Saturday, June 25, 2016

I think it is getting close to being that time

I'm thinking that maybe it is, time to put some fingers to keys, thoughts to ideas, ideas to rambling posts, and heck, maybe even some music and art. Maybe, just maybe.
Sending some love to my good fiend, Albert, Mr. D, You Guinea Bastard, what the hell happened, you lived life on your terms, what you wanted, when you wanted, with who you wanted, and more than that, you were one loyal prick I gotta say.You could schmooze with the best of 'em, and you could tangle with the best as well.  Never backwards, always moving, sometimes slowly, sometime in hyper kinetic mode, other times, pensive, caged, tied to posts with velvet ropes, or flat out laid back Pisano Style.  Respect was earned and trust even more so. But once you did, there was no going back,  If a brother needed your jacket, you gave him your shirt as well.  If a brother was down, you made sure things remained fluid, obligations met, loved ones cared for, and beats were never missed,  So, WTF!  It wasn't supposed to be this way.  And its quiet.  Too quiet,  No one is saying jack,  But they are saying volumes in what they are not saying, not even whispering.  Stuff was good,  You conquered new ground, were living off your art, loving life, having all the fun, flying ever so slightly below the radar, popping above it momentarily now and again, usually due to helping a brother or sister out often times requires popping out of what appears to be a whirlwind of chaos, commotion, and madness, but is in reality so far removed from the spin of life.  But, often that's where the most rewarding and beauty happens in abundance, and those that know, they see the reality of it all, the real beauty of life, and those that aren't meant to, well, they see all the things in their store bought media fed restricted minds they fear, they have no idea of the beauty that they see as only blight, it's the curse of the masses and they have no idea that they are the ones who are the wretched, weak and downtrodden, the have nots, the excluded, the uninvited, the  lesserthanes,  They are the truly marginalized and it is they that marginalize themselves and  and are so far removed from the reality of life that they have it all twisted in to some sick fantasy fed idealistic view of how things are they are banished from ever being able to see, hear, watch, touch,feel or even learn about the real truths, the ones that every so called loser was worn knowing.  What is to them chaos and disorder, filth and disdain is really the land of the enlightened, the seekers, the believers, the knowers, the perpetual learners, the gifted, the talented, the mad and the sane, they were all born knowing the basic truths that are so apparent that they are right there in front of them and they cannot take their blinders off to even lend credence to the idea that the world is not how they believe it to be, that they are not the ones with the true power, that they are the ones who are worried about, who we feed with charity, but you know, always did, even attempted to point it out with your art, and even more so by just being you my friend, at least you are among friends, known and unknown, and those to be known, the best of places.  chaos is for the ones who know, have been there, survived, kicked ass, and been trampled upon,  but most of all, chaos is our cover.  Where its always warm, fulfilling, and never safe, yet always the safest place around.  Well, I know where you're at, and it sure as hell ain't locked up tight inside those gilded pearly gates, with people you don't know, who don't know you, who you despise, and where there is certainly no wild wanton wahinee women from mars and freaked out crazy headed music blasting, with only a few cars that were made post 1973, same with film and literature.  I know who is sitting next to you in that dark corner booth, faded candle, nicotine stained photo of Genoa tacked to the wall with a beam in one hand, an Iron saddled up next to if, lucky strike dangling, wifebeater partly covered by black leather jacket.  Yeah, right next to you, one of the gang, our main man, Buk, holding court, chugging dago red and slurping the caviar of the wicked,  pickled eggs.  While talking shit to the jaded faded street walkin' cheetah with the heart of gold who always lets him ride for free, even when he cant drive or even know where his car is.  Yeah, I see the new guy too, the funksyleeisticjumpeduphopheadedcouldnotbenotfunkedup Bernie Worrell, ahhhhhhh  yeaaaahhhhh, he's brought the funk now didn't he?  Is the Prince there?  I don't see him, but that means nothing if he has his shoes off, he's easily hidden, never knew with that one, was he really living his life in taxi cabs, or just poppin' on a raspberry beret and blood lusting for Nicky and then wallowing in that special witness style shame and self loathing, one conflicted bitch that one, you are in good company, there's Sid, and no Nancy finally,  Johnny, HST, Jerry, Andy goofing on Elvis, and there he is, the king hisself, and like dynamite, looking all 1958 too, pre everything that killed him and he's hangin' with the killer too, they always were tight.  The man in Black, Bon, even Mirra.  Nice to know that all the lame ass soulless blodclot big bizness types, the rule makers, the judgmental, the shady politicians, the hypocrites, the televangelists, the warmongers, and even the shiny happy folks get their own special hell, what, no way, really, and you get to control that special hell, or, everybody there does, nice, karma does exist I see, next time put em all in bike racing spandex, strap them into recumbent bikes, and send them up Polish hill only just don't let them make it to Gooskies at the top, just for starters.  So, all the bikes are vintage, not even an evo, and not a set of mufflers to be found, or helmets, man, I cant wait.  Well, I know your here, and I know you're there, feel free to follow me around, you know I always felt better when you were around than when you were not you raspy ass tattooed guinea bastard you, FU! you should still be here, not there having a blasted mind tripped turned on and spaced out punk rock bottle smashing gold old relaxing afternoon, with friends old and new.  Just keep a light on, not that I'll need one, I rsvp'd at so many forks in the road I cannot even think of the first fork, but, like the man said, we always chose the one less traveled, and we traveled it well my friend, we certainly traveled it well.

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