A Time for Thanks

It occurred to me over breakfast this morning just how much I truly appreciate you my reader. Here I am in this place, don't know when or if for that matter I will get out again and yet you allow me to reminisce about times past and muse about the future.

I have no real life, you my reader are my life and for that I thank you, please click here to accept my heartfelt thanks: http://www.hallmark.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/ECardPersonalizeView?eo=true&topNav=false&personalizePage=true&categoryId=-102234&URL=ECardPersonalizeView&partNumber=npg6320_DK&s=npg6320&r=&p=&ssd=A+Million+Thanks+%28interactive%29&n=DEFAULT&st=%2Fproducts%2Fecards%2Fnpg6320_120.gif&productId=664858&tabOn=ecards&catalogId=10051&sn=A+Million+Thanks+%28interactive%29&cardType=free&e=DEFAULT&storeId=10001&date=DEFAULT&mid=7000000000000000051&isComboCall=false&nv=true&template=n&CatIDsList=147551%3B-102001%3B-102234

L N Scotts

Some things you don't learn till long after your Father is in the ground!

So I finally got possession of a duffle bag that had been packed and left with me at that first orphanage oh so many years ago.

I've been reading through what evidently was my Fathers' diary or journal or whatever. Turns out I was born a conjoined twin and was separated at birth. Who knew! This could explain why sometimes when making a hard decision I've wanted to confer with someone about what would be best but never did because I hold no one close enough. There was some one close enough once but that person was torn away at birth! I'll tell you who I honestly think it was who was or in reality "is" my brother. God plays guitar through Eric Clapton and whenever I hear a Clapton tune on the radio I feel a closeness that I feel with no other artist. Technically our birthdays are the same but upon investigation I've learned that Erics' is four days later on March third. I recognize that that no doubt was the day we were separated and he became his own person. I see no real point or benefit in tracking down Eric and presenting myself as his long lost Brother since after all these years he orbits in his life and I in mine. I'll just always get a warm feeling when I hear a Clapton hit on the radio, oddly given my situation on many occasions the tune "White Room" strikes a chord in my core being. I guess in a way this is kind of like when an amputee feels an itch in an elbow that no longer exists, I feel a real tug in my right arm when I hear the power chords in Clapton performances.Medical science can sever our bodies but they can't uncouple our spirits! I think I should at least start sending Christmas cards to the Claptons. When Erics' son so tragicaly fell to his death did I too loose a Son?

Problem decisions made easy

Any time there is a dispute, be it personal or on a grander scale perhaps even international insurrection could be avoided if cultures world wide adopted and accepted a Rock, Paper, Scissors policy. There could be Ambasadors who would determine among themselves the program for these international playdowns i.e. two out of three matches; one offs or best of twenty one matches.

This may seem like drastic decision making policy and I would agree. If the concept of more liberal application of the Rock, Paper, Scissors concept were started in our youth it could in a few decades turn into a major decision making policy.

I would encourage kindergarten choices be made in R,P,S fashion. Public and high schools in time would likely carry on the practice.

We would know when it would be politically acceptable as decision making policy when we would hear reports of adolescent and prepubescent children playing Strip- Rock, Paper, Scissors.

At that point and not before we would know that society has accepted Rock, Paper, Scissors as a way of life. It could very well spell the end of war as we know it.

Aren't we all late sometimes

Forgive the update. As one would think it is absoulutely wearing to try to father a child, let alone a whole civilization. Maybe it reaches back in the day when I became hooked on menthol cigarettes for 6 years. I'm told that the menthol has a chemical in it that makes a body infertile. Well, what do conventional doctors know anyway. I remember going into Dr.Burg's office once for my mental evaluation, and , well, hanging out with a carny for 2 summers makes you very quick with the hand. It would take just a second for him to turn his back and I would have another perscription pad. All you needed was a name for what you wanted and an unintelligable signature.

Back in the day when LSD was used to treat mental illness, we would get dose after dose after dose. Going to all the walk in clinics and complaining about a nauseas feeling in the stomach. Back then, we had a scheme about getting the money for this because, not coming from a large sum of money, we had to make do. Besides, pharmaceutical LSD was far more handleable. In those days there was a street drug DMT, DMT was hallucinogenic just as LSD and the more organic yet less desirable Peyote or Psilocybin only difference was that for seven to ten hours you saw the same thing whether your eyes were open or closed! It literally seared the minds of many.

Once one was being attended to at a walk in clinic one would explain the quizey nauseas feeling in our stomach and how we figured it was related to our prescription LSD and was there anything we could take for it. Those in the know knew that we clearly were mentally unbalanced after all we had prescription LSD. They would usually immediatly write a prescription (sometimes I would score a pad there too) for clinical grade Gravol and hurry us out the door. It's really something how different people will treat you when they are afraid you could "snap" at any time.

In those days there was a culture that was comprised of all walks of life that happily paid dearly for clinical grade Gravol. This was far more profitable than picking bottles and kept ones self esteem intact not having to beg. This self esteem issue seemed to be important to some of those prescribing Doctors, in essence we were doing the right thing carrying on as we were.

I remember after a Grateful Dead concert, we were standing around in the parking lot around my Chevy, drinking beer, smoking pot and I was trying to get a girl by the name of Jezebel to take some of this perscription grade gravol we had scored. I was actually just trying to get into her pants but at the same time she had a sister by the name of Jezum, who was not going to let me have my way with her sister. Drink after drink, I had drugged her beer hoping that she would pass out and let me have some quality time with her sister. It only occurred to me after that I had been putting these pills in Jezebel's drinks instead of her sister's. That would prove to be a side effect of this Gravol. Constant stupidity. You think that someone would put this on the fucking label. Warning: May develop mild retardedness. Don't get me wrong, because I'm not a pervert trying to drug girls drinks and then have my way with them. Taking this gravol just gives a sort of euphoric sense almost like ecstasy, but a lot will knock you on your ass. I was merely planning to fool around with Jezebel in a euphoric state while Jezum slept peacefully in the box of my truck. Thats right kids, if you're gonna fuck around with drugs at least do your research so you don't fuck yourself up like my buddy Steven. We left him at the hospital. He's their problem now. I did get the impression by their insistant questioning that an orderly and his apparent friend the nurse's aid are very interested in expirementing with what Steven was tripping on, saddly Steven himself doesn't know.

In some circles Steven is known as "Let me have alot I want to see what its really like Steven" Why I remember that fall when Steven took his frst crop of outdoor grown weed off. After it had dried and spent one moon cycle buried in sealer jars in the garden Steven dug it up. Then he rolled it up, well about half a quart sealers' worth and invited any and all around him to participate in what he termed a marathon smoking expirement. Steven layed out the guide lines to the expirement, they were pretty straight forward: he would light the first joint, it would be passed around as was custom, at such time as the next in line is unwilling for what ever reason to toke on the roach then the participant left holding said roach would take two nose tokes of at least seven seconds duration one through each nostril after which that same participant would swallow or chew and swallow the roach, by then Steven would hand that same participant the next joint and an already lit wooden match with which to light it. They would then carry on. Participants dropped out in various manners, some fell into a coma and relived vividly both harrowing and pleasurable experiences of their past (sort of a highlighted view of their akashic record) others too past out but theirs' were different outcomes. Some of those individuals had what might be described as an endless backwards fall into feathers yet on the other end of the spectrum some consciously sensed their bodys fusing with the earth leaving them nothing but aware. Still others would continue in this giant circle of debauchery. After the weed was gone, someone would break out the ecstasy and we'd all wash down a couple pills with a healthy swig of rye. We would sit and trip for hours and hours until we would realize the time and realize that we needed to go score some more of the good stuff. Ahhh the good stuff, the good stuff was often different things to different people.

Lance found the good stuff at the base of an elevator in a town named Bender. Tracy found her thrills in strange coffee shops all over the world. The good stuff at this juncture though was in the minds and hearts of these participants and they were unanimous in the desire to walk together in the Valley of the Shadow of Death to hold hands, to feel the posative and the negative, God and the Devil.

What could satisfy this need for the "Good stuff"? It took some searching but Bartholemew found the "Good stuff" at http://www.michaelbach.de/ot/index.html

It's true, the good stuff is often a transient illusion. But it's still the good stuff while it happens.