If you've read my previous post, I'm reading Acid for the Children by Michael Peter Balzary a/k/a Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. There is so much about that book that I really love. It's an unconventional autobiography, often flying back and forth in time with asides written in italics. The principle theme thus far at page... is his unwavering belief that he had a light to shine and that love saves the day. It is a great message, solidified by an inherent love for music and books and art. I've written down so many titles and albums (did you know Flea was a trumpet player?) Anyway, poured through this tale is prolific drug use. I mean Prolific with a capital P. I don't know if there was any drug untried in that boy's life and by boy's life I mean it starting at such a young age, 13. Having moved to L.A. in the early 70s, the city is unrecognizable to those who life there now, the Hollywood and Downtown scene changed by an influx of money and malls and luxury apartments, not to mention housing that is unaffordable.
At first, he writes about his parents, including his step father, Walter, but as that gives way to middle and high school years, they cease to be part of the narrative There doesn't seem to be much parental supervision, given the antics he and his pals were up to, roaming the streets, sneaking into clubs, riding buses late at night. And with these adventures, almost every page details smoking, shooting, snorting, copping. Between using, Flea writes about music, trumpet playing in the school orchestras, listening to albums, seeing concerts, various jobs like working at animal hospitals, and about his unwavering belief that all of these sordid and exciting adventures have led him on this path he is supposed to be on. I agree. We are the sum of our parts.
I had to google "Is Flea Sober?" because I discovered that I was clenching my jaw, worrying what the next pages would bring, which surely I thought would end in disaster. The daily highs and lows that this teenager experienced was overwhelming, and, for me, the drugs overtook the story. I woke up this morning, my jaw hurt and clicked as I tried to pry my mouth open. My dreams were littered with trash strewn Hollywood streets, run down apartments and shrinking away from the crazy characters who I vaguely recognized. The story is a good one. I've learned A LOT about music through Flea's influences. I love how he embraced music and knew in his soul that he had to find his own beat, that the music he would come to create with Anthony Kiedis need to connect with their audience. I also really needed to read about being in the light, raising our vibration and how being in nature can center you and the importance of music education. At one point, in a truly magical way, Flea is in New York at a Knicks game and discovers that he's sitting next to the the head of the music department for the school he used to attend. Asked to speak to the kids about a career in music, he is devastated that the musical instruments that filled the band room are gone, the music teacher only part time. Because of the passage of Proposition 13, school budgets were axed, and art programs were unceremoniously axed. He starts a non-profit called the Silverlake Music Conservatory which opened in my old 'hood in 2001 and thrives to this day.
So much good, so much energy whirling and twirling and buzzing... but I had to stop after 75% in because reading about a kid doing so many drugs, losing three of his friends to drugs was too disturbing. And it should be.
No comments:
Post a Comment