I’ve been here before, not staring at goats but climbing  holly trees at night, drawing fire from the deluded, and been there too, pawned out into the fray. 

           The home team was leathal, far right, fascist. I was a hot prospect even after a near death overdose of mushrooms at eighteen, which were not part of the program, sadly in 1975. 

            I was aware, but not told  of the party protocol. Us cruits were in the mushroom program long before I stopped breathing somewhere in the air over Arkansas. I saw the light, but it just might have been a medic with a flash light checking for signs of life. 

             My near death was ignored in Texas, not mentioned at all to me, but everyone in Jersey knew everything, and some. It was their business to know, and I was in the trenches, back on my Jersey beach, by late June of 1976. 

              There was blood, and it got worse as the election neared, but the locals held the turf, and Carter’s loss was being planned before he was taking the oath in 1977.  The post Nixon Party ceded to a new era, of which the old school had lost access. Behind Reagan was something wicked, not my father’s far right. 

                I was then, clueless, and following the script. Too busy to study the images in front of me. I was never partisan, just local, which was partisan, and all I knew. The beach was held by former marines, and my father was one. I was being groomed, and not smart enough to know it. No one talked. We worked. 

                I feel it, 2020. They were out there yesterday already, bravado born agains big young, dumb...late twenties MAGA types challenging all comers...Not That bright at all. This is no college campus. 

                I’m a field guy. I’m 62. I was better prepared for field work at fifteen then these morons in their late twenties. My how far the mighty right has fallen. They know the bible, but not the constitution...and don’t care to know. They are big, bad,  and in your face folk. 

                  They moved along, but I was late to the diner. No one got hurt, because I am a professional. I do not know if I will ever see them again, on my morning walk to the beach. I also know their controllers were watching. I’m used to having a target on my back.  

                  But, with the beach behind me...it’s my turf. This is not a college campus. Nobody gets hurt on my beach...unless it’s a great white taking out a surfer. What happens off the beach is up to the PhDs...the same ones that run the college campuses. Go figure.



Views: 45

Comment by J.P. Hart on February 23, 2019 at 6:48am

Steve Jobs

Odd lead sorry.Trip up? Mary Gravitt has been too quiet. I am on the ground near Castle Rock State Park: asterisks 'garden converting fire watch tower to boardwalk
and late night we are bracing for 50+ mph monsoonish? prevailing west x northwest winds so ____ and I have hunkered and battened down with old time movies. {spinning Debbie Harry and Avicii}

Comment by Robert B. James on February 23, 2019 at 8:25am

I’ve never made a speech. I tell stories all the time...much rather talk story than peck away.  I love hearing them, even when, some one else is. 

I’m very close to 300 pages now in MAHI, 29 left. Im doing summary for skimmers...the top ten moments that I might have written in from 1982 to 2002. I digressed all over the project as it is...and can’t say for sure at this point what the heck I remembered not to forget, still it ends in 2002, with me getting my first AA in fine art photography at the age of 45. 

So RAYTHEON5 is looming...set between board walk empire and the sopranos both chronologically and geographically, my half Cherokee, half Black hero becomes the first and then the alpha operator of  semi supported forward operations, foreign and domestic...including Cointel Pro, where it is a battle of tribes and wits here there and everywhere. Some viewer discretion required. Who is the enemy? Ray never knows for certain, as it seems every one has an agenda, when all he wants to do is stay drunk and get laid, two facts that he realizes after he has already volunteered to become the prototype for a program that does not officially exist. 

The prenatal Bourne...best represented in film via Stone’s Apocalypse, but now older, and still trying to make sense of it all...growing tomatoes in New Jersey, and driving a Limousine, legally packing for Arrow Limousine’s high profile clients. 

Is he still operational, or delusional? Flash backs to over fifty countries, and North Carolina farm country, where he was born...and prepared for a life of field operations...old school. The south never had a chance. 

Based on a possibly true story, who can say for sure? Counter Intelligence is mostly sitting around waiting...a good story teller is the best possible partner. “You know what? “ ,  Ray Pinnox would say, and then we were off, or I was, transported out of that dope supermarket we had our backs to...all kinds of places. 

I’m think of doing it Dicky, like Deliverence...with a twist, in verse. For memorization to be told post American Empire around camp fires. RAYTHEON5. 

Comment by J.P. Hart on February 23, 2019 at 9:21am

You don't have to be dead to be off the grid. Best minds of my generation have been refurbished. Before too long, the Roosevelt Rustbelt hands need warm water; and I'm not one to carry a grudge about my swiped truckers' wallet. Confided to the boss that I was not in on the levitation of the Pentagon.

And don't let's not get started on forklifting half barrels into boxcars for Milwaukee Road
down in the valley
running late already too soon (light up above) super remember remember visors and Saturday Band of Brothers-like polker; plausible realism ASAP (trouble chop-chop) of that place in the sun once upon a time: the Intercoastal Waterway.

No feud with the Swift Boaters, no sirree. Day's done. We are all Universal Soldiers. You'd think it was the 4th of July'yo. Sea lion pups my goodness! Lion cubs through the ages!


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