I'm going to Summerfest tomorrow. Going to watch my friends play on the Refugee stage, for the second summer in a row. It's always fun hanging out with those guys, even though I'm sure most of them will probably be violating the terms of their parole by leaving Madison.
I remember last year talking to Davy as he was disabling his ankle monitoring bracelet. We were discussing the finer things in life, like wine and the finest of cheeses, when we I realized he was leering at magazine cover with Dakota Fanning on the front.
"How many years in prison do you think I'd get if I kidnapped her", Davy said, wiping saliva from his mouth.
"I'm not sure, dude. I think that'd also be a federal crime. Are you sure you want to mess with that?"
Davy's shoulders sunk, "aw, I guess not."
Back then Joe was single, and he was in the middle of writing a pamphlet on making love during that time. I tried talking to him about the logistics of getting back home, and he would just describe vile, sex acts. In retrospect I think that was Joe's way of shutting down, and not letting anyone in. It was a dark time for Joe. His pet guinea pig died, and his weed dealer was on vacation.
Drew was kind of the same as he is now. But I remember with particular clarity that he was in the process of sexting a 16 year old Dutch foreign exchange student. Sickened by his pedophile nature, I was determined to set him straight.
"Drew, what the hell is wrong with you?""Dan, part of society's problem is that we threw out an arbitrary number, and said anyone younger than that number is off limits. When, in actuality, we've been fucking anything that could give birth since the beginning of time. Besides, this girls 16 now, but in 2 short years she'll be ready. I gotta mold her like Jell-o. Girls are like glove, paco. You got to break them in, or else they're of no use for you..."
Mooney at that time was just starting to get into wearing fashionably unfashionable hats. Most of our conversations centered around modern socialist philosophers, and the best type of pith helmet for a man on a budget.
Jeremiah, the quiet one of the group, spent most of his times back then reading books. Not normal books though. He would read erotic re-tellings of the Harry Potter books. While reading he would write between the margins, what Lord only knows.
One time I happened upon one of Jeremiah's books unattended. I was curious to read an erotic Harry Potter book, since I had never done so. It was then that the dark side of Jeremiah's brooding nature revealed itself.
Drawn in great detail on one of the pages was an enormous sketch of Jeremiah nude, having sex with Mars, and ejaculating flames on tiny Inuit villages. His subtle racism of the Inuit people became quite overt since that time.
Josh was the drummer back then, and his wife had just popped out kid number 2. Oh wait, no, she was just about to pop out kid number 2. I remember this vividly because he was busy drunkenly telling everyone who would listen. He spent 3 hours talking to a ground squirrel, attempting to show it pictures of his daughter, and ultrasounds pictures of his soon-to-be born son.
Chandon was by far the worst offender. Not a dame could walk by without him staring at them with that perverse grin on his face. His brow furrowed, a full can of PBR tipped as beer spilled to the ground in a steady cascade. He just sat there, mesmerized. I asked him what he was looking at. His response, after several moments, was, "dinner."
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