Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Selling Wolf Tickets and Loving God.

Dog Poet Transforming.......

Well, as could be predicted I am watching “Four Weddings and a Funeral” as I write this. I'm always watching something, unless I close my eyes and then I am also watching something. It is hard to be aware all the time. I would say that was the greatest torment of my life that I am far too aware of everything. I am living on the beach. Teenage girls go by on their bicycles, thumbhumping their cellphones as they go. It cracks me up. The age of digital masturbation is at hand. I suspect they should have four arms, like those gods and goddesses that appear in my mind every time I close my eyes. I close my eyes.

Lately I have had the feeling that Van Morrison is about to give up the ghost. I must be fairly convinced of it to write about it. I want to share with you a concert given by John Fogarty;



I've been reading his autobiography of late and maybe share some of the most elegant lyrical accomplishments by Jackson Browne.



I never got to get my music out this way but I am a huge fan of some of those who did.

During the Vietnam War, John Fogarty was one of the most played in that conflict, along with The Temptations and Jimi Hendrix. I had this friend who was the girlfriend of Jackie Lomax and who was a temporary friend of mine, who was the first artist done on Apple Records by The Beatles. We used to hang out together. She was a good friend of Jimi Hendrix and she told me that he used to ask her to sit on his chest because demons were stealing his breath. He later died in such a manner. His manager lived right up the street from me and he had these two huge wolfhounds that used to get loose now and again. I had a dog named 'Pig' who was a large and brawny dog and very combative. He wound up with me because no one else could control him. I had to get violent with him a couple of times and there he was... sorted. He was cock of the walk among dogs in Woodstock but... when Michael Jefferies dogs got loose, Pig would see them way before I did and run like the hounds of Hell were after him, which I think was the case. They never got him. For some reason, when you are running from certain doom, sometimes you are faster than what is chasing you.

I remember these massive wolfhounds blowing by me after Pig. The wind of their passage near knocked me over. Ah... those were the days. I never thought I would get old and I think no one does. It sneaks up on you. I am more limber than most and mostly pain free. When I hear about people that are of my age they have many complaints. All I have is gratitude.

That friend of mine, whose name I won't mention, got into a terrible accident outside Chico California. She was in a Volkswagen and got hit by a tractor trailer. She recovered. We didn't stay in touch; such is life.

I am reminded of Liz from LA who used to come around here for years. She is dying of cancer. She may be gone as I write this and maybe not. I tried to communicate with her but I always felt like, “why am I doing this?” I didn't really know her and in trying to get to know someone in extremity is not easy. Nothing I could say was going to make any difference and she was surrounded by people who loved her, so I just drifted away. I did pray for her a great deal. Sometimes you have to simply release people to whatever it is they have to deal with. I always loved her and she was one of the people I hoped I would meet one day. Well, I'm going to meet a lot of you soon. Some of you have been in my thoughts for a long time like Mr. Zephyr Machine and Jabar with all those big cats. He had this young lady that he took in and looked after and she died. You see the memorial in the left sidebar of all my blogs. Apparently she was a big fan of my work and that led to Jabar and I meeting. I have always wanted to play with the big cats (grin). I'm going to get to do that. I LOVE animals, this is going to be a treat for me.

I don't fear animals and I am no threat to them. As I have mentioned here several times, when you are afraid of an animal they see it as a threat because fear and anger smell the same. I am also not recklessly over confident. I let the animal come to me. I remain still. They'll let you know if and when they want to play and I know they sense in me that I want to play. Some of my martial arts games with dogs are well known. A fellow I knew had two big dobermans and I used to slap box with them and the owner would scream at me about how I was going to get hurt. I never got bit once. I'm kind of proud of that. Could the dogs have had my ass if they wanted? I don't know. I had incredibly fast hands. Many a raging Hawaiian mad man will attest to that. Point I am making is that none of the things in my life have anything to do with me. It has either been god in residence or god concealed. Once the almighty entered into the equation, I was gone. I've never seen myself again since. I pretty much mirror whatever is in front of me and since I am a man of peace, others, more or less, are compliant.

I didn't go to Vietnam, although given my military training I am guessing I might have. I went to prison instead and believe me, Vietnam is definitely not more dangerous than prison. I think I spent something like four years inside and in some of the worst hellholes. Twenty two months I was in the John Howard Pavilion for The Criminally Insane at St. Elizabeth's (it is now the central nexus for Homeland Insecurity). This, along with Springfield MO, are the two places where the really sick, dangerous and psychotic are held and no one touched me, except for a couple of dustups that you shrug off, given that you got to walk away. God was doing his purpose of demonstration thing. I saw people reduced to things you don't want to know about and though I did what I could, you can't protect people from their own vulnerabilities.

One day these two hippies came in, long hair and all and one of them was pretty- insofar as that is some kind of currency inside. I told them to cut their hair and watch their asses (unfunny pun intended).They didn't listen to me. In fact they were arrogant about their dismissal of my cautions. About a week later I am coming up the stairs to my ward and I hear this commotion. I come around the corner and there is the cute one, bruised and bleeding. I picked him up and carried him down the long reach of the ward I was walking through in order to get to my ward. For whatever reason I was extremely pissed, so I started screaming something like, “I don't know what cowardly motherfucker beat this boy but here I am you punk! Come on! Where are you you piece of shit!” The hallway had to be about 100 yards long; first through the dormitory and then all the private rooms and nurses station. I kept yelling and as I left that ward and was about to turn the corner to my ward, King Kong comes out into the hallway and starts screaming at me about this and that. It's called selling Wolf Tickets. I went to go back after him and the guard at the turning grabbed me. It's probably a good thing because this guy was large but... he could have had me way earlier. He didn't.

The next morning at breakfast I got to see what was what. Our two wards were served by a common kitchen, so you could see the other prisoners on the other side of the kitchen. They were all howling at me and threatening retribution. I am in line with Waverly Holden, who was a little shorter than me but as wide as a door. To put Waverly in perspective, he was a supreme bad ass and a good friend. He was locked up because he used to stick up liquor stores. One night he was coming home and a couple of guys were waiting in the stairwell of his apartment building. He had two bags of groceries and he managed to blow both of those guys away with his 1911 45 caliber gun. Then he burned down the apartment building to get rid of the evidence; true story. There in the line with me was Feets Robinson; 6'8” and around three hundred pounds of muscle. He was one of the greatest athletes I have ever seen. If not for his peculiar problem he could have been the equal of Lawrence Taylor. He liked to rape and strangle nurses. He got 6 of them before they got him and when Doctor Kunev refused to release me because I was too dangerous, he let Feets go and Feets promptly raped and strangled a nurse on the grounds of the institution. This is how crazy things can be sometimes.

Waverly turned to me and asked, “Gypsy, what did you do?” I told him. We shared a table, Feets, Waverly and Alan Smith. Alan was a bank robber; very educated and very cool. I used to sing Beatles songs and Alan would open the door to his room, directly across from mine to listen. We were all friends as much as one can be in such circumstances. Waverly said to me, “You don't do things like that in a place like this. You want to save a drowning person and they will pull you down with them. Don't worry, I'll take care of it” and... he did, I never heard a word about it again. Waverly had clout.

Early on one morning I was taking a shower and Feets walked in and said, “You got a pretty cock white boy, why don't you come by my room and let me suck it?” If I had six other guys with me I don't think I could handle Feets. I didn't say anything. He walked away and I just hoped it would go away. Months later I am playing poker with Feets, Waverly, Alan and another guy when Feets says, “You know, Gypsy is pretty cool.” He then related the story of the shower event, chuckling and so... then he says, “You know, a couple of white boys took me up on that offer and I beat the living shit out of them.” He had those psychopathic eyes and as he said it and was looking at me I shivered... heh heh. Water under the bridge or... bodies even.

I've had a pretty eventful life, although I am sure, most people would not want to live what I have been through. All the heavy shit and chaos has done no more than to increase my love of God. I think that has been the point of it. Sometimes I am reduced to tears about this. There is a yearning in me that cannot be described by mere words. I love God, so much that it drives me to distraction on occasion. I look back at my life and ask myself, “Who did this happen to?” I have no idea who I am anymore. I have no idea what each day will bring. I just try to manage until I realize that I am not the one managing. As I have said before, I am one of the luckiest men alive, as punishing as my existence has been, it has all led to the almighty and I assure you... being in a position to love the ineffable, being motivated to do so, waking in the morning with, “I love you.” on my breath is comparable to nothing else. I do not know where my destiny will take me or what my crimes (picayune as they are) cost me but I figure if you love God that must amount to something. What was that about the greatest commandment???

Honorable mention again:



And this:



I guess I am a tad nostalgic.

Much love my friends.


End Transmission.......

Sunday's radio broadcast is out there somewhere.

16 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow!!! Just wow. This is my favorite place on the internet. You made me cry with that last paragraph.

missingarib said...

Vis, is your posted what amounts to life flashing before ones eyes or simply a narrative of the sneaky hand that played us while we were determined to make other plans as Lennon so insight fully observed?
The act of meditation ,watching the, mind searching for it's source ,gradually collapses the world as something turbulent to something bright and information dense and the realization one only has a finite amount of time to discover a small fraction of the love that animates the compound elements and what duration is inherent in their composite.
Such is our condition ,the feeling that we never emotional crossed a particular year in our maturation and except we see the wrinkles and physical changes we would not recognize old age. "I would say that was the greatest torment of my life that I am far too aware of everything."

live long

Love To Push Those Buttons said...

I've thought it before, and think it again because of this post (,and other posts you wrote on your past). Putting all things into perspective, what do I have to complain about? Ye gods. And I will admit my nosy-poo along with the thing I used to be married to both had crotch droppinghoods way worse than mine. And I only had to live with my main nemesis in life for 5 years, and the bitch did teach me how NOT to live, and what NOT to do, and what NOT to become.

Anonymous said...

yes, bobby caldwell!

the Jackson Browne album cover image is from a favorite srtist, Renee Magritte, "The Empire of Lights"

thank you vis, what fun. Also must say in reference to your de-rense-ification: Viz, thanks for never selling out. It seems that right after jr canned you, he picked up zgardner. It really didn't feel like you were axed just due to your wonderful ineffable focus. Tht it might be more that zg is an aggregate site so articles were easy pickens. Also, he will not confront the zio issue like you. When ZG elected to beg for money, more and more newage stuff suddenly appeared, and the next thing you know he's off to europe or alcapulco for face time with his new pals. It's fun to hear these guys bloviate about how they're NOT leaders and broke, then want people( followers) to indirectly finance their junkets, while saying they're carrying the flag for everyone. If one goes to his site it is often difficult to find the author's name on many articles, as zg's name is at the top--if you don't really look it appears he's the author. I find this disingenous and annoying; almost as much as seeing the original author's work covered almost entirely on zg's site, then finally clicking the redirect. (remember when in deference to the author it was 3-5 lines and then you clicked ?) While we're at it, DOES A GUY who speaks of having a professor dad , who grew up in scarsdale, who drops out of college near graudation, who lives abroad and travels to 45 countries, and has a writing job in Iran during the time of the revolution, does that ring any bells? You're better off my friend. Here's the latest:

http://sorendreier.com/the-cult-of-zen-gardner-a-monster-in-disguise/

torus said...

To friends seen and unseen, I greet you with the Holy word Peace.
My soon to be 84 year old mother, who I help to take care of, has spent the last two years in and out of the hospital. She's been hospitalized since late March of this year and is recovering from her fifth surgery within the past two years. She lost her own mother at the age of 11 in Nazi Germany as the hellstorm raged. All this set the psychosomatic blueprint in place for her to be dominated by arthritis in her 40's. Which subsequently hobbled my parents sex life and exacerbated my father's drinking "problem". Drinking that enabled a fall down the stairs which invoked a slipped disk and chronic back pain and eventually Parkinson's disease until he died.
It's one reason why I'm not bemused with a moderate or immoderate intake of alcohol.
Being a depressant and a stimulant, I CANNOT afford those conflicting energies.
One doesn't require alcohol or drugs to cloud the truth, or to poison aliveness. But I LOATHE loose lips on liquor.
The Fifth Grave Precept is usually translated as "refraining from using intoxicants".
"TOXIC" is something that poisons, that injures our aliveness. I was a "toxic" youth. Numbing all the inexplicable pain, past and present. The toxicity wasn't just due to imbibing, but also the byways and lies that were enabled through the liquor and drugs.
"Yeah I'm worth a million in prizes!!!
I got a lust for life! And all the liquor and drugs!!!"

STONE. COLD. SOBER.

Anonymous said...

pierre said ...

(cue warren zevon) they were just some excitable boys.
and (pink floyd) mother did it have to be so high? (the walls, hurdles etc)
the answer would be yes, by God, yes it did, but one only finds out in the end.



Floyd Smith said...

There's a word I want to say, and I'll say it, cause I'll remember.

marina said...

Les Visible and readers here, do you remember this one? Still on, still on ...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2zKdIcOV5s

"Winter In America"

From the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
And to the buffalo who once ruled the plains
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Looking for the rain

Just like the cities staggered on the coastline
Living in a nation that just can't stand much more
Like the forest buried beneath the highway
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow

And now it's winter
Winter in America
Yes and all of the healers have been killed
Or sent away, yeah
But the people know, the people know
It's winter
Winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
'Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your soul, Lord knows
From Winter in America

The Constitution
A noble piece of paper
With free society
Struggled but it died in vain
And now Democracy is ragtime on the corner
Hoping for some rain
Looks like it's hoping
Hoping for some rain

And I see the robins
Perched in barren treetops
Watching last-ditch racists marching across the floor
But just like the peace sign that vanished in our dreams
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow

And now it's winter
It's winter in America
And all of the healers have been killed
Or been betrayed
Yeah, but the people know, people know
It's winter, Lord knows
It's winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your souls
From Winter in America

And now it's winter
Winter in America
And all of the healers done been killed or sent away
Yeah, and the people know, people know
It's winter
Winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows, nobody knows
And ain't nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save

- by Gil Scott-Heron

Best wishes to all, and thank you Les Visible for your words and love,
marina

Hereticdrummer said...

Fantastic Vis. You must commence working on your complete autobiography. That will be a priority read for me. Keep punching buddy.

Visible said...

I have been thinking about that. I even have a title already; "The Long and Winding WTF?"

The 3rd Elf said...

Just a note to remind anyone reading this that Mr. Visible has a birthday coming up in the next couple of weeks; all year, unwaged, he lays gifts out to the feet of many people through these blogs (and privately, by 'phone and email) - and he never asks for anything back.

So, I'm doing that for him; will you gift Visible some $ for his birthday at least? There are PayPal and Bitcoin buttons sitting there in the sidebar of this blog. Go on,please. I know he will appreciate a $ gift as much as he likely needs it.

Anonymous said...

Wow! You're so interesting. Thanks again

Much love
Short bus

Anonymous said...

Hello Visible,

I have been telling you for ages you should write your memoirs... i think a more appropriate title
would be "In Pursuit of the Ineffable"...

much love

Alistair

Visible said...

A new Smoking Mirrors is up now-

In the Age of Head up the Ass and the Avuncular Sweet Uncles of Prosperity.

Visible said...

A new Petri Dish is up now-

Coiling Gaboon Vipers and the Restless Monkey Mind.

The 3rd Elf said...

Here is this Sunday's radio show...

P.S - don't forget it's Visible's birthday coming up.