LAST LAUGH CLXI
Last Laugh CLXI
Bix and I tried an overnight down the island beach with our trucks
and dogs between rains. There has been hard raining after a
mostly drought, and couple days without rain all wood kept
damp. We could only get a fire by using charcoal, then it
winds blew all the smoke in circles. The dogs were having fun,
he has a
young female mix of setter and chow who plays with Medicine. I
bottle of wine and our talking never got great in purpose. We
had a poor
night. Or I did and my impression is he did. I had drunk a
milk to fix the wine better but I kept needing to piss and my air
kept deflating and my sciatica has taken upswing again and would
wake me. Daylight the tide was coming in too quickly. I was enabling to
make expresso by sitting in my cab with my coleman burner. Bix does not
like expresso, and I don't know if after drinking most of a shot of
had had it in mind, but before he took off before I did, he was
of my hitch hiking to New York in 1960. He had in 1965 to call
up somebody and try to sell a short story. We both did this when
through small towns state to state, before the big freeway. I
recall for him my own first arrival in New York, can't remember
but that Manhatten, promptly intrigued me, looked like another
Ambiance and brick laid streets.
I had gone to get an advance on my scribbled half of a novel,
novel, GROW BEAT. I was nineteen. GROW BEAT is about my falling
with a San Miguel de Allende prostitute, Margarita, age 20. I
SUBWAYS ARE FOR SLEEPING - I did too! exclaimed Bix - and in New
plan had been to hang out in the great subway system after
calling up a
publishing company from the yellow pages, and going up there. I
there in a big backpack of all my clothes and talked to some
in a suit and explained what I wanted and handed him my
manuscript in longhand (I don't even do longhand anymore, too poor). He looked at
and smiled to me that things are usually not done this way but
that it is
not unheard of....The tide was coming in and Bix jotting this
down in a
notebook he had taken from his truck. He asked me another
question or so.
Of this funny naivete we each had had, I spoke of leaving the
subway system to sell blood in order to eat - a $5 I think in 1960 - when
25 cents a quart - meeting a hipsterish young bum who sold blood,
sat on a curb in the street talking and eating these buns of good
and drinking milk. I had not seen bread like this available in
before, in 1960, bread tasty enough to eat by itself, and I had
Miller's THE STAFF OF LIFE, an essay making some sport of the
said because of poor bread the birds here were dying. We sat in
an employed black guy passed by busy, grinned at us: Man, that's
Another country, another time. I cannot remember our drinking
wine, but my next recall is the guy was drunk on his back in this
argued for me to lend him money so he could buy a fifth
of whisky. I was
not doing this, was choosing to go see Harlem. He was telling me
get killed in Harlem. I think he had a room or flop (screened in
the building - a good looking Puerto Rican girl in new mini skirt
suit came out and got in a cab and he informed me she was a
whore. Trusting the guy, I left my backpack of clothes with him while I went to
In Harlem nobody bothered me naturally. It became night and I
a policeman in the middle of the street. Not much traffic there,
I think. Hi, I am a writer, do you mind if I ask you about police
guy was helpful enough to talk a little and opine most policemen
beat on people.
The only thing I can remember about my bum friend who had my pack
clothes is he and my clothes were gone whenever it was I next got
back there - seems I would have got there,that night but no recall.
loss never meant much in my universe. In the street that night
I met Lenny
Lark, maybe in Greenwich Village, for he lived near Greenwich
I remember Packy laughing anybody named Lenny Lark had to be a
One would not know just looking at Lenny, who was husky with
front. He was 37, likely Leo named Leonard Lark. He was ex
marine, an artist. He did interior decorating, had a little
fifty a month. He was friendly and helpful. I cannot
remember what was I
next up to or looking for when he approached to help. I was
rather expected people to be friendly and helpful, and
anyway half the
guys who will pick up a young male hictch hiker are homosexual.
in his large enough bed and when he put his arm around me I
said: I have
no homosexuality. So he let it go for a few days. We liked
He would get dramatica1, pedantic, about sundry bullshit,
loudly try for a
psychological advantage. I would smile, ignore him. It's a
story. I was.
back at Lenny's a few times in the early sixties, use his
barbell, use his typewriter, eat hearty - he cooked well -
and rebuild and
get kicked out. Friends of his tried too hard to figure me out.
get bothered while in his absence using his barbell or
was this Italian macho type but not very big, jumping on my back when
pumping with the barbell, and my tossing him over onto Lenny's bed.
was this effeminate type one day I was typing, telling me
Lenny says your
dick looks like mine and I want to see if this is true.
He went to unzipping flapping his flacid penis during my typing. Hey, man,
don't bother me. Lenny doesn,t know what my dick 1ooks
like. I would be
polite, and it is interesting always in the civilization is
world of male homosexuals, includes many husbands
and fathers. Normal folks
don't know much more about it than they do their government.
Directly across from Lenny was Sal, Italian-American around 30, had humor.
knock and ask in sheepish smile all the time if Lenny had any
Sal should have had a heterosexual life, very attracted to good
women, but Catholicism in 1960 still had him in such a way he
had never had
sex with a woman, and he fucked effeminate men. The swishes
know what a woman is, that a woman is normaily maternal. In
they serve as women. Both sides of the chasm, citizens do not
they have no inkling of. When in late summer of 1965, I did let
me off, last time I was around him, it depressed us. Which,
not last long, same day he was right back to his regular, loud
and so forth.
Bix asked did I work ever in New York. Sometimes Lenny bugged me about it and I would go get this poor work. I think the first one
assembly line for lawn chairs. It is inhuman, and I would go
am I doing here? Oh, I am in this assembly line, for lawn
the little pieces together, keep putting the little pieces
together. I stood facing a window with a big crack and frequently the little metal
pieces were too bent to fit so I tossed them through the crack.
I have a sense this alley lay a short drop below the crack in
window, but I had no perception of damaging anybody out there.
Rican foreman tapped my shoulder. Come with me. We went to the
office and I was fired. The foreman never explained anything and
I believed it had to do with the flirtatious Puerto Rican girl
working next to
me but who knows.
One should not have to get up and jump into the throng and go to
job in New York, but like Mexico it was another country and
senses. Forty years later, I am not getting dreams of
glorious and mystical New Mexico, places where I have spent
years, yet I
may get a surrealistic and difficult to remember dream of being
in Manhattan, and also, hunting for Margarita in Mexico. I said to
Bix, it is
all the same trip, hunting for Margarita clear into right now.
I need to
make a living, need to get published because there is nothing
I can do. Of Margarita, Bix has heard about pieces. I have only
bits, however much I may have jabbered about it early, and Bix
been more interested in it than anyone. Meeting Margarita was
same trip to now. This beach, tide coming in, bones aching.
She was having the squirts?
Bix remarked I seemed agitated. I said, yeah, my boy here
noisest dog in the Coastal Bend) wants a longer run and I need
to shit again and I have not even stretched out my back yet. It is
strange, to be
here (facing the wild Gulf), 60 years old (62) and all this
soreness, afore I can stretch the back. But this is all the
since 1960. I am maladjusted and trying to figure some kind of
legal living and writing is all I got and I go through these indignities
my family and now I have a daughter. When I come up things are
ever before for American writers. The U.L.A. is
dealing with this, but,
even these pedple at first were put off with me. LL got bad
first, only Wenclas saw where I was at. Blackolive is like
the ocean, he said. And then we both got bad reviews. Here I had put the
price of LL at a $100 a year (hell, it had been the price, my
and Ann Seaman, paid it)(maybe somebody else paid it), I was
usual. Doug Holland, who did this zine DIARY OF A FAT SLOB, I
he put out this review magazine, told me maybe LL is worth $100
a year but
people don't know this yet, and Wenclas who is blunt said to me
when I was
at the cabin and he was organising the U.L.A. that I act like
write is "Holy Writ." Sure, I think it's Holy Writ, sure I am
am always crazy, but in these sick times when I cannot even make
a living I
I am crazier than I should've been!
Sure. The great editors are dead. GROW BEAT could have been a
I could have saved Margarita. And then? Who knows.
I forget was GROW BEAT mailed to me at Lenny's or General
did I go get it, but there was no comment, and I kissed it, a
has been lost, carbon copy and the other, with a couple of lost
and could turn up but I doubt it. In that next year, GROW BEAT
stolen, in a suitcase of mine in a Houston YMCA room. I think
it must have
been just about finished by then. My parents in nearby Baytown
had me see
some shrinks, being suicidal, and the first two shrinks I would
they were brittle - third shrink was a nice guy in fact from
Mexico, understood much about me but too there was nothing for it, and he, a
said we could do shock treatments. Rather pacifying my parents
in the moment, I took fifteen shock treatments. Nothing changed after
fifteen so I
returned to my parents' home in Baytown. But GROW BEAT was
next year or so. Around 1962, I got kicked out by Lenny when I
cease doing calf raises on the stairs outside his door. I had
been told by
personnel at Belview that if I wanted to check in for a rest I
would have use of a typeriter to type my book. I had been pecking at my
mother's typewriter in Baytown. My mother was a secretary and I simply never
took typing in high school. I went on into Belview and was having a
talking with these older hipsters in there, and it was very funny
Lenny come down the hall, looking to his right and left, saying:
terrible. We were glad to see each other. He was just seeing
how I was.
But, as to my getting hold of a typewriter, I had been mislead.
This was in
an unusually hot New York spring, and in a month or so I was
with the mob, poor devils and winos and heroin addicts, to
State Hospital on Long Island. Seems Central Islep was "a
and one could get ground prvileges and go to the commisary and
and have girlfriends (now the girls get birth control pills), but
to use any
typewriter I had to get into this typing class, I believe the
teacher let me work on GROW BEAT.
I was there a whole summer and they flew me to Texas, the state
hospital in Austin, because I was not a native of New York. I was
very long before Mother drove up from Baytown to sign me out. I
my fairly normal teenage sister with her normal boyfriend came
the ride. Craig, nice guy, I remember playing touch football one
him and some high school footballers, though I could communicate
but not his friends, funny. But naturally funny shit went down
at the Austin
hospital before Lyla sprung me. There was some gathering, with a
MDs - I can't remember this except I went on stage with my story
this lout saying: So! You think you're a writer! I do not
usless people were working at embarrassing or intimidating me.
I smiled at
them. I was superior and they could not deal with it, pretty
I went out and played tackle football - where I can star - with
a gang of
teenage misfits, violent ex high school footballers, I could
run the ball
or go for passes.
Anyway, the typing class at Central Islep had this woman running
who let me type at GROW BEAT, and I let her read the first
visibly shook her. In San Miguel, before GROW BEAT happened I
from a hipster NY friend who is a bit of personality in GROWBEAT, the Henry
Miller famed books the friend purchased in San Miguel, for they
banned in the states, TROPIC OF CAPRICORN and TROPIC OF CANCER.
great, about France, and CAPRICORN has autobiographical sex
fantasy, but both
are graphic, while being poetic, socialogical, philosophical, and
It was all reasonable to me and doing GROW BEAT I never thought
about it. In
the next couple of years even insane NAKED LUNCH by William
set free inside the United States, but the typewriter teacher in
Islep State Hospital had never in her life read sexually graphic
No, Margarita did not really have the squirts, our first night,
exactly. She did soil her panties, in bed, maybe she had put her
on, in our tussles in the Hotel San Miguel. She was ill and I
young and uncomprehending and stupid. I had been saying: Mas! Which means:
maybe she had put the panties under her, but we would wrestle and
quite little. But in the shower she held up the soiled panties
like we are old friends. We are. Over all, it was a painful
six weeks in
San Miguel with her, but I would again see the familiar smile the
left., Though I have always felt reincarnation likely, at that
point I was not thinking of these matters.
When Margarita had first spied me, she was at a table behind the
jukebox in El Bordel. I was laughing with some foolish youths in the
doorway. She leaned forward to look at me. I saw this
beautiful, troubled face, dark brow knit. Then I was interested. But the look would
haunt me for years. She peeked out once, and a second time, and I went
She was much female, with humor, had this bare smile. I was
before I knew I was, before GROW BEAT, in San Miguel wrote
or ideas but one I remember is: The secret of man is in woman.
Otherwise I would have returned to wolf.
Margarita's real name was Emilia, though if I have it right, one
of this family in Cortezar is named Margarita. Cortezar is not
San Miguel. Emilia's husband had kicked her in the stomach when
pregnant and run off to work in the U.S. The pregnancy
had been a son already, whom she took to San Miguel, where her
sister, Josefina, worked in El Bordel. Josefina had retired before I
came, but she
was later my friend in my search for Emilia/Margarita, and how
onward I located the true love in Cortezar. Margarita, in San
firstly only waited on tables, in El Bordel, but got pregnant,
this gringo writer character, but she had Guyo, very lively,
child I met as an infant when a woman friend brought him to
visit her in
the hospital, where she had the tumor removed which was
attributed to the husband's kick. Most of GROW BEAT is my visiting her in the
there I discovered she is illiterate, and my amazement caused
tears. Josefina is not illiterate, and told me Emilia would never settle
down in school. Josefina has literary talent, wrote a short poem to me,
now, but strong, well structured.
In the states in my condition I could never get any money
all. One trip I was down there to be getting five dollars a
week from my
parents and would be waiting and hungry and write them I was
parents never had money. Lyla tells me this house was built off
B.E.'s poker earnings. I remember my father complaining to me that I
them I was starving. I was, I answered. In the
sixties, with five a week
to eat, I could live inan adobe room around a little
courtyard with uno
shitter. I would have the shits and get on through in a couple
get resistence going. Though, there was a trip, I thought I
too wasted to rise from cot to arrive at the public shitter. A
friend of friends, apparently saved my life, with red wine and
Today, I cannot get these several trips in sequence. I remember
the five a
week trip and Josefina visiting me in my hole in wall, yet my
not have me meeting Josefina till two years later. Amazing, but
to go see
Margarita in Cortezar after four years, I got crazy old friend
Sieb to foot
the bill, for he was somehow in possession of some hundreds of
being kicked out of the army for paranoid-schizoprenia.
Then Margarita was reunited with the husband, and they had had
male child, and the husband did not love Guyo, who was a sullen
boy. Margarita had some love for her husband and they were getting along.
funny tales - when matters got dramatic Sieb gave me fifty
dollars and went
to Port Aransas with word I had been about to get him killed.
reel world. Ah, the husband in his temper did bring up did I
want to fight.
Emilia/Margarita had jumped into bed with me, a morning for the
sometimes he could hit her but she knew better than to leave
with me. I said
to him that my being larger he could use a knife. I had enough
those years. I had a move, from past life or genius
inspiration, to get a
knife, a feint oblique of the knife hand, then other direction
through the ground, but kick the crotch on the way by. Then,
in rebound, torque on in the telling blow. Take the head face up
of arm, and swing. Snap left, right up. Whatever, but he
passed. Thought we should go visit the police force. I went along, and the
police I already
knew - we were friends - they had checked out me and Sieb first
thing. I do
not remember the husband and me visiting the police station,
but next day
or so the chief of police smiled he could have milia kidnapped
for me if I
paid him, a reasonable fee, I forget. Emilia/Margarita had
her market money this secret stash of pesos and in order for me
to even get
out of town gave me fifty pesos. She had always felt bad that
back in San
Miguel she had in the hospital someway, some ruse I disremember,
got me to
give her most of my money. And, next there, my finding her gone
hospital, and back inside the bordello, which suited the madam
whom she owed
for at least the hospital bill, this was my first adult trauma, I
later, as girls will, would leave the bordello and her pile of
departed Cortezar, went shrimping out of Brownsville and got
to the marine hospital in Galveston and next my parents in
Baytown had me
there again. I think this was around when Jackson Jones was
the Air Force because - as his father like mine had been
Aransas Pass to Baytown by Standard Oil - he briefly discussed
with me our
getting a car and going to kidnap Margarita. We were unfocused,
for example had this memorable brawl on the Galveston sea wall
other rowdies and our Aransas Pass blood brother Tommy Atkins
fell maybe six
feet and broke his cheekbone on a piece of cement. Always in my
are so many other meanwhile funny stories and this stuff was
ago. Or 39 or 38, suddenly I am remembering I rode to the
station with Margarita's husband in his pickup - wow, this poor
managed a life, had something going.
But I would run out of next moves. I would fall in love with a
girl in Berkeley in 1964, and in Berkeley another in 1965 or
1966, traumatic situations in the longer hauls. And other women to a sum
of ten or
twelve dramas, of course past incarnational. All is same trip,
maladjusted to pretentious, noxious, boring, U.S. twentieth
century workaday experience. It is so boring for me to be working for
unquote in it. Had I sufficient money it would have been
karma was too heavy for me to meet the wealthy and intellectual
Ow well, now I am living with my old mother.
The essays Henry Miller wrote in the fifties about the United
were regards its schizoid pretension. I ought to read again THE
AIR CONDITIONED NIGHTMARE, have not since maybe 1958. I am not
recalling if Miller
did suggest causes.
We had beatnics, then hippies. The media hammers and hammers.
"War on Drugs" I think came early in the Nixon administration.
articles on marijuana facts are always good for one day in any
the states from 1967 to 2002 and in any of these years can be
alike. We have more prisoners than China or Russia. It is
Cocaine brings more revenue than petroleum. Naturally involved
U.S. are highest officials and if the President is not directly
cut he understands legalization of illicit drugs would cause a
at least in the United States.
Is it not amusing, normal TV newsfolks sit in little circles
discussing their world, and there can be 3 or 4 or a half dozen males,
their ties, and a single female, who is younger, genetically
too, in a mini skirt, one hand on a knee, imparting as
frequently and as
knowledgeably as the dorks who are not allowed on camera to look
at her healthy legs.
In that world, if Oswald or O.J. or John Walker Lindh are picked
be guilty, but rogue journalists point out all evidence is fake,
media has but to hammer, till via repetition, fact is
unacceptable. It is
without meaning in main stream U.S. there are Palestinians in any
camps. It is unheard the U.S. kills more Iraqui children slowly
than U.S. citizens died in kamakazie of 911. Politically,
unlimited murder from U.S. Presidents abroad is acceptable. U.S. citizens do
the U.S. coming assault on Iraq is oil. They do not mind nobody
their news is allowed to speak this. I suppose they appreciate
Saddam is giving terrorists weapons of mass distruction to bring
to the U.S.
Or would they rather not live in fear. I dOn't know.
It is ingrained in U.S. culture that facts are least important,
if nobody tells, they are least important. My family treated
good. They wanted for nothing. Just tell nobody slavery is
terror, imprisonment, denial of dignity.
Since 1776 denial inside the United States beats that in Russia
Stalin. It is how the Jews got gassed. Citizens of Rome or
never required any make believe concerning colonizing, ensaving,
paying off, starving, blasting. When in 1776, radicals had
conservatives kept true to their nature and applauded,and so
everyone white went to mytholgizing, our favor from God Himself.
like returning to the Holy Land and shooting wild Indians.
Because Iraq's culture on women is sick, and Saudi Arabia's is
I say bring it all down. Burst that boil, kill millions of
womanhood. Get it over with. Stir that bed of ants. And after
suffering for all involved, the children in Iraq shall have
food, or like before the Desert Storm bullshit.
The U.S. will be locked in and bleeding over there, cancer amuck
"depleted uranium." Plenty alcoholism and heroin addiction and
profiteering and all forms of depravity and distruction of the culture of
Latin America selling heroin and cocaine for guns shall flood a
torrent throughout the U.S. of A., refugees blindly desperate, some
be armed and shoot back. Rednecks firing on movement in the
Country will learn more than women carrying babies. The Anglo
the border shall be engulfed, turned into rancheros, communes.
Florida, and to Chicago. All babies are the same. It is OK with
Just got your letter and $50. Don't worry Damon bought me a
fireproof box with a lock to store my money & such in.
It has been a bit chilly hee the past few days. Nice change
from the hot weather, but now we need to get around to building a
greenhouse for all the plants we have.
Surprised your CD/tape player has went out already. True it is
almost a year old, but maybe your next one will last longer.
just got a CD burner so I can start making CDs again. Anyways,
read Cindy's latest Doris - inspiring as usual. Hope Lyla is
The Olive address on North Campbell in Aransas Pass is 1776, because a three decades back my sister and her young son, the Dear
dear Geoffrey, were here - an odd period in Bonnie's life she was
employed and she said it was wonderful - and the city extended
and asked her what number would she like for this address.
Bonnie, while employed as a computer programmer in Los Angeles,
gone through ambitions of being folk singer, movie star,
and currently at age 59 while yet employed she is studying to be
Same time she is interested in alternative medicine. Sometime
had bought several copies of COYOTE MEDICINE, by a Dr.
give to friends and she sent one to Bix, who enjoyed it much, and
and enjoyed it. This M.D., a native American, conducts sweat
a humanitarian. He will cure cancer and tussle with evil
spirits. Bonnie continues traveling between science and shamanism and
I got around to reading Edgar Cayce material. Four decades I have
had friends reading the material but it had been a bit dry for
this house I came upon four Edgar Cayce books, different takes by
authors, which Bonnie had been reading parts of 30 years ago,
backs, plus THE SEARCH FOR BRIDEY MURPHY, by Morey Bernstein who
lately died. The Bridey is another story I and amigos were
familiar with in the fifties. Life Magazine and other fools went
claiming to have debunked it, their big lie and neurosis,
schizoprenia. The book itself I had not previously read - had
excerpt in True Magazine. The book now is fascinating for
reasons, which would be another conversation. Edgar Cayce may
of fallible as a prophet, but as a healer, it is sounding like he
is infallible. The Edgar Cayce story, this is a phenomenon.
Old Dave (re. TG) has been having "shrinking brain syndrome." I
forwarded the COYOTE MEDICINE book to him when he was in a clinic
Taos. His ex-wife was taking his mail and maybe he did not get
Not to talk now about his mad ex, The Dear Reader understands
many people react to me in strange manner. But lately Old Dave is with a
daughter in Austin, a nurse with girl child and latest boyfriend
be a good guy. I spoke with Dave last night. He says he never got
COYOTE MEDICINE book. I had in fact sent it in care of another
daughter (he has 3, good daughters), for her to read it to him,
no longer can read, and who knows where went that book.
Old Dave has a shifty personality. Some call him Shifty Dave. I
brought up sweat lodges and Edgar Cayce and LSD and the bountiful
But at my speaking of LSD, he went shifty. He once was an acid
Though always in our twentieth century experience my
him uneasy, we were good friends but when I talked to him he
up a newspaper or turn and start doing something. This time he
the phone to his daughter's boyfriend and I was very disconcerted
this strange voice, too disconcerted to hear whatever it was
I said, hey, I want to talk with David! The nice boyfriend
phone back to Old Dave. I can barely understand what he is
slurs, no...Bill...not...acid. People are saying Dave is going
Governmental propaganda has obfuscated all issue of illicit drugs.
The lilicit stimulants and illicit sedatives bring in more revenue
petroleum while the government is concerned pot and psychedelics
cause thinking, or questioning of authority. Thus the
media hammers and hammers about "drugs," and even old hippies can
bamboozeled, sometimes even keeping it secret from their children
experienced pot and acid in their youth. Old hippies too can get
brain washed that LSD is "bad." Somebody shoots speed and drinks all
jumps out a window - a thing no acid head or even any first time
do - less maybe a hundred mikes of acid and two quarts of whisky -
newspaper says LSD.
I withold hurry to opine what it is just exactly with Old Dave,
prefer he not go so early. Bix says my talk frightens our old
I suspect it really is not my speaking of psychedelics or
I had said, Dave, I don't think you are doomed. I don't think so
either, he uttered with difficulty. But, Dave, even if you are
afterall, so what. We don't die. You and I have known each
times. Old Dave sobbed.
David, get hold of yourself. He did this easily.
David, have I ever told you how when Danny (his late brother,
Rattlesnake Dan, re. TG) and I camped in this snowstorm on LSD I
chop as well with a hatchet in my left hand as my right hand and
Yess...Bill. .I...have...heard that many...times.
Dave, anything you can do on acid you can do when you are not on
Bill., .not. . .acid....
Old Dave had known my spiel on psychedelics for decades. He had
heard that one can take LSD and pass piss tests, which surprised
had thought this common knowledge, guys in the military know it.
True psychedelics are very alike, basically, with visual difference, some
temperamental difference, LSD-25, psilocybin, mescaline, and the very
on the Earth long known to homosapien containing these and
effects. The difference between LSD and psilocybin and mescaline
is micrograms and milligrams. LSD is in micrograms, how in an hour or so
passed through sweat if not urine, and while getting higher the
soldier can pass any piss test. LSD is a catalyst. It merely
chemistry which high adrenalin can set off. LSD does all this,
to body and
mind, but the pulse need not rise. The pulse certainly can rise,
and promote frenzy in previously disturbed minds. And the true hippie
can go lie
down and see God or take a nap, Or go hiking.
Psychedelic drugs have immense value. Except, our society is
I.. .dunno,..Bill...not acid.
I have a daughter. I have a long life. I have not taken
suddenly for several years, not since re. LL Kelly and I took
and I felt I am still getting over being shot through the chest
1800s. Perhaps I was shot through the chest...it is
not important today.
Ah, wrong again it is important, because I am still pissed off.
I need getting one of these big batches of 100 microgram hits.
is frat rat stuff, keep drinking all night easier than with say
For my own purposes - medicinal - the 100 mikes batch is
simplest, in as
these little hits do not build much tolerance - I can drop just
every other day, tend to the body and be cheerful.
In my experience peyote is el favorito, designed by THE GREAT
OF ALL THINGS for greatest dreaming and psychic power. There are
kinds of peyote, some with alkalcids more stimulating physically,
dreamy or sedative, or more mescaline and stimulating or dreamy,
But today I was speaking of bodily preservation. And maybe
all that best too. Just let us get past governments. Whew.
Some mornings the dogs and I have gone opposite direction and
the Rockport highway over to the intracoastal, and return, takes
hour. In a tent in a clump of mesquite and salt cedar has lived
fisherman, Al, for years, has a little female smart mongrel, that
year Medicine impregnated. He got away from me, but Al took it
well, intending to get his dog fixed, and he kept two female pups, one
rattlesnake. One day Al got snake bit, had to rush off on his
get help getting to the hospital. In a couple days his thinned
caught me and Medicine, whining and following, thus I went and
not home, had to take the pup to Lyla's to fatten her up. This
is a sharp
pup, Al calls her Puppy.
In these big rains of late I asked Al if he got flooded. He had
he is high enough. But he says the tides are higher now, because
global warming. He does have one of these radios that get
internationally. We have talked.
How the Jews got gassed is this ever oblivion of the commoners,
who know they have no power and less known of it is less pain.
were starved and humiliated as punishment for the first world
Hitler appealed. And Germany rearmed, in help from
corporations, mostly U.S. naturally. We have the same thugs now,
more, people, fear, starvation, disease, lies. Much of Africa is
European rape, and now U.S. oil is into certain countries. I
it could the children anywhere get clean water again, and food,
takes time, who knows how long to get past governments.