-Provincetown, MA 1990 There's a kind of magnetism to
this town. The raw promise of decadence, the
bleached-out remains of a sixties counter culture
strewn about like driftwood on the dunes, The
queer-friendly atmosphere and psychic vampirism
displayed unabashedly in a brief glance from within
the confines of the famous Meat Rack. Celebrity names
and faces, parlayed up and down Commercial Street amid
the busy hum and whir of speculation: Cyndi Lauper
spotted buying hardware and John Waters with his
scandalous entourage of nubile Adonises flanking him
like an uncharacteristically polychromatic GAP ad.
Edward Gorey with his hearse-like Rolls and GORE
vanity plate, Rosie O'Donnel.biker gear for the dog,
and a lingering spectre of Anthony Perkins fading in
and out of focus, no, he isn't looking well.
-At the tender age of 18 a young man can easily be
led astray in an environment such as this and I found
myself doing just that that summer. I was splitting my
time between jobs to pay my share for a return to
school in the fall, and a less traditional arrangement
that enabled my illicit experimentation with various
states of consciousness.
-After wrapping up my "straight" jobs for the day, I
would invariably wander over to Daddy Rabbit"s, a
comic book store deriving it's name from prison slang
for the big man on the cell block. Here I had a
working understanding with a gentleman (?) by the name
of Chuck White
-An artful dodger of sorts, Chuck was (and presumably
still is) a fast talking, slick sonuvabitch,
Rock-n-Roll historian, concert promoter, and veteran
producer at Green Street and BunRatty's (sp?) night
clubs across the bay in Boston. I told him a hill of
lies about how old and cool I was and he gave me a gig
(along with a host of other youthful and equally
wayward punks and skate rats) running the register
and locking up the shop, while he escaped to chase
skirts in the bars. Payment rendered in exchange for
these services typically came in the form of a cubicle
fridge full of Milwaukee's Best and whatever miracles
of modern chemistry the "rabbits" in attendance had
managed to forage that day.
-The shop lacked only one key element necessary to
become a legitimate "scene", and that was that of the
resident acid-casualty guru, no easy role in a gang of
cynical and apathetic gen.x-ers.
-Enter Freddy K.
-His relationship with Chuck had begun on the day he
walked into Chuck's Green Street office with a sizable
cash settlement from an R.V. accident (the newspaper
documentation of which preceded his arrival on the
wall at Daddy Rabbit's), plunked the entire sum on
his desk and asked Chuck to take over the management
of his faltering musical career. Chuck, stunned, had
declined the money, but had joined him in an evening
of debauchery ending in bloody violence in a closed
bar and a lasting manager/client friendship.
-Once he arrived in P-town, in a rented car with his
surly black dog Cujo, Freddy wasted no time clothing
himself in "Rabbit Wear", -or the promotional Movie
T-shirts and fluorescent WWF sunglasses Chuck had
acquired from god-knows-where. We were all in the
habit of digging into a giant box of this gear for
lack of clean laundry, and would wear the torn-off
t-shirt sleeves as headbands. Thusly attired, and
looking like a tweaked-out combination of Randy
Savage and Van Dyke Parks, he was off to give the
local psychos a run for their money.
-We immediately began giving away copies of Random
Enforcement (on vinyl and cassette) with any purchase,
and although no feedback was forthcoming, many
bewildered children, spending their vacation savings
on Usagi Yo Jimbo titles and their ilk, certainly were
in store for a strange treat when they got home to
their parents' Hifi.
-Freddy was delighted by a sticker on the register of
Freddy Kreuger with the caption "Do the Freddy K.".
He slept on an army cot in the store, drank Bacardi
Breezers like nobody's business; "What? Nobody wants
one? Good, more for me! HeHeHe", ignored the bawling
phone calls from his wife in New Orleans; "Fuck you! I
wanna talk ta my Freddy, I know he's theyah ya little
shit, put 'im on!". He laughed like Snydely and he
talked like.well, like he sings, which you can hear
-The Breeze, he explained, was the lineup that
"breezes" in when you need 'em, for a gig or for a
session and then "breezes" out, likely due to Freddy's
unpredictable moods and actions.