this us could be another chapter of Growing Up What in a Crocked World ….

where was I then ? 1948-1955 years of years were the questions of a Trillions of Dreammers and still there was No End insight.  this is my Jubilee 50th year in Service of My King on bloodied soiled soils neath the stench of fueloil adecomposing mothers blood issue to the sound of another rocket to Mars ? This is the race of the  Ravce to find another plabnet to Fuck Up and that would make a person Crocked eventually…and so I thought so.

being a catholic didn’t save me, thats for damn sure, the nuns would cackle to see me, in a flaming boiling cauldron emptying the pans of the filthy and the unfortunate, eye could see that in their eyes…they cackled as they crackled in their stewed prune religion of raped virgins and confused sexy boys, double tongued clerics that slither under their desecrated, spotted sheets, bed cloths and sex toys laundered in Holy Water,… I was young and I was avoiding them …Bless me Father for I have sinned God Only KNOWS when I ever really confessed to something that I was truly sorry for ….but one can always be comforted in a bit of absolution for a solution.

When Sr. Colette informed the clan Waters that the Son of the Mayor would be retained for being an ignorant boob with a mathematical density syndrome that should be medicated with ample amounts of his father’s 3 Feathers and Schaeffer Beer, Pop in his most diplomatic way made his ire known and I was Free in Public School…I tested out and made seventh grade with Mr. Lynch and they were still saying a prayer and reading a psalm before the pledge of allegiance to the red white and blue and I was exposed to Protestants…Holy Shit , I was in Babylon and I don’t mean Long Island.

Matawan Grammar 8th grade grad in 62, I became a high schooler, an out of the closet juvenile delinquent, an introverted, shy, angry, loner in a wannabe teen gang ala Jets and Sharks with inferiority on trial every day, I was in and I was out, I was in trouble, out for trouble, cultivated, stimulated and simulated all in Mind and Curiosity about….hmmm, uhhh, how Dangerous Could That Really Be? I didn’t play sports, Why? I hated the bullshit competition and NJ grandstanding…we played handball against the school wall we smoked and rode with Phil’s red 55 Merc Convertible, 4 on the floor, better lock the door, suicide knob and shift that baby was way swift…that was Larry’s big brother…and He Was The Man…he was a hunter and a handball man that could smoke and shift, smile and sniff then blow an eternal smoke ring…a hero of great stature in 1962.
this could be II of a chapter…we’ll see.   

3 thoughts on “this us could be another chapter of Growing Up What in a Crocked World ….

  1. we will send it all over the place in space , give it away and continue network connections, there is a formulation sensation I’m getting…thanks againfor all the encouragement … SJ Shalom

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