I had this friend from when I was 15, his name was Steve LaChance. It's fucking annoying because he killed himself when we were both in our mid to late thirties. I totally blamed myself, we all do that it's not our fault ever but we all think shit like that when someone kills themself. If I ever commit suicide the idea is to leave behind a giant note that says, "Your Fault." Honestly I blame the Catholic church and that movie, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. Steve totally went schizophrenic and became a victim of magical thinking. Anyway years before all this we laughed our asses off a lot. We shot pool all the time. Steve had long straight blonde hair down to his knees. He looked like a member of the band Kansas. He was really into awful Christian metal, specifically the band Stryper. He was wicked into them. When we were 18 we drove to New Orleans and shot pool at every bar on the way there. That was the plan. So there was a lot of getting off the highway and driving around until we saw a bar that offered pool. Then we would go in, order cokes and start playing. We were pretty good. No we were fucking really good. Steve never lost. Eventually some adults would walk over and challenge us to play. We never played for money we just liked playing and we would take the adults and kick their asses. Fucking fun.
This was when we were young and Steve was not fucking crazy. Later on he went nuts and totally got the idea that he wasn't "holy" enough. At one point the government paid him to not work and he lived with his mother. He was a major pot head but his mother did not approve at all so he hid it from her. I remember him calling me from detox once and saying, "I am addicted to marijuana." I said to him, "Dude, that's not possible." It isn't really, is it? It's fucking marijuana. Anyway Steve calls me like a year later and says, "The government has deemed me unfit for work. And that I have a mental illness. And they have paid me for the last 10 years to catch up. I wanna go to Amsterdam and smoke powerful weed. Will you come with me? I'll pay for everything." I was like, "Okay but only if you promise we can go to the Vatican and to Jim Morrison's grave while we're in Europe." He was like, "Done." We did all these things.
I landed in Amsterdam and had to find the coffee shop Steve was at. He had made a map of every coffee shop with a Pink Floyd reference for a title and was at one called Dark Side Of The Moon. He literally had this on a map. When I walked in there he made the touchdown signal that referees make, like both arms in the air. From there we spent the next few days going around Amsterdam. I kinda hated it. Walking into the coffee shops was the same as walking into a room of people smoking pot. They would all get silent. It was annoying. A friend of mine's band was playing, this band Comets on Fire. I totally showed up before the show and surprised the shit out of them. They had no idea anyone was in Amsterdam and then I showed up in their dressing room. This was awesome, but everything else was kind boring. So I was psyched to go to Pere Lachaise and the Vatican. It took us fucking hours to find Jim Morrison's grave and it was tiny. I remember when we were leaving some tourists asked us where they could find Jim Morrison's grave. I remember telling them where it was, I wanted to say, "You think finding Jim Morrison's grave was hard, we've been here for 2 days and can't find Jimi Hendrix anywhere."
On the way to Italy I remember we met these two Italian guys on the train. I convinced them to write 'Suck My Balls' in Italian on my passport because it is valid as long as it has a photo. It's kind of amazing you can write anything in there and they have to accept it. I remember the Customs guys didn't even fucking notice it. I had "Chupa Mis Huevos' written in huge letters on the page with my photo. Still valid but nobody noticed it.
The Vatican was fucking beautiful. That shit is outta hand. I can't even really say how it made me feel because I am no longer practicing at all but I can't help it. This weird obsession with the iconography and witchcraft of Catholic shit. It was pretty funny that Rome totally looked like they had crucified Jesus. So when we were at the Coliseum Steve actually asked someone where we could find the place where Jesus fought the lions. Then we went to the Coliseum.
So in 2005 when I decided to go live overseas the idea was to live in Italy and learn the language. I was there for about 2 seconds before I realized that was not gonna happen. But I tried to live in different cities. I tried Rome, Bologna, and Naples. I really wanted to live in Naples but I remember a local said to me, "The mafia will just kill you." Apparently the mafia is really strong there. Naples is an ancient trading place/seaport. It feels like fucking Damascus. When I left the idea was to live in Naples, I wanted to arrive stowed away in the hull of a ship.
I should also mention that me and Steve used to shoot pool at this place in Lawrence, Massachusetts called the Golden Cue. Some girls were sitting in some bleachers they had by the pool tables and watching us. When they left one of them gave Steve her phone number on a piece of paper. Fucking cool guy.
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