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.