the one about the double-decker bus driver. where the hell did that even come from?]
no subject
Date: 2022-02-13 07:03 am (UTC)Maybe a little, mate. But really, if you recorded that shit, wouldn't you? [He feels so good right now, in a way that alcohol alone really can't provide for him.] Chas and I thought we were gonna be stars. We practiced on brooms and buckets, until we managed to get enough together to fund the band. [Fame in the music world was never in the cards for John Constantine. But they did manage to get somewhere. Just all the wrong places.] So I'm no rock star, but I managed well enough for myself anyway.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-16 04:06 pm (UTC)[the train rattles and screeches around the last corner into the Koreatown station, and Ronstadt grins at his new friend]
Food first? Or vinyl?
no subject
Date: 2022-03-16 05:22 am (UTC)[The noise of the train is familiar, even if he's worlds away from the rails he knows back home. And Ronstadt's smile is welcoming and keeps John's mood pleasant.] Dunno. I wanted to get some drinks and ciggies too. [He looks comically serious for a moment. Then John nods suddenly, like the decision is entirely clear.] Alright! Vinyl first, then we'll grab my smokes, food last. We want it to be hot when we eat it anyway.
/shamelessly steals local used vinyl store
Date: 2022-03-17 01:06 am (UTC)Alright then! Defiant Records it is.
[and he leads the way off the train, up through the station, and a few blocks down to a little hole-in-the-wall store that is clearly all about the music. unlike most modern stores that sell old vinyl, Defiant is without frills, the owners well aware that the music is the real reason people are there. The crates are organized by genre, then artist, then chronologically through the discography. One row off to the side separates "New Arrivals" from people who donated or sold their old vinyl, and "New Releases" from the bands who're releasing new stuff ... or re-releasing remasters. there's an R.E.M album playing quietly, but a curtain off at the back has a sign that designates it the Listening Station, where people can check an album out to see if they like it enough to take it home.]
This is the best one in the neighborhood.
As you should!
Date: 2022-03-20 05:35 pm (UTC)[John follows without question, if this was his old stomping grounds he would be the one leading the way to the records. But this is Ronstadt's territory, so John trusts him to take him right to the good stuff. And goodness, he delivers. No frills indeed, but everything seems legitimate and carefully curated. It's a music lovers paradise, at least for the ones that like their music without fuss and in well cared for vinyl format.]
Looks like they know their stuff. [He's seen more pretentious types of these shops, meant for a younger looking and more expensively dressed crowd. John doesn't fit in there, not in stores like that. Here, he's right at home.]