"...bucket"

 

It was July 4th two hours ago, and now September is in our faces. With it comes "Labor Day" the "official" end of Summer. Granted summer doesn't really end till September 21st, but ya see what I'm saying.

When you're young a year seems like ten years now it's about a half hour. You watch it'll be Christmas in two weeks.
Been a hell of a ride.

I've been considering my "Bucket List". Stuff I mean to do while I have any time left. Well first what scary stuff have I already done. I was in a police raid of a Gay Bar as a kid. I had lunch a number of times on the ledge of the 96th floor of the Empire State Building back when I was a transmitter engineer.

I dangled my feet over the edge while eating Arbie's pastrami.

Went to a Nude beach with pals for a few summers. Was in a race riot, and had a car explode near me. The fire ball went on forever! Been to any number of "Be-In" events. Ask ya hippy grandma what that was. I helped talk a co-worker out of suicide. A year later was talked out of same by others.

Had a bullet just miss my head on Albany Avenue in Brooklyn during the 1990's Crack Wars. It's true what George Washington said about that. Not the Crack wars...bullets.

"Fired musket rounds have the Deep Hum of Angry Wasps."

It did.

I slept outside with pals on the balcony of a skyscraper in mid-town as a youth. This while a full summer moon rose over the Chrysler Building behind us. There were the green streaks of meteors as well. A night to remember indeed.

Overdosed on narcotics on three different occasions in my late 30's. Died three times because of it. Foolishly came back each time.

I nearly drowned as a little boy.

I remember being knocked down by a gigantic wave. Then being dragged out to sea. I saw bubbles grains of sand seaweed, and that would have been the last thing I saw.

However I wasn't getting out of this "job" that easy. Because after the sand, and sea weed came this bleeping big arm with an equally big hand attached to it.

There was one of them Army wrist watches on that arm which grabbed me, and hauled my little butt back to the beach. I think I was too freaked out to cry.

All I remember is being picked up hauled back up, and I think passed on to my Mom. There was all this noise yelling I think crying...my Mom I guess. I don't remember anything about the man that saved me.

Other than his big hairy arm, and his watch.

Mind you I've nearly bought it any number of times since. However that one stays with me. I'm here today to whine, and complain because of some neat guy with big hairy arms.

Ain't life something.

As for that "Bucket List"...the British Museum Paris Disney World, and Santa's Work Shop are on it for sure. Other stuff too, but ya know.

Since you're here there's something else on my mind.

This country would be better off certainly more Just, and sane if it were smaller. Say seven or eight states. Yeah that makes sense. New England, and a few others...maybe up to Pennsylvania.

....that sounds right.

The rest of them "Murakans" can drink heavily praise jebus burn books beat'n starve their children abuse their wives, and shoot each other as they do so well, and often.

Meanwhile we'll just harvest maple syrup have community feasts sing songs do stupid plays, and write bad poetry.

I like it.

Oh,...the Vermont New York, and Maine Air National Guard keep all their Phantoms, and F-16's/18's, and AWACS along with that stash of nukes the feds hide in New Hampshire.

We may be Hippies, but we ain't stupid.

( Life goes on. Just ask our old pal Godzilla as he paints his new digs in Queens.)