But see, that is why, the Frankie why, the why of my push for the throne, the kingship throne, when I entered high school and that old Frankie was grooming himself for like it was his by divine right. Hey, I'll say I did, The Communist Manifestothat one just because old Willie Westhaven over at the middle school junior high, okay called me a Bolshevik when I answered one of his foolish math questions in a surly manner.
I told you before that was my pose, my Frankie-engineered pose, what do you want, I just wanted to see what he, old Willie, was talking about when he used that word.
There was more. Here's what was behind the why. I intended, and I swear I intended to even on the first nothing doing day of that new school year in that new school in that new decade to beat old Frankie, old book-toting, mad monk, girl-chasing Frankie, who knew every arcane fact that mankind had produced and had told it to every girl who would listen for two minutes maybe less in that eternal struggle, the boy meets girl struggle, at his own game. I always got dragged in his wake, including as lord chamberlain in his pizza parlor kingdom.
If you see the name Frankie and a slangy word when you think I am talking about girls that's girls. As I told you in that Roy Orbison review, when Roy was big, big in our beat down around the edges, some days it seemed beat six ways to Sunday working class neighborhood in the early s, we all used to hang around the town pizza parlor, or one of them anyway, that was also conveniently near our high school as well.
And this guy, this old Italian guy, blessed Leonardo-like master Tonio, could make us all laugh, even me, when he started to prepare a new pizza and he flour-powdered and rolled the dough out and flipped that sucker in the air about twelve times and about fifteen different ways to stretch it out. Some times people would just stand outside in front of the doubled-framed big picture window and watch his handiwork in utter fascination.
Jesus, Tonio could flip that thing. One time, and you know this is true because you probably have your own pizza dough on the ceiling stories, he flipped the sucker so high it stuck to the ceiling, right near the fan on the ceiling, and it might still be there for all I know the place still is, although not him.
But this is how he was cool; he just started up another without making a fuss. Let me tell you about him, Tonio, sometime but right now our business to get on with Frankie, alright. But here is where it all comes together, Frankie and Tonio the pizza guy, from day one, got along like crazy. Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, map of Ireland, red-headed, fair-skinned, blue-eyed Frankie got along like crazy with Italian guy Tonio.
This "connected" stemmed, innocently enough, from the jukebox concession which the hard guys controlled and was a lifeblood of Tonio's teenage-draped business, and not so innocently, from his role as master numbers man pre-state lottery days, okay and "bookie" nobody should have to be told what that is, but just in case, he took bets on horses, dogs, whatever, from the guys around town, including, big time, Frankie's father, who went over the edge betting like some guys fathers' took to drink.
Or else. Especially at night, a weekend night, when the booze has flowed freely and that hard-bitten childhood abuse that turned those Italian guys and Irish guys too into toughs hits the fore. But they learn, and learn fast. Our filled with pizza, drinks, condiments, odds and ends papery, and the king, his consort of the evening, I swear I forget which one and his lord chamberlain.
Since there were at least two other prime front window seats available Frankie denied the petition out of hand. Now in a righteous world this should have been the end of it. But what these hard guys, these guys who looked like they might have had shivs ya, knives, shape knives, for the squeamish out there and only see two geeky "beatnik" guys and some unremarkable signora do was to start to get loud and menacing nice word, huh?
Menacing enough that Tonio, old pizza dough-to-the-ceiling throwing Tonio, took umbrage another nice word, right? He called the two gentlemen aside, and talking low and almost into their ears, said some things that we could not hear. All we knew was that about a minute later these two behemoths, these two future candidates for jailbird-dom, were walking, I want to say walking gingerly, but anyway quickly, out the door into the hard face of Saturday night.
We thereafter proceeded to finish our kingly meal, safe in the knowledge that Frankie was indeed king of the pizza parlor night. And also that we knew, now knew in our hearts because Frankie and I talked about it later, that behind every king there was an unseen power. Christ, and I wanted to overthrow Frankie. I must have been crazy like a loon. Posted by american left history at PM No comments:. Labels: a working class storygrowing up absurd in the sHigh School Confidentialteen alienationteen angst.
Al Johnson comment: The scene below stands or falls as a moment in support of that eternal search mentioned in the headline. Scene Six: Westward Ho! Christ that seemed like an eternity ago although it had been only a few summer heated, summer sweat-soaked heated weeks. Life on the road had it own tempos but this one, for reasons that I will discuss later, had run out of tempo and we were living on pure fumes just then.
While I am thinking about Winchester, Kentucky I might as well tell you what had happened since then to get us here to yellowed-sunned, waving-fielded, farm-fresh country and that will go a long way to explaining our need, our desperate need, for a jump start.
Our chauffer, our Angelica-smitten chauffer, Teste Marce - God (3) - Sweet Life (Vinyl the occasion turned out to be one ancient hard-driving as we quickly found outhard-drinking as I knew from his condition as we met up with himghost of a truck-driving Colonel Eddie.
The colonel part is made-up, made up by him, all these Kentucky guys from the lowliest pig farmer on up call themselves that, or did back then. And despite this awful build-up of the guy, and a little off-hand character assassination above, he actually got us there, to Winchester that is, in one piece.
Colonel Eddie was one the last of the good old boys, for sure. What that one piece, by the way, looked like after traveling more back roads in the Commonwealth of Kentucky that seemed humanly possible in order to us get there is another story. Every time I thought I was feeling better, just a tiny it better like maybe I would actually survive the day, we would hit a double-reverse triple somersault hairpin turn followed by a triple-reverse double somersault hairpin turn that made me wish that, if there was any mercy in this flea-bitten old world, we would just go over the top down into some heavenly embankment and be done with it.
But, as I said, we got there, and although we were pinching pennies a little, my condition was terminal and we needed, as a matter of simple primitive medical wisdom, to stay at one of those cheapjack motels that dot the back roads of this world to rest up for future battles, for future tilts at the westward windmills. Except this, this is etched in my brain and I can feel the cool- handed, cool-toweled sensation even as I am writing. Angelica, miffed or not, had taken a towel, wrapped some ice from the ubiquitous, usually whiskey fixings-friendly motel ice machine in it, and placed it on my forehead and held her hand on the compress for a while until I fell asleep.
Of such kindnesses long-lasting civilizations should be created. But enough of medical reports and folk wisdom medicines, sweet gestured or not. We were on the road west now, Teste Marce - God (3) - Sweet Life (Vinyl blue-pink road west and for the first time since Angelica and I had met really on our own. Winchester, Kentucky heading to Lexington on our way west. Thumb out, Angelica thumb out here, and we are indeed off. A half hour later after being picked up by a wayward sedan, driven by a nondescript but kindly driver, we are on the road to Lexington.
And arrive we do without fanfare, or flourish. This is really what is important about Lexington though. See, like I Teste Marce - God (3) - Sweet Life (Vinyl you and I know I told Angelica before, that suitcase that she had packed up for Steubenville in her Muncie break-out days was fine to live out of for Steubenville motel cabin existences but no good on the hitchhike road, of whatever color.
Truth be told I had carried the thing more than she had, invalided as I was. So when we hit Lexington we hit the first Army-Navy store we could find to get her one of those fungible mountaineer backpacks. Army-Navy store? Ya, Army-Navy store. Naturally, as events kept unfolding Angelica was showing more and more her origins as a Midwestern flower, and although a total stranger to such a place was thrilled and mystified by this place, including the oddmusty smell that goes with such stores.
In any case, soon enough she will know whether it works or not. Christ, women oops, sorry. Well, like a small very portable army pup tent, complete with staves, to shelter us from storms and summer bugs. And a couple of canteens, small useful three-prong knives, a shovel, and mess kits. I, as I write this, still smile over the fact that Angelica talked for days about how whoever invented such a useful thing as a mess kit was a genius, a pure genius.
So you see again what I meant about that Muncie thing. And also delighted, blushingly delighted, when I, off-handedly, whispered in her ear about how many people could fit inside the thing, in a pinch. And, finally, a green naturally army blanket, for emergencies, real emergencies, not those in a pinch kind. After completing those purchases we stepped just outside the store door to a nearby bench, placed there probably for just such purposes, and ceremoniously transferred her stuff from the suitcase to the backpack.
Here is the kicker though, which may tell about human nature or maybe not. I just kind of threw everything into my knapsack and hoped for the best. Hope, for example, that a pair of socks, matched, showed up when needed.
Angelica, as I noticed back in the Steubenville pack-up, neat of suitcase also took pains and would do so throughout the trip to keep her stuff organized just like in the suitcase. I wonder if we had decided that plastic bags were absolutely the best for travel gear whether she would have done the same. Hell, even I was excited. Still I noticed, just a glimmer of a notice, that she turned back wistfully for just a second to take one last look at the suitcase that we left on that bench for someone else in need.
Every once in awhile, just as things are going right and this old world seems full of bright-eyed possibilities, things get twisted around. Let me tell you about it and see what you think. Some primordial sense of modesty, no, I know, just Muncie conventionality, made her feel ashamed. Christ Angelica, there is not one cheapjack or five star, for that matter motel, hotel, inn, Youth hostel, ashram, whatever in the whole world that in the year cares who you sign in as.
I could have put down Queen Elizabeth and Richard Nixon although that combination might have raised my eyebrow and they would have been nonplussed, as long as the coin of the realm, cash, was in hand. Now would be a different story. There are camp sites and there are camp sites. Or you can go back up into the hills, some forlorn shaggy hills, mainly some Western hills these days, carrying in with you whatever you are going to bring on your back, and be not that far removed from those old pioneers who feared every dangerous animal, dangerous man, dangerous natural condition step of the western way, and carried on nevertheless.
The real westward ho crowd. That day though Angelica and I found ourselves at a plain old-timey campsite which we could see from the road in was dotted with various tents, some small trailers sitting in the beds of pick-up trucks, some free-form trailers pulled by trucks and a couple of psychedelically multi-colored converted school buses.
The last had been popping up on the road ever since people started hearing about Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters and their mad eastward escapades a few years earlier. Not a monster trailer in the house, a good sign. I can see a little river as well.
Best of all there a small supermarket right across the street. Yes, this portends to be a great American night, and maybe nights. After I passed the test at the camp office we went to our site, a cozy little site for a tent not too far from the river. What test? Come on now, pay attention, you know the test. Did I or did I not sign us in as Mr. Well, I am still sitting here writing this thing so of course I did. I never did get all the details, and she never put them all out there for me, but back in staid old homey Muncie some guys definitely did her wrong, tramp-treating wrong.
Hell, we had more fun trying to set that damn Army-Navy tent and setting up for dinner on our little fireplace. There are not many times in life when just a couple of goofy, simple things provided so much entertainment. We napped then feasted.
As it got dark though I heard some music, the Stones, I think coming from one of the multi-colored painted, converted buses down the dirt lane. We moseyed like it? She seemed a little non-plussed by the news but, however, confessed that she had never smoked or done any other drugs.
And from the tone of that response seemingly did not want to. Those were good and simple days to be young, especially on a road situation like this. We had some store-bought wine. The feared great boxed-in break-out. They were leaving Saturday morning and we were welcome to join them and stay at the farm for a while. We talked it over and it seemed right, especially for Angelica, as we could by-pass sweet home Indiana that she wanted avoid at all costs, so we left with them.
Ah, pioneer woman. You know some towns you can say that you have been in but that is misleading. You might have passed through them, you might have been caught having to sleep on some forsaken bench in some lonely bus stop there, or stretched a watery cup of joe in some lonelier diner against some coldrainy night wait, or, in flusher times, just hopped on a plane out of the place.
That is my recollection of Springfield. But Springfield on this trip or ever was just that dot on the map because once we passed through it and we got to the farm a few days and joints Teste Marce - God (3) - Sweet Life (Vinyl leaving Lexington that was it.
We spent some quiet, well maybe no so quiet when the music went decibel high, but youth quiet time on the farm, did a little work for our keep, Angelica got a little more sun that she thought was good for her, and we relaxed before pushing on. Westward ho, ever westward ho in the blue-pink great American West night. Labels: blue-pink great American West nightdrugsgrowing up absurd in the shippiesjack kerouacon the roadRock and RollThe Rolling Stonesyouth nation.
Markin comment: You know, and if you have been reading some of the writings in this space you should know, that clearly I am not the only one in the universe who has gone out searching for that be-bop, blue-pink great American night, or the high white note either. Thanks, Brother Hughes. With its diction, its repetition of lines and its inclusion of blues lyrics, the poem evokes the mournful tone and tempo of blues music and gives readers an appreciation of the state of mind of the blues musician in the poem.
Relationship Between Speaker and Subject: Lines create what grammarians call a "dangling modifier," a sentence logic problem wherein the clauses preceding the main subject and verb of the sentence "Droning a drowsy syncopated tune," and "Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon," which precede "I heard" don't most logically refer to the subject of the sentence "I".
Has Hughes simply made a grammatical error? Probably not. Rather, he's using his sentence structure there to show the relationship between the singer and the audience, the dual effect of the music on the performer and on the listener. The singer is droning and swaying as he performs, but so is the audience as it listens, thus they become conflated grammatically in the sentence that describes their interaction.
Here, then, Hughes suggests that the blues offer a sort of communal experience, that they express the feelings of not only the artist, but the whole community. Because Harlem was home mainly to African Americans and the parts of New York City south of Harlem referred to as "downtown" were populated mainly by whites, if the speaker were to perceive Lenox Avenue as "up" from his place of origin, we might assume that he is white.
During the 20s and 30s, writings by African-Americans about black identity and culture proliferated. This exceptionally fruitful period of extensive and brilliant literary production is referred to as a "renaissance.
Flocking northward to Harlem, where most African Americans lived, for the entertainment and introduction to new forms of music and art produced by African Americans there, white benefactors of these artists helped them to become known beyond their own community.
But some of these patrons also threatened the autonomy and commercial viability of these emerging black artists, sometimes taking advantage of current racial attitudes and the discriminatory laws and social codes to exploit black musicians and artists for their own financial benefit.
So when Hughes's speaker says he was "down on Lenox Avenue" we can assume that he is not white. Why does it matter whether we see this speaker as white or black? Certainly, people of all races have experienced the blues both the music and the feelings and musicians of all colors have played blues music. But jazz and blues music must be considered original to African Americans, borne out of "the irrestistible impulse of blacks to create boldly expressive art of a high quality as a primary response to their social conditions, as an affirmation of their dignity and humanity in the face of poverty and racism" Norton Anthology of African American Literature Top UK Apple Music.
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Piano Chill Discover the liberating power of the piano with pieces chosen by Dirk Maassen. Artist Interviews See All. Now in Spatial Audio See All. Happy Machine Dillon Francis. Made for Spatial Audio Apple Music. Coming Soon See All. More to Explore. Browse by Category. Apple Music on Apple News. Top Charts. When the gird got so bad that I was incapacitated for hours a day, and I was sure I would need surgery, a friend suggested I try an alkalizing diet.
So I switched to a diet high in greens and low in carbs. Six months later I was essentially cured. The point is not that everyone should live on broccoli and avocados, as I often do. The point is that we are daily bombarded with poisons and toxins in our foods. These toxins are probably related to the epidemics of ADD and ADHD children, and they probably explain a lot of the increase in violence and Teste Marce - God (3) - Sweet Life (Vinyl behavior in general. But, when we are young, we are not likely to see manifestation to our health that we would readily associate with poisoning outside of tooth decay.
As we age, though, and our health is more and more compromised, the pizza, beer, brats, bagels, chili fries and all manor of junk food that we once ate with abandon become more likely to trigger serious health issues. As I see it, one of the main problems with health care today is that we fail to see the damage that our diets are doing to us, and, when there is a problem, we want medicine to have a pill or a procedure for that. But the problem is that medical miracle drugs have insulated us from the reality of how to really fix our problems.
I would liken it to someone who picks a whole in his leg and then asks for a bandage to cover the wound. The idea is to cover the wound so it heals, and then for the person to stop picking his leg. Instead, he continues to pick his leg every day, and each day he then asks for a bigger bandage!
Otherwise, soda becomes like an illicit drug, which means that students will be quick to find it elsewhere. I would be glad to pay, though, to see you in food rehab. I know that many, or most, of Americans see the Affordable Care Act as a major headache for the medical industry.
We hear about long lines, long waits, and denial of certain procedures. But, Obamacare was nothing more than a reaction to a system that is out of control. Usually, when a system is abused and pushed to the brink of disaster, the finger of blame that points at the government or some other entity leaves three fingers pointing back at us. In this day and age of multimedia and information overload, there is no defensible argument for ignorance. The truth about just about everything is as close as Google or Bing or Siri.
Yes, you have to filter through a lot of stuff. But, God gave you a brain, and even gave some of you common sense. Then, for starters, your could try doing something else, or just stop what you did, and see if that works.
If it works, then go with that. The day your sitting in the ER after a cardiac episode contemplating quintuple bypass is not the best day to consider whether you should add an avocado to your diet.
Tagged as CarbohydrateHealthLow-carbohydrate dietNutrition. Development of a rational scale to assess the harm of drugs of potential misuse, The Lancet, Photo credit: Wikipedia. The debate continues to rage about legalizing illicit drugs.
Recently, two states decided to legalize small amounts of marijuana for personal use. This is the first foray into opening society to the use of a once-banned substance to see how it will affect society. Certainly, we are not going to know the answer in a day or week, or maybe not even in a year or a decade. But, there certainly are a lot of questions that will have to be satisfactorily answered before we would continue down this path. Will marijuana, cocaine, etc.
They would most likely be treated like alcohol, which can be self-administered. This tends to expose the hypocrisy of modern medicine, which seeks to claim that only doctors should dispense medicine in an effort to protect the people.
The main thought on removing drugs from illegal status is to break the money chain that feeds the power of drug cartels and gangs. By doing so, we would be able to save the billions of dollars that the war on drugs is now costing to wage.
But, there is another side to the cost coin. The is the cost of trying to rehabilitate a life that has been ravaged by abuse of drugs. When overall harm to society and the drug user are considered together, alcohol is by far the most damaging despite being legal more often than the other drugs Photo credit: Wikipedia. Alcohol is the only legal recreational drug at the moment. Perhaps the cost runs into the trillions.
That is not to say that everyone who uses alcohol does so irresposibly, just as it would not be right to say that everyone who would use other mind-altering products would be irresposible. But the potential is there for wide-spread abuse with huge consequences for society. Perhaps this is not so much the case with pot as with other more potent, more addicting drugs.
Many feel that, by legalizing them, the stigma, and the thrill, of living on the dangerous side of the law would be eliminated, and the whole lure of them would diminish. These are now sold on the streets and shared at parties like candy. Everyone seems to be in favor of removing the monetary incentives of the cocaine, heroine, meth and other drug traffickers. However, since the FDA is in business to serve the financial interests of these companies, the stamp of legitimacy is placed upon their drug sales.
In essence, then, the FDA is the government encouraging legal drug pushers. In most ideas of a legalized drug trade, all recreational drugs would be taxed like cigarettes. The thought is that this will be a huge revenue stream for the government. It also would require a huge amount of bureaucrats to administer the system.
Thus, it is, at best, a wealth distribution plan. Users will now be supporting big government instead of big cartels. At present, the government spends a lot of money on propaganda to stop people from using drugs. When drugs fall under the control of the government, the same thing will happen that has happened with pharmaceutical drugs.
We will be encouraged to use more, so that more public revenue is generated. How many times have we, the people in these states, been told that playing the lottery is good for schools or helps lower property taxes. But there are much more efficient ways to do such things.
And how many people do we now have who are addicted to the lotteries. The revenue is good. That means that the DEA spends about the same amount of money trying to deter drug use as the Pharmaceutical companies spend trying to encourage approval for new drug use. By all accounts, there is no real agenda in the USA to encourage living drug-free. Surely it could be pointed out that these organizations are just the specialists who work with local law agencies in a wider war.
But, often, local agencies are not equipped to take the lead on the drug war, leaving the agencies thinly spread and highly ineffective. This is most likely because of the hypocritical and two-faced message that our government agencies have presented when it comes to drug use.
But there are two approaches to making our agenda uniform. Find objective people, who have no financial incentives from doctors and pharmaceutical companies and whose goal is truly the welfare of the American people. Crack down on abuses in the legal drug industry. Shift our agenda back to teaching people that the best way to live is drug free-free of all synthesized drugs.
Really educate patients that all drugs have bad consequences. For best health, use them sparingly or not at all. For all those pot heads and freedom fighters that think that legalizing drugs will make their lives freer, just how much of your crop are you smoking?
At this moment, we have two test cases of legalized marijuana. We are going to learn a lot about how legalized marijuana changes the dynamics of law enforcement, civil liberties, and the like. In the end, I have had a hard time reconciling my biblical principles of do no harm to your own body with the idea of a drug free-for-all, nor have I been ready to really take my libertarian principles to the ultimate degree of saying that everyone should have the right to use any drug they please.
But, I also am of a firm conviction that everything is a drug, even food, and that no one should have the right to tell me what I can and cannot ingest. The more I think about it, the more it becomes truly a choice between self-determination of my health or passing that right to Big Brother. I see two large problems. First, the government would be legalizing drugs. It really means less freedom, more taxes, and more rules. Other drugs are now banned because they are exponentially more addictive and dangerous.
However, the realities of government oppression in this country, coupled with constant food poisoning, are probably largely to blame for the epidemic of people trying to medicate reality out of existence. My vote is that, if we are going to legalize drugs, then we should get rid of the FDA. Everyone for his or her self. Let the people grow up and be responsible for themselves. But, of course, that would mean that a true conservative libertarian spirit would have to overtake this land.
We would have to say goodbye to government programs and fend for ourselves. Good luck with that. Vitamin C stops heroine withdrawal. Alcohol is a life-saving medicine, as shown here. Read the whole article to the bottom. It, like any drug, can be used or abused. Tagged as drug warDrugsFood and Drug AdministrationHealthIllegal drug tradelegalize marijuanaPrescription medicationSubstance abuse. Leave a comment. Right Wing Nuts and Bolts.
Skip to content. Home About. Happiness Photo credit: baejaar. Monosodium-glutamate Photo credit: Wikipedia. How many times has this been the premise of some book or movie? According to Dr. Stephen Bezruchka, the answer is yes! When I was working in day care years ago, I was struck by the fact that the children who stayed with us the longest each day had the most trouble with controlling their emotions, and seemed to have issues with feeling secure. After a couple of years, I, too, began to wonder if daycare could provide an adequate substitute for being at home with a parent.
I could somewhat console myself with the idea that we really loved these children like our own children, and like precious lambs of Jesus. And certainly I feel we were good for them spiritually and emotionally. But, as a co-teacher of 12 children, I often felt unable to devote as much time to each child as they seemed at times to need.
Of course, the rise in daycare has directly mirrored the rise of women in the workforce, and also the single-parent family. They believed that a village was available to help them do their child-raising work.
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