"I didn't Betray you, you just didn't Trust me!"- Pitt the Monster, NYC 1970
hola,
apologies if this is a lil choppy
even today this is hard for me to explore.
like Amfortas the ruined King in the medieval classic
THE GREEN KNIGHT, i too carry a wound that does not heal.
i am a Scorpio and i carry grudges for life
like Sicilian emotional vendettas,
for me a grudge is like an open wound that will not heal
...like my Mother.
... like my ex The Mirage.
...like Pitt the Monster.
i write this hoping you watched the vid link
i posted this month
defining PSYCHOPATHS
it was concise well made and and eerily accurate.
my father died when i was nine
so as a bright boy i knew i needed a Male Role Model,
someone other than The Batman who was rich
and powerful and relentless.
i trolled the NYC public library and somehow found
Sherlock Holmes, he is to this day my intellectual role model.
bright acerbic often droll and sarcastic
a master of intense focus and observation.,
i could not become a cop because of
my bad lungs and damaged heart but
i could be a detective.
i have a shelf of Sherlock Holmes books
i have THE CANON,
the original works by Conan Doyle
plus better written works by his grandson
and some paler imitators a la Solar Pons et al,
i have the board game based on Sherlock Holmes,
i am a big fan of ELEMENTARY on CBS
and even Soul Mate agrees that some of the best things
i have ever written are , from decades ago,
a re- imagining of Homes with
a Goth female Afghan war vet
Watson and a sexy
predatory Mrs..Hudson..
(maybe i will gift it to you guys one day)
to carry the metaphor further
is i am Holmes then Pitt was my
Moriarty.....
this name was Paul, i think.
short muscular redheaded Irish Catholic
i met his foul mother who made mine look
like a candidate for sainthood.
also short, an obese sweaty rabidly racist
gutter mouthed Dickensian harridan and shrew,
she drove both of the sons i met
insane. one was Paul/Pitt a genius at corruption
and manipulation and Tommy, a schizophrenic
off his meds who thot he was the ghost of Janis Joplin.
like Holmes NYC became my Reichenbach Falls
where i lost badly then went into self imposed exile,
altho i admit i do love KALIpornia
waaaay better than i ever loved my birthplace NYC.
this is already too long for today's
Short Attention Span Theater
so i will go with snippets.
i met Pitt/Paul in 1970 while
licking my wounds from LAPD cop violence and
FBI ? wiretapping during my short stint as an anti war activist.
the famous folk singer Pete Seegar, who i also met that day,
was doing a vounteer clean up of Central Park,
think i still have the small blue button from that era.
Paul latched onto me like a lamprey and never let go.
to this day i am unsure how much he told me is true...
he told me he worked at a bookstore in Penn Station
the busy commuter hub under New Madison Square Garden
and there he recruited a six foot tall female fuck buddy for me
so this might be true?
he told me he so skillfully embezzled cash from the owner
that bookkeepers couldn't find it and he drove
the store into slow bankruptcy, possible.
we often at at the 24/7 cafeteria featured
in the film TAXI DRIVER
a few doors from Carnegie Hall.
withing easy walking and talking distance
from both Central Park
and Greenwich Village.
when he applied for SSI
he told me he saw two shrinks,
one male and one female,
he told me he seduced and
fucked them both.,
this is also possible.
he had me call his Soul Mate,
who dumped him,on his behalf which i did.
she was no doubt scared of him
and with good reasons to be.
she was collateral damage and
he never accepted defeat well.
he had trouble relating to wimmin
and his personal aura of decay and corruption
didn't help.he like to fantasize that his father was
some combat pilot who fathered him,
one of her three? bastard sons
during some drunken layover in NYC.
it was an abusive "friendship"
and when i was drenched in LSD and defenseless
he cast me into the cold harsh unforgiving NYC streets
...without my glasses.
somehow i survived falling off a moving car
and wound up in a hospital with
permanent scars inside and out.
he knew where i worked so we trolled Greenwich Village
and Central Park around Bethesda fountain
most nights and weekends.
parts of him were pathetic
or at least seemed to be.....
he played three card monte with
my heart and soul.
he dreamed about buying a Harley and coming
to KALI with me,lucky for me his NYC troll
links would not let him go.
did i mention that.as an adult,
he lived directly across the street
from his mother?
within screaming distance in fact.
whereas i fled 3000 miles to escape mine.
he claimed to have worked for Bendix before fucking up
his job and love life with speed, from what i saw
the speed part might have been true.
in 1975 he came to KALI with is new mind slave
a lower class Jewish girl and excellent photographer
named Wilma, i fucked her.
we fucked like two desperate drowning rats while he
went looking for new meat...
"CALIFORNIA GIRLS".
we were both being played
and when i was suckered back to NYC,
after my first 3some,
i fought back then he almost had me
killed by a rogue black NYC cop
he had cast his spell over...
i admitted defeat and left NYC
if i could get away with murder,
and i probably can, i would end his corruption
forever and choke the Life out of him...
watching his face turn purple then his tongue turn
black then the life dim and die in his eyes.
(sigh).
but why bother, i am crippled yet happy
with my ever tolerant and loving Soul Mate
while he will be fouling his nest wherever he goes
until Death do them part.
The Mirage calls Korak the Killer
"my first wife"
no Paul/Pitt was my first one sided abusive
death defying relationship which
helped sculpt me into the intense
embittered man i am today
but as SM often notes i have yet to
forgive The Mirage for her three
failed attempts at homicide.
luckily i am NYC hardened
and hard to kill.
i can forgive but not forget
but as a rapidly dimming
Scorpio i tend to do neither...
other shit happened too..
i credit G Man and some personal
correspondence for opening up
this long promised festering
can of worms and recriminations.
thanx G
"I AM smiling damnit,on the inside ."
my internal response to various pleas to smile
like a grinning black faced minstrel
one man vaudeville coon show....
FUCK THAT!
in Harlem and NYC in general niggahs
smiling is a sign of weakness,
the wounds from there still run deep.
namaste
mega
hola,
apologies if this is a lil choppy
even today this is hard for me to explore.
like Amfortas the ruined King in the medieval classic
THE GREEN KNIGHT, i too carry a wound that does not heal.
i am a Scorpio and i carry grudges for life
like Sicilian emotional vendettas,
for me a grudge is like an open wound that will not heal
...like my Mother.
... like my ex The Mirage.
...like Pitt the Monster.
i write this hoping you watched the vid link
i posted this month
defining PSYCHOPATHS
it was concise well made and and eerily accurate.
my father died when i was nine
so as a bright boy i knew i needed a Male Role Model,
someone other than The Batman who was rich
and powerful and relentless.
i trolled the NYC public library and somehow found
Sherlock Holmes, he is to this day my intellectual role model.
bright acerbic often droll and sarcastic
a master of intense focus and observation.,
i could not become a cop because of
my bad lungs and damaged heart but
i could be a detective.
i have a shelf of Sherlock Holmes books
i have THE CANON,
the original works by Conan Doyle
plus better written works by his grandson
and some paler imitators a la Solar Pons et al,
i have the board game based on Sherlock Holmes,
i am a big fan of ELEMENTARY on CBS
and even Soul Mate agrees that some of the best things
i have ever written are , from decades ago,
a re- imagining of Homes with
a Goth female Afghan war vet
Watson and a sexy
predatory Mrs..Hudson..
(maybe i will gift it to you guys one day)
to carry the metaphor further
is i am Holmes then Pitt was my
Moriarty.....
this name was Paul, i think.
short muscular redheaded Irish Catholic
i met his foul mother who made mine look
like a candidate for sainthood.
also short, an obese sweaty rabidly racist
gutter mouthed Dickensian harridan and shrew,
she drove both of the sons i met
insane. one was Paul/Pitt a genius at corruption
and manipulation and Tommy, a schizophrenic
off his meds who thot he was the ghost of Janis Joplin.
like Holmes NYC became my Reichenbach Falls
where i lost badly then went into self imposed exile,
altho i admit i do love KALIpornia
waaaay better than i ever loved my birthplace NYC.
this is already too long for today's
Short Attention Span Theater
so i will go with snippets.
i met Pitt/Paul in 1970 while
licking my wounds from LAPD cop violence and
FBI ? wiretapping during my short stint as an anti war activist.
the famous folk singer Pete Seegar, who i also met that day,
was doing a vounteer clean up of Central Park,
think i still have the small blue button from that era.
Paul latched onto me like a lamprey and never let go.
to this day i am unsure how much he told me is true...
he told me he worked at a bookstore in Penn Station
the busy commuter hub under New Madison Square Garden
and there he recruited a six foot tall female fuck buddy for me
so this might be true?
he told me he so skillfully embezzled cash from the owner
that bookkeepers couldn't find it and he drove
the store into slow bankruptcy, possible.
we often at at the 24/7 cafeteria featured
in the film TAXI DRIVER
a few doors from Carnegie Hall.
withing easy walking and talking distance
from both Central Park
and Greenwich Village.
when he applied for SSI
he told me he saw two shrinks,
one male and one female,
he told me he seduced and
fucked them both.,
this is also possible.
he had me call his Soul Mate,
who dumped him,on his behalf which i did.
she was no doubt scared of him
and with good reasons to be.
she was collateral damage and
he never accepted defeat well.
he had trouble relating to wimmin
and his personal aura of decay and corruption
didn't help.he like to fantasize that his father was
some combat pilot who fathered him,
one of her three? bastard sons
during some drunken layover in NYC.
it was an abusive "friendship"
and when i was drenched in LSD and defenseless
he cast me into the cold harsh unforgiving NYC streets
...without my glasses.
somehow i survived falling off a moving car
and wound up in a hospital with
permanent scars inside and out.
he knew where i worked so we trolled Greenwich Village
and Central Park around Bethesda fountain
most nights and weekends.
parts of him were pathetic
or at least seemed to be.....
he played three card monte with
my heart and soul.
he dreamed about buying a Harley and coming
to KALI with me,lucky for me his NYC troll
links would not let him go.
did i mention that.as an adult,
he lived directly across the street
from his mother?
within screaming distance in fact.
whereas i fled 3000 miles to escape mine.
he claimed to have worked for Bendix before fucking up
his job and love life with speed, from what i saw
the speed part might have been true.
in 1975 he came to KALI with is new mind slave
a lower class Jewish girl and excellent photographer
named Wilma, i fucked her.
we fucked like two desperate drowning rats while he
went looking for new meat...
"CALIFORNIA GIRLS".
we were both being played
and when i was suckered back to NYC,
after my first 3some,
i fought back then he almost had me
killed by a rogue black NYC cop
he had cast his spell over...
i admitted defeat and left NYC
if i could get away with murder,
and i probably can, i would end his corruption
forever and choke the Life out of him...
watching his face turn purple then his tongue turn
black then the life dim and die in his eyes.
(sigh).
but why bother, i am crippled yet happy
with my ever tolerant and loving Soul Mate
while he will be fouling his nest wherever he goes
until Death do them part.
The Mirage calls Korak the Killer
"my first wife"
no Paul/Pitt was my first one sided abusive
death defying relationship which
helped sculpt me into the intense
embittered man i am today
but as SM often notes i have yet to
forgive The Mirage for her three
failed attempts at homicide.
luckily i am NYC hardened
and hard to kill.
i can forgive but not forget
but as a rapidly dimming
Scorpio i tend to do neither...
other shit happened too..
i credit G Man and some personal
correspondence for opening up
this long promised festering
can of worms and recriminations.
thanx G
"I AM smiling damnit,on the inside ."
my internal response to various pleas to smile
like a grinning black faced minstrel
one man vaudeville coon show....
FUCK THAT!
in Harlem and NYC in general niggahs
smiling is a sign of weakness,
the wounds from there still run deep.
namaste
mega
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