The Salton Sea and Bombay Beach - Because Life is Nothing But a Habit Anyway

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I just spent 76 minutes in Bombay Beach, California, courtesy of Alma Har'el's (that's not a typo) 2011 documentary of the same name. My brief trip was lived vicariously through her film and for reasons I'm still not sure why, I want to return for another visit.

Bombay Beach is on the shores of southern California's Salton Sea—a 525 square-mile below sea-level saline lake that was accidentally formed in the early 1900's—and despite attempts to make the area an oasis resort in the middle of a desert, the impoverished community is slowly and literally turning to dust.

 

The first thirty minutes of the film is a bit sporadic, but it's then that we're introduced to three vastly different residents of local color. We meet Benny, a young bipolar boy on a plethora of drugs including Ritalin and Lithium. There's Ceejay, a hopeful high school jock who left the gangster life in Los Angeles in order to focus on his grades and vie for a football scholarship. And finally there's Red—a lovable old geezer who lives on cigarettes and whiskey and drives around the desert on his ATV. Red makes a little money by selling the local residents cigarettes purchased at discount from the nearby Indian reservation.

There's plenty of other people featured too—but as one resident observes, "they're all rejects."

Although the outcasts they are, the community is tight-knit. Birthdays are celebrated with money from recycled cans, and they're exceptionally good when dancing in (slightly choreographed) free-style.

During the film we see old wounds heal and new enemies made, but when O'l Red suffers a life threatening crisis, it's for damn certain he's not going to leave this world without someone at his side.

Watch the preview:

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And it's this stuff—along with the excellent editing and timing from Har'el's gifted eye—that draws you into the lives of these people, and well after those first thirty minutes.

Can troubled young Benny eventually realize his full potential? Will the jock earn his scholarship? Does the old codger live to see another day?

On the corroded shores of the Salton Sea—in a small desolate town called Bombay Beach—there lies the truth.

And all I can say is that for one reason or another, you'll be rooting for them to make these series of potential dreams a reality—whether any of them come true or not.

FiN.

Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library Offers Banned Novel to Students

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It's called a "typewriter."

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Until a few days ago I had no idea the two things I'm about to share happened. Sometimes I think Las Vegas might as well be on another planet, light-years away from Earth. You would think with the benefit of the Internet and my online subscriptions to The Huffington Post, The Week and The Daily Beast, pertinent news wouldn't slip by me—but apparently it often does.

Here's what I did know: Back in 1973 a school in Drake, North Dakota burned copies of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five in the school's furnace. Pissed off, Vonnegut respectfully wrote a letter to school board chairman Charles McCarthy, and you can read that letter here.

In the nearly forty years following the conflagration of the novel, more instances of schools banning Vonnegut's books have sporadically surfaced, but with the dawn of the new millennium—I thought (hoped?) society had left this type of unjust censorship behind.

As I often am though, I was wrong.

Here's what I didn't know: First, in August of last year, Missouri's Republic High School banned Slaughterhouse-Five, citing the novel teaches "principles contrary to Biblical morality and truth." I had no idea this asinine travesty had recently happened—again.

Second, the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library did a beautiful thing. Thanks to an anonymous donor, all 150 students at Republic High School were given the opportunity to request a copy of Vonnegut's best selling anti-war novel, and at no charge—this being the other thing that somehow slipped by me—not the free books for the students, but the fact there's a Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library.

Nestled in the historic Emelie Building in the author's hometown of Indianapolis, the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library opened in November of 2010. On display is his typewriter where visitors can type short messages to later be tweeted around the world. A stack of rejection letters are on display, along with an unopened pack of his Pall Mall cigarettes. Many of his drawings and artwork adorn the walls and there's a replica of his writing studio. Of course all his books are available—as are other things all Vonnegut. The library has monthly events and workshops and since it's non-profit, donations are gladly accepted. Depending on the amount, your donation can get you anything from a bumper sticker to an invitation to his birthday celebration every November 11th.

 Morley Safer of 60 Minutes introduces KVML

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I've written plenty about Kurt Vonnegut in the past. It's no secret I think of the man as a surrogate father because of the gigantic generation gap between myself and my own Father. You see, my Dad was much older than most fathers of kids my age, and I think this made him feel awkward at times. I wish he'd written down the things he didn't want to talk to me about—things for me to read later—but he didn't (because Dad wasn't much of a writer) so I guess you can say Kurt Vonnegut filled-in the empty spaces in my brain.

I love Kurt like he's one of my own—and I don't even have any kids. Besides the cigarettes, alcohol and humanist cynicism, we're both also connected by the same Latin words written on his pack of unfiltered Pall Malls and on my family's Irish crest—In Hoc Signo Vinces—by the sign of the cross, we shall conquer. Not that it means anything.

For me, Kurt is part father, part brother, part best friend. I think of him often.

So now I'm sitting here trying to figure out how and when I can get to Indianapolis because there's a birthday party there that's not to be missed.

FiN.

Chris Heers and The Dirt Rich Band - Going Strong Like Bull

All Photos © The Neon Lounge 2012

I first met Chris Heers many moons ago at a local open mic night. He did a top-notch cover of Hal Ketchum's "Small Town, Saturday Night" and finished the set with some Townes Van Zandt and Steve Earle—and those three songs were all it took for me to become a fan of the native Las Vegan. Granted, since I'm from Nashville I should like country music by default (which explains why a guitar that I don't know how to play is hanging on my wall) but honestly, I wasn't much of a die-hard country music fan at the time—although it's suffice to say that Chris's songwriting has since broadened both my country and western horizons.

In the years following those open mic nights Chris has achieved goals that most musicians only hope to attain. He left his day job and started writing songs—a lot of songs. Good songs.  He went to Nashville and recorded his album Western Stars with some of the best session musicians in the business. He's played Music City's World Famous Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. Even more impressive, long time Nashville music critic Robert K. Oermann bestowed Chris with his highly sought after "DisCovery" award for the Heers' single "Dirt Rich." In addition to Western Stars, “Dirt Rich" can be found on the Wii entertainment game Country Dance II—along with music by the likes of Brad Paisely, George Strait, Keith Urban and Lady Antebellum.

Heers is the only musician I know who has achieved so much in such a short amount of time—and all without him hailing from Texas or having lived in Nashville. Vegas is home for Heers. Make no mistake though, these accomplishments only happened because of his devotion and passionate talent toward his music.

Last year Chris finally did what I've been waiting for—he formed a down-home, full fledged country band to jam with on a regular basis. Trust me folks, this was no easy task. Finding a good pedal steel guitarist ain't easy. Hell, finding any good and available musician in Las Vegas ain't easy. Chris did an excellent job though and now has a band that will keep your boots scootin' across the dance floor all night long.

The band—known either as The Chris Heers Band or Chris Heers and The Dirt Rich Band—play regularly at the Naughty Ladies' Saloon inside Arizona Charlie's Westside. It wasn't until last month though—during the National Finals Rodeo—that I dusted off my boots and caught-up with the band during one of their (ten night) gigs at the Tuscany Hotel & Casino. Finally seeing Chris perform with a full and tight band was an absolute joy. People danced, the beer flowed, song requests were met (including some Townes requested by yours truly) and a good time was had by all. Also, I hadn't worn my shit-kickers since my motorcycling days and I'd forgotten how comfortable they still are.

In addition to playing at Arizona Charlie's, Chris occasionally plays an unplugged set on Sunday afternoons at the Pioneer Saloon in Goodsprings, Nevada. The Pioneer is one of the oldest free-standing bars in America and is well worth the short drive from Las Vegas to check-out Chris in an intimate setting. Just be careful not to run over the sleeping dog in the middle of Main Street.

I'm excited to see what 2012 has in store for Chris and the band. For starters, I hereby deem Chris Heers as someone who Las Vegas needs more of—that being a hometown hero.

FiN.

More Heers Here:

See a few more of my photographs of the band playing at the Tuscany here. I wish drummer Jim Lovgren had been more visible.

Hit up Chris's website and Facebook page to get his music and see his schedule.

Read another Chris Heers related article that I originally wrote for another website here.