So I just found out a friend died in a "terrible" motorcycle "accident". The news spread fast out of Texas all the way to California and beyond, probably all in the same hour, aka "Rick" (this was his alias) dropped his Harley Davidson on some God forsaken road in Texas. He was a member of a biker club and was on some cross-country rally, so he was with other members when he died on the pavement, the wreck was pretty horrible but at least he was with his "brothers".
A lot of folks knew Rick, though most of them really didn't "like" him, half were, well, sort of scared of him - but everyone "respected" (is that the word?) him, or would be his "acquaintance" - how do I explain? - let's say they would sit in the same room with him for an extended period of time, no problem.
He was a Texan. His voice was crackly and baritone. The crackly part probably came from drinking whiskey. He was big and strong. And had a beard. He was classic biker, red, white and blue. Sometimes the club would fly the Old Glory from their Harleys and stuff like that when they would "go out". But these days, well I'm 60 so he would be about 60 - I never asked - probably he was slowing down. But he was always going on those "rallies" (rallys, cross-country) and, well, a lot of times when someone I know dies, it's like, I almost start laughing.
The reason is... well, let me explain it this way. At the time I just found out tonight that Rick is dead, it came by email from "J". I happened to be with a Pakistani Muslim friend at the time. I say friend, even though the Paki knows I rag on Pakistani Muslims all the time, but the guy loves me and always brings me snacks, and pays for things for me. So he is my friend. However, all my life people have been spending their money on me, like half my world travels I never had to pay for, someone else did, I have no idea how this phenomenon works but I guess people like me or something, but keep in mind I have always been surrounded by misfits in addition to regular people.
So back to Rick, as soon as I find out he is dead, I say to "Z" my Paki Muslim friend, "Hey Z! Did you know Rick (Tex) is dead? Hey "Z"!... Z already knew, he got the email, too, on his Apple phone. Paki's always have Apples, folks like me have Androids. He also drives a white Mercedes - personally, I want a Tesla. But Paki's in the USA always drive white Mercedes as soon as they can buy one and have a matching Apple phone which they are always yapping on in Urdu. So Z already knew, and ...
... and, then we look at each other, sort of cock the head then scan the sky with the eyeballs, and then looking at each other dead pan, we almost start laughing.
Why?
Well, it is like this. It is like, everyone knew it was "sooner or later", or better said, "yeah... uh, who would've guessed?". I mean, it is sort of an "unexpected" moment - stunning - yet, like, expected. Rick dead? Who would have guessed?
Get it?
Then you have to hold back from giggling or something. But you don't dare, because there were others around you.
Like "P". Here was there, too, with me and "Z". So "P" is one of those "Mighty Christians". He's Mister Jesus Man. "Blondey" - with a strong body, but sort of just slightly, slightly, retarted or something - well not retarted, but like he has this brain connectors that just sort of "stop" for a second then fire again, sputters. He talks with something close to a studder, like a sentence goes for 2 seconds, stops, goes 4 second, kuk, then pause, goes, kuk, then completes. Waits, looks, like as if to say "I have finished... now respond". So he is a Christian like nobody's business. Nice guy, but he could kill you if he had to. He's always going off on some Churchy thing to help starving kids in Guatemala. He also has bake sales for his church. So we held back our laughs, because Mr. Jesus who also knew Rick might get mad.
That was the oddest moment of all.
Because the first thing "P" says when "Z" then tries to not laugh and asks "P", did you know Rick is dead? So "P" says, "y... yeah. E, we had, pause, BUTT HEADS A FEW TIMES".
I guess "P" the Christian didn't like Rick. But it just seemed bizarre. Then "P" says, "he. Died in a motorcycle accident." Like, "who would've guessed?". But being a Christian, I guess "P" didn't act like he was trying not to laugh. In fact, we could sense he didn't think anything was funny at all. Then he whispered something to the Muslim, but not to me. Hmmm...
"P" was never afraid of Rick. Neither was I. I am not afraid of anyone. But that is because I am both simple, complex, and a bit insane. I just always accepted Rick for what he was. That's just me. I just go on adventures, sometimes you have to have a crew, sailors, shipmates, to sail the seas. Some are captains, some are pirates, some are priests, some are scallawags, some are drunks, some are misfits, some are Mr. Hook, some are Peter Pan and so on.
Raise the flag. Up the anchor.
The word kept spreading, Rick is dead. My first thought was, I wonder if "O" knows?
"O" is a big black friend of mine from Nigeria. Nice person, a gentle big heart, though he is strong as a bull, a giant, but good heart. I remember when he broke down and started crying when Michael Jackson died.
"They killed Micheal Jackson, (my name)! Micheal is ... gone!" (tears coming down his face, which he refused to wipe away).
"Stop O! Who killed him?!?"
"Dey... they... killed him!" cried O.
Never found out who "they" was.
So I was thinking of "O", who knew Rick REAL good. Because, well, Rick was a racist. Rick was always vicious (in words and attitude) to O. But no problem, O would give it right back to Rick. O would just brush Rick off like dandruff on his black nylon, size XXX shirt. Anyway, Rick would never dare tangle with O because O could tear 3 men apart if he wanted to. So words were always sort of, put aside, in time and the two... got... along... just... fine.
So I haven't heard from O yet, but I know he knows, and that he started to laugh. It would start slow... then go long and deep and long. "So. Rick is dead! ... huh... ha. ha, haa, haaa! haaa! Eeee." Then later he would feel bad. I mean, even O "liked" Rick. Or something. More so, now that he is dead. After all, he was on the ship.
So why am I telling you all this? As the word spreads, Rick is dead?
Well, I am sort of noticing a lot of people are dying all around me. I am 60 now. And, I just wanted to let you all know that you are going to die.
So you better get started doing whatever you are going to do before you are dead. Me, I've been lucky, doing stuff. But maybe some of you sit around thinking, "I will do stuff when I retire". But I am about to retire, but it might get more tuff to do stuff. So don't wait. Also, if you are a misfit, what to say? I just noticed the misfits are usually dead first. More so than the "non-misfits". But you non's are going to die, too. Usually you hang in there longer. A lot of misfits died young that I knew. Or they crash up at 60 if they are tuff. The tuff one's can make it often to 60. Whatever, just do something.
Just do something. The best stage is a conflict between defenders of the status quo and their marginalized opponents. That is the norm, also. Doing something is always a wider venue for life's theatrical artistry. But never be too committed to highbrow conceptions of life's theater to do little justice to the vision. Rick has decompartmentalized his brain all over some road in Texas, but before that he did do something, part of this time here is to decompartmentalize the theory and aesthetics involved. Sensationalism can exist on a etheral plane. Nothing wrong with sensationalism, fyi. Humankind has entered a period of rapid change, but it is helped also by non-humans. Living independently of "the system," you still might consider a pirate ship of sorts, and a crew. To become active participants, not passive "star-gazers", and then when you are dead the "email" will go out. From Texas to California, to Beyond. Maybe you will meet folks of other tropics. My brother once met Sonny Barger. I meet Ronald Reagan. Who knows?
So here's a song for you, Rick.
Oh, the strange part.
Last night I was in a Lucky grocery store. My cart had more than 15 items, but the only line to the register was the "15 Items or Less" line.
So the line was long, too, I had no choice but to get in that line. It moved. I was soon next, just behind the guy in front with a kid, and the gal paying who couldn't remember her pin number.
I could feel someone come up from behind. As the guy's hand touched my shoulder, I could smell the vodka on his breath.
He said, "I could be nice if you let me go first". But I refused to even turn and look at him. He took his hand off, then joked with the lady at the register, his words a bit slurred, "So hows your day, or should I say night?" (a laugh as I put my stuff on the "rubber thing" that pulls my items forward (the "belt"). The guy grabs one of those rubber "dividers" that separate one person's set of items from the next, puts it behind my items, then puts down a bottle of red wine. I am reading my ATM card into the register, "do you want a bag?"... yes, I say.
Then I start to leave, I look back at Mr. Vodka.
Damn, I know that guy. Is that Rick?
A lot of folks knew Rick, though most of them really didn't "like" him, half were, well, sort of scared of him - but everyone "respected" (is that the word?) him, or would be his "acquaintance" - how do I explain? - let's say they would sit in the same room with him for an extended period of time, no problem.
He was a Texan. His voice was crackly and baritone. The crackly part probably came from drinking whiskey. He was big and strong. And had a beard. He was classic biker, red, white and blue. Sometimes the club would fly the Old Glory from their Harleys and stuff like that when they would "go out". But these days, well I'm 60 so he would be about 60 - I never asked - probably he was slowing down. But he was always going on those "rallies" (rallys, cross-country) and, well, a lot of times when someone I know dies, it's like, I almost start laughing.
The reason is... well, let me explain it this way. At the time I just found out tonight that Rick is dead, it came by email from "J". I happened to be with a Pakistani Muslim friend at the time. I say friend, even though the Paki knows I rag on Pakistani Muslims all the time, but the guy loves me and always brings me snacks, and pays for things for me. So he is my friend. However, all my life people have been spending their money on me, like half my world travels I never had to pay for, someone else did, I have no idea how this phenomenon works but I guess people like me or something, but keep in mind I have always been surrounded by misfits in addition to regular people.
So back to Rick, as soon as I find out he is dead, I say to "Z" my Paki Muslim friend, "Hey Z! Did you know Rick (Tex) is dead? Hey "Z"!... Z already knew, he got the email, too, on his Apple phone. Paki's always have Apples, folks like me have Androids. He also drives a white Mercedes - personally, I want a Tesla. But Paki's in the USA always drive white Mercedes as soon as they can buy one and have a matching Apple phone which they are always yapping on in Urdu. So Z already knew, and ...
... and, then we look at each other, sort of cock the head then scan the sky with the eyeballs, and then looking at each other dead pan, we almost start laughing.
Why?
Well, it is like this. It is like, everyone knew it was "sooner or later", or better said, "yeah... uh, who would've guessed?". I mean, it is sort of an "unexpected" moment - stunning - yet, like, expected. Rick dead? Who would have guessed?
Get it?
Then you have to hold back from giggling or something. But you don't dare, because there were others around you.
Like "P". Here was there, too, with me and "Z". So "P" is one of those "Mighty Christians". He's Mister Jesus Man. "Blondey" - with a strong body, but sort of just slightly, slightly, retarted or something - well not retarted, but like he has this brain connectors that just sort of "stop" for a second then fire again, sputters. He talks with something close to a studder, like a sentence goes for 2 seconds, stops, goes 4 second, kuk, then pause, goes, kuk, then completes. Waits, looks, like as if to say "I have finished... now respond". So he is a Christian like nobody's business. Nice guy, but he could kill you if he had to. He's always going off on some Churchy thing to help starving kids in Guatemala. He also has bake sales for his church. So we held back our laughs, because Mr. Jesus who also knew Rick might get mad.
That was the oddest moment of all.
Because the first thing "P" says when "Z" then tries to not laugh and asks "P", did you know Rick is dead? So "P" says, "y... yeah. E, we had, pause, BUTT HEADS A FEW TIMES".
I guess "P" the Christian didn't like Rick. But it just seemed bizarre. Then "P" says, "he. Died in a motorcycle accident." Like, "who would've guessed?". But being a Christian, I guess "P" didn't act like he was trying not to laugh. In fact, we could sense he didn't think anything was funny at all. Then he whispered something to the Muslim, but not to me. Hmmm...
"P" was never afraid of Rick. Neither was I. I am not afraid of anyone. But that is because I am both simple, complex, and a bit insane. I just always accepted Rick for what he was. That's just me. I just go on adventures, sometimes you have to have a crew, sailors, shipmates, to sail the seas. Some are captains, some are pirates, some are priests, some are scallawags, some are drunks, some are misfits, some are Mr. Hook, some are Peter Pan and so on.
Raise the flag. Up the anchor.
The word kept spreading, Rick is dead. My first thought was, I wonder if "O" knows?
"O" is a big black friend of mine from Nigeria. Nice person, a gentle big heart, though he is strong as a bull, a giant, but good heart. I remember when he broke down and started crying when Michael Jackson died.
"They killed Micheal Jackson, (my name)! Micheal is ... gone!" (tears coming down his face, which he refused to wipe away).
"Stop O! Who killed him?!?"
"Dey... they... killed him!" cried O.
Never found out who "they" was.
So I was thinking of "O", who knew Rick REAL good. Because, well, Rick was a racist. Rick was always vicious (in words and attitude) to O. But no problem, O would give it right back to Rick. O would just brush Rick off like dandruff on his black nylon, size XXX shirt. Anyway, Rick would never dare tangle with O because O could tear 3 men apart if he wanted to. So words were always sort of, put aside, in time and the two... got... along... just... fine.
So I haven't heard from O yet, but I know he knows, and that he started to laugh. It would start slow... then go long and deep and long. "So. Rick is dead! ... huh... ha. ha, haa, haaa! haaa! Eeee." Then later he would feel bad. I mean, even O "liked" Rick. Or something. More so, now that he is dead. After all, he was on the ship.
So why am I telling you all this? As the word spreads, Rick is dead?
Well, I am sort of noticing a lot of people are dying all around me. I am 60 now. And, I just wanted to let you all know that you are going to die.
So you better get started doing whatever you are going to do before you are dead. Me, I've been lucky, doing stuff. But maybe some of you sit around thinking, "I will do stuff when I retire". But I am about to retire, but it might get more tuff to do stuff. So don't wait. Also, if you are a misfit, what to say? I just noticed the misfits are usually dead first. More so than the "non-misfits". But you non's are going to die, too. Usually you hang in there longer. A lot of misfits died young that I knew. Or they crash up at 60 if they are tuff. The tuff one's can make it often to 60. Whatever, just do something.
Just do something. The best stage is a conflict between defenders of the status quo and their marginalized opponents. That is the norm, also. Doing something is always a wider venue for life's theatrical artistry. But never be too committed to highbrow conceptions of life's theater to do little justice to the vision. Rick has decompartmentalized his brain all over some road in Texas, but before that he did do something, part of this time here is to decompartmentalize the theory and aesthetics involved. Sensationalism can exist on a etheral plane. Nothing wrong with sensationalism, fyi. Humankind has entered a period of rapid change, but it is helped also by non-humans. Living independently of "the system," you still might consider a pirate ship of sorts, and a crew. To become active participants, not passive "star-gazers", and then when you are dead the "email" will go out. From Texas to California, to Beyond. Maybe you will meet folks of other tropics. My brother once met Sonny Barger. I meet Ronald Reagan. Who knows?
So here's a song for you, Rick.
Oh, the strange part.
Last night I was in a Lucky grocery store. My cart had more than 15 items, but the only line to the register was the "15 Items or Less" line.
So the line was long, too, I had no choice but to get in that line. It moved. I was soon next, just behind the guy in front with a kid, and the gal paying who couldn't remember her pin number.
I could feel someone come up from behind. As the guy's hand touched my shoulder, I could smell the vodka on his breath.
He said, "I could be nice if you let me go first". But I refused to even turn and look at him. He took his hand off, then joked with the lady at the register, his words a bit slurred, "So hows your day, or should I say night?" (a laugh as I put my stuff on the "rubber thing" that pulls my items forward (the "belt"). The guy grabs one of those rubber "dividers" that separate one person's set of items from the next, puts it behind my items, then puts down a bottle of red wine. I am reading my ATM card into the register, "do you want a bag?"... yes, I say.
Then I start to leave, I look back at Mr. Vodka.
Damn, I know that guy. Is that Rick?
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