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Tuesday , December 14, 2010
Dear Diary, Will Surfing Turn Me Into a Satanist? (Or: Dennis Wilson Is Maybe My New Favorite Beach Boy, But Charles Manson Is Still a Total Loser)
Lately, like for the past 45 minutes, I've picked up on all these weird connections between me, Charles Manson, and Dennis Wilson from the Beach Boys. It might all just be kooky coincidence, but it could be some real deep "cosmic connection," like on the Sex & The City ep when Samantha has the same exchange as the virgin NYU boy and there's a party in his dorm and Carrie totally falls down the stairs just like Natasha did! Oh my god! So I need help sorting everything out, see? Because I'd really prefer not to feel "cosmically connected" to Charles Manson. These be the facts at hand:
ONE. Despite all those tunes about surfer girls and surfin' safaris and the surfer's stomp, Dennis Wilson was the only Beach Boy who actually ever surfed. Similarly, I'm the only member of the nogoodforme.com troika who actually ever surfs. (Which is maybe not true, since I remember Kat saying something about surfing last summer, and I still haven't stood up on my board, but whatever: Hopefully you catch-a my drift-a.) Another thing about Dennis Wilson is he's the only member of the Beach Boys to have starred in a movie with James Taylor: It's called Two Lane Blacktop and here's a film still with Dennis and James, who's such a sexy beast that your brain's probably going to explode if you stare at this image any longer than three to five seconds:
TWO. On my sixth birthday, while I was watching Return of the Jedi in the theater for the fourth time with my mom and my BFF, Dennis Wilson drowned in the Pacific Ocean at Marina Del Rey.
THREE. My surf partner/nogoodforme.com videographer Emily Richmond lives in Marina Del Rey.
FOUR. If you click the above link, you'll probably find a photo of me looking like some crazy goth alien going rock-climbing in a knit hat. I much prefer this picture of me (also featured on Emily Richmond's blog), wearing the same hat and drinking a Fat Tire and about to eat some insanely over-the-top salad I'd never recommend to anyone:
FIVE. Sometime in the late '60s, Dennis Wilson got all mixed up with Charles Manson for a spell: Supposedly he picked up two Manson girls hitchhiking, and when he came back from running errands later on, the entire Manson Family had moved into his house (to quote Laura Jane Faulds quoting Stephanie Tanner: "HOW RUDE!"). He let them stick around a while, and the Beach Boys recorded one of Charles Manson's songs, which was released exactly eight months before the murder of Sharon Tate. Creepy.
666! Speaks the super-wacky website FindADeath.com: "When Charles Manson learned of [Dennis Wilson's] death, he commented, 'Dennis Wilson was killed by my shadow because he took my music and changed the words from my soul.' Loser." That is SO TRUE, FindADeath.com: Charles Manson is such a loser!!!
SEVEN. The Manson song the Beach Boys recorded is "Never Learn Not to Love." It's real beautiful and goes a little something like this:
EIGHT. Apparently I love another Charles Manson song - as performed by Devendra Banhart, at least. The Devendrameister does this cover of "Your Home Is Where You're Happy" all mixed up with Lauryn Hill's "That Thing," and I've put it on 8 million mix CDs without ever realizing the former's a Manson song. How silly! BTW, remember how lame/weird/fun it was when Jezebel did that post about how Devendra's a cross between Charles Manson and Sienna Miller? I guess it's true, kind of? Or not.
NINE. The Manson Family's last hideout was called "Barker Ranch." I am called "Elizabeth Barker." Coincidentally - or NOT - Barker Ranch burnt down last week. Again: creepy!
SO...WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE???
Here's what I'm thinking: When Ol' Dennis shuffled off this mortal coil, maybe his spirit traversed the continent and entered my body via the big icy Coke I must've been drinking whilst watching Return of the Jedi. But it was an incomplete soul-transference, as fountain sodas are mega-unreliable spirit vessels (and plus I was already six, and hence must've had a fairly well-formed soul of my own by that point). So for the past 25 years Dennis's poor lost half-soul's been skulking around Marina Del Rey, zenly awaiting a second shot at transference. But then - BOOM! - all of a sudden I start showing up at Marina Del Rey every single weekend, undercaffeinated and smothered in SPF 900 paraben-free sunblock and hungry for waves that hopefully won't almost kill me. Dennis Wilson's soul is so happy now!
Dennis Wilson's soul is so happy, in fact, it's going to teach me to surf - but only if I psychically protect it from Charles Manson's still-looming shadow. I'm not entirely sure how to make that happen, but I promise never to make Dennis Wilson's soul listen to Devendra Banhart on my car stereo on the way to the beach. I'll also stop playing that awful video of the "Hello Kitty" when my own cat's around, cuz it could be sending her satanic messages just like the Beatles did to Charles Manson with "Helter Skelter": Seriously, whenever that horrifying little animal comes up on screen, Pillz snaps to attention and her eyes go all lasery just like this. Zoinks!
Or, maybe I'm wrong about all that, and surfing truly is going to turn me into a satanist. According to Emily Richmond, when I almost drowned like Dennis Wilson during our surf sesh two Sundays ago, my blue eyes turned BLACK - black as night, black as pitch, black as a stack of black cats. Maybe that was Satan trying to get out. I hope not, cuz "Caretaker of Dennis Wilson's soul" is a way better job than "Manson Girl," and then Lindsay Lohan would probably never play me in a movie. (Not that I don't love Lindsay Lohan!)
I'd also like to apologize in advance to Kat and LJ in the event that I do indeed end up becoming satanic. At our next party I'll probably be like, "Hey guys, instead of getting drunk and eating cupcakes and raffling off rad t-shirts and tote bags, let's just drink each other's blood and sacrifice a few animals," and they'll be all, "God, Liz was so much funner before she started surfing and turned into a satanist." That'll so be the saddest part of all this.
Tags: black as a stack of black cats, Charles Manson is a loser, cosmic connections, Dennis Wilson, Devendra Banhart, don't ever order the Luau Salad at Cheesecake Factory, don't ever pick up hitchhikers who happen to be members of the Manson Family, Emily Richmond, fountain soda is an unreliable spirit vessel, humor, James Taylor, Kat Asharya, Laura Jane Faulds, Lindsay Lohan, Liz Barker, my cat might be an agent of the devil, perpetuating lame-ass myths about satanism, Return of the Jedi, soul-transference, Stephanie Tanner, surfing, the Beach Boys, The Beatles
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