The 4th of 94

The Fourth of July, 1994. I had already made myself slightly known to The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poets by attending a few of their functions, most times a friendly crasher. There was going to be a get together on the back lawn. A lay down on blankets and watch the fireworks blowing off in nearby Folsom Field.

It was a beautiful late afternoon. Not as hot as it can get, with an unusually muted glowing sky. Tables were set up with free food. Something a few of them there understood. Got David Dellinger to swipe a booklet, so he could return it to me as Abbie would.


Things were just gentle and quiet. Unforced conversation. It wasn't necessary to be any such way. Observation was an art form.

Time to get comfortable. There was no feeling weird. Be peaceful. I took my towel and sat myself on the ground next to Ginsberg. I was making it surreal because I like that feeling. He looked at me with his big brown knowing eyes and relaxed. The sky was purple. A deep purple before the night came. I remember looking up and hearing soft voices exclaim as a huge swarm of bats flew above us. Swoop.

The colors came next. Beautiful explosions of color and sound. It was the murmur of people enjoying the moment that made me feel clear. I could see clearly and hear soft sounds. Everything was crystalline. Facets. I'm not sure if there was another evening that came close to how aware I was of everything around me. I've got to believe, like Allen did, that we can change the outcome, the vibration, by changing the tempo of our soul. Is it the only way for anything to ever change? Don't lose it.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Kiss My Ass

Image
 Today I was standing at a bus stop on Sheridan Blvd in Denver waiting for a bus. I had to take two buses to make a ridiculous return to Amazon. I don't have a car, so as much as I would like to shop locally my options are limited. On my way back I walked a while and decided to stop for the next bus. The sun here is killer. A few memories were stirred by the old Bulbs Plus building across the street. Amazing that the guy is still holding on, but why not? He dealt in specialized, commercial lighting. The dreaded online places you order from are a pain in the ass. The quality is never what you would expect, the sizes are usually wrong and you can't speak to a human. But here I am having no other options in my own world. Believe me, the public transportation in Denver is dreadful. I could fly across the country quicker than what it would take to get across town. At first I had a smile on my face thinking about the place I worked from 2005-2009. We were relics holding on to our tra...
Read more

July 5 25

Image
I'm trying to find the words My life is a blur From the beginning of Black Sabbath  To the end. It's not that I lived everyday With the sound of their words But that they took me somewhere  When they started. My thoughts in this world  The actions I took Can all be traced to those days. The dreams, the mistakes The glad and the sad Were sparked by the visions That grew then. The year 1970 Experimentation my norm Images deepened and riveted With Sabbath. It's all a long chain  But that link has not failed  I cry when I think Of my strange stories. They ended you see On my 70th birthday, And I wonder how time has planned it. I haven't given in to becoming a ghost I fight each day in some unusual way To continue my life as expected. But I question the sign It has come to an end Please God let there be Another adventure around the bend. 07/06/25 My Black Sabbath dress.1970.
Read more