This one of those writings that come with great difficulty because I am writing about my self. The self that I have kept low for a long time but it is time to explain a few things to you. I am not afraid of people, I just am not a believer in them, they lie too fuckin much and their morals are shot to shit. I am not afraid of you because I understand you, I am not afraid of anyone in your past because I can see them where they can not see me, and I am not afraid to die.
You see, during my teens I began to look for myself, as most do at that age, but it was in the late 60’s and there was a lot to look through. I looked into Judaism, Buddhism, meditation, eastern philosophies, and had outer body experiences. I looked into the dark side of witchcraft, went as far as reading into the Satanic Bible, I dabbled, experimented, and was smart enough to get out before I made any great deals, any of those that I did make have already been filled. I shut that side of me down tightly, to never reopen again. But, I do have the ability to read things well, just as I can smell a bad piece of meat, I can see where others can’t, if I allow myself to do so.
I have ridden with the Hells Angels, been a junkie, a coke freak, and alcoholic, all during my teens. I never tried suicide, but yet I did, story to be told soon…
I have been driving cars since I was 12, stole a car and ran away from home only to end up in jail in Salem County Illinois with an old man that beat the shit out of his daughter because she wanted him to stop drinking, and a teenage murder, killed three people, and the person I stole the car with and… we had a cat in the car with us that the guards would let me out to feed everyday.
I have died twice, and been welcomed back, each time with the same mission, to help as many people as I can before I die. I have spoken with God, I believe in reincarnation, and have seen some of my past lives, and met some people from them. I have serious health issues that are from my formation in the womb and I have not given in to them, I have been able to do almost everything I have ever wanted to do and made a life for myself that others would envy if I let them know what I have done and where I been.
I love, love, being loved, sharing love, even the smell of love. I have been described as a “romantic”
and I accept that description with open arms. I need to be loved more than I need anything else in this world and I have just found it again… ty
I am an artist, educator, really bad poet, I like to travel, favorites so far are NYC, Montreal, Paris. I love Vermont, upstate NY, and the Caribbean. I have lived in New Jersey, New York, California, Vermont and Massachusetts. I’ve driven across this country 4 times, each one is a wonderful experience. Did you know that there are X rated drive in theaters in Texas? Neither did I… I eat almost everything, leave brains off of my plate please, I love to cook, garden, not as much these days, but when I am happy I love it.
I have worked as a cook, dishwasher, gas pump jockey, waiter, roofer, kitchen degreaser, parking lot attendant, shoe salesman, drummer, electronic technician, audio/video maintenance engineer, recording engineer, record producer, fireman, road manager, a booking agent, and a teacher in a college (present). I have taken part in the constructing of recording studios, video studios, and sound stages, wired entire facilities, repaired and rebuilt them too.
One of my earliest memories was with a box of cereal, a door, and a crayon. I was drawing the letter G from the cereal box all over the kitchen door with my crayon and my mother freaked, she thought I was a friggin’ genius for being able to write the letter G. They finally figured out I was copying it but it was interesting none the less.
In the summer of `69 I was 14 and my parents sent me away to a camp in upstate NY. It was a “Jewish” camp and I remember that on the first day there the “counselors” were giving their speech about the place, you know where your bunks are, whats in store for you at the camp, where the shitters are, bla, bla, bla, and at one point during the speech they said “and let me warn you about trying to leave this camp, there are a lot of Nazi’s out there and they will kill you before you have a chance to get back to the campground, so DO NOT LEAVE THE CAMPGROUND without having a supervisor with you to protect you.” I mean really, its 1969, everyone of the campers has balls, street smarts if you will, we have all been getting high for years already, do you really think we believe there are fuckin Nazis out there… That may have worked at one time, but not any longer. I was doing the camp thing, running, swimming, cleaning, chasing the girls, getting high and one day I was bringing in a row boat that I had, I rowed it in as far as I could and jumped out to start hauling it in when I felt something on my foot. I got to shore and looked down and there was a piece of a broken bottle stuck in my foot. I got help to the nurses office, they cleaned and bandaged me up and I hobbled out of there to go to dinner. I was no longer to play camp games since I only had 1 foot to run on so… after a couple of days like this I got bored, got two of my friends together and split the camp.
On our way off the property we did see swastikas on trees, and some mounted boards but once we got to the road all was beautiful. There were rolling hills, green grasses and the air smelled so clear, not like in the camp. So we walked for a while and then started to hitch hike got a ride to a cross roads where we took a left and the driver went straight. We walked for a while, me hobbling, and we saw this tractor come slowly down the road, the closer it got the freaker it got. It pulled up along side of us, the driver had long hair, a cowboy hat, overalls, and said Hi in a way that you really didn’t know what he said. We figured out that he said his name was Wavy Gravy and invited us on to go to the farm.
We all got on and down the road we went, it took a while but we did finally pull off the road and down a hill and then we saw it… a stage was being built on this farm in the middle of a field. We all jumped off the tractor and met everyone, names I can not recall now. We stayed the first night, partied, ate well, slept under the stars.. The next morning we got up and everyone started working on building the stage. We stayed there for three days working, partying, playing and then got a ride back close to the camp. When we got their our parents were there, the cops were there, and we got kicked out of the camp and parents took us all home.
Within the next month I started hearing about this concert that was about to take place in NY a three day show to be known as Woodstock. I got tickets as soon as I could and prepared myself to go. Well, on the Thursday I was going to leave I got up in the morning, went downstairs and sat down with a coffee. My mother came into the kitchen got her coffee, turned towards me and screamed “What the hell is wrong with you!?” as she dropped her coffee. I was like WHAT? She dragged me to a mirror and my glands were sticking out of the side of my head… I had the fuckin mumps! And I wasn’t going anywhere except to the Dr.
I got to listen to a lot of the show being broadcast over the radio and a couple of years later the movie came out. I went to see the movie and in the opening scene of the movie was Wavy Gravy and his tractor driving to the field where the stage was… yes, love… I got to help build Woodstock!