More, Johnny

Johnny, he wuvs his Uncle Alsy.

Entry for March 21, 2009

I’m down to $5,132.75 on my big credit card.

This is a picture from the Poconos in Pennsylvania where my Uncle owned a motel, a group of cabins in the mid 1960’s. That’s not me on the horse, but I did take the photo. Mom was with me then. I touched it up with Photoshop Elements to make it look golden and psychedelic.

Entry for March 21, 2009

The way my brother speaks to me is like “I have met your family and I like them.”

Relating to really important people like my Uncle Al, it’s like, “I’ve known your uncle for many years and I have the deepest respect for him.”

It reminds me, indeed, when I was a young man and confused about love for girls, I wrote on the side of a desk in the house, with magic marker, an old habit from my days as a 5 year old, something like Eddie loved John. John had put that desk together. The old man was too tired and John was big enough. He did a poor job on the shellac or whatever the wood is covered with to make it shine, but it was all passable.

Don’t know why I loved John. I actually loved Andrea Bruno and Sharon Bond. They sat in front of me in algebra in 7th grade. I once called Sharon and played Elvis for her. I had heard her say something about Simon and Garfunkel who were very popular in that day. Sounds of Silence was number 1, then. I said hello, and played Such a Night. She still didn’t know it was me. I believe I did say my name eventually but she wasn’t listening anymore. I guess she just hated Elvis. Somehow, the sight of Andrea’s father’s name in the phone book so scared me that I never called her. She had black hair. Sharon had brown hair. They both had beautiful figures.

So, I wonder if it is some kind of sick comedy. I’ve seen enough of that on SNL and SEC TV, the unkown comic and the Gong Show. John changed his name when he was 20, from Connolly to Bryan. It took the Irish away, I think. Connolly is an Irish name and Bryan is not really. Bryan is a southern name.

My Irish Aunt Marguerite said once that John and I looked alike. It’s hard to see. It just isn’t true. I wonder if that was when he had “changed his name to mine.” Of course he wouldn’t believe in Gay marriage unless it was a good joke on me, one that may lead to my violent death. That would be a good joke. Just like Markie.

Markie, boy does he look the Navy. When you hear that Billy Joel song, “and he’s talking to Davy who’s still in the Navy and probably will be for life,” I think of him, but he showed me a picture of himself in a Marine uniform and I think he might have said his fathe was a Marine.

There’s a big Navy shipyard up in Jacksonville and Markie came to Florida from Maryland. I think of Annapolis. He was put in a military academy at one time when he was young. I don’t know why he refers therefore to youth as being idyllic. Whenever he mentioned it I told him I didn’t think my youth was idyllic. It’s often put that way in school though. It could have been his girl friend who went to a different school by the way, the big university instead of the small community college, might have known the world that way. Childhood as an idyllic period in a person’s life and indeed many arguments are made that way, but although there no longer is child labor there is still an awful lot of work and disappointment in children’s lives.

Gee, that almost speaks to my vote for Hillary Clinton in the Florida Coutend Only Half Primary. I also gave her a lot of money, about as much as I spent to have my plumbing fixed last month, and all in credit. You might think a “big brother” or “family” would come to the rescue on those things, but it hasn’t been so. I also seem to be stuck on my food stamp form at the Florida Department of Children and Families website. I took out a life insurance policy and the form wants to know about it. Chiefly, FDCF wants the policy number, but I don’t know where I left the policy and it is automatically debited on my credit card. Maybe I can call that number on the credit card website that tells me who debited the money. Now, that’s work if you ask me.

I thnk I could get about $150 in food stamps. Last time I did the food stamp thing I got stuck when they returned a form and wanted me to make a call concerning any support from family members. I failed to make the call. I thought I could send documents to their address confirming my debt and that no one was helping me but it came down to the phone call was absolute. There was nothing but making that phone call. I have myself a little bit of phonophobia. I get a lot of calls I don’t want or need. Mom did too and she was constantly checking her Caller I.D. It’s almost like the subconscious is knocking on that door. Remember when the school nurse used to call to find out why you were not in school. Obviously the only reason was because you were sick but they had to find out from the parent and if you, the child, answered that phone call you were in big trouble. They don’t accept the words of children.

Sadgurunath Maharaj ki jay.

Entry for March 21, 2009

I also hate a “friend” named Mark.

He’s MR.SENSITIVE.

(for the women)

He “loved” me. I wrote POETRY.

He LOVED POETRY and David Bowie, Lou Reed and Mott the Hoople

all at the same time.

I often wonder if it was his art student girl friend who brought all that

FAG ROCK to the apartment, but I think no. I think maybe he felt like a fag sharing a room with his friend from High School. Soon the friend was moved to his big brother’s room and an attractive Jewish art student was moved in. In order for this to happen, my friend, Rolan the Doobie Roller, had to go. Back to TAMPA with Rolan the Doobie Roller.

I LOVED Rolan. He liked Jethro Tull, Mountain, Uriah Heap and Black Sabbath. He suggested we listen to Black Sabbath with earphones while tripping. OUT with the big dark haired groups, in with the blondes.

Mark, sometimes known as Markie by his best friend, was a tall blonde guitar player. He didn’t care for sports whatsoever. That was in 1972. In 1977 he was bitching about how Reggie Jackson cheated on the baselines against the Dodgers in the World Series. Another changing feature was the scared shit of prison 18 year old to the Karate user with nung chukas. You can’t take nungchukas to prison though. He never did go to prison.

He used the nungchukas on me though. I was available. He was breaking up with his Jewish art student girl friend (boy, did she love sucking cock, he would say today) with whom he had a relationship based on an oral contract made in 1972. Of course it was their own thing and if she didn’t want the decision to end their “loving” relationship after 4 years I think that was up to her. Of course I liked her as did many other fellows.

Mark was like a peripheral in our group but then fellows started moving away. First Rolan, then Craig who was the the one that my friend Jack met in his community college class. Craig and Rolan, I think, had the same class and invited Jack to smoke pot with them. Later Jack invited me to meet them. Craig, who was 6′ 5″ tall and weighed 300 lbs., was a bearded, long haired man who was destined to become a male nurse. He was very interested in the heart. My thinking these days is his daddy died of a heart attack. Nobody told me back in the day. Did somebody say a car accident? Many people say car accidents. I had another friend without a father. He said his doctor died in a car accident. His mother died of heart diseased about 20 years ago. Mark too, had a dead daddy, but Mark’s daddy was a fighter pilot. Something, huh? Yet, I never heard much about him except that he gave Markie the Simon and Garfunkel album, Scarborough Fair, when Markie was 14 or so. I think Markie would have been 12 when that record came out, but NEVER MIND. These guys, Craig, his little brother whose name was Scot and Markie got social security checks. They lived in a townhouse apartment and they liked drugs. Drugs were big back then. I had taken acid. Although there was a lot of energy to it I didn’t see anything. I had no hallucinations. It was just one small pill I took. Scot was famous as being the coolest tripper. Craig though was lots of fun when he was on a trip. Rolan liked to trip too, but to me the King of Trippers was Markie. He bragged how he took 4 HITS OF CLEARLIGHT on night. That was Markie’s first year at school, when he moved his Jewish art student in, although she continued to keep a dorm room. She had to tell her momma who was a small minded woman that she was not lving with any boy. She went so far as to say that she was still a virgin and of course, like so many at the University of Florida, she didn’t take drugs.

Markie had “partied” with us before. When he and Scot were still in high school they visited Craigs apartment. I had moved in with my friend Jack for the summer. My father protested the high rent of 1/4 of an apartment. I didn’t know fancy terms like “Townhouse” in those days. It wouldn’t have made any difference to my father. If it had been half of what it was it would have been too much. He was always in the way of true success. He liked the image of success, like “he sent me to college,” but he didn’t like, “Eddie graduated college and is making a good living now.” Of course dad never felt that he stopped me from succeeding at all. That was just my opinion, although to be honest I was only dimly aware I had that opinion. I reall y thought I was responsible for my own failure. He had persuaded me I guess and there were few who were going to defend me, unless it was Jack or Craig or Rolan and yes, of course the two new boys.

Next to us at the townhouse apartment in Gainesville were 2 fellows from North Carolina who were dealers. They had a constant supply of pot and it was good. They let us smoke at their place quite often. They were good fellows to me. I hate to use the terms good old boys that often refers to southern men or good fellas which suggests a criminal syndicate. I liked them but I couldn’t afford to live the life they were living. I did try to sell a pound of pot I bought from them. It scared the hell out of me having the thing in my car. It became a hot potato but that’s another story. Some reds had come into town. In those days reds were a down called seconal. I was happy that in that year when George McGovern was running for President the radio station announces the drugs that were known to be in town. There was also a place where drugs could be tested for their purity, to see if you had something that was too strong to take or maybe just poisoned. Markie just had a ball in those days, at 17. He shot up the seconal. He took a shot in each arm and then slept all day. Oh, it was WILD! Another time that summer he bonded with the guys from Carolina, at least one of them, the one that wasn’t so pretty as the other, doing MDA. That needed to be shot up, too.

I didn’t shoot drugs.

So, you see the differences beginning.

I lost a guitar that summer. It wasn’t the stealing of the guitar that got me ultimately but the fact that I thought I had to learn the instrument. I was conforming. I was becoming what the crowd wanted. The guitar cost my mom $90. I felt like that was how much all the dope the Carolina boys had let me smoke. It was rumored that one of them who was pleasuring himself with heroin had stolen. Obviously, my fear of drug addiction had been picked up and was quickly being used.

That was ’72. The end came in ’77. In between was Zeppelin,the Allman Brothers, Bowie, etc, lies about the girlfriend, cheating, Yes, Dylan (my age it means less) and Billy Joel. He was a record collector with great ambitions. Denied I’m sure, somehow he wanted to call the shots. What music was played, how good it was, who was In, who was out, who was a homo and who wasn’t a cool dude. And sometimes a weapon here and there for his self-defense.

Entry for March 21, 2009

I hate my brother John.

He’s EVIL!

He HIDES BEHIND ARGUMENT!

He’s very devious.

His image is the most important thing to him.

Does he ever have sex?

Entry for March 20, 2009

I found a lot of girl friends over at Mate1.com.

They are all young, but they appear to mostly be from far away. The oldest so far is 42.

I don’t really know the significance of our ages.

Entry for March 11, 2009

I finally found that cheese – in the drawer where I keep the big spoons and things.

I’m spending a lot of time over a Facebook, if you happen to follow me here.

I read in a free local paper, The Lake Area Monitor, of how the stimulus package may help our area. The key point was in home sales and purchases. An $8,000 incentive for those buying a home they intend to live in as their primary residence. Seems to be just for married people though which would appear to discriminate against gays and unmarried couples.

I heard Nancy Pelosi speaking about another stimulus package and that’s okay with me. Oh, boy, I sure do I hope I come away with a job from all of this!