I call him "Rockstar J" an older free thinking eccentric artsit. I've called him jackass, drunk, friend, rockstar, devil, and family. Like me, J has a certain way of living by his rules and only his rules. That is, unless he's doing the morning cleaning of Tex Mex(the bar in the center of town, on the edge of the Vortex). He takes his duties here very seriously, although... more than once, I've seen him fall flat on his face in mid step and in mid task. Hey everybody likes a good stiff buzz, I say. Anyhow, I first encountered "Rockstar J" while performing with his band "RAW" at Rocking J's Hammock Hostel. He has a raspy smokey voice. He likes to scream, "Welcome to Hell Mother Fuckers!" several times throughout his gigs. He's right, of course. Like his day job, I've seen him fall flat on his face more than once... mid sentence, mid song. CLASSIC! Beyond the apparently and acceptable rockstar sized alcoholism. J is a masterful artist and colorful addiction to the music and art scene of the twisted little Caribbean paradise.
Rockstar J lives in a colorful little house in the center of town. It would be hard to miss if the yard were kept at all. Behind the green weeds and vines, grows a vibrantly airbrushed house completely stacked full of art supplies and signature "J" artifacts. Every table is completely cluttered with every color of the rainbow chalks, pastels, pens, pencils, and gem stone. He plays bass and masterfully belts out his versions of Johnny Cash, Rolling Stones, and Doors... when he's in between drunk and sober somewhere. Otherwise he can turn into an ornery ass "mother fucker"... lol.
Like many of us castaways, J has found a way to survive here. It's not always an easy path, but some how, he survives, he smiles, he yells at people, he stumbles, and he makes amazing art pieces. He is a master airbrush artist. He loves giving weird and quite unusual gifts. Each completely unique in its conception and execution. He once gave me a 3 dimensional dihedral thinga majig... so proud was his explanation how how difficult it was to construct such an unusual shape while keeping all the angles correct. It's hanging in "Rocking J's Hammock Hostel" these days. One night, he was wearing these ABSOLUTELY SIC ASS pair of airbrushed bell bottoms. They had clouds and stars painted all over them. After talking with me and Carrie Alexander, one night, he walked away wearing these pants and across the rear stated, "KISS MY ASS"! We both immediately bowed down and started exclaiming "Oh shit! Rockstar! Classic!" while giving devil horn salutes. I bought those pants a week later. I call them my Rolling Stone magazine cover pants.
The town is very accepting to folks like me and "J". We can be complete jackass drunks, and the following day... the town treats us with a fresh blank white canvas to start on. This place and people like "Rockstar J" feed and breed free thinking creativity. Now.. at this moment, 7:00 am at Tex Mex, J putters around with broom in hand and a familiar hacking(we all smoke too much). It's a good life in this little INTENSE Carribean town... may you all have the privilege of experiencing such a movie like rock n roll people and places like this place. nothing but love J... those are my "cover" pants. amen to you... devil horn salute.
