A premature end...

Hi guys, long time no update, I know.

Ever since he'd become a celebrity, Elton has been pretty protective of his private life. As a result, rumors of what he's like behind closed doors and away from cameras have abounded.

I dunno how it happened but a little while ago, I guess someone referred a couple of reporters from Hong Kong to my story. They must've looked into my story and most stuff checked out -- maybe a little TOO easily cuz they figured out who Elton was without much difficulty. Anyway, I'd gotten a couple of inquiries asking if I'd be interested in doing an interview or something, just to talk about Elton.

Anyway, knowing that there are people reading this who might want to take advantage of my friend -- no matter how long it's been since I last spoke to him -- I can't in good conscience keep writing. I apologize for this premature ending.

Suffice it to say, today, Elton is famous, rich, and accomplished.

Rupert is a magazine mogul in Chicago now.

I haven't heard from Luis, Cathy, or Yao Yao in over ten years. I hope they're well.

I probably won't be updating this site anymore. Please check out my new Xanga -- www.xanga.com/benthewriter -- where I'm reposting some of my stories (with updated epilogues). I plan to write more new stuff later on. Hope to see you guys there!

Ben.

Interlude: A Life (More or) Less Ordinary

For a long while after coming home, I perpetually wore the stupidly contented look on my face of someone who was deeply happy with himself. If you saw me, you might think I'd gotten away with a crime or something.

My dad didn't notice anything until my mom mentioned it to him. The first thing he suspected was that I'd found a girlfriend.

-/-

University was a world apart from high school. In the first two months, despite being unrealistically content with myself, I still had enough leftover pessimism (although mostly buried) to register that everything I thought was true and important in high school amounted to not much more than dust in university.

Which got me thinking, would that be the case with university once I graduated and got out into the real world?

And what difference would it make when my "real world" will involve going on tour, signing autographs, and wearing sunglasses for most of the daylight hours? School wasn't going to matter much in about six months. In the real world, it was who you knew that mattered more than anything else.

Then one day, Rupert called.

It was a little surprising because, for one reason or another, I never expected to get anything more than a couple paragraphs on regular notebook paper in terms of correspondence from him. Guys just didn't really talk on the phone as far as I was concerned. Or maybe it was just me, I don't know.

Anyway, Rupe called and I picked up the phone on the second ring.

He didn't even say hello, he just started with, "Dude, guess what?"

And just like that, I knew I was going to be in school for the next few years just like a regular kid. No more daydreams of shopping for sunglasses.

I said, "Elton?"

Rupe replied, "Elton."

"He won the contest?"

"Not exactly. They threatened to tank him, actually."

I scowled. "What?"

Rupert took an excited but deep breath. "He was into the fourth or fifth round when the guys from Rock Records contacted him and wanted him to sign with them or else they were going to cut him at the next round."

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed. "That's so... so..."—I shook my head—"that's so fucking CORRUPT, man. Shit."

A pause.

"But wait," I said, "that doesn't make any sense. So you're saying he didn't get a contract?" Hope glimmered on my end of the phone.

"Well, no, he did."

"With who?" I cried. I was a mixture of being excited for my friend but crestfallen for myself.

And Rupe, of course.

But mostly for myself. :P

"With BMG."

I blinked. Well, that's unexpected, I thought.

"Uh, okay..." I said. "Um..."

"Did Elton ever tell you his uncle was a singer?"

"What?" I asked. "I mean—wait, what? Who? When? What?"

This was all going far too quickly. I'd gone from a being soon-to-be rich-but-easily-forgettable member of a surefire boy band to just a regular guy in about ten seconds and it was all because my buddy had a whole convoluted background filled with politics and intrigue that we didn't even know about. It was almost too much to wrap my head around.

"Well, I don't know WHO, exactly," Rupe explained. "Elton just told me that his uncle was pretty big back in the seventies and eighties. He had a few big hits. Elton said you probably even know a couple of his songs."

"Really."

"Yeah. So, this uncle of his wanted to hook him up, right? But Elton refused because he wanted to try to do it on his own. He wanted to make it on his own talent and ability, not because he knew a guy who knew a guy."

"I see. And this is where BMG comes in?"

"Elton's uncle's old producer has gone independent, but has some kind of distribution thing going on with BMG, so Elton figures he'll be releasing his first album with them."

"Oh. Well, that's awesome, man."

"Yeah, it is. He asked me if I'm going back this summer, maybe we can hang out again."

"Yeah, I think I'll be going to tutor in Hualien again," I said. "My old boss promised to keep a spot for me if my parents will let me go."

"Cool. If I can get a job there, I'll be back too."

"Sounds good, man," I said. "Hey, keep me posted on everything eh?"

"Will do. I'll talk to you later, dude."

"Yeah, talk later, Rupe."

...tbc.

Love Boat (IX): Stardom

I was twelve when I went to my first concert. Me, my brother, and our friend, Mikey, went to see Tiffany at Kingswood Music Theater at Canada's Wonderland.

Kingswood was an open air amphitheater; we sat on the lawn way in the back. At this time, I didn't know who Tiffany was, exactly. I was just excited to be within a thirty second sprint of someone famous.

I thought this concert was a bit of a rip off. First of all, we didn't have seats, unless you call a semi-flat patch of grass a seat.

Secondly, the concert was late getting started, which I thought was incredibly unprofessional.

And thirdly, we were at a Tiffany concert! So why was Tiffany not taking the stage? Instead, it was five guys who kind of half-strutted, half-danced to their spots, then began going through heavily choreographed dance routines (insofar as stepping around the stage in unison could be considered "dancing"; we did as much in the folk dancing segment of gym class) while singing one pop song after another.

They talked to the audience, sang a bit, then talked some more. After the third or fourth song, I said to Mikey, "What the heck's going on? Where's Tiffany?"

"She should be on after these guys," he replied. "This is just the opening act."

"Is that how it works?" I wondered aloud. It was disagreeable to hardcore Tiffany fans (of which I wasn't one), but marketing-wise, it made sense. I felt terribly mature for being able to see the Big Picture.

"They look gay," my brother said. He was almost ten at this time. I wasn't sure if he knew what it meant to be gay.

But nevertheless, I agreed with him. "Their songs are too cliché. They'll never get anywhere."

"I dunno, girls seem to like them," Mikey said. He flipped open his program.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Some group from Boston," he said. "They even have a stupid name too: New Kids on the Block."

-/-

The Six Pack was the second last act of the talent show. Previously, there’d been dancers, a magician, a guy who did stand-up comedy, a couple of solo singers, and a kung-fu guy who whipped around a pair of nunchucks. For most of the show, the Bruce Lee wannabe looked to be in the lead.

Until the Six Pack came out with Albert leading the bassline of "Stand By Me" and Rupert and Peter alternating the opening verses. At the chorus, they paused then all six of them picked up the song in full harmony, their voices coming thickly out of the speakers like a choir of twice as many guys.

The audience exploded into wild cheering, started by the Joes' two girlfriends from Group B who were sitting a few seats down from me in my row. I got goosebumps.

I imagined myself up there, but with Rupert and Elton instead of the Six Pack. They'd be tearing it up, Rupe killing a keyboard and Elton playing his guitar so hard that his fingers would bleed. I, of course, would be contentedly hiding in the back singing my doo-wop and bee-bop and whatever else, and deftly dodging flying panties meant for my groupmates.

My theory was, with any group, there's always that one guy that fans remember last, if at all. For instance, 90% of people, when asked to recall the Beatles, will name George Harrison last. Often, they'll forget poor George altogether. This was all I aspired to be: George Harrison.

Well okay, given my lack of actual talent, maybe being Danny or Jonathan from New Kids would've been more realistic. Or I could be the fat, ugly guy from NSync. I don't even know that dude's name, but he's just as rich as the rest of them and that was all I wanted.

After the initial burst, the audience quieted down until the second song, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight", where, as planned, Rupe blasted his falsetto and held it. (The amps didn't explode.) Then he riffed upwards as was becoming his M.O. and the crowd cheered again, this time without any prompting from the Joes' girls. I sat still in my seat, daydreaming. The Six Pack was pretty good. Luis was probably their weakest link, but he at least had the propriety to stay in the background.

By the time they started "In the Still of the Night", the audience was about all cheered out and was getting restless. This was where the stripping thing became a stroke of genius, because after a couple of rehearsals with small test audiences consisting of our roommates and girls around campus that Luis was trying to impress, the Six Pack found that keeping the energy level up throughout their set would be a challenge. So instead of stripping at the end, Luis arranged short solos for everyone, at the ends of which, they'd remove a piece of clothing.

To get the crowd's attention, Peter and Albert stepped up and sang the first verse, then TORE OFF the tight, flimsy t-shirts they were wearing (doctored with strategic cuts under the arms), and threw the scraps of fabric at a small cluster of girls whom I identified to be friends of theirs. Their muscles twitched enthusiastically and these chicks duly screamed their pretty Californian heads off. Pandemonium ensued.

Then came Luis and Rupert. (Rupe got cheers before he took his shirt off, further convincing me that riding his and Elton's coattails would be a good career move and a fast ride that'd break all kinds of speeding laws.)

Lastly, it was the Joes, both of whose IQs were greater than their body weights.

Harvard Joe was wearing a windbreaker—crimson, of course. After his solo, he took this off and threw it at his girlfriend (presumably for safe-keeping; he wasn't the type to wantonly cast away his belongings), revealing a t-shirt that read "Yale Sucks!" in a mock-up of Yale's school crest. The Harvard people cheered while the Yale people booed lustily. (There was an intimidatingly high population of both at Love Boat.)

Following Harvard Joe, Yale Joe sang his solo while pulling off his belt. When he was done, he dropped his pants altogether and kicked them offstage. He was wearing boxers that proclaimed that, "Harvard Sucks!" The cheers and jeers among the crowd reversed polarity.

With everybody now naked in part and in degrees, the Six Pack came together in harmony and finished off the song to a rousing ovation.

I clapped as loudly as I could, thinking, "Show business, man! That's what I'm getting into!"

-/-

Four weeks into Love Boat, we left the Chien Tan campus for a two week bus tour of Taiwan. They called this the "Trip South", after which the camp would be adjourned and most of us would go home.

The weekend before the Trip South, me and Rupe went with Elton to round three of the Ark contest. (Rupert had gotten disqualified after round two for singing the same song that he'd performed for round one. We didn't know that this was in the rules, but apparently everybody else did. Oh well.)

"How many rounds are there?" I asked.

"Six or seven, I think?" Elton replied uncertainly. "I'm not sure."

"Shit, it's a good thing I got booted early then," Rupe said. "I wouldn't have been able to stay anyway."

"Hey, speaking of getting booted, how'd your talent show thing go?" Elton asked.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly indignant. "They should've won!"

"Hm? They didn't?"

"No, these breakdancers that came on last did. There were three of them, two guys and a girl and the girl wore a bikini top."

"Oh, that's rough," Elton said. "What was the prize?"

"Not much," Rupert answered. "Just t-shirts."

"I'm telling you, man," I said, "you guys would've won, except they didn't have six t-shirts to give out, that's why those breakdancers got first. It was just a matter of face for the judges. It was such bullshit."

Rupert shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The last thing we needed was for Luis's head to get bigger."

Elton laughed. "Getting stood up by that chick didn't knock him down a few pegs?"

"Nah," I replied. "Officially, no one knows. So he's been carrying on like he scored."

"The Joes considered busting him when he was kind of flirting with their girlfriends after rehearsals once, but I talked them out of it," Rupe said.

I snorted back a chuckle. "Yeah, I was there. Yale Joe was pretty pissed. Actually, I was hoping they WOULD out him. It would've been funny."

"It would've wrecked our performance."

"Not to mention it would've been mean-spirited," Elton added.

Rupe smirked. "Well, I think we cared more about the group than Luis's delicate sensibilities."

Elton grinned and shook his head.

"So you're staying in Taiwan until the contest over, Elton?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess. If I get the hook early, I'll probably go with my grandma to Hong Kong for a short trip or something. You know, knock on wood." He rapped the tabletop with his knuckles.

"Dude, we've got to keep in touch," Rupert said. He got out a pen and scribbled his address on the back of a flyer that someone had left on our table before the third round started. "I don't know what my school address will be yet, but that's my house. Send me a postcard or something, my parents will forward it to me."

After Rupe was done, I took his pen and the flyer and wrote down my address too. "I'm staying home and commuting to school, so yeah, likewise, a postcard or whatever would be cool."

Elton looked at me and Rupert's addresses to make sure he could read them. I gave him Rupe's pen and he wrote down two lines of letters and punctuation at the bottom of the flyer, tore them off and gave Rupert and I each a piece.

I read the gibberish on my slip of paper, scowled, and took a peek at Rupe's piece, which was, of course, the same nonsense repeated: a bunch of letters, followed by three numbers, a little "a" inside a squiggle, then more letters separated by the occasional period.

"Uh, what's this?" I asked uncertainly. I felt like I should've already known the answer to my question.

"It's my email address," Elton replied, grinning. "We're the first year that's getting them."

"Cool," I breathed. "Um... what's 'email'?"

...tbc.

Love Boat (VIII): The Planning Phase

By the time we dropped Elton off at his grandma's and got back to the Chien Tan campus, it was already almost midnight. We passed mobs of Love Boaters decked out in their finest clubbing gear going in the opposite direction straight out the front gate.

The guard who was supposed to prevent anyone from leaving after hours stood on the sidewalk and said half-heartedly, "Hey, you're not supposed to leave the campus this late."

"Yeah, we know," one guy in a shimmering silver shirt said as he climbed into a taxi. He waved before slamming the door closed. "See you later!"

"Have a good time," the guard said, waving back.

-/-

Luis was playing cards in the lobby of the main building with a small group of... well, for lack of a better word, NERDS. I recognized them from orientation. Two of them, Joe from Harvard and Joe from Yale, were in Luis's singing group, the Taiwan Six Pack.

They were playing blackjack. Harvard Joe hit on a thirteen.

Luis dealt him a king. "Twenty-three," he said. "Bust."

"Didn't they teach you to count at Harvard?" Yale Joe asked.

Harvard Joe gave him the finger.

Yale Joe stood on a sixteen. Luis dealt himself cards until he busted with a twenty-five.

"See?" Harvard Joe said. "If I didn't hit that king, Luis would've had nineteen and you would've been done."

Yale Joe smiled and shrugged. "The Yale man is left standing. It's the way of the world."

"The Yale man lucks into success on the strength of other people's efforts. You'll make a fine President someday. Jackass."

I laughed.

Luis, who had his back to us, turned.

"Hey, whassup fellas?" he said. "Wanna play?"

"No thanks," Rupe replied. "I'm killed, dude. That Yau Yau can drink like a fucking fish in AA, you wouldn't believe it until you see it."

Luis snorted. "She sounds like a dangerous date," he remarked and went back to shuffling cards.

"Hey, speaking of which, how was it?" I asked, smacking Luis on the shoulder excitedly. "Where'd you guys go? When'd you get back?"

Luis shrugged. "Oh, you know, we just hung around, shot the shit a while, talked about the old days."

"That's it?" I was disappointed. I mean, Luis was the only guy I'd ever known who'd gone out with a FAMOUS girl! Well, okay, she wasn't THAT famous yet, but hey, I was just a simple kid from Toronto, this was the closest I'd ever been to celebrity. For all his talk and bravado, I couldn't help but feel like Luis had let us down, me and Rupe both.

"Yeah, that's it," Luis said. "Were you expecting a Harlequin novel?"

I glanced at Rupe who shrugged at me. I think we wordlessly agreed that Luis was a little testy, although we didn't know why.

I played dumb and asked one last question: "So, are you going to see her again?"

Luis gave an exasperated sigh and snapped, "No, probably not. It's not worth it to date a celebrity. At best, you do it once just to say that you did it."

"Oh."

"Actually, fuck it, I'm going to hit the sack too. It's been a long day. Good night, gentlemen." He dropped the thoroughly shuffled deck on the table. "Don't forget rehearsal tomorrow," he said before stalking off to the elevators.

We all looked at each other. Rupert commented, "Well, someone had a shitty date, that's for sure."

"He should've brought flowers with him," I said. "I would've. I don't see what it could hurt."

Harvard Joe picked up the cards and started dealing. He said, "I don't think she showed."

Rupe and I looked at him. "Seriously?" I asked. "She stood him up? How do you know that?"

Yale Joe shrugged. "Me and Harvard were at Mitsukoshi with these two Group B chicks. We saw Luis waiting outside for someone but these girls don't really like him, you know? So we didn't say hi."

"Did he see you guys?" Rupert asked.

Harvard Joe shook his head. "Nah, he was looking in the opposite direction. We recognized his hair."

I laughed.

"Anyway," Yale Joe continued, "an hour and a half later, we came back out and Luis was still there waiting. Just checking his watch, looking around. The classic signs."

"Shit, that's brutal, dude," Rupert said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, so we got out of there as quietly as we could," said Harvard Joe. "About an hour after we got back, we saw him walking past the turtle pond. Don't tell anyone. Leave the poor bastard his dignity."

"All right," Rupert replied. "We won't say anything."

Yale Joe nodded solemnly. "So, you guys up for a game?"

-/-

We had lunch on campus the next day. Or at least, we attempted to. But the rice was crusty, the other dishes ranged from moderately cool to lukewarm, and the soup had a funny film across the top of it. We had a few bites and decided to retreat to the auditorium early for rehearsal. Our reward for getting in a good amount of practice would be a late lunch off campus somewhere.

Well, when I say "we", I mean Rupe, Luis, the two Joes, this guy Peter who sang tenor, and his roommate, Albert, who sang bass. I was an honorary member of the group only by association. Peter and Albert went to UCLA. They both had abs.

There were seats set up for an assembly that we were having after culture classes. I sat in the first row, reading The Hobbit and humming along to the Six Pack, who were standing at the edge of the stage and singing "In the Still of the Night".

When they finished the song, Luis said, "All right, that sounds good. So we'll start with 'Stand By Me', then 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight'—Rupe will blast his falsetto here—and we'll finish with 'In the Still of the Night.' But we still need a big finale. Something striking, like smashing a guitar. Any ideas?"

"I can punch Harvard in the head and throw him off stage," suggested Yale Joe. "That'd be pretty memorable."

"Fuck you, Yale," Harvard Joe replied and flipped him the finger.

"We can take our clothes off," Peter said.

I looked up at to see everyone goggling at him. Everyone except for Albert, who appeared to be very enthusiastically in favor of this idea.

"The hell do you mean, we can take our clothes off?!" Harvard Joe exclaimed. "What are you, some kind of perv?"

"I don't mean NAKED, Harvard!" Peter cried. "Jesus! I'm just talking about taking off our shirts and throwing them into the audience or something! It's like, you know, ROCK 'N ROLL, man!"

"I have no problem with that," Albert chimed in. "I'll sing our whole set topless if you want."

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"There're these two guys and a chick from Group C who are going to be breakdancing," Rupert said. "I think they'll be our biggest competition. The girl is going to be wearing a bikini top."

A soft murmur went up through the Six Pack. Luis in particular looked very concerned.

"I don't mean that as an opinion for or against Pete's idea," Rupe was quick to add. "I'm just saying."

"Well, at the risk of sounding gay," Luis said tentatively, "I think the stripping idea works towards our strengths."

"You mean, towards Pete and Al's strengths," Harvard Joe corrected him. "I'm too skinny to take my shirt off. I'll look like an idiot."

"Think of some way to compensate then," Luis replied. "In any case, at the end of our set, we want six pieces of clothing to go flying into the audience. Throw a ball cap if you'd prefer, it doesn't matter. It just has to be a uniform action between all of us."

"Unless you have another idea," Albert said.

Harvard Joe sulked quietly.

I thought, Damn, I'm glad I'm not in this group.

-/-

"Are you really going to do it?" Elton asked Rupert.

Rupe shrugged. "Why not? I'm on the swim team; I have nothing to be afraid of."

"Hm." Elton sat back in his grandma's old armchair and plucked idly on the strings of his guitar.

I flipped the channel from Star Sports to MTV, where the weekly Top 20 show was winding down. This song that Valerie sang at karaoke, "Love Follows", was number five on the chart.

Elton sat up, pointed at the TV, and said, "Hey man, you know what that is?"

Rupert looked back and forth between Elton and the music video. "Is what what? What are you talking about?"

"That song. It's Pachelbel's canon in D major."

"It's who's what in what?" I asked, suddenly feeling lost and left behind.

Rupe perked his ears up at the TV. Meanwhile, Elton strummed out the canon chords on his guitar in time with the music video. I had no idea what they were talking about but I could distinctly hear the classical roots that Elton was referring to in the pop song.

Wow, I thought. These guys are REAL musicians.

Rupert sat down at Elton's grandma's piano and began playing harmony. And all I could do was sit there and marvel at it all. I never failed to be humbled by people with such specialized knowledge that they could look at (or in this case, hear) something and immediately pick out the invisible, underlying structure whereas all I could perceive was an attractive facade.

After picking at his guitar for a few bars, Elton began singing along softly with the harmony. Rupe immediately picked up the melody. The two of them together—unplugged, even!—sounded better than the original singer on TV. I joined in, singing Rupe's part but an octave down. Elton's grandma came from upstairs and stood on the bottom step listening to us.

Towards the end, Elton improv'ed a couple of English lyrics and Rupert riffed his way across the piano. When we were done, Elton's grandma clapped and cheered for us.

"That was awesome, dude!" Rupe exclaimed. "I wouldn't have picked out the canon chords if you didn't mention it."

Elton grinned at him and began playing the song over again while commercials ran.

I sat very still, feeling like I'd just participated in something magical.

"Hey man, you know what?" Elton said abruptly. "If neither of us gets a record deal before next summer, the three of us should form a singing group! No one does that here, we'd start a trend."

Rupert nodded casually like Elton had done nothing more than suggest pizza for dinner. I, on the other hand, gaped at him like he'd just promised to give me a million dollars and make me famous if he didn't win the lottery in the next twelve months.

Rupe said, "That sounds cool, dude. They could use some real music here. Any more of this synthesized, over-reverbed shit and I'm going to quit trying."

"What do you think, Ben?" Elton asked. "You up for it next summer? You can sing bass and do Boyz II Men monologues."

Slowly, I smiled and nodded. I couldn't believe he was serious! I damn well better agree before he comes down from whatever drug he's smoking and realizes that he asked me—ME!—to be in his band.

Elton grinned. "Awesome! Now we have a plan B!"

He went to playing his guitar while Rupert accompanied him on the piano.

I changed the channel back to Star Sports and turned the volume down so I could listen to them jam.

...tbc.

Hi Xanga!

For all 15 or 16 of you who still read this space, I just wanted to let you know that I'm moving to www.xanga.com/benthewriter.

This move has become necessary due to Ang Lee's horrible inconsideration of guys nicknamed "cowboybone" (a name which, incidentally, has nothing to do with cowboys, bones, the bones of cowboys, or cowboys boning each other up in the wilderness of a mountain that doesn't exist).

Just kidding! Well, kinda. Anyway, it's refreshing to start over, regardless of the reason.

Of course, there's an upside to this move: for those 15 or 16 of you who still check out my Xanga every month or so, I'll be re-editing and re-posting a lot of my old stories in chronological order, along with little epilogues wherever applicable so you can find out what Josie, Jaye, Evangeline, and even Julie and Andrew Valance are up to these days (to the best of my knowledge).

I'll finish off my story about me, Rupert, Elton, and Luis's moustache here first though, so this Xanga will still be active for a little while yet.

Will write more soon! (Yes, really!)
Ben.