Kerouac’s Crap

There was a framed note from Jack Kerouac on the wall in which he apologized for taking a drunken dump on their floor

I didn’t blame him everything was so futuristic that I couldn’t find a toilet and peed in what I hoped was the sink

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From My (2)

from my (2)

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Cannibal Galaxy

1cannibalgalaxy

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Art and the Jade

Draper, Herbert James, 1864-1920; Art and the Jade

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fire wind water

00fww

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Coastline

coastlinewrap

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Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968 by Ryan H. Walsh

astral

This isn’t really a review, it’s more like a rave. I just finished Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968 by Ryan H. Walsh, and it’s already one of my favorite books of all time, the kind I buy multiple copies of to give to friends. Van Morrison’ album Astral Weeks is another of my favorite things in the world, a work that’s mysterious and elusive and one that I’ve always wanted to know more about, and Walsh delivers. But it’s even richer than that — I hadn’t realized that the album had it’s roots in Boston, and the narrative deftly unfolds to reveal a psychedelic panorama of that city in the pivotal year 1968, the time between The Summer of Love and Altamont. It contains so many of my interests that I started to think that it had been written for me, including the Velvet Underground (another unexpected Beantown connection), a weird cult and even the movie I consider the most undervalued of the sixties Zabriske Point. And so much more, as they say on television. My advice, in the parlance of the time, is DIG IT!

 

 

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Swim

swim

Her crystalline body
Both virtual and real
The key to unlocking
A hidden hemisphere
Sculpted from the
Dark matter of desire
The hand beneath her
Second hand sweater
Which tore the hose
Off legs cascading
Into half laced boots
Streaming skin
A filmy sheen
A watery glow
Illuminating the point
At which things
Get so heavy
They start
To swim

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from my

from my (1)

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Source Green

source green

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