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"I should have known what those guys were up to," Rawley said to David when the show was over as he packed up his drum kit and loaded the equipment into the van. "I hate heroin.  Using it is just an excuse to commit slow suicide.  What they do is beyond my control and every time I try to stop them, it doesn't do any good.  There is nothing I can do to help because once you get hooked there is no turning back.  It will kill you, one way or the other, sooner or later.  Some of them were smacked out for a few weeks and when they ran out of stuff they would switch to Jack Daniels or smoke pot until they could score more junk.  I admit, I take acid to get high and smoke pot and maybe even an upper now and then but I have never used a needle to shoot-up heroin or meth.  I am sure that goes for most of the rest of the band as far as I know.  Those people who do hard drugs could not quit even if they wanted to because of the trauma of withdrawals and then the cycle starts all over again." he continued.   To be perfectly honest, everyone in the band had some kind of drug habit including Rawley but he was in a state of denial.  Domi, the lyricist, was almost religious in the way he advocated the benefits that could be derived from taking lysergic acid or any other hallucinogenic substance such as peyote, mushrooms, and cannabis.  Petro Clickerman was known to accept turn-ons from well wishing fans.  "I think the reason why we do drugs is because we have low self-esteem.  Musicians have a tendency to be easily influenced by the people around us.  In a way we feel like we can't match up to others' expectations and feel retarded so we escape into a drug induced fantasy to avoid facing the abusive treatment from narrow minded and insensitive people.  We rationalize it as being creative.  We perceive it as a gateway into a state of mind where the subconscious sublimates the ego of the Freudian bottleneck and call it a higher state of awareness." he concluded.  Dan G., the bass player, asked, "Why don't we go to Art Wren's for a late night snack?"  The gig at Love Street Light Circus and Feelgood Machine went well and they stayed around the club long enough to sign a few autographs before going to Art Wren's, the all night restaurant where the drag queens hung out.  The band thought it was interesting to see the sharkskin suited corporate executives lining up to enter the clubs along the strip on Westheimer.  These upper class men were fooled into thinking that they were being entertained by the naked women dancing on the stage but in fact, unknown to them, they were being entertained by  male transvestites and transgender performers who were commonplace and daily fare in the bars of the port city. 

After eating at Art Wren's and returning to the Funky Mansion, they followed their normal routine of sleeping until mid-afternoon the following day.  Rawley woke up and groped his way squinty-eyed down the hall toward Dan G.'s room where he heard him practicing some new riffs on the bass.  He was in an ill mood probably as a result of his overindulgence in the uppers Rawley had given him a couple of days before.  "Where is Petro?" Rawley asked.  "He never came back from the club after the gig." Dan G. answered.  " He must have turned into a vampire." Rawley joked that Petro was rarely active during the daylight hours.  Rawley went down the stairs and walked out of the front door where he found a letter in the mailbox addressed to him that was postmarked in North Carolina which he immediately opened to read.

Dear Rawley,

I miss you so much and I think about you every day.  I have just graduated from the Baptist Community College here.  I would rather be with you more than anything in the world but what you choose to do with your life is not my concern and in fact really none of my business.  If playing music is your choice then I will not rush to judgment and I promise to keep an open mind though spending your life playing rock and roll music has no value in my scheme of things.  I wish that you would rather spend time thinking of ways that you could help other people and make productive contributions for the betterment of mankind.  Those people out there in Texas are taking advantage of you and are only interested in making money.  I would like for you to come home as soon as possible.  I would be the last person on earth to take advantage of you and we could take it one day at a time.  Let me know if you receive this letter and please consider what I have said.  I love you too.  Call me. 1-555-634-5789

Yours truly,

Margo

Rawley walked back to Dan G.'s room as he folded the letter, crumpled it and stuffed it into his pocket.  "What did you think of the gig last night?" he asked.  Dan G. continued to go over the new riff he had discovered and he didn't answer.  Rawley continued, "I think that we filled the void with rhythmic vibrations and harmonies.  We created an energy field that felt good and made my spirit free."  The musicians in the band were compassionate.  They believed that sincerity was the key.  Everything they did was spontaneous and improvisational.  Nothing was predetermined except the skill that they brought to their instruments.  "Seems like you are still a little burnt-out from those pills I gave you."  Rawley said probingly.  "Yeah, still a little edgy." Dan G. replied.