eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 1 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 2 STARVING IN THE COMPANY OF BEAUTIFUL WOMENtm The Great American Rant (v 1.2.1) by Michael Wareham Dean Part I of The Humper Trilogy— a bildungsroman in cow minor 2 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 3 ISBN 0-9705392-2-3 Library of Congress card number: 00-108701 © 2000, 2002, 2007 Michael W. Dean All by MWD except for: Part of Teendream imaginary love letter (“My Most Darling Cash Newmann. .) by Lorca Cohen. Most of Esquirt letter (. “my body churns inside. .), and Zoloft.doc (“I’m off Zoloft. ”) by Miss X (name withheld by request.) Most of Manifestations of Sadomasochistic Love essay by k. (name withheld by request.) Angel drawing by Marie Caruso. Photos of Prissy the big Texan cat (RIP 1996-2000) on section heading pages by Lori Bradford. Marginal flipbook rendering by author. Image sequence extracted from Michael Dean music video for Field of Poppies. Video and animations by J.P Kelly www.jpkvideo.com Michael W. Dean’s lyrics © Whomdoyoulove Music. Used with permission. Cover & spine photo, left page number plate photo, coroner seal documenta- tion, “so tired” self-portrait, 17-year-old kittyboy self-portrait and faux dead- gurl pix by author. Right page number plate photo, kisses & thanks photo and back cover pix by Ana Sheffield. Loverly flank: Samantha Ashe and Emily Hughes. Contact Michael W. Dean at: www.kittyfeet.com/mail.htm 3 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 4 All rights, including stage and screenplay, retained by M. W. Dean This is a work of historical fiction. Tradenames are used to add realism, not to besmirch the fortitude of your intellectual properties. The included humans were synthesized in my lab. Any perception of any similarity to any persons, living or dead, or to any events only proves that you have a better imagination than I. (Except for real folks in dream sequences, which are exactly that.) For this second printing, V1.2, about 100 tiny typos (mostly punctuation) were fixed. Page layout was revamped slightly, typesetting is sharper and the imposi- tion was improved to make flipbook animation work. Lyrics appendix was replaced with anagrams. Cover was fixed slightly. One photo was added. A few more people were added to the "thanks" section, one was removed, and nothing was changed in the story. Originally released in 2000 as ISBN number 0-9705392-0-7. Dedicated to everyone who put up with my bullshit, and especially to everyone who didn’t. 4 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 5 Table Of Stuff PART ONE: ON THE WAY UP Page 9 Epilogue: Page 7 Chapter 1: I’ll Bury You All Page 10 Chapter 2: A Mean Childe Page 26 Chapter 3: Buy This Life Page 34 Chapter 4: Money For Nothing Page 41 Chapter 5: All About Kaia Page 46 Chapter 6: Brother, Can You Spare Some Herpes? Page 50 Chapter 7: Get a Job Page 54 Chapter 8: Beautiful Bad Trip Page 68 Chapter 9: Bummer Of Love Page 73 Chapter 10: Be Sure To Wear Some Insects In Your Hair Page 87 PART TWO: COMING DOWN Page 102 Chapter 11: Healthfood And Heroin Page 103 Chapter 12: Eight Lives Left Page 111 Chapter 14: Walking Around Dead Page 134 Chapter 15: Turists Page 160 Chapter 16: I Left My Hat In San Francisco Page 229 PART THREE: MINUTES OF JOY Page 239 Chapter 17: Waking Up Again Page 240 Chapter 18: As Evil As I Wanna Be Page 243 Chapter 19: Getting Better All The Time Page 252 Chapter 20: Stink. Page 259 Endnotes: Page 261 Appendix I— Typography Page 276 Appendix II— Rejection Page 278 Appendix III — Th’ Interweb Page 280 Appendix IV— Kisses4U Page 281 Appendix V— Anagrams Page 284 Bio Page 303 Buy Stuff Page 304 5 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 6 EPILOGUE Cash Newmann died almost two years ago. He had just turned 34. I turned out to be seven weeks pregnant, and gave birth to our Beautiful, blond baby boy, Miles, the following December. The final chapter was pieced together from interviews with the building manag- er, the Chinese mother and the ambulance driver. The rest of the book was compiled from Cash’s voluminous journals, Dictaphone tapes, radio interviews, personal notes, photos and letters; from interviews with his other lovers, his bartender and his bandmates; and mostly from my memories. Some of my own voice may have crept in, though I attempt- ed to avoid this. I tried to preserve Cash’s lyrical-yet-everyman sentence struc- ture and time-bending sense of tense wherever possible. I opted for the use of extensive endnotes to approximate his elliptically concentric/parenthetical thought patterns, and to convey the weight of the incessant chatter and life sub- plot conversations that constantly populated Cash’s brilliant and broken brain. In publishing this book, I have killed two bats with one rock: As a result of writing it, I have received my Doctorate in Modern Literature from U.C. Berkeley. (Though I would have written it regardless, as a labor of lust.) Also, I am honoring Cash Newmann’s frequently expressed wish to have his short, brilliant life chronicled for the ages. Love and tears, Melody Annabella, Berkeley, California May 1999 6 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 7 7 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 8 Part One: On The Way Up 8 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 9 Chapter 1: I’ll Bury You All It was a bright and dreary day, warm and over- cast. Very San Francisco. I was sk8boarding down Valencia Street, hanging up posters. It was Saturday, and I felt good. Two of my girlfriends and I were looking for a love-doll, kittywhore supplicant and we’d decided that it would be a hoot to take our search to the streets: CASUALLY SEEKING “CINDY” (OR “SALLY”. OR “SUSIE”. OR. .) LOVE TRIO ON A FUN-FILLED MISSION TO OBTAIN A FOURTH PARTICIPANT TO ENGAGE IN FANTASTIC AND FITFUL FROLICKING, IN AND OUT OF THE BEDROOM. WE ARE: 2 WOMEN AND 1 BOY, IN LOVE AND IN OUR MID- TO-LATE 20S. GIRL #1 IS: JAPANESE, BRAZEN, CLEVER AND CAPRICIOUS. SHE HAS LONG LEGS, DEEP VIRGINAL EYES, PIGTAILS, CROOKED TEETH AND A PRETTY MOUTH THAT BEGS TO BE KISSED. AND THAT’S 9 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 10 JUST THE FROSTING ON THE CAT: SHE IS ALSO SMART, STUNNINGLY GORGEOUS AND LOVES TO LAUGH. BEHIND DOOR #2 IS A BELLA ITALIAN-AMERICAN GAL WHO’S TALL, BRUNETTE, OVERWHELMINGLY ALLURING, PRETTY AND POETIC, FEARLESS AND ATHLETIC, STRONG IN MIND AND BODY, WITH FELINE FEATURES AND EYES, PROBING MIND AND HANDS, SUCCULENT LIPS AND STRIKING FACIAL STRUCTURE. THE BOY IS A BLOND, SHORT, BEAUTIFUL ANGLO-AMERICAN- ADONIS. HE IS OVERSEXED (THE GIRLS CAN’T KEEP UP. .THAT’S WHERE YOU COME IN, HONEY.) AND UNDERFED, WITH DEFINED CHEEKBONES, ROMAN NOSE, A TATTOOED, HAIR- LESS, SINEWY CHEST, FULL LIPS AND A GREAT ASS. (HE LOOKS GOOD IN A SKIRT.) HE POSSESSES PIERCING BLUE-GREEN-GREY EYES AND AN UNMISTAKABLY KEEN MIND THAT REQUIRES AS MUCH, IF NOT MORE, STIMULATION THAN HIS SACRED AND PERFECT BODY. YOU ARE: AN INSA- TIABLE YOUNG GIRL (AGE: 18- 27) WHO IS EAGER TO PLEASE AND ANXIOUS TO BE ENJOYED. YOU ARE SWEET BUT SMUTTY AND LOOKING FOR MORE LOVE AND EXHILARATION THAN ONE PERSON COULD EVER POSSIBLY INSPIRE. WE’LL KISS AND FUCK AND TALK AND GO FOR WALKS AND MAKE MUSIC AND COOKIES AND GO TO SHOWS (FROM THE MELVINS TO JOHNNY CASH TO BACH, ART SHOWS AND ANY EVENT IMAGIN- ABLE) AND LAUGH AND CRY AND LOOK AT THE MOON AND MORE. 10 eBookOutput.qxd 1/31/2007 10:40 PM Page 11 IF YOU ARE THE RIGHT WOMAN, WE WILL NURTURE, PROTECT AND ENCOURAGE YOU IN ALL YOUR AMBITIONS, AS WELL AS USE YOUR BODY FOR OUR OWN SWEET ENDS, AND WE MEAN THAT WITH ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD, BABY. WANNA CUM ALONG? EXPERIENCE NOT REQUIRED. START THE NEW YEAR RIGHT! Send a photo and 69-word essay to: PO Box 421805 San Francisco, CA 94142 It wasn’t that I/we had any trouble getting laid. We just thought that it would be neat to hang flyers and see what washed up on my doorstep. Actually, the real fun had been writing the copy for the posters. We had been naked, high and out of drugs. It was 4 a.m. and I still wanted to fuck. Both girls were exhausted. Debbie (the Japanese chickypoo), laughed, “Cash Newmann, you are a fucking animal! What this three-way needs is a girl- friend! . .some young slut to crock on your knob so us gals can get some sleep!” “Here here!” snorted Melody Annabella (the overwhelmingly alluring, athletic poet—and my Soulmate, of sorts.) Cash, where the fuck is that typewriter of yours?” “I think it’s over by the foot of the bed, under that pile of clothes by my guitar,” I said. Melody crawled over to the end of my huge cast-iron bed, and grabbed my non- electric typewriter from under a pile of crap. I slapped her gorgeous, sweet, full- moon ass as she bent over. “Slut!” she yelled lovingly at me and plopped the typer at Debbie’s feet. “Bitch, take a letter!” Melody ordered Debbie.