i can cross a piranha infested river, survive a sandstorm, stop a runaway train, live thru an airplane crash , build a shelter during a blizzard, escape from the trunk of a car, bend steel with my bare hands, treat a shark bite, rescue kids from burning buildings, and pass a bribe - but i can’t understand gurls! Dammit!
oh....ya cross the river at nite to avoid the piranhas, and don’t wake’m up!
dunno who said the only trouble worth having is the trouble of falling in love. could use THAT kinda trouble rite about now.
sure, i’ve tried clever pick-up lines, “do you prefer gin and plaTonic, or will that be scotch and sofa?”, or howzabout, “they call me coffee, cause i grind sooo fine.....” no, well check this out, “there must be something wrong with my eyes, cause i can’t take’m off you!”
yeah, i know what yer thinkin’ : “Looooser....”
look, i never claimed to be an expert on the biochemistry of love-at-first-site, think yer supposed to hear bells ringin’ and stuff ............ all i know is: 1) expect the unexpected, 2) accept things beyond your control, 3) always have plan B, and 4) no matter how bad things are, it could always get worse.
“i’ve heard it all before”, tweaked Twitch. “well what four things have you learned about gurls”, i said taking a toke. “find’em, feel’em, fuck’em, and forget’em.” yeah, well i’ve heard all that before too. Twitch is writing his dad in Thailand. wants to move there for “sex till i die”, he laughs. “roll a joint, roll a duck-tail joint.”
there’s an offering at 4:20 every day at the pot club. “offer me with love and devotion a leaf, a flower, fruit or water and i will accept it...”, read sister rosemarie during invocation.
after some announcements, and several joints later, i left for Gilbert’s house. think i’m being followed so i take the scenic route thru Chinatown via North Beach. paid my respects when i passed St. Peter’s where joltin’Joe married Marilyn in 1954. at least that’s where they took the picture. those were the days, uncle Hank was on drums in a Count Basie type big band with uncle Carmine on sax....they did all the standards...it was a good time. he was quite a character. the quintessential street philosopher. “choose yer friends, don’t let your friends choose you, cause they’re always the ones that’ll get’cha”, he’d say.
“skepticism is a virtue, think fer yourself. you’re not going to become a millionaire with little or no money down, and ya know what?, ...all aspirin are basically alike.”
self-reliance was Carmine’s main theme. he was an intense, but calm man. success involved a lotta hard work after the family arrived from Italy in the late 1800’s. in his talks over the years, he would tell us how important a good education is, but even more important was the success that comes from within.
a deeper and richer experience of life meant inner peace. a burning desire, passion, an inner candle flame that can never be put out. be open to everything...attached to nothing.
“that’s an interesting point of view, i’ve never considered that.”
“everything that’s old, is new again...ya can’t do the same old shit and expect different results....don’t die with the music inside you....listen to the silence....back to the source.....the space between thoughts, creates the melody.....no longer need a personal history.....make believe you are who you want to be...
wisdom is right thought, and what is right
thought monks? right thought is harm-
less, rite thought reduces suffering.......
yup, uncle Carmine was quite a guy.
“you do not have any problems, ya only think you do.” “energy”, said dr.Wheeler, “comes to us thru our senses.” “no problems, just energy converted into problems.”
sounds like a new firewall is in order . we’re having a stoner philosophy session at the pot club.
“well, where does bad come from?” asked Twitch. “oh, it’s just an idea we carry around , a shadow of our integrity mistaken for the real thing...an error in intellect...be careful what ya think about, cause thoughts ARE things!” whoa dude! heavy!
every relationship is in yer mind processed thru your thoughts. change your mind to the divine. pull up the shades and let the light shine in! there lived a little man in Italy named st.Francis who gave all his possessions to the poor. he wrote a prayer:
lord, make me an instrument of thy peace
where there is hatred let me sow love........
it hung above the entrance to st.Anthony’s dining room, the soup kitchen on Jones and GoldenGate in the heart of the Tenderloin near downtown. i never met a city that wanted to be New York more than San Francisco. what essEff doesn’t realize is that it takes more than grimy streets and homeless drug addicts to make a city big.
it takes autumn.
bright colors, crisp clear powder-blue sky, crunchy leaves underfoot. one of those days where ya think nothing could go wrong, especially a plane ride.