He knows not that he is royalty. We know not what this form of royalty means.

This is the beginning of the pursuit for his truth:

By the four opposing coigns
Which the world together joins,
Is made with all due diligence
That horse and sail and high expense
Can stead the quest. //
The mutiny he there hastes t’ oppress; //
Come not home in twice six moons,
He, obedient to their dooms,
Will take the crown. The sum of this,
Y-ravished the regions round,
And every one with claps can sound,
‘Our heir-apparent is a king!
Who dream’d, who thought of such a thing?’

And here’s how the story goes…

How did we get here?

-We have backtracked, hit 1969 into 1970 and now in 1971 Thelonius drives across the middle of the country and something he finds there sets the stage for what is happening right now.

This confederate flag, he is listening to “California” from “Blue” and leaving the ER NYC woman (and his Gena Rowlands, Jackie O mother, with her lies about his progenitors to protect him) and heading towards Heather (leaving Susan? Janet? Cam??) in between the Haight and Sunset Strip, she’s a mix of Joni maybe but not as crazy coz he’s fringe, she’ll end up working a record label, marrying well not becoming recluse crazy artist (Joni), ride the rails downtown and back (Rickie) or elsewhere scatter, single mom or somehow having tragedy earn our stripes, carry our song, there’s truth in it, but it’s never what you thought it would be — when you were young looking old, now that you’re older looking back and thinking on — no more time to waste, cut to the chase, how did this madness foment, who are the people who walk the earth now controlling our pain and suffering, allowing us to survive, thrive, serve, attract, renew, vampires and werewolves, basically. Now, it’s all just zombie this and zombie that.

this related to the zombies running gov’t and getting all moral about sodomy — and not being practical and certainly not being men and women of the faith the profess to be in defense of and actually completely and utterly defy the principles of–why is that? How are we. they, all of us so blind?

The red moon (sun eclipse last night this morning which I could have seen because I didn’t sleep a wink) seems to be inspiring an extended focal length of time to consider and there are two pieces about Indiana that I don’t feel like reading I’d rather try to find planets and go through butterfly photographs; those seem to be the far more productive use of my brainpower, unknown remaining time left on earth, priorities and jam (not my jam, doll face–huh? do i have a jam? it’s tool meets miles meets the pretenders/police/pink floyd meets stan getz meets Don Draper all day every day for the next 7 weeks would be awesome if I could write that winning some-thin somethin script (is it a pilot? is it pilot and finale? I wish I could hire a team of 4-5 experienced writers and start shipping out stories that they can show me how to write, efficiently without too much angst, but when I told the agent who supposedly was so impressed by my unique and authentic talent this, she seemed overwhelmed by what to me is just another uber-out=of=-the-box-paradigm-shape-shifting line of logic from a genius brain. So Mick Jagger (who’s been getting a lot of shitty social media fuckstick press showing him in particularly unflattering expressions promoting the ‘ugly’ factor of rock stars with big mister ya-yas out — teaming up with Scorsese to collective unconscious my show right out from under me–not really coz I can now leave NYC freely leave Mick Studio 54 and take Keith west to Laurel Canyon with Gram Parsons and Hunter S. Thompson and topical writers and beat poets ending and whatever Burroughs the endless junky was up to at the time in Tangiers.

1970 spring this time of year or later he drives to UCLA maybe (not USC I don’t think) for spring break with Rebecca (biblical and uptight bulimic in the social making, she will have some sort of 1970s meltdown, and he will meet Heather as a result of this–still gotta figure out mother, she’s part Ghani in Harlem, and part those record-listening women in Jimi Hendrix’s bio – the yin and the yang, that will get full story coverage–5 women surround him his mother, the ER doc best friend should have loved would have married if they’d been a generation earlier–i want to play with that fragility, that tear in the fabric of space between time and the gestalt of the zeitgeist — the subtleties — each should have driving social historical contextual event (gas crisis, Shah of Iran, Detroit cars, big movies, pop culture, launch with ‘tell’ of a brash Hunter S — maybe hell’s angels time — backstory to sons of anarchy and breaking bad–borrow those writers and actors. Oh I have a subliminal plan.

And who could turn down Don Draper, Jack/Sawyer, Russell Crow/Christian Bale both in 3:10 to Yuma but not for those roles instead Gladiator and exodus body I suppose, can’t recall the one where not emaciated or brooding bat boy.

The other article evades me and I want to read about running out of water instead.

On law and intolerance and why Indiana is just wasting our time

I didn’t like them much, but I didn’t doubt their sincerity.


SHE THINKS: I can’t believe you think that I fucking care.

After all that you have done, not done and are right now not growing up a child not a man.




we open with where she was but don’t stay there
she writes her way
into her future

“Harry’s Bar”

SC 2

[cannot spew forth fast enough before she he it is gone lickety split]

Murky view.

Suddenly askew.

CU his face


A girl, probably that French girl whose father Guillaume is some poet-prime minister patron saint (he is torn between her vespa living life and Heather, who wants to become a pediatrician but will stay in the ER forever and end up dying of HIV from blood transfusion, long story, but I think 2 of his women have to end tragically, bear with me, it’s going to be a good story…happy endings…and all…sometimes.

The important thing is that there is a third. Hope, promise, the die-hard heart of a romantic who bleeds petal tattoos sweats booze flavored ink and is almost shy of redemption.

She will be slightly modeled after my Great-Grandmother Gani who taught in and lived in Harlem in the teens or roaring twenties, who knows, it’s all so nostalgic and exciting! Like front row seats on the deck of the Titanic!!!

Sending out Smoke Signals to John Smith who has left our heroine Pocahontas for some blue blood Pilgrim migrating pastor daddy dictator there’s definitely something going on there.


bridge [NOT ADEQUATELY DEFINED BTW IN THE POCKET GUIDE TO MUSIC TERMS, HIGHLY DISAPPOINTED AS I THOUGHT I WOULD FINALLY SEE A DEFINITION OF SOMETHING I CAN’T EXPLAIN BUT SOMEHOW UNDERSTAND. Then, as usual, he begins to second guess himself. It was a trait he picked up from his mother, who was always and forever in love with his father although she would never speak his name.

It was the King not knowing he’s a King rather than the Bastard being the king reversal we have seen in recent best tv shows like mad men, game of thrones and breaking bad (the son of a whore, a bastard and a school teacher/2nd job at car wash beaten down man ends up killing all the bad guys…).

I mean, it’s not that we want to live like any of these poor men, with their satiated livers and arrow-through-the-heart lovers and just one fucking bad thing after the next for Walter White, who I for some reason see differently than most. But I have a dark side that I channel into creative mode and that character fulfills an appreciation of mine which is he personifies a very verboten, subversive and untold American story — much like Sons of Anarchy which I need to watch more of but sometimes felt too cardboard cut out to me I am sorry I said it don’t hate me I love the guy he’s a hottie when is his contract up?!


This was one scene that really is just character sorting itself out based off the screen saver of my camera roll (which occasionally horrifies me) with a shot of THE ARGENTINIAN PAPERS or Argentinian

So many wonderful thoughts to consider…kicks of south america chile–allende…could work. beirut…libya perhaps south africa

these things

these stories

that are not
what everyone


Urban Eden

a network of services where people work to make a better place to live

There is enough expertise to make our living conditions just a little better, year by year, day by day, if we apply some basic principles of ‘first do no harm,’ care for every creature as you would care for your own. no one should be left behind, to find refuge under an THE EDGE OF AN AWNING, TO SET UP A TENT ON THE SIDEWALK, to beg for change TO EAT, to lose their home because landlords don’t have to fix a hole in the ceiling where black mold creeps in and nearly kills the human INHABITANTS during El Nina & El Nino, take your pick.

re-institute  The Whole Earth Catalogue

The Whole Earth Catalogue was a giant newsprint book that lived on the bookshelf right alongside Foxfire books I NEVER READ, some quasi-science, neo-hippie experiment on how to live in the woods. WHILE LIVING THE TRUE STORY OF how one family could keep from destroying each other in the isolation of a 22-acre ‘alternative’ preserve for all kinds of birds and many other creatures that crossed our path, injured, or in need of recovery and re-entry back into the wild.

Too much of our property wealth is now owned by arch-enemies who want nothing more than to see us sink; we represent nothing they want, only merchandise to be thrown away, with a shelf life that doesn’t justify the production that went it to making one more non-essential item.


The roof top garden maintained by schools 

we are supposed to look out for the younger generations, not just hand them things and money to buy things, but teach them how to care for all LIFE, AS WE FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT AGAINST ALL THOSE WHO SEEK TO DESTROY IT.


Urban Eden Windowboxes attract butterflies and hummingbirds to apartment buildings in the city

design-friendly compost buckets that contribute to the compost used in and around the flower beds and gardens that will proliferate a healthy city.


Yes, it’s about farming and yes it’s about water rights. I happen to know a lot about these things, which might surprise you.


Why it won’t work, already accounted for

It’s not a utopia because that is a dream world that doesn’t exist, largely because mankind’s notion of perfection is not perfect at all, having everything controlled, running smoothly — for what  and according to whom?

working off court dates and have no free time between work, whatever their day off is, and those who would ban all good ideas, we have a plan that you could never have imagined.


It is not naive. It is not anti-profit-driven. It is smarter and more efficient and more cost-effective, precisely because it’s something that you, the keepers of the dread, the promoters of pain and misery for all but yourself, have never thought of.


There will be a crowdfund raiser coming soon to a theater in the back of a truck near you: