Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
When in the course of human shopping you come to an event or a collateral happenstance that can tend to hyper -invent and titillate your shivered timbers, you need to keep in mind how they turn all of this into firewood in other times. I was in Salamanca with my consort a few years ago. We were staying in an Ibis Hotel. We went out to get something to eat and came up on a plaza with a Burger King and sundry about and while passing through this mix, toward our hoped for sustenance, we came upon a crowd of decked out JonBenét Ramsey lookalikes, running 12 to fifteen I think so older than Jon but same effect, who were just standing around and I said something like, “pedophilia, smorgasbord wonderland for the hungry and we can't find a place to eat”, because it was just more of what I left to get away from; coming back from our unsuccessful trip, after a long twenty minutes they were all gone. The buses came there to take them home. They were dolled up for the night and curfew ran the louvers down the road but... it looked like they had all been collected and put back on the shelf. “This is what we're selling, see you next Friday night. Come early, check out the wares. Sleep tight. Buy low, sell high, ages? Hem lengths? Oh my my, Goody goody alright tuti fruti!
In the early seventies, angling back around to Glenn Beck; a man with issues? I wouldn't know but... I came into Palm Springs, California, I won't be far from there shortly and I had not slept for a couple of days, when a girl in a Thunderbird picked me up and took me home. I was about to go to sleep on the motel doorstep, because I had no money and I was dog tired. So it was, that I wound up sitting on a public bench in front of a bookstore called “Bookland”, which was the most successful bookstore in the U.S., at the time and could have become Borders because the force that did that kind of thing wanted to do it through Richard Yerxa (who owned it) at the time but Richard met me and that was part of what changed his mind about being the Steve Jobs kind of guy he could have been.
I was right in the middle of my kundalini explosion, running from the FBI, nationwide alert BOLO; had already run into Charlie Manson period. I was sitting in front of that bookstore and doing my own Occupy thing by bringing the cars up to the stop light, while sitting on that bench. My master had told me to “take the reins”! I was trying to. I had met Elvis Presley earlier in LA and it so happened that on the first night on that bench he pulled up in his limousine and rolled down the window; of course there were people running down the street and screaming “Elvis”!
He said, “Hey, I thought you were going to Phoenix”. I said, “I was, but I like it right here”. Then he said something like, “Good, glad to have you around, come by the house”. It was something like that that put an imprimatur on me, because the cops left me alone for many nights to follow because everyone thought I was a friend of Elvis Presley and the fact that I denied it and wouldn't talk about him made it all the more mysterious. He circled around about a dozen times that night, always waving at me as he went by or whatever.
Then I saw Elvis no more and I was still on the bench and it came to New Year's Eve and I was out there bringing the cars to the light when the police came. As they were questioning me, Richard came out of the bookstore and said, “He's a friend of mine”. (I had never met him until that moment) Then he said to me, “Why don't you come inside”? They were having a New Year's Eve Party. Richard and I began an intense and wild relationship that went through many changes. Richard was one of the most fearless men I have ever met. Many times I thought he was the devil himself. I saw him walk down the side of 60 degree sheer rocks in Tahquitz Canyon. He'd be laughing. I had a fear of heights. He had none. Nothing scared him. I went to prison shortly after for a couple of years and we saw each other on and off. I heard he spent some time in a Mexican jail. Richard and I and a handful of others are all the people that might have been and you should have gotten in touch with us then; you great big sleeping world because, now... now your hour of doom and judgment is coming upon you.
I haven't been the person I wanted to be, but on my own behalf, I will say that I never stop trying to be that person and I never will stop, not ever. In the meantime, things go on. I recently watched the whole four years of “Breaking Bad”. The episode with Tortuga was one of those life imitates art things. I couldn't imagine being the main character but I got a sense of how it is going in the hinterlands; those hinterlands I used to hike and hitchhike through in my travels, now to reoccur at a pending date looking for the, gone dead train of the long lost state, of whatever I thought I was looking for.
There are heroes among us. Among them is a Swiss journalist named Stefan Weber . Here is a man who has a problem with his weight; a kidney problems so that he has to go through the dialysis process weekly. He needs a new kidney. He doesn't even eat that much so it is some kind of an imbalance. I'm not a fan of transplanting things but I even thought about offering him one of mine, possibly not the best he could get (grin) but that is how impressed I am by someone living under routine, continuous discomfort, on the doorstep of departure, who is devoting his life and all that's in it to the better treatment of animals in Europe. I know him because he is a colleague of Susanne's and she found him though her own interest into dogs, while in Italy when we were there. Here is what they do in Southern Italy and probably in most southern countries. They go for holiday to the beach and take a puppy along for their kids to play with. When summer is over, they leave the dog behind. Yeah, they do just that. That is how I found The Little Guy, who is now one of the smartest dogs in the universe and of whom people are always asking; “what is that breed of dog”? They do that because he is so cool.
It tears your heart out to see them running in the streets and that seques into those girls running down the street and standing in front of Burger King and the Glenn Beck martinet playing mini me John McCain. Hose me down with a bucketful of Joe Lieberman leeches while you are at it. They're the new Velcro. I don't generally ever get anything for Christmas and for inexplicable cosmic reasons, I have often spent holidays alone; probably that Lord Shiva thing. I had one birthday party in my whole life but at least that one was attended by nine women and the husband of one of them. Now and again a lot of my good friends are women but the reason I mention this is that if you are thinking of sending me anything, or getting me anything; why not just give it to Stefan who is doing far more noble work than I under much more dreadful conditions.
People might say we waste too much time on animals and not enough time on each other but it is because of the way we treat animals that we have come to such a state. Gandhi had something to say about that and the true measure of a civilization but I can't remember the quote offhand. Caring about the least of us gets us around to caring about the rest of us and this is your Christmas season and the winter of your discontent.
Why is it that people can see turmoil brewing all around them and not tumble to the proximity and potential? The cosmos can drop you off too after it has had its summer vacation. What used to hurt me the worst, was when the dog had moved on, during the time it took me to turn around and go back to look for it; the dogs laying in traffic circles with circling shoppers on a self satisfaction track ...and look at that weird foreigner with the bag of dog food walking into the lawn circle where those dogs are hanging out and pouring out dog food. What's his trip?
I'm not dog specific. I'm life specific, if it has life. It turns into what I notice; like homeless people, you don't see them so much in the Europe I've been moving through because Europe has a much wider safety net than America, which is all pumped up with guns and laws and you can see the freedom disappearing under your footsteps. You can see the cram cities and the wide broken promised hinterlands that cannot be trespassed cause the market needs the space, or the military needs to practice what they preach, which is blow the fuck out of everything, my domination needs release. When my finger hits the trigger my dick gets hard cause I am fucking you for peace.
I don't know the name of the tune, go hum some Clair de Lune and you can short sheet Debussy while you are at it. The name of the game is the disappearing plain. Will that be paper or plastic?
The rhyme guy is looking to preempt this posting so, I'll quit while the going is good.
Have a wonderful day.
A studio version of 'Peace' is track no. 4 of 10 on Visible's eponymous
'Les Visible' Music Album
Lyrics (pops up)
There is a radio show tonight.