In my twenties the image of a boiling cauldron was for some reason was a significant image for me. I don't remember where it came from. It was a recurring image for a number of years while I was living in San Jose. I took it to be a usable metaphor for what was happening inwardly for me, on all levels of Being.
Those were also the days my initiation in to sex. Sue brought out of me what previous contact with other women did not uncover, passion, real inner fire, sex as a baptism into fire. That "cold fish" problem I had with Shela simply went away with Sue. After that the boiling cauldron image faded away. There were other images that I trotted after for a while, all like stars-guides for a short spell. Though the image was gone, I had a sense that some progress on inner harmony had been made.
The Inferno was dissociation of personality that was not pathological. It was no doubt an extreme state, a swing from a pole to the Dark Side, I began to have second sight in the new found darkness. I became the eyes in darkness. My "bizarre infirmaries" got confounded with a new mystical reach. Sickness and insight were two strands I have never been able to disentangle. The inferno was alternately a dark secret and embarrassing nervous breakdown. I kept it under wraps for years.
James Hillman says that the soul is perspective not a substance. It is a mode of consciousness that recognizes that all realities as primarily symbolic or metaphorical. Jung said Images are Psyche. Sounds a bit like Nothingness in Zen. What is are images not dependent on a ground for existence. Blake once said, "Spirits are organized men."
John Keats said the world is "the vale of soul-making" We create our own souls through the medium of this world. This is salvation. "I think it is a grander system of salvation than the Christian Religion." I have felt for years that inner work is soul-making. My creativity is my vehicle to do it, my "Ring of Power;" it plugs me into Anima Mundi, the world soul. The Inferno was the one of the luminosities that abide in the psyche which ignited the process of soul-making.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Thursday, May 29, 2014
End Game
My brother, acting as go-between , speaking for his daughter, Terie, now 50 years old, let me know I was way out of line by sending her, on impulse at the last minute, one of my drawings, as she, nor her mother, has ever seen any of my work. I thought it was about time. Well, in 24 hours the shit hit the fan, as Terie let me know "it was an inappropriate image to send an innocent young girl."That jerked me around to start with because I knew she was seeing a lot of movies with nudity, sex and violence. Her mother was suggesting I was a corrupting influence, perhaps in the same way I influenced Mike Pfaffl wrongly, which has wrongly been held against me since his death. Then she took things farther: she insisted that Don tell me to never again contact any of the six grand kids again. She effectively cut me off from interaction, which in one fell swoop cancelled our thoughts about another Pfaffl reunion in 2015. I was furious that my niece, who didn't know diddly-sqat about art, much less my art, had the balls to insult me at least on three levels at once. I wrote back to her that she better apologize to me post haste before she shreds the good will of the two families irreparably. Don was on the same page with me in regard the damage done was bad enough already, so let's not throw gas on the fire. He had been embarrassed by her original bitching and view of me. So then there was a loll for about 10 days where I heard nothing from anybody.
Then yesterday came news that Terie wanted to say she was sorry for what she said and did. She said she flipped out do to the fact she was having a bad day and she let it get the best of her. She regrets the whole thing and hopes the damage she caused was minimal. She understands I am a serious artist not wanna-be pornographer. I wrote her back right away, telling her thanks for the apology and let's go forward from here. Now that she has apologized I fell much better.
Then yesterday came news that Terie wanted to say she was sorry for what she said and did. She said she flipped out do to the fact she was having a bad day and she let it get the best of her. She regrets the whole thing and hopes the damage she caused was minimal. She understands I am a serious artist not wanna-be pornographer. I wrote her back right away, telling her thanks for the apology and let's go forward from here. Now that she has apologized I fell much better.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
The beginnings
The idea of the Hieroglyphic Theater began to germinate in my head that first summer in Eugene in 1969. I was determined to move away from my "horror period" in Vegas as drawing all that grim, ugly stuff had finally got to me. Within a couple of weeks I was at the drawing board and for the next several weeks I experiment with a few ideas. I had plenty of time on my hands, especially when Sue started summer school, a class on the History of Theater. The first series of drawings were pretty rough and inconclusive but did look promising. The black ball, a spin-off symbol derived from the black pearl necklace a former lover had given Sue before we got together. I equated the ball/pearl with Sue's extra-marital sex activity which she wasted little time getting into our first year of marriage. In brief, although I knew about the men, indeed, they were all part of our circle of friends and acquaintances in California and Las Vegas. I did see her activity as suspect, as black, that is, hurtful for me. I hardly remember the first batch of drawings I did, they were that vague and unfocused. But what was consistent was the black ball showed up in every image. One night she decided to meet a classmate at a play on campus and I stayed home to read. Actually I wanted to masturbate as we hadn't made love since summer school started. I was sleep when she got home. She had gone out with some people after the play. One of those people was Brent Armstrong the cat from Yale who taught that History of Theater class. She didn't tell me about hm till about a year later, although that late night made me wonder what was going on. He was her first score in Eugene. She told me later that she had given him a blow job in his office on Campus. Such is how our first year in Eugene started. Why she didn't tell me about the cat around the time it happened, I don't know. She wanted to fuck whoever she wanted and in the back of her mind she did not believe we were going to stay a couple, as I just not the physical type she preferred. She might have accelerated the process if I had know from the start. And of course this applies to the Larry romance as well when we got back to Las Vegas. None of her lovers were marrying material. It's interesting that that never happened.
The best drawing in that original batch of drawings was "The Alchemist,"which is owned by Stan Nishimura. All things considered that axial period in my development lasted from 1969 to 1973 when I finally hit stride with a different style and altered content that followed two intertwined elements, a fresh new symbology based on The Hermetic Tradition, and the shadowed sexual activity of my wife over time, a combination that fueled many a drawing going forward. (This is why I felt the way I wrote "Bridge in the Fog" was justifiable and to the point, whereas Sue thought I should skip the personal stuff and discuss only relevant art. But to leave out the sex stuff leaves out an explanation why so many drawing look the way they do. To fully connected on image and meaning the two things meld together.) The idea for H.T.came from an esoteric source, from a Renaissance humanist, Pico Della Mirandola, who saw man as a creature who exists on the demonic middle level between the beasts below and the angels above. It was man's duty to elevate himself above "the dung-heap of the inferior world." What an irresistible goal! Image=three-decked cosmos='hieroglyphs'=a deep way of stating hidden truths related to a sacred universe. I am a myth-maker who needs to operate with a mask on. One must remain sly and hidden--a shadow without a shadow.
The best drawing in that original batch of drawings was "The Alchemist,"which is owned by Stan Nishimura. All things considered that axial period in my development lasted from 1969 to 1973 when I finally hit stride with a different style and altered content that followed two intertwined elements, a fresh new symbology based on The Hermetic Tradition, and the shadowed sexual activity of my wife over time, a combination that fueled many a drawing going forward. (This is why I felt the way I wrote "Bridge in the Fog" was justifiable and to the point, whereas Sue thought I should skip the personal stuff and discuss only relevant art. But to leave out the sex stuff leaves out an explanation why so many drawing look the way they do. To fully connected on image and meaning the two things meld together.) The idea for H.T.came from an esoteric source, from a Renaissance humanist, Pico Della Mirandola, who saw man as a creature who exists on the demonic middle level between the beasts below and the angels above. It was man's duty to elevate himself above "the dung-heap of the inferior world." What an irresistible goal! Image=three-decked cosmos='hieroglyphs'=a deep way of stating hidden truths related to a sacred universe. I am a myth-maker who needs to operate with a mask on. One must remain sly and hidden--a shadow without a shadow.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Dust-up and Can you go Home again
The past week has been out of the ordinary, very intense and eventful, bombs dropping all over the place, debris flying through the air, I am ducking for cover, so far so good, but the evening is young.
The first thing is the dissolving of the relationship I had with JoAnne Wilson which lasted about a year. She turned out to be very thin skinned lady, pretty much a reluctant novice when it comes to inner work. Her attempts at change were and are to protect her self-made fantasy about her and her husband, L.A, Wilson with whom she is incompatible but won't face the music and has this daffy idea that they have separate abodes in Eugene and live separate lives but somehow have a meaningful marriage. Her tastes were another problem for me. She liked what was save on the yellow brick road. To an extent she is a carbon copy English major like Doni, only JoAnne is very competent on the practical level where Doni specializes in bad decisions. On the other hand, it was unrealistic of me to even try to play the change game with someone like JoAnne whose not ready for prime time transformation. Not many people are. She's a dabbler. It is also a story concerning FB. She wants to continue playing doling the fun games with Larry and I. Relationships crafted on FB are fragile and short-lived. Rather than digging in she consoles herself with her social network, all the people that love her just the way she is.
The first thing is the dissolving of the relationship I had with JoAnne Wilson which lasted about a year. She turned out to be very thin skinned lady, pretty much a reluctant novice when it comes to inner work. Her attempts at change were and are to protect her self-made fantasy about her and her husband, L.A, Wilson with whom she is incompatible but won't face the music and has this daffy idea that they have separate abodes in Eugene and live separate lives but somehow have a meaningful marriage. Her tastes were another problem for me. She liked what was save on the yellow brick road. To an extent she is a carbon copy English major like Doni, only JoAnne is very competent on the practical level where Doni specializes in bad decisions. On the other hand, it was unrealistic of me to even try to play the change game with someone like JoAnne whose not ready for prime time transformation. Not many people are. She's a dabbler. It is also a story concerning FB. She wants to continue playing doling the fun games with Larry and I. Relationships crafted on FB are fragile and short-lived. Rather than digging in she consoles herself with her social network, all the people that love her just the way she is.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Banner Day
Today was banner day: it is the first day that I have attempted to draw since 2011, a rather startling truth, even for me, the victim. I mention that date because I spent a couple of hours last night and today going through three portfolios of the best of my work and the last date of the last batch was 2011. Four fucking years, down the drain as far as drawing is concerned. In my obit thy will probably call them "the lost years." It has been a long haul back to normality or a semblance of normality. The "benign tremor" seems to have backed off as I did not have much trouble controlling my lines. When I saw the drawing I called "Atomic Scarecrows,"which is a black and white drawing, I saw a possibility to add a little color to the image. I was right; the additions I made enlivened the drawing as I thought it might. Sizie was flabbergasted to see me drawing when she came home with the boys. She's been hoping it would happen soon. I put aside a couple of other drawing I'll work on tomorrow or soon. Starting drawing again is another reason to see the last 10 days as pretty special...
As I looked through all the drawings, I was very impressed, it constitutes a bloc of very good work, consistent within its aims, and it's a shame the work isn't out there being seen and appreciated.
As I looked through all the drawings, I was very impressed, it constitutes a bloc of very good work, consistent within its aims, and it's a shame the work isn't out there being seen and appreciated.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Scenes from the Anima
It's funny how thing can go along for years with no serious bumps in the road, and then Whamo, every thing is turned upside down and a mess, all in a mater of seconds. My brother and I have worked hard to keep friendly relations, if not burning love, among the Racine and Tucson families. There were spots of weakness, like Terei Carpenter who could be flighty and unpredictable, especially around her kids who she is very protective about. A few days ago I had written Hannah about the health of Don and Josie and in process sent along a copy of one of my drawings. I picked one and that was that.Yesterday
received a short note from Don that said Treie was upset over the "inappropriate" picture I had sent to Hannah, her 20 year old daughter who is a second year student at USF. Moreover, she wants me to suspend all communication with her kids, to never engage them on Facebook when it is public information--in essence, she sees me as a corrupting force trying to undermine their virtue, and so I should fuck off. Don wrote the note to me at Treie's request, a responsibility's he wasn't happy with. I was shocked as I thought we were past these kinds of moral-catholic issues. I wrote two responses, first an angry reaction, and then at 3 AM I wrote a longer, calmer e-mail. But I did push back telling her her action would damage family relations and I would accept her apology before things get worse. But I went ahead and cancelled the family reunion of 2015. Don called me late morning and we discussed matters. He would talk to Terie. So that's where things stand at the moment.
11:30 PM 5/21/2014
received a short note from Don that said Treie was upset over the "inappropriate" picture I had sent to Hannah, her 20 year old daughter who is a second year student at USF. Moreover, she wants me to suspend all communication with her kids, to never engage them on Facebook when it is public information--in essence, she sees me as a corrupting force trying to undermine their virtue, and so I should fuck off. Don wrote the note to me at Treie's request, a responsibility's he wasn't happy with. I was shocked as I thought we were past these kinds of moral-catholic issues. I wrote two responses, first an angry reaction, and then at 3 AM I wrote a longer, calmer e-mail. But I did push back telling her her action would damage family relations and I would accept her apology before things get worse. But I went ahead and cancelled the family reunion of 2015. Don called me late morning and we discussed matters. He would talk to Terie. So that's where things stand at the moment.
11:30 PM 5/21/2014
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
I have divided the experience into four parts, something I have never done before, and I think It gave me room to move.
Each section has a title that suggests what stage is being dealt with. Such as:
1. Dark Night of the Soul
2. Period of Chaos
3. The Abyss
4. I have come through
I think each title is accurate and foretells the subject matter and where it is headed. I go from falling apart to total chaos to the utter depths where there is a turnaround and eventual rebirth--becoming a twice born man. In the aftermath I am re-tooled as man and artist and ready to rock and roll.
My makeover in the studio is virtually over. I am physically very tired as I am just not used to putting out like that anymore. I took four bags of shit out to our garbage can.
No word from Joanne, which makes it close to a week since we connected. Looks like she is going hold to her "divorcing" me. Too bad, it was fun while it lasted. She was never good material for meaningful change. It's no skin off my nose.
Heard from Frank Kearful this morning. It took his wife three weeks before she got out of hospital, but he is hoping she'll be well enough to go to Alicanta for a vacation. He mentioned nothing about the death sentence the doctors gave her.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Fateful
5/18/ 2014
All women must be on the look-out for a man to take care of them, in case life leaves them in dire straits. It is the oldest instinct since the dawn of time. Nowadays it is a bit easier for women to make it on their own; they are much less dependent on a man's
physical strength for protection. But the instinct is still there in the shivering chill of a winter night. Sue and I came very close to a divorce in the early 1970s when I decide to return to UNLV for at least one more year, a great disappointment for Sue as she did not like Las Vegas and had promised herself not to return. In time-honored fashion she looked to another man to keep her in Eugene. If she had to sleep with a "banger," so be it. Things could be worse. She was already sleeping with Harry Gross, a man 24 years older than she who was quite willing to move her in with him.They planned to work together on her movie, her Master' project. It was pure survival mode, although she saw other aspects to the situation. He did give her the rent-free house he had promised her. I wasn't happy how things worked out but I understood her options were few. But happily it worked out as she came home from the trip to Asia with a change of heart. She had taken a second look at our relationship, a ten year investment, and decided to stick with me, mostly because she wanted to have her babies with me, as Harry was well beyond being a father again. On the practical level she now had a Trust to look forward to when her parents died. It was an insurance policy for both of us. I ended up putting in 29 years of labor to contribute to our passage through time.
All women must be on the look-out for a man to take care of them, in case life leaves them in dire straits. It is the oldest instinct since the dawn of time. Nowadays it is a bit easier for women to make it on their own; they are much less dependent on a man's
physical strength for protection. But the instinct is still there in the shivering chill of a winter night. Sue and I came very close to a divorce in the early 1970s when I decide to return to UNLV for at least one more year, a great disappointment for Sue as she did not like Las Vegas and had promised herself not to return. In time-honored fashion she looked to another man to keep her in Eugene. If she had to sleep with a "banger," so be it. Things could be worse. She was already sleeping with Harry Gross, a man 24 years older than she who was quite willing to move her in with him.They planned to work together on her movie, her Master' project. It was pure survival mode, although she saw other aspects to the situation. He did give her the rent-free house he had promised her. I wasn't happy how things worked out but I understood her options were few. But happily it worked out as she came home from the trip to Asia with a change of heart. She had taken a second look at our relationship, a ten year investment, and decided to stick with me, mostly because she wanted to have her babies with me, as Harry was well beyond being a father again. On the practical level she now had a Trust to look forward to when her parents died. It was an insurance policy for both of us. I ended up putting in 29 years of labor to contribute to our passage through time.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Rops
5/17/2014
You (I am addressing Skip) to mention that Rops was a prolific 19th century pornographer. That's where I have heard his name before, the context was a small porn book I picked up at Bookman's when I was working there. One drawing was of the naked woman being crucified on Christ cross; the other the Prussian soldier leading a woman away with iron collar around her neck. There is hundreds more images on the internet, all of them dripping with sin and horror and de Sadian fascination. I know where the cat was coming from for I have long been trapped between the naughty and the sacred.
The tendency goes way back to 'Toys in the Attic,' that is, the
things I'd do when I was alone up there, which is of course is masturbation, the first sign
of sexual revolt against the Catholic Church. Somehow some way I got a hold of deck of cards of naked ladies--one was Diane Webber, one of the Va Va Voom girls--and I spattered a lot of seed digging those luscious females. Then on Saturday I'd confess my sins and start the cycle all over again. Hell, since some of my potency has come back--why I don't know --I've masturbated 5 days in a row, which has really cheered me up after all the fruitless wanging I have engaged in since 2004 when I went through radiation treatments. My cock has really gotten hard which is unusual and I can climax in 5 minutes if I want. Sexual rebirth at 78. Nice idea. The next step would be to see if I could reawaken Sue's Libido. I still don't experience ejaculation but the orgasms are very good. Maybe I am just a Frankenstein monster in reverse. Much better than being in a hearse.
Swiss artist H.R. Giger who I recently saw on "Jodo's Dune" doc, died on May 12 after a fall. He was 74. I did notice he did not look very good in the doc.
You (I am addressing Skip) to mention that Rops was a prolific 19th century pornographer. That's where I have heard his name before, the context was a small porn book I picked up at Bookman's when I was working there. One drawing was of the naked woman being crucified on Christ cross; the other the Prussian soldier leading a woman away with iron collar around her neck. There is hundreds more images on the internet, all of them dripping with sin and horror and de Sadian fascination. I know where the cat was coming from for I have long been trapped between the naughty and the sacred.The tendency goes way back to 'Toys in the Attic,' that is, the
things I'd do when I was alone up there, which is of course is masturbation, the first sign
of sexual revolt against the Catholic Church. Somehow some way I got a hold of deck of cards of naked ladies--one was Diane Webber, one of the Va Va Voom girls--and I spattered a lot of seed digging those luscious females. Then on Saturday I'd confess my sins and start the cycle all over again. Hell, since some of my potency has come back--why I don't know --I've masturbated 5 days in a row, which has really cheered me up after all the fruitless wanging I have engaged in since 2004 when I went through radiation treatments. My cock has really gotten hard which is unusual and I can climax in 5 minutes if I want. Sexual rebirth at 78. Nice idea. The next step would be to see if I could reawaken Sue's Libido. I still don't experience ejaculation but the orgasms are very good. Maybe I am just a Frankenstein monster in reverse. Much better than being in a hearse.
Swiss artist H.R. Giger who I recently saw on "Jodo's Dune" doc, died on May 12 after a fall. He was 74. I did notice he did not look very good in the doc.
Dream
5/17/2014
A commotion in the parlor wakes me up and as I approach the bedroom door I realize that I am not at home but in a strange house. Sue is working on a play with four young men. She is dressed like Pierrot, in a lavender and white costume. The boys were dressed as clowns. Sue acts like she is not aware of my presence on the set and I perceive her as if she were a great distance away. I watch them rehearse the play, which seems to be shaping up okay. The boys are taking turns making love to her and paying her for her services. She takes one boy by the hand and walks outside with hm. I follow them.The air is heavy with humidity, as a monsoon shower has just finished. Summer is in full swing in the desert.It is the middle of the night, very quiet, and the moon is near full, shedding quite a bit of light all around the landscape. A soft breeze is blowing. I don't know where the couple is; then I see them in the dark bushes. She has the boy's pants down and has his cock in her hand. I play the only audience, as she performs fellatio on the moaning young man. I told myself she was having sex with this fellow because she had to have hard bodies on her soft body.
The dream is haunted by, first, Sue's history of infidelities, and second, seeing her play Ruth on stage and get felt up for all to see. I have a history of putting myself in these sexual scenes, as if I didn't want to miss anything. Being there was to be part of her experience which is what I was after,
A commotion in the parlor wakes me up and as I approach the bedroom door I realize that I am not at home but in a strange house. Sue is working on a play with four young men. She is dressed like Pierrot, in a lavender and white costume. The boys were dressed as clowns. Sue acts like she is not aware of my presence on the set and I perceive her as if she were a great distance away. I watch them rehearse the play, which seems to be shaping up okay. The boys are taking turns making love to her and paying her for her services. She takes one boy by the hand and walks outside with hm. I follow them.The air is heavy with humidity, as a monsoon shower has just finished. Summer is in full swing in the desert.It is the middle of the night, very quiet, and the moon is near full, shedding quite a bit of light all around the landscape. A soft breeze is blowing. I don't know where the couple is; then I see them in the dark bushes. She has the boy's pants down and has his cock in her hand. I play the only audience, as she performs fellatio on the moaning young man. I told myself she was having sex with this fellow because she had to have hard bodies on her soft body.
The dream is haunted by, first, Sue's history of infidelities, and second, seeing her play Ruth on stage and get felt up for all to see. I have a history of putting myself in these sexual scenes, as if I didn't want to miss anything. Being there was to be part of her experience which is what I was after,
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
The picture of Sue, if I am not mistaken was shot in our Waterbury abode before we were married and still living in San Jose. The Waterburys were this cute elderly couple who lived downstairs. We were living together but not yet married. It was when I had more sex than ever before and I liked it. All I had to do is reach out and there was the smiling quim.
Well, I exaggerate somewhat because even in those day I still lack aggressiveness in regard asking for sex. I always worried, was I asking for too much or too little. It was hard for me to tell. Another sign of some trouble in bed was I always waited for her to put my cock inside her, and I did that for years, at least ten I'd say. I know that wasn't true with her lovers. Gary Hess, for example, she told me he directed her completely: whatever he told her to do she did it with no question or resistance. They fucked a dozen times over a weekend. Her sexual experience in High School was a little blury to me after all these years but I doubt any of it hit the score in Utah. One of the excruciating experiences I had in those early days when we virtually had an open marriage when we got to the Campus in Las Vegas was a night in a casino with some political guests, one of whom was William Winter, a liberal radio commentator, a wily, slick customer who made love talk to her in front of several friends and colleagues. She ate it up, this 63 year old Lothario was too much. He called the next morning a few hours before he flew out of town and invited her but not me for a drink. She went and was gone more than three hours. To this day she has never surrendered the truth about that rendezvous, and if she thinks I believe they talked politics I'll eat my hat. One of the things about her outside sexual activity is she regards it as super-private experience. However, with some she is quite open, or relatively open, while with many others she is absolutely tight-lipped about what they did, how and when
Maybe that's why they got along last summer like long-lost sisters.
.
Fako
5/14/2014
Fako was this proto-beatnick I met at Lucky's where I found a job when I first got to the Bay Area. He has remained a contact person and friend for many years, with two exceptions, one absurd but typical of our up and down fortunes together. He spent seven years in prison (Solidad) and didn't talked to me for 15 more years because a girl friend didn't like me for asking to check the score of a Super-bowl game, so he threw me out of the house on her instruction, as liking football was contrary to her hippy-dippy religion. And to think I traveled a thousand miles to see him after no-see for seven years. I was pissed and I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to hear from him again. But 15 years later he called and apologized for his behavior. He came to visit shorty after that. When we first met I was real greenhorn from the Midwest. I had no idea what an avocado was, nor did I know any beatniks, some kind of wild man I thought. Fako had Musical ambitions at the time and hung with players of different quality. He was a piano player himself. I was too green to judge how good or bad he was. I went to a number of Jazz joints with him, hearing local talent in San Jose and real pros in SF---Dave Brubeck, Sonny Stints, , many others of that caliber, all of which warmed me up to the beatnik movement or what rob. My first date with Sue Baker was to a poetry reading in SF. I can't remember who the poet was. Fako and his beatnik friends though I was cool enough to be sworn into the club. They actually voted on my qualification. I didn't hear about the vote thing to later. I faded away from the club scene after that, as Fako life too shifted to the different life. He fell in love with a Prostitute and they had two boys. She complained about not having much money so he bought a gun and tried to rob a jewelry store with a loaded gun--a dumb mistake.It failed miserably. He was sentenced to seven years during which time he got his after-prison meal ticket, working in waste management. He was also away from the rest of the prison, a good thing for him as he developed a real hatred for black men there. His attitude was a spur under my saddle, but he wasn't about to change any time soon. When he got out he got a job in waste management in Monterrey, Ca. Thirty years later he retied at $50,000 a year pension. Just goes to show you crime does pay, or not the way it would. One of his sons just retired from 35 year service in a atomic submarine. The other son is a Mormon and he hardly even mentions his name.
Fako was this proto-beatnick I met at Lucky's where I found a job when I first got to the Bay Area. He has remained a contact person and friend for many years, with two exceptions, one absurd but typical of our up and down fortunes together. He spent seven years in prison (Solidad) and didn't talked to me for 15 more years because a girl friend didn't like me for asking to check the score of a Super-bowl game, so he threw me out of the house on her instruction, as liking football was contrary to her hippy-dippy religion. And to think I traveled a thousand miles to see him after no-see for seven years. I was pissed and I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to hear from him again. But 15 years later he called and apologized for his behavior. He came to visit shorty after that. When we first met I was real greenhorn from the Midwest. I had no idea what an avocado was, nor did I know any beatniks, some kind of wild man I thought. Fako had Musical ambitions at the time and hung with players of different quality. He was a piano player himself. I was too green to judge how good or bad he was. I went to a number of Jazz joints with him, hearing local talent in San Jose and real pros in SF---Dave Brubeck, Sonny Stints, , many others of that caliber, all of which warmed me up to the beatnik movement or what rob. My first date with Sue Baker was to a poetry reading in SF. I can't remember who the poet was. Fako and his beatnik friends though I was cool enough to be sworn into the club. They actually voted on my qualification. I didn't hear about the vote thing to later. I faded away from the club scene after that, as Fako life too shifted to the different life. He fell in love with a Prostitute and they had two boys. She complained about not having much money so he bought a gun and tried to rob a jewelry store with a loaded gun--a dumb mistake.It failed miserably. He was sentenced to seven years during which time he got his after-prison meal ticket, working in waste management. He was also away from the rest of the prison, a good thing for him as he developed a real hatred for black men there. His attitude was a spur under my saddle, but he wasn't about to change any time soon. When he got out he got a job in waste management in Monterrey, Ca. Thirty years later he retied at $50,000 a year pension. Just goes to show you crime does pay, or not the way it would. One of his sons just retired from 35 year service in a atomic submarine. The other son is a Mormon and he hardly even mentions his name.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Memories
5/13/2014
(email to Skip W.)
...I grant you, there are days I stay clear of emails for a day or two. First of all I am dragging my ass due to a bad case of allergy problems, the like of which I haven't had for a number of years. Ironically, I saw the doctor yesterday and she thought, relative to my past, I was doing very well. I tolerated her optimism because I knew better. She did write me a few scripts that should come in handy to fight the allergy lock on me. I am taking 5 days worth on steroids (prednisone) to cut the swelling in my sinuses, the main cause why I can't breathe through my nose. She also prescribed Fluticasone Propiobate, a nose spray and last but not least, EYE ITCH for my eyes. Will see how I feel in the morning. Sleep has been hard to come by, so Bobby Zimmerman has been singing for me the last two nights. I am still taken up with "the Poetry Project." I have hit the level of obsession with the poetry project and methinks I should take a few days off...if I can. Sue tells me I babble poetry in my sleep. Kai brought over Mary Oliver's book on how to write poetry. I should spend some time with it.
Dylan's skill at at phrasing and internal rhyme are fucking amazing. John Dearstyne, an old friend of mine from my days in Corvalis used to see B.D. in small cooffee shops in Hibbing, MN. He'd do his folk song number in those days. Those were the days before Von Ronk, when he was "hanging out."So was I. flying by the seat of my pants. Living on nothing, sleeping on couches. And Like that. I learned from Henry Miller to vary who I visited every night for dinner. Is it any wonder I weighted in at 160 lbs in those days. Today I weigh 250 which is considered moderate now. Anyway, all that hanging out was ages ago. Another life time as they say today. I remember seeing SLY and the FAMILY STONE in small club in Vegas. It was the first time Rock &Roll made my bones vibrate, a memorable event. That was in 1964. I didn't know who they were at the time. That's a lot of bilge under the bridge, a lifetime away. I keep waking up thinking of the funniest things
from the past. This morning it was about those actors I hung out with my first year at SCSC. I don't remember their names. They took the place of Fako and that ragged band of beatniks he introduced me too, who were more fun than the actors who were pretty straight for those days which were on the crest of a real revolution. My time in Vegas, although the crest of my personal wave, and noteworthy as a small piece of history, seems
now like a detour that lasted as long as a cheap firecracker. It was intense but a measly six years. I am amazed that a handful of people still remember me or what I tried to do while I was there. In those six years I rode those giant worms of DUNE though some much shit I hate to think about it. Like so many say, it was all like a dream. Maybe that's all it was. Now I am just a shadow waiting to blow away. A demon trout is on the lookout for me.
He'll find the worm that is me.
(email to Skip W.)
...I grant you, there are days I stay clear of emails for a day or two. First of all I am dragging my ass due to a bad case of allergy problems, the like of which I haven't had for a number of years. Ironically, I saw the doctor yesterday and she thought, relative to my past, I was doing very well. I tolerated her optimism because I knew better. She did write me a few scripts that should come in handy to fight the allergy lock on me. I am taking 5 days worth on steroids (prednisone) to cut the swelling in my sinuses, the main cause why I can't breathe through my nose. She also prescribed Fluticasone Propiobate, a nose spray and last but not least, EYE ITCH for my eyes. Will see how I feel in the morning. Sleep has been hard to come by, so Bobby Zimmerman has been singing for me the last two nights. I am still taken up with "the Poetry Project." I have hit the level of obsession with the poetry project and methinks I should take a few days off...if I can. Sue tells me I babble poetry in my sleep. Kai brought over Mary Oliver's book on how to write poetry. I should spend some time with it.
Dylan's skill at at phrasing and internal rhyme are fucking amazing. John Dearstyne, an old friend of mine from my days in Corvalis used to see B.D. in small cooffee shops in Hibbing, MN. He'd do his folk song number in those days. Those were the days before Von Ronk, when he was "hanging out."So was I. flying by the seat of my pants. Living on nothing, sleeping on couches. And Like that. I learned from Henry Miller to vary who I visited every night for dinner. Is it any wonder I weighted in at 160 lbs in those days. Today I weigh 250 which is considered moderate now. Anyway, all that hanging out was ages ago. Another life time as they say today. I remember seeing SLY and the FAMILY STONE in small club in Vegas. It was the first time Rock &Roll made my bones vibrate, a memorable event. That was in 1964. I didn't know who they were at the time. That's a lot of bilge under the bridge, a lifetime away. I keep waking up thinking of the funniest things
from the past. This morning it was about those actors I hung out with my first year at SCSC. I don't remember their names. They took the place of Fako and that ragged band of beatniks he introduced me too, who were more fun than the actors who were pretty straight for those days which were on the crest of a real revolution. My time in Vegas, although the crest of my personal wave, and noteworthy as a small piece of history, seems
now like a detour that lasted as long as a cheap firecracker. It was intense but a measly six years. I am amazed that a handful of people still remember me or what I tried to do while I was there. In those six years I rode those giant worms of DUNE though some much shit I hate to think about it. Like so many say, it was all like a dream. Maybe that's all it was. Now I am just a shadow waiting to blow away. A demon trout is on the lookout for me.
He'll find the worm that is me.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Sexless in Gaza.
5/10/2014
Things have really changed for us us sexually since the onset of menopause in or around the start of 2002. Actually it has been going on for two years, and recently she let me know in no uncertain terms that her Libido is kaput and that she has no interest at all in sex. She wasn't even into her beloved "self-pleasuring" routine. (But that picked up later but is all but gone these days.) Of course masturbation has always been big for me and it's frequency had gone down appreciably after the radiation treatment in 2004.So I was left bereft with no sexual outlet for quite a long time, we are talking years. I got into porno for vicarious thrills and occasionally I'd wang away with no or little success, The juice producing jism was gone, dried up by the radiation. A couple of weeks ago Sue had two orgasms in bed when half awake. She enjoyed the experience quite a bit, and she told me all about it. Just recently something seems to be happening to me. Masturbation suddenly works again, that is, all but the ejaculations, which is still only an ooze of watery stuff. Not only do I get hard, it doesn't take me long to reach the crest of coming, and when I do the organisms are pretty satisfying. I haven't talked to Sue yet about this development.
Back in San Jose, when we first got married in 1961, and Sue was really "hot," more then I had the experience to see or to take advantage of, here I was, married to this horny young wife, who I should have been fucking five times a day, but I was not inclined to do that simple because I was still very much locked inside a Catholic straight jacket, only I didn't know it--but Sue did, you bet she did. I had spent years running away from pussy so when I had, theoretically, all I could possibly want I was frozen in place and stuck to fucking her twice a month. How insane was that? I was a walking contradiction. So what was the upshot of my situation? Two results. She had two affairs the first year of our marriage, in both instances with men who had considerable experience, and I jack off a lot, sometimes while looking at her asleep in bed. How sick is that? I did not get release till my late thirties, and it came dripping slow, not in one big rush. I was in the grip of years of denial which had tightened me organically. During the early stages of the INFERNO I had this terrifying vision of being on boat in a sea of Priest monsters who kept trying to pull me into the green putrid sea with them. People may have heard of Tinkers to Evers to Chance, a great double-play team of many years ago, well, I had to fight off the team of Schmidt to Enders to Ludwig, three influential priests I had at St. Joseph's. Sometime I see a third predatory threesome chewing on my balls--Sue, her mother, and Cora, her grandmother.
Things have really changed for us us sexually since the onset of menopause in or around the start of 2002. Actually it has been going on for two years, and recently she let me know in no uncertain terms that her Libido is kaput and that she has no interest at all in sex. She wasn't even into her beloved "self-pleasuring" routine. (But that picked up later but is all but gone these days.) Of course masturbation has always been big for me and it's frequency had gone down appreciably after the radiation treatment in 2004.So I was left bereft with no sexual outlet for quite a long time, we are talking years. I got into porno for vicarious thrills and occasionally I'd wang away with no or little success, The juice producing jism was gone, dried up by the radiation. A couple of weeks ago Sue had two orgasms in bed when half awake. She enjoyed the experience quite a bit, and she told me all about it. Just recently something seems to be happening to me. Masturbation suddenly works again, that is, all but the ejaculations, which is still only an ooze of watery stuff. Not only do I get hard, it doesn't take me long to reach the crest of coming, and when I do the organisms are pretty satisfying. I haven't talked to Sue yet about this development.
Back in San Jose, when we first got married in 1961, and Sue was really "hot," more then I had the experience to see or to take advantage of, here I was, married to this horny young wife, who I should have been fucking five times a day, but I was not inclined to do that simple because I was still very much locked inside a Catholic straight jacket, only I didn't know it--but Sue did, you bet she did. I had spent years running away from pussy so when I had, theoretically, all I could possibly want I was frozen in place and stuck to fucking her twice a month. How insane was that? I was a walking contradiction. So what was the upshot of my situation? Two results. She had two affairs the first year of our marriage, in both instances with men who had considerable experience, and I jack off a lot, sometimes while looking at her asleep in bed. How sick is that? I did not get release till my late thirties, and it came dripping slow, not in one big rush. I was in the grip of years of denial which had tightened me organically. During the early stages of the INFERNO I had this terrifying vision of being on boat in a sea of Priest monsters who kept trying to pull me into the green putrid sea with them. People may have heard of Tinkers to Evers to Chance, a great double-play team of many years ago, well, I had to fight off the team of Schmidt to Enders to Ludwig, three influential priests I had at St. Joseph's. Sometime I see a third predatory threesome chewing on my balls--Sue, her mother, and Cora, her grandmother.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Entry for 7/31/2002 More Larry
This is how it went last night. Suzie finally admitted to me she has carried on an intense sexual relationship with Larry Masters ever since that night they met each other at a party.
There was a lot of realism in the details she told me about last night in the dream. They had to sneak around at times and at other times I would be gone out of the house which made it easy for them.The stories went on and on, like a form of torture.They obviously had a sexual compatibility that rival that which she felt with Gary in California....suddenly I was awake and shaking like mad. I felt cold so I pulled the blanket up around my body. At first I thought it might be an insect bite.The shakes were from hearing the truth, even if it was in a dream, or maybe because I would know the truth no other way. Sue has never been straight with me about Larry. She guards what they had together like it was none of my business. She never has cracked once.
This is how it went last night. Suzie finally admitted to me she has carried on an intense sexual relationship with Larry Masters ever since that night they met each other at a party.
There was a lot of realism in the details she told me about last night in the dream. They had to sneak around at times and at other times I would be gone out of the house which made it easy for them.The stories went on and on, like a form of torture.They obviously had a sexual compatibility that rival that which she felt with Gary in California....suddenly I was awake and shaking like mad. I felt cold so I pulled the blanket up around my body. At first I thought it might be an insect bite.The shakes were from hearing the truth, even if it was in a dream, or maybe because I would know the truth no other way. Sue has never been straight with me about Larry. She guards what they had together like it was none of my business. She never has cracked once.
Big Dream
7/12/2002--Big Dream
I am watching two groups of wild turkeys fighting each other ; next a grizzly bear jumps into the fray, grabs one of the turkeys and begins to eat it. Shocked by the scene, I make a series of loud noises trying to shoo the bear away. The bear rumbles off, disappearing in some bushes. I think I should tell Sue there is a wild bear in the vicinity. There is a drug store attached our house (it resembles Clark Drugs in Racine) but when I circle around the house I am confronted by a deep canyon and I am standing on the edge of the the Canyon. When I look down I see a gorgeous woman. She resembles the buxom actress Pamela Anderson . I shout down to her I am coming to get her out of the hole she's in. She starts to move away, like she didn't want to be rescued. I throw a stick at her and say"I won't hurt you." But she continues to flee as if I was trying to catch her. Once I see how deep the hole is I panic and believe I am the grizzly bear. I am worried about myself, if I have to get out it by myself 'but then I realize I am a walking out the hole by myself. I am not restrained by my limits or by the dream. When I get back in the house there is a Hispanic couple in the house; they ask me if there's any Jews living in the neighborhood. They don't like Jews.
I can easily see myself as a large Grizzly bear who loves Turkey (the bird) and Wild Turkey (the whiskey, a high.) Pamela Andersen is just the kind of cheap broad that haunts my unconscious. I would love to eat her. She has the body type that is favored a lot on Internet porn. But alas, I remain at a distance from her, me the voyeur, always at a distance. I can only throw a stick at Ms. Andersen--read dick, not stick--which misses the target. But the most interesting part of the dream is my ability I am dreaming and how to act on that ability.
I am watching two groups of wild turkeys fighting each other ; next a grizzly bear jumps into the fray, grabs one of the turkeys and begins to eat it. Shocked by the scene, I make a series of loud noises trying to shoo the bear away. The bear rumbles off, disappearing in some bushes. I think I should tell Sue there is a wild bear in the vicinity. There is a drug store attached our house (it resembles Clark Drugs in Racine) but when I circle around the house I am confronted by a deep canyon and I am standing on the edge of the the Canyon. When I look down I see a gorgeous woman. She resembles the buxom actress Pamela Anderson . I shout down to her I am coming to get her out of the hole she's in. She starts to move away, like she didn't want to be rescued. I throw a stick at her and say"I won't hurt you." But she continues to flee as if I was trying to catch her. Once I see how deep the hole is I panic and believe I am the grizzly bear. I am worried about myself, if I have to get out it by myself 'but then I realize I am a walking out the hole by myself. I am not restrained by my limits or by the dream. When I get back in the house there is a Hispanic couple in the house; they ask me if there's any Jews living in the neighborhood. They don't like Jews.
I can easily see myself as a large Grizzly bear who loves Turkey (the bird) and Wild Turkey (the whiskey, a high.) Pamela Andersen is just the kind of cheap broad that haunts my unconscious. I would love to eat her. She has the body type that is favored a lot on Internet porn. But alas, I remain at a distance from her, me the voyeur, always at a distance. I can only throw a stick at Ms. Andersen--read dick, not stick--which misses the target. But the most interesting part of the dream is my ability I am dreaming and how to act on that ability.
Here's an entry from 18 July 2006 about waking up from a nap." I was in this awful state when I woke up from what I would call a narcoleptic nap. My arms had fallen asleep in the recliner. I was groggy beyond belief. It was ten minutes before I could move, it was that bad. I managed to make it to the dinner table, but found I wasn't very hungry, mostly because I was still in this blur of consciousness. I have got to anticipate these incidents where I literary "fall" asleep. I have no recollection of falling asleep.
The really weird thing about these sudden sleeps they are, at least eight of ten, reveal very negative feelings about Sue as herself or sometimes as representative of her sex. The usual thing is she is sleeping with someone else, oft times flaunting it, as if to abuse me. Who she is sleeping with runs the gamut from Bill P., Larry M. to William Winters, Harry Gross, Dennis J. and so on.The other strange thing is I can tell when I am a dream because I could reach out and I know if I tried to touch any part of the dream it would dissolve in my hand.The experience is like the dreams are frozen in time in my unconscious, dating back to that window of ten years when most of her affairs took place. But why these "nightmares" occur mostly when I nap and not during nighttime sleep. There are times wake up feeling our relationship is over with, or I have the lot of them tied off as a knot of bad feelings that still plague me after years and years.They don't represent the whole of our marriage, only the cancerous part. Why is it I can't transcend those early hurts? Is because the me who experienced them was this green catholic kid from the Midwest?
The really weird thing about these sudden sleeps they are, at least eight of ten, reveal very negative feelings about Sue as herself or sometimes as representative of her sex. The usual thing is she is sleeping with someone else, oft times flaunting it, as if to abuse me. Who she is sleeping with runs the gamut from Bill P., Larry M. to William Winters, Harry Gross, Dennis J. and so on.The other strange thing is I can tell when I am a dream because I could reach out and I know if I tried to touch any part of the dream it would dissolve in my hand.The experience is like the dreams are frozen in time in my unconscious, dating back to that window of ten years when most of her affairs took place. But why these "nightmares" occur mostly when I nap and not during nighttime sleep. There are times wake up feeling our relationship is over with, or I have the lot of them tied off as a knot of bad feelings that still plague me after years and years.They don't represent the whole of our marriage, only the cancerous part. Why is it I can't transcend those early hurts? Is because the me who experienced them was this green catholic kid from the Midwest?
Preocupied
Wed. May 7, 2014
I could not sleep so I got up at 3 AM to fiddle-fart around at my computer. I am having a devil of a time breathing due to allergies, one of which has me snot-nosed and coughing. Strangely enough I am both energized by the poetry project and dragging my butt because of the allergies. I had lain in bed for a couple of hours listening to Dylan albums, trying to pick up on his phrasing and internal rhymes. His skills blow me away. But I am better off than my brother who is currently in a hospital in Milwaukee. He went to the ER Sunday night, which happened to be his 76 birthday, with sever abdominal pains. They are telling him it is a bowel obstruction. They might have to operate. If you ask me he is having so much stomach problems because of his 55 years of eating rich Italian food prepared by his wife.
Through Linkin I have gotten hooked into a group of writers, professional and amateur, who criticize each others work. It's called "Poetry and Literature." I jumped right into the fray with a couple of poems that elicited some response from some black woman in Detroit. She jumped on my "cattitude,"a neologism that takes some explanation. CAT means woman/pussy, so cattitude means how you see women. Quite clever me thinks. Anyway, she eviscerated me, really extrapolating from what little information I gave her. She somehow sniffed out my rage against women which has been constant in my dream life. I rather enjoyed the pounding, especially since she was so damn intuitive. I am still writing daily and have about 30 good poems. I haven't been on FB at all. I guess I am waiting for Larry to return.
We went through all of Nasima's photographs from Hawaii and selected 88 to have made into glossies through SNAPFISH.
Ron's advice to me was buy a camera I can carry in my pocket for around $200.
I could not sleep so I got up at 3 AM to fiddle-fart around at my computer. I am having a devil of a time breathing due to allergies, one of which has me snot-nosed and coughing. Strangely enough I am both energized by the poetry project and dragging my butt because of the allergies. I had lain in bed for a couple of hours listening to Dylan albums, trying to pick up on his phrasing and internal rhymes. His skills blow me away. But I am better off than my brother who is currently in a hospital in Milwaukee. He went to the ER Sunday night, which happened to be his 76 birthday, with sever abdominal pains. They are telling him it is a bowel obstruction. They might have to operate. If you ask me he is having so much stomach problems because of his 55 years of eating rich Italian food prepared by his wife.
Through Linkin I have gotten hooked into a group of writers, professional and amateur, who criticize each others work. It's called "Poetry and Literature." I jumped right into the fray with a couple of poems that elicited some response from some black woman in Detroit. She jumped on my "cattitude,"a neologism that takes some explanation. CAT means woman/pussy, so cattitude means how you see women. Quite clever me thinks. Anyway, she eviscerated me, really extrapolating from what little information I gave her. She somehow sniffed out my rage against women which has been constant in my dream life. I rather enjoyed the pounding, especially since she was so damn intuitive. I am still writing daily and have about 30 good poems. I haven't been on FB at all. I guess I am waiting for Larry to return.
We went through all of Nasima's photographs from Hawaii and selected 88 to have made into glossies through SNAPFISH.
Ron's advice to me was buy a camera I can carry in my pocket for around $200.
Monday, May 5, 2014
July 31, 2005. Buga finally got the tape machine to work so we were able to see Wolfgang's tape of her that they made in Conn. He saw Buga clearly, as the black satin witch of sex, the dark Queen bee who can behave as if she is not married. He used three different cameras as she revolved on the on a pedestal. He had dressed her in a black transparent negligee. She wore no make up. Her face looked tired and sever. As the pedestal rotates it picks up speed. At the end she is spinning to suggest fucking, at least so says Wolf. No wonder she called him her "Magician husband."He saw through her games, her stance of Miss Innocent ( or you wanted to have sex with me. I had no idea) when she had already told me Wolf was the prize male at the workshop and all the women did what they could to entice him to their bed. He knew her game and showed it with is treatment of her. He had forced her to reveal two things: her aggressive sexuality and her fierce competitiveness. She makes things happen as opposed to have things happen to her. Her desire to fuck with openness, like most whores would feel, always has to be disguised as the sex energy coming at her, like she is the vulnerable victim. But in truth she is the decider. The classic example is her deal with the physical therapist she fucked in Eugene. It took her years to admit that she seduced the guy, that it was not the other way around, which is how she sold it to me for the longest time. She could be super pussy on a rampage but afterwards she'd still sell herself as a victim, one who made no pretense of not enjoyed the seduction, getting a hold of that penis on more time, yummy! If Wolf and I suffer from the Madonna/prostitute complex, she does too, inside out so to speak. It was no surprise that we ended up in bed after putting the tape away. She did me up magnificently, sucking my dick with unbelievable enthusiasm. Then I fucked her from the rearward position, a position she favors right now. I came with a lot of force and noise...she did not break this time. I was asleep in five minutes.
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