American Work Mule

I entered into the time machine not far from the lake at the base of the volcano’s where Salt Water Sharks swim that have adapted over the eons to the Fresh water… not all that far from the stone spheres…. the descendants of the people that now live here once fled to this region to escape the enslavement of their fellow man who was stacking blocks not so far away to build temples to appease an imagined blood thirsty God.. they decided in lieu of being indentured , better to run very fast and wound up instead on fertile ground where Papayas and Mango’s flourished and the Lake provided ample water for their drinking and provided creatures for them to eat…. and flourish Sans blood sacrifice …………

The fossil fuel ignited and carried me amongst the invisible molecules to another place where I stepped out onto the high Plateau…. where messages were left by earlier visitors up on the stone walls… and 95% of the faces here hold dissimilarity’s to mine… they see me through dark eyes……… I look back at them through my green ones and

many of them are perceived by me as having a physical beauty their long black hair falls strait down to the smalls of their backs.. so shiny and attractive I find myself wanting to reach out and touch it
is it real?

J.

Rat a tat tat… what is knocking at my door?… I pull my pants on open the door why its the night time security man at my hotel room puerta with a 9 MM strapped to his thigh at dawn… speaking nothing but perfect Spanish and rambling on something about a Tarjeta and a rental car.. I put on my flips flops and go down stairs bare chested.. imagine some one at the hotel neglected to put the parking authorization card issued by the hotel on their dash.. I explained to him It was not our car.. The one he was gesturing towards ,I did walk a couple of cars over to the vehicle Jefferies had rented and did a walk around it.. Thoughts flashed…
like lightening to the previous night and the …………………………………………………………………..

Happy Drunk that was in the flamboyant company of an attractive large breasted albeit a tad chubby prostitute I had seen with him the evening before .

I wandered around in the empty dining area in search of some coffee.. I look up and low and behold

WHAT DO I SEE?

WHO is coming down the staircase behind the guard wrapped in nothing but a towel and in bare feet, Why it was just whom I had suspected…the person that flashed through my mind a moment ago…Im a friggin psychic, of course it was Sir Lancelot.. it made perfect sense in some strange way… why had I thought of it? He walked in some obvious pain oohing and aweing across the sharp stones in the parking lot to access his vehicle and entered the car to dig out the card.. to present to the Guard… after showing the card to the Watchman.. he gives him a smile and a pat on the shoulder and hands him a Colone note and returned to his room , as good sport his paid sleeping sex princess inside…. led me to question,Wheres mine?

In my dream state I am riding on a vicious carousal it is spinning round and round and going up and down its in the shadow of a giant living breathing tree with bark similar to that of a Gumbo Limbo.. you can actually watch the tree expand and contract.

I find myself first running this way then that way looking for an escape but every where I run when I get there it is to high to jump so high as to be deadly .. after considerable running I found a survivable height to jump I do and land in the mud, to discover soldiers are now chasing me at a distance and now I must attempt to outsmart them to survive.

Meanwhile I am fishing on a murky shoreline with a giant dead driftwood tree nearby I am using a hand line known as Spanish or Cuban Yo Yo… I hook a behemoth the line is un spooling I wrap it around a branch to make a brake… It stops running then I think maybe I have hooked a root.. no it starts to run again… I have no gloves on Im soon to be cutting my hands.. I need gloves.

After much struggle I land the great animal and see the beast gasping for breath half on the shore half in the water… I yell to my mate run upstairs get the Boss a pillow and a .38….

Suddenly I am flooded with guilt at the thought of killing this protected species.

My pride stands in the way as I want others to see my great accomplishment of having landing this greatest of swimming beasts.

Then I awoke from this my above dream… went to the toilet and released Toxins. In retrospect perhaps I should have cut the line and released this great fish..

The girl that gave me the massage yesterday collected crystals and stones.. she told me once she put on a crystal that left a burn mark on her leading me to think maybe there is something to it.

J.

The Dust: Back in those days I worked for a man who had a roofing company and had a nifty deal going with his brother and a Cessna 310 with little muddy human foot prints on the wings near the fuel filler caps…. He was buying the Pub out near No Name.. and ran a roofing company.. which consisted of him climbing up the ladder on to the roof and looking at his watch making a sucking sound between his tongue and front teeth then saying I will be back in 3 hours to check on you.

sniff sniff…. he paid the crew in Cocaine… except me of course.. as Kelsey was soon to be born… and my priorities were a tad different.. so he would always cough cash for me.. Thank you Kelsey for benefiting us both.

Early one morning I was up high on roof, and second along comes Dusty all strung out … I can still see his little canvas shoes shuffle along to the roofs peak and to the very edge.. where Dusty would pretend he was going to fall. gyrating his arms and announcing Dusty fall Down….. his preference was injecting 8 balls… and he would talk all day about his desire for the end of the day to come so he could go do a master blaster…. The Dust…

One morning early I was cruising by the Pub and there was the Dust laying on the coral in the parking lot passed out.. a 1/3 full pitcher of orange juice and vodka perched on the nearby Pay Phone booth… I stopped and said.. you o.k. Dusty?

He slowly raised his head and looked my way and in his southern drawl said Ya the dust is o.k.. Dougy would not let me in he locked me out last night.

Dougy doo was inside with the triple beam and little plastic baggies strewn about as if there was nothing wrong or to be worried about…

Last anyone heard from Dougy Poo was he got snagged at the Canadian Border with some Bricks. Oh ! how The Coke whores all loved Dougy poo… He was always handing something to someone reminiscent of the Hindus Durgas ,
trundling down a short final balancing a glass vial and a little silver spoon just under one of his Nostrils… just having heard a cleared to land from Ft. Lauderdale Tower.

End.

The contest of will:
The contest of wills is sleeeeeeeeeeeeping:

On awakening it is declared war.

I am right you are wrong.

Fuss and Fight until Night falls, and once again we sleep.

Once again we awaken to walk down well worn Paths… the lovely grain so deeply entrenched … above only Canyon Walls, oh! the century’s it took:

Wash, Rinse, Repeat, Delightful good to be right.

A Blessing Dressing to pour over your brain or thought for the day. I figured out what it all boils down to.
OH!
How much will you love me when you find out my net worth?

Though one may elude otherwise, by: either tactfully extracting or engaging themselves in my company.

So Sayeth the AmericanWorkMule. Bray Bray……………….

Avocado Green Flying Boat in Pristine condition:

Pretending something does not exist, does not make it so, Happy Lander’s.

I was S.C.U.B.A. diving beneath a dock I found an ornate weather vane made of stainless steel heavy gauge wire.. It had tumbled from the top of a Sailboats mast.

Across the street was a beautiful avocado green flying boat… I stuck my thumb out to catch a ride…

asking the pilot for a moment to run across the street into the house I had just moved into to grab my movie camera.. as I ran up the stairs I was reading in my minds eye the following days obituary.. where I was named a victim in a plane crash…

I ran in the house grabbed my camera.. and realized that earlier I had left the stove on beneath a pan, it was blistering hot now… and smoke was drifting up towards the smoke alarm.. I turned it off, hoping the alarm would not sound.

I ran back downstairs…

With my camera in hand alas the beautiful avocado green twin engine’d flying boat had already taken off leaving me behind, I felt betrayed , it was now flying backwards in a strong wind drifting towards me with an engine out… I motioned and mouthed to the Pilot not to worry.. I would catch a ride later.

yelling up to the him , turn into the good engine.

J.

Sleeping on a cliff.. the entrenched San Juan river meanders 1,000′ below.

I dream’t I was on the verge of falling:

I arose and lit a fire and contemplated fighting the inevitable .

I peered across the Canyon at parked $500,000 Motor Homes.. and was thinking about the book having read The Four Agreements.. on Toltec Wisdom.. one of the agreements being to take nothing personally …. It occurred to me.. What if that was 180 degrees out… perhaps we should take everything personally!

The existing system may appear great… as new red cars roll down the highway in heat mirages…

But at what cost truly?

What if I did not want it or need it anyway?

So: I left some firewood for the next hapless camper to come along perhaps he or she will do the same.

Let’s say for the sake of conversation “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” and everything we do, did, or are going to do was and is going to be taken personally…

I was contemplating this Bull Shit… peering across the canyon at several $500,000 motor homes… and wondering …………………

Who’s head got stepped on when and where? Perhaps some little orphan melting circuit boards and breathing in Toxins in some shit hole somewhere?

I recall a remark by Dr. Whiteside of Personology fame made directly to me

My ability to appreciate Aesthetic Beauty. an Eye for It…. perhaps in counter balance to my rigidity… and my being taciturn, towards my perception of truth and cause.

J.

The Improbable probability: or Striving for Naught.

I have a friend that enjoys badgering me… Now he is on about writing a book on Hobo’s and the like…. and wanting to know if it is o.k. if he uses some of my story’s… well of course… Everybody likes to look at Hobo’s the lookers get the chance to be condescending … sort of like rubber necking at the scene of an accident.. but help or get involved.. how unlikely…..

I wish him much success… but knowing him as I do.. he will only Procrastinate…
but non the less.. in the unlikely event of his success … I remarked to him payment enough just his using my story’s and changing the names reward enough, Why! I even offered to buy him a spring rake to rake up the money with.. just to let me know when.

I am grateful for his needling for it has raised the question in my own mind, dare I call it mine.. with all the bombardment that it is subject to… any way…

How Many of us struggle and strive a lifetime… to gain some form of acceptance or acknowledgement?

and just ultimately end up dead in a hole in the ground irregardless…. Lets draw a pie chart.. and view the odd’s…

What Say Ye?

If you have a passion follow it… if not why bother? In some tepid luke warm bath…

whats the point….. an existence?

Can you tell I am agitated? all I have to say is BAHHHHHHHHHHH….
And Hallelujah ……………..

I wonder if that word Hallelujah is derived from ( The Halls of Jah)

Hallelujah once again as we struggle towards the improbable Probility

Striving for naught in all likely hood….. This not the impossibility but the improbable probability ….

and now the words from my dream… ‘The Re-Grateful Dead… once upon a time there were wild cards on the Table.’

J.

* note… this might be reaching reaching for la la land, non the less these are the portrayals from my dreams:

In a room It’s God , Me, Susie Larson and a Bum. I think the bum and I were one and the same.

God asks Susie, do you know who he is… referring to me… I felt becalmed because she could tell God about me.. I guess she could peer into my soul and offer God a reference.

In Further words from my dreams : ‘Thoughts from the department of all knowing dog’s that get paid at least $900,000 a year.

Some one was singing a song ‘Hello girl oh oh oh Dane, Girl, oh oh oh…. rather catchy it was…. Like a Hit or something.

and lastly:

‘Thought is a thing, person, place or thing =’s A Particle.

That’s All Folks!

J.