``We have now sunk to a depth at which restatement of the

                   obvious is the first duty of intelligent men.''

                                         -George Orwell

 

 A Little Road Lore

 

PAUL GOES TO PLEASANTVILLE

 

So there I was, on tour in the East

Made my way to Westchester County, NY

6 a.m. early mornin rise, as I do

drive up the road  

(as I tend to do when I wake up early on tour

...go aimlessly driving , hunting for the wild coffee house)

to...

Pleasantville (!) , this time

Find a coffee house coincidentally named “Dragonfly”

I’m sitting outside in the relative early morning cold

reading the New York Post (what else?...the Times?    ...pleeeeeze!!!...)

Page Six

I read, and I quote:

                                                MOON IN MIAMI
“The Green Bay Packers Najeh Davenport committed the foulest of fouls in a young coed’s dorm room closet, Miami police say. Cops claim Davenport broke into a Barry University dorm early April 1 and crept into one of the bedrooms. When the occupant was awakened by a strange noise, she found the 6-foot-2, 246-pound fullback squatting in her closet and defecating in her laundry basket. Davenport, whose lawyer maintained his innocence, could get 15 years in prison.”

 

Who-aaaaa ...

jesusmaryandjoseph!!!

I’m (we’re) surrounded by insane people

everywhere

I start lookin around the early a.m. street at the people walkin around

and I wonder...

‘what’s she do?’

‘what’s he thinkin of right now?’

 

but, back to my espresso

 

I’m sittin there, sippin’, smokin’ and reading

when a cop cruises slowly by in his  ... cruiser (what else?)

I figure he’s lending a benevolent eye to the SUV illegally parked by a suburban in front of the coffeehouse to go and get her mornin’ drug

leaving her baby in the car...!!

 

The cruiser cruises on and I’m back to my Post

A few minutes later the cruiser comes by again and stops right in front of me...

I hold out my hands to be cuffed

and smile..

“Aren’t you ... ???” the officer utters

“Shhhhh,” I respond ... “don’t tell anyone.”

“I saw you in Central Park when I was a kid,” he goes

“And you lived, apparently,” I answer. “Did you have a good time?” I ask

“Oh yeah.” he smiles. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Playin’ down the road at the Westchester Broadway Theater,” I say

 

Then, curiously, we get into a long discussion of life and politics and cops and music and government and pensions and rock stars and Catholic school where we both went...

“Y’know, I went to Catholic boarding school for, like, twelve or thirteen years, was an altar boy and everything...”
“Me, too,” he says

“And now, in light of the current church pedophile scandals, I’m gettin’ to wonderin’,

to maybe worrying...

In all my years in the Church, I was never once abused by any priest or brother...”
“Me, neither,’ He adds...

“Well maybe a few nuns and their rulers...”I append...and continue...

“And so I’m maybe gettin’ a bit of an inferiority complex here...

‘What was wrong with me?’ I ask

‘Was I ugly, awkward, too ungainly?’

Jeez...”

He laughs...

 

[One general life rule, though broken often by me:

Do Not Fuck with Nuns, Hell’s Angels or Cops”]

 

“Hillary lives right up the road,” he says. “And what an asshole! Makes us ferry her around in some big van the county had to buy just for her. Want to see her place?”

“Sure,” I say, ever the ‘good cop’ groupie

He the ‘rockstarstruck’ good cop

I don’t want to give his name out, as I’m pretty sure it was some kind of violation of something or other

 

Violation Sidebar:

...sort of like my eighth grade Christian Brothers teacher, Brother Gary, who gave us the Catholic Church’s condemned list of books and movies and said, “I’m sure there are some things on this list that you are going to want to look into as you get into high school and college.”

Thank dog for my Catholic, Christian Brothers  education

really quite an enlightened bunch, here in California at least

education through fear, though an implied and benevolent fear, and relatively easy to deal with if you had half a brain in your body

 

Anyway, this officer, he was an early mornin pleasure to talk to

and the ride was amusing

 

That’s what I really like about coffeehouses and bars

and the like

[I mean, I’m not really even that fond of espresso

and vodka is not really THAT good a drug

just a mild pleasant buzz, for a brief moment in time

I couldn’t imagine drinking it all day]

 

I’m just particularly fond of the human interactions that go on in such places

much akin to what is really valuable about churches and Masonic lodges and dancehalls and societies and clubs and all >>>

the people you can meet there

one of the most ‘civilized’ benefits of modern ‘civilization’

from my perspective, one of the true heights of civilization, if you will

It’s not political power

nor wealth

nor bigger bombs

nor more of this

nor more of that

just citizens conversing in the palazzo

coming up with IDEAS  !!!!!

 

 

So I get in the car and cruise Pleasantville with him for a while, talkin & watchin

As we get close to Hillary’s he gets a little cold feet and says, “Well, maybe we shouldn’t get too close. Get me in trouble if we cruise her unnecessarily.”

No big deal for me

I’m checking out his in-car computer and he gets a vandalism call

we go by some store where some teenagers had broken off a car aerial and other somesuch suburban crime wave

he tells the guy “well what d’ya expect...leavin’ the car out there all night for all to see”

... in Pleasantville, no less

and we drive on

he’s 51

I’m 61

he has the gray hair

mine only thinning so far pretty much

still the ‘blond godddddd’   ;- )

go figure

probably because my manager (Michael) takes so much of the heat

[Everybody should have a manager! Makes life so much more ... manageable]

 

Anyway back to my ‘tale’

 

I always get along with most good policemen for some reason

might be the glasses

or my Buddha-like equanimity (...right, Jorma?)

 

with a few exceptions

like Dallas, late sixties, where about ten 9-foot-tall policemen call me back up to the empty arena  after a show where I excoriated them publicly and on-stage during our show for not letting people dance and for being unnecessarily rough

“You guys were complete assholes.” I hurl out at them

“You’ll never work in this town again!” they inveigh

“Yeah, well who would ever want to work in this town again. Next time we’ll just play out in a field outside your pathetic city limits...What a bunch of assholes you were to those innocent people. Someone should say it to you...fuck you!!!”

 

I mean I shoulda been killed right then and there

again...the glasses? ‘You can’t hit a kid with glasses,’ I was always told in school

 

I always say, ‘If I had been born anywhere else but in San Francisco, I would a-been executed by now...’

 

or in New Orleans - same time period. We check into a Bourbon Street hotel and I’m carrying one of those SouthEastAsian, graduated panflute-windpipe type instruments

I’m holding it like a machine gun though, on my hip, as we check in

just to be arrogant, I imagine (as Darby Slick accused the Airplane of seeming, in his book  “poster boys for self-esteem” he railed)

 

Later the police check us out and come a knockin’

coincidentally we had been ‘abusing’ our nitrous oxide tank which we carried with us on the road in those halcyon days (it was relatively legal then), and even had it registered in it’s own room. I mean ... who wants a bunch of nitrous huffers in YOUR room late at night, hungering for ‘transport’ when you want to go to bed ...with whomever. So the tank had it’s own room and Bill, our road manager, had rigged an octopus of tubes from the regulator, each with a suicide switch that shut off when you lessened your grip on it, under the influence, as it were - just so people wouldn’t get querulous about THE tube...we had eight tubes - No Waiting!

In a fortunate bit of random timing, I had just exited the room by climbing out the window and up to the next story of the hotel, like Spiderman, up the filigreed artistic balcony metal work on the outside of the hotel. When the police broke in, looking for the machine gun, all they found was the tank, a little marijuana ( a major crime in New Orleans at that time) and Jack, ever the last one at the party in those days, if ya know what I mean, Irishman that he is.

So he gets busted and gets - guess who- for his defense lawyer in New Orleans...???

 

Jim Garrison!

 

This part of the story gets long and will be filled out some other day in my “Tales From The Mothership”

 

For now, suffice it to say that the judge in New Orleans wanted to sentence Jack to the maximum, which was pretty maximum in those days - 10 years or something.

Garrison waited until the judge was out of town on his vacation and then manipulated the New Orleans Parish legal machinery to get Jack into court on the quick and have the charges reduced to somehow virtually getting Jack off with probation.

I mean Jack was literally sitting by the phone in San Francisco for weeks just waiting for Garrison’s call, at which time he would hurriedly board a redeye to N.O. and hustle right into court

As they were exiting the courtroom after the legal goings-on, the judge who had belatedly heard of Garrison’s maneuvers and had rushed back to town to try and stop him and make Jack an ‘object lesson,’ came running up the courthouse hall screaming something to the effect of “Garrison, you asshole! What have you done to me now?!?!”

 

Jack was ‘saved’ once again

 

But back to MY story:

 

PAUL GOES INTO THE PIT OF HELL

So, on this last tour I get to ride in the police car

OOOOOH

AND also, when I did the Ground Zero show  at the Tribeca Blues bar - old bluesman that I am -  me and my son Alexander were treated to a ride in a NYFD fire engine ‘cause we were celebrating and hopefully helping with the return of life to the Tribeca area and supporting the firemen and police and medical people who gave so much at that horrible time

[the ride in the engine was a first for me]

We go down to the real Ground Zero at the World Trade Center site (another ‘violation’ of some sort, I’m sure)

down into the very pit

 

which I was a bit leery of at first

but it proved to be an enlightening and thought provoking ride

beyond mere words, at the moment

 

Freedom At Point Zero

“Rock & Roll isn’t over”

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

OK >>> to the next front

 

I’m seeking ideas from you

from far and near

 

I’m writing this song called, for the moment, “Teaching The Computers To Dream”

and the song seems to be going beyond its initial premise and becoming something else

[see current ‘state of the song’ text below]

nevertheless I’m seeking your thoughts on what we might be ‘teaching’ computers to do , be, act like

a hundred years from today

should we all survive the current insanities

 

 

 “TEACHING  THE  COMPUTERS  TO  DREAM”

 

 I  stood  on  the  Mountain

 

 COME  TO  THE  EDGE,    SHE SAID.

“I  AM  AFRAID,”      I  SAID.

 “COME  ANYWAY,”               SHE SAID.

 AND  I  DID.

 AND  SHE  PUSHED.

 AND  I  FLEW

I  DIDN’T  FALL  AS  I  EXPECTED  TO

THROUGH  THE  AIR...

THROUGH  ALL ___ THE  SKY.

 

 WE  FLEW !          

SHE  &  I

 

 

NOW  HEAR  THIS              NOW  HEAR  THIS

 

ON  THE  THRESHOLD  OF FIRE

AT  THE  DAWN  OF  THE  CENTURY

 

I  DARE  YOU  TO  CARE

I  DARE  YOU  TO  RISK  YOUR  LIFE

I  DARE  YOU  TO  BELIEVE  IN  ALL  THE  THINGS  THAT  YOU

LEARNED  IN  CHILDHOOD                     THAT  WERE

RIGHT

I  DARE  YOU  TO  BELIEVE

I  DARE  YOU  TO  CARE

 

and I’m

 

TEACHING  THE  COMPUTERS  TO  DREAM

TEACHING  THE  COMPUTERS  IMAGINATION

TEACHING MY COMPUTERS  TO  DREAM

TEACHING  OUR  COMPUTERS  TO  DREAM

 

           HERE’S _______ TO  THE  FUTURE

         HERE’S  TO LIFE  & OUR CHILDREN

        LIFT  A  GLASS  TO  TOMORROW

        HERE’S _______  TO  THE  FUTURE

 

Verse 2:

 

LIFE  &  LOVE

 

IT’S  LIKE  I’M  A  PARTISAN     BACK  IN  1943

PARACHUTING  INTO  NAZI  GERMANY

WITH  JUST  A  BOOK  &  A  GUN AND A RADIO  OO  OH OO 

OH  OO  OHH   OO....... [Piercing the Reich ... !!!]

 

ON  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  FIRE

AT  THE  DAWN  OF  THE  CENTURY

 

LET’S  GO ____ TWICE  AS  FAST

MAKE  IT  LAST  TWICE  AS  LONG

LET’S  BURN____  TWICE  AS  BRIGHT (LY)

SOUNDS  LIKE  A  LOVE  SONG

 

INTO  THE  OCEANIC  WEST

INTO  HOMERIC  ATMOSPHERES

 

IT’S  THEN   THAT  I  POSSESS  THE  SKY

BY  THE  DAWN’S  EARLY  LIGHT

 

 

TEACHING  THE  COMPUTERS  TO  DREAM

TEACHING  THE  COMPUTERS ORGANIC FRICTION

TEACHING  THE  COMPUTERS  TO  SCREAM  IN

MARY  MAGDALENE-LIKE ABANDON

 

          HERE’S _______ TO  THE  FUTURE

         HERE’S  TO LIFE  & OUR [ALL  OUR] CHILDREN

        LIFT  A  GLASS  TO  TOMORROW

        HERE’S _______  TO  THE  FUTURE

 

 

So, that’s the song as of now

What I want from you is your ideas of where computers will be/should be/could be in a hundred years

What will we be teaching them

What will they be teaching us

 

Will there be full frontal nudity

tho isn’t that getting a bit old, at least here in SF

 

“Friction makes sparks, sparks make fire

Fire makes heat and the heat will endure”

 

You know in the searching days of the sixties the one thing I liked about my brief infatuation with coke was ...

the friction

not the drug (eventually an I.Q. test - if you’re still doing it, you fail)

not the high (jangly, irritating, mouthy)

BUT THE FRICTION, the hit

the disturbance of elements (and nasal passages)

Let you know that you’re alive

give some indication of consciousness of ‘other’ as well as ‘self’

 

Many things get down to friction, don’t they

 

Nowadays I can be exhilarated simply by the fume of a Lucifer

 - the traditional wooden match

a hint of sulfur

of hell?...

 

hell spelled backwards is LLEH

(Lex Luthor’s Ecological Heaven?)

(Louie Louie’s Excellent Helper?)

 

I enjoy and savor the ‘hit’ on my physical body

or a simple shot of vodka

the Lauren Bacall method

straight up

no fruit

no vegetables

no umbrellas

right to the point

no waiting

 

Friction >>> fucking, backrubs, making love, kissing, stroking, beer, tobacco, cheddar cheese, crab and shellfish, honey, pineapple, salt, sugar, espresso, marijuana, vodka, et al., wind, sea, sun and air, rain, thunder and lightning, raging rivers and ocean waves

>>> All potentially toxic substances

and all the natural world,

the space-time motherfucking continuum

It’s a Savage Universe out there

 

LIFE!

 

“I want more life, Fucker,” ___ Roy to his maker, in Bladerunner, & Paul to God

 

tho, in reality, when I was laying, possibly dying, on at least two different hospital deathbeds

I was totally unfazed

and did enjoyably anticipate the ‘possibilities’

the voyage

the edge

the concept of the edge

the pale beyond the pale

 

Go figure

 

Vaya,

 

Paul

San Francisco Calling

Little Dragon Publishing © 2002

 

   ... more later

 

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