Early summer in Phoenix. The heat is just starting to stick to the ground and even in the pre midnight hours it’s still warm to the touch. A warehouse in an industrial part of downtown Phoenix. The train yard is somewhere near by and the entire neighborhood smells vaguely of dust and old motor oil. It’s a ghost town and our cab driver wheels us to the only building with cars out front. “you sure you want me to leave you fellas here?” he chuckles nervously. Inside we find Ryan Breen and a guys whose name I never got. They’re living in this massive metal beast. Somewhere in the depths is a bathroom and they even boast of the back yard, which is little more than a weed covered square with a chain-link fence that looks at massive stacks of decaying automotive transmissions. The temperature is uncomfortably warm for how dark it is.

“Life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously.”
― Hunter S. Thompson

A bong is passed around and Psilocybin mushrooms are pressed into my sweating palms, I take half and wrap the rest in the plastic of my freshly open pack of American Spirits. After a few minutes its time to adventure and the walk about ensues. It’s a short cut you see, down a short but questionable alley and slip through a fence past the old Amtrak station and then back to glowing city in the distance. Things go wrong immediately.

“No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it up to forced consciousness expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten.”
― Hunter S. Thompson

These are gang bangers pure and simple, not thugs a group of hipsters should be engaging let alone tangle with. Our jovial elevated greetings are not reciprocated. Gang signs, homophobic slurs, we break and run. Pounding down the alley, careening into the fence before slipping through a gap. Perhaps they just wanted to watch some scared white dudes run? It must be the heat. Its here full force now. Hundreds of yards of stone scattered on either side of a long abandon rail line. There are a trio of cell towers here, the once bustling heart of the Phoenix train station is abandon and pumping out 5Gs deadly silent.

“In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.”
― Hunter S. Thompson

Just like you always did or wanted to do as a kid, we use the rails as balances beams sharing laughs; someone starts to hum “Stand By Me”. With a suddenness that causes me to shiver and break out in goose bumps I hit a spot where the temperature plummets 15 degrees. A few steps further and its back to the same uncomfortable heat. Giddy with hallucinogenic euphoria we all spend a good five minutes walking back and forth through the cold spot before someone brings up the entirely too serious subject of an apparition manifesting.  Our laughs cut off and we quickly move on the mood soured.

“I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.”
― Hunter S. Thompson

One more fence and we’re back in the city, a straight shot down the street to our destination; we can even see the building in the distance. Now the gauntlet, down a slope and up the other side pass the Phoenix city jail. It goes wrong almost immediately. We are a few feet form the street sign when one of our party loses it. He drops to his knees and start yammering about the robot building is starting to walk towards  us. He’s not wrong, in the far distance there is a red neon topped structure that is indeed a giant robot building and it is slowly moving closer. A wise man stops him next to the sign indicating the jail and talks him down and we walked at a slightly panicked pace past the possible means of our incarceration; shit I still have those shroom in my pockets.

“Call on God, but row away from the rocks.”
― Hunter S. Thompson

The robot buildings pace does not match our own and we make it to the buildings with only a few whimpers. There is trouble again at the door when the legitimacy of a taped together ID is questioned but ultimately its Ryan Breen that greases the wheels and we’re inside. A massive building, with electronica DJs complete with GO GO girls in large feathered head pieces and massive flowing colored boas dancing everywhere; including directly in front of bar in front of us. A bass line so heavy that my hair moves and the dancer in front of us seems to be happy we are there. Cold drinks, I spin slowly on my stool as the complete sensory overload. The dancer is still smiling. Is it elation? Terror? Is she really there? The feather boa lashes out and dances in the space between us and feathers caress my cheek. The bass drops again and we drift away.

There will come a time to your life
When you ask yourself a series of questions

I am an electronic musician based in Olympia, WA. USA. I am also a Graphic Designer Sr. at The Evergreen State College.

I have released music on Audiobulb Records, Neon Sigh, the tonAtom Netlabel and Ember Music...

<A HREF="http://twitter.com/kurtlrnz">TWITTER:</A>
<A HREF="https://kurtlorenz.bandcamp.com/">BANDCAMP:</A> 
<A HREF="http://www.kurtlorenz.com">WEBSITE</A>

The Only Certified snackdaddy™. 
Tirelessly committed to serving fantastic flavors profound & unfound - from grease to greens, and all in between.

Followers of D3PTHS