Saturday, January 26, 2013

Fire and the Sand Angels

They said it couldn’t happen and wouldn’t believe their salty eyes
when it did again.

Some unhinged fucker fire starter dragged his heels into the mountains and lit up Malibu something good ‘n fierce and thank the good lord I got to go home early from work that miserable day. But traffic going out the PCH was a 4 hr. motherfucker of a bladder control test for some, I’m sure.
About two and a half hours into it I had to pull off into a gas station to put more gas in the Beast and let ‘er cool off in the branding heat of an approaching firestorm. As I did this, rich people drove by at 2 miles an hour sweating and panicked in their Benzes and Explorers and their white convertibles with large paintings and rich people shit sticking out of their back seats.
You could smell the money and the chaparral burning through the canyons. Getting hit on the face w/their worthless ashes. Might as well get back in the car and go, I thought.

That night me and 3 friends went down to the beach – somewhere between Venice and Santa Monica - and got handsomely stoned by ourselves. No one was around for a good blind-sight meaning the nearest asshole was about a good football field’s distance away in the dark.
And my friends made angels on the sand. Flip flopping. Getting sand in their hair ‘n shit.
I stood around watching them and everything else around me as it spilled out.
Listening to the waves passing the time as they rolled in. Feeling their mist land on my face – enhancing my peace of mind.
And when they finished doing their thing, we all sat on our jackets and toked up a little bit more. Cupping our hands around the lighter trying to keep the wind from blowing the flame out.
Got a little more destroyed. More in the zone.
Got a little bit stirred and the stars looked alive from my point of view.
Life was swell for a brief moment. It was a pleasant night. I was on the beach. My friends were there and the hills had a blazing, surreal, out of control fire line.

Malibu had lost her reins and was burning up and somehow the timing of it all seemed
just right.

And then the earthquake hit.

written between late '93 - early '94
Victor Millan

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Birth of a Man

I wrote the words to Birth of a Man in early '94 when my mind was turning. Later that year,
Eddy & I thought some ink was missing from said words so we threw some
ideas around for an image.
What you see above is Eddy's vision for the words he read.

Words by Victor Millan
Image by Eddy Millan
© 1994

(Eddy used Prismacolor pencils and pens in creating the above image.)
To see more of Eddy's artwork please visit