There once was a boy named Gimmesome Roy. He was nothing like me or you.
'Cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do.
As a kid, he sat in the cellar, sniffing airplane glue.
And then he smoked bananas -- which was then the thing to do.
He tried aspirin in Coca-Cola, breathed helium on the sly,
And his life was just one endless search to find that perfect high.
But grass just made him want to lay back and eat chocolate-chip pizza all night,
And the great things he wrote while he was stoned looked like shit in the morning light.
And speed just made him rap all day, reds just laid him back,
And Cocaine Rose was sweet to his nose, but the price nearly broke his back.
He tried PCP and THC, but they didn't quite do the trick,
And poppers nearly blew his heart and mushrooms made him sick.
Acid made him see the light, but he couldn't remember it long.
And hashish was just a little too weak, and smack was a lot too strong,
And Quaaludes made him stumble, and booze just made him cry,
Till he heard of a cat named Baba Fats who knew of the perfect high.
Now, Baba Fats was a hermit cat who lived up in Nepal,
High on a craggy mountaintop, up a sheer and icy wall.
"But hell," says Roy, "I'm a healthy boy, and I'll crawl or climb or fly,
But I'll find that guru who'll give me the clue as to what's the perfect high."
So out and off goes Gimmesome Roy to the land that knows no time,
Up a trail no man could conquer to a cliff no man could climb.
For fourteen years he tries that cliff, then back down again he slides
Then sits -- and cries -- and climbs again, pursuing the perfect high.
He's grinding his teeth, he's coughing blood, he's aching and shaking and weak,
As starving and sore and bleeding and tore, he reaches the mountain peak.
And his eyes blink red like a snow-blind wolf, and he snarls the snarl of a rat,
As there in perfect repose and wearing no clothes -- sits the godlike Baba Fats.
"What's happening, Fats?" says Roy with joy, "I've come to state my biz.
I hear you're hip to the perfect trip. Please tell me what it is.
For you can see," says Roy to he, "that I'm about to die,
So for my last ride, Fats, how can I achieve the perfect high?"
"Well, dog my cats!" says Baba Fats. "here's one more burnt-out soul,
Who's looking for some alchemist to turn his trip to gold.
But you won't find it in no dealer's stash, or on no druggist's shelf.
Son, if you would seek the perfect high -- find it in yourself."
"Why, you jive motherfucker!" screamed Gimmesome Roy, "I've climbed through rain and sleet,
I've lost three fingers off my hands and four toes off my feet!
I've braved the lair of the polar bear and tasted the maggot's kiss.
Now, you tell me the high is in myself. What kind of shit is this?
My ears 'fore they froze off," says Roy, "had heard all kind of crap,
But I didn't climb for fourteen years to listen to that sophomore rap.
And I didn't crawl up here to hear that the high is on the natch,
So you tell me where the real stuff is or I'll kill your guru ass!"
"Ok, OK," says Baba Fats, "you're forcing it out of me.
There is a land beyond the sun that's known as Zaboli.
A wretched land of stone and sand where snakes and buzzards scream,
And in this devil's garden blooms the mystic Tzu-Tzu tree.
And every ten years it blooms one flower as white as the Key West sky,
And he who eats of the Tzu-Tzu flower will know the perfect high.
For the rush comes on like a tidal wave and it hits like the blazing sun.
And the high, it lasts a lifetime and the down don't ever come.
But the Zaboli land is ruled by a giant who stands twelve cubits high.
With eyes of red in his hundred heads, he waits for the passers-by.
And you must slay the red-eyed giant, and swim the River of Slime,
Where the mucous beasts, they wait to feast on those who journey by.
And if you survive the giant and the beasts and swim that slimy sea,
There's a blood-drinking witch who sharpens her teeth as she guards that Tzu-Tzu tree."
"To hell with your witches and giants," laughs Roy. "To hell with the beasts of the sea.
As long as the Tzu-Tzu flower blooms, some hope still blooms for me."
And with tears of joy in his snow-blind eye, Roy hands the guru a five,
Then back down the icy mountain he crawls, pursuing that perfect high.
"Well, that is that," says Baba Fats, sitting back down on his stone,
Facing another thousand years of talking to God alone.
"It seems, Lord", says Fats, "it's always the same, old men or bright-eyed youth,
It's always easier to sell them some shit than it is to give them the truth."
By:Shel Silverstein
Friday, June 24, 2005
Intolerance
I just returned from instructing my first Outward Bound course. Most of the kids on my trip were incredible, talented, intelligent and all-around beautiful people. However, I was very disturbed with a few of the boys that offended me nearly fifteen times a day with their sexual vulgarity, racial, gender, and sexual stereotypes and overall disrespect for the people around them.
Perhaps I've forgotten how close-minded and inexperienced I was at 17, but I don't think I ever had as much hate and disrespect for people as these boys did. I tried to teach a lesson about diversity and tolerance and the response from a few were, "I didn't pay $2000 for a liberal brainwashing" and "If gays want to burn in hell that's their business, but I don't have to participate in this conversation". I was not TELLING anyone what they had to think, merely exposing them to the language that many use on a day to day basis and how that language might offend people around them who are of a different culture, gender, religion or sexual orientation then they are.
The racial stereotypes were bad too. Things like, "Black people love fried chicken and watermelon, right? That's what they eat?" and "I love black people, I'm black on the inside. I got fourteen black friends". These aren't blatantly hurtful comments, but the fact that they can count the black people they know and have no idea about how rich the African-American culture is, is very telling of our society.
The objectification of women was just as bad, "Did you F--- Lucy last weekend? You should try putting it in her...or...and if she doesn't like it just smack the hell out of her". I recognize that these are young boys with insane amounts of testostrone pumping through them, but these were things they were saying out loud, even yelling to each other, in front of every adult present.
After only a few days it was obvious to me that these kids are growing up in absolute seclusion from people who vary from the straight white Christian American male prototype that seems to be the mold for what is "normal" and "right". They saw nothing wrong with talking about women as though they were nothing more than plastic blow-up dolls, talking about African-Americans as though they are some strange cult of people that exist in the corners of their communities, Latinos as though they were just the people who mopped the floors at their local Burger King and about gay people as though they were serial killers or child molestors. It is burning in me because I know these stereotypes are learned, which means they are being passed from the adults in their communities. I've decided it will be my mission on these trips to teach tolerance (even for the intolerant) to our youth. If anyone out there has suggestions or resource recommendations for reaching young people on these issues please respond. And if you are subject to these stereotypes yourself, please, please, please, go out and immerse yourself in a community of people unlike yourself. Take the time to learn about other people. It is disturbing to no end that such a diverse and great country like the U.S. is closing doors for people who just want to feel comfortable being themselves.
Perhaps I've forgotten how close-minded and inexperienced I was at 17, but I don't think I ever had as much hate and disrespect for people as these boys did. I tried to teach a lesson about diversity and tolerance and the response from a few were, "I didn't pay $2000 for a liberal brainwashing" and "If gays want to burn in hell that's their business, but I don't have to participate in this conversation". I was not TELLING anyone what they had to think, merely exposing them to the language that many use on a day to day basis and how that language might offend people around them who are of a different culture, gender, religion or sexual orientation then they are.
The racial stereotypes were bad too. Things like, "Black people love fried chicken and watermelon, right? That's what they eat?" and "I love black people, I'm black on the inside. I got fourteen black friends". These aren't blatantly hurtful comments, but the fact that they can count the black people they know and have no idea about how rich the African-American culture is, is very telling of our society.
The objectification of women was just as bad, "Did you F--- Lucy last weekend? You should try putting it in her...or...and if she doesn't like it just smack the hell out of her". I recognize that these are young boys with insane amounts of testostrone pumping through them, but these were things they were saying out loud, even yelling to each other, in front of every adult present.
After only a few days it was obvious to me that these kids are growing up in absolute seclusion from people who vary from the straight white Christian American male prototype that seems to be the mold for what is "normal" and "right". They saw nothing wrong with talking about women as though they were nothing more than plastic blow-up dolls, talking about African-Americans as though they are some strange cult of people that exist in the corners of their communities, Latinos as though they were just the people who mopped the floors at their local Burger King and about gay people as though they were serial killers or child molestors. It is burning in me because I know these stereotypes are learned, which means they are being passed from the adults in their communities. I've decided it will be my mission on these trips to teach tolerance (even for the intolerant) to our youth. If anyone out there has suggestions or resource recommendations for reaching young people on these issues please respond. And if you are subject to these stereotypes yourself, please, please, please, go out and immerse yourself in a community of people unlike yourself. Take the time to learn about other people. It is disturbing to no end that such a diverse and great country like the U.S. is closing doors for people who just want to feel comfortable being themselves.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Friday, June 03, 2005
Purple Twilight
By: Jeff Hardesty
“There’s just nothing of substance in the world these days Simon! Nothing at all to give two thoughts about!” Andrea spouted, taking a slug off of a fifth of Johnny Walker and lying the half-full bottle on the hotel nightstand.
Simon walked out of the bathroom shirtless, wiping a bit of vomit from his lower lip. He slid a Barclay cigarette from his pack beside the TV, lit the end of it and flopped himself onto the love seat by the open window. He coughed. “What is it exactly that you are looking for?”
Andrea was in her underwear and a spaghetti strap sleep-shirt, her hair in tangles, a cigarette resting between her skinny fingers. She fell onto her stomach, pouting. “Anything Simon! I am looking for absolutely anything that isn’t this worthless wasting away of our lives.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Simon said calmly taking a drag from his smoke.
“If you’re looking for a motivational speaker you’ve come to the wrong guy.”
“Oh!” she said playfully, bouncing off the bed and kissing Simon’s chapped lips.
“You’re worthless.” She gazed out the hotel window at the red rock illuminated in the purple moonlight. There was magic in Tempe on such desert evenings. “Let’s have a baby,” she said. “Let’s get married, buy a house and make lots and lots of babies. What’d you think?”
“I think we better keep practicing for awhile longer. And…” he began kissing her between words, “I think you are drunk. And I think you are a dreamer. And I think that you make me very happy. What more purpose do you want?”
Andrea glowed at his comments but her spirit was restless. Words were not enough. “I want it all!” she said, waltzing about the room. “I want to see the world and have adventures and have a nice house and kids and a picket fence and a meaningful job. I want my life to have purpose!”
“So…I’m chopped liver, basically.”
“Of course not!” Andrea said straddling his lap and kissing him multiple times with a mouth full of fire. “I want you too. Who do you think I would have my kids with? I couldn’t possibly go on all these adventures by myself. The world is scary, I would need you there to protect me.”
Simon laughed, nearly shooting amber ale from his nose. “Ah yes, I suppose I would be your knight in shining armor.” He took Andrea’s face in his hands, looking lovingly into her eyes. “You are wonderfully odd and perfectly beautiful but absolutely insane. How exactly would we afford to do any of this?”
“We could get jobs!” she said.
“We have jobs,” he replied, gently lifting her off of him so that he could retrieve another beer from the small refrigerator.
“I mean real jobs. We could go back to school and get real jobs with salaries and vacation time and insurance and then we could afford to do whatever we wanted. We could see the world and buy a house and have kids and it would be wonderful! Come on Simon, think about it.”
Simon’s face was losing its calm. The thought of sitting in a classroom listening to pretentious academic types tell him about the happenings of three thousand years ago was enough to envelope his entire person in total disgust.
“Mm Hm,” he said. “Well you get on that. I am a free man. There’s no way you’re getting me back into any goddamned university, no matter how wonderful you think it will be. I am finished with that life.”
Andrea’s face turned as red as her hair and she didn’t know whether to cry or yell. She did both. “Damn it Simon you’re so stubborn! What is this life going to get us? Getting drunk in random hotel rooms just to get away from living in our parent’s basements! Do you really want to work these shit restaurant and construction jobs for the rest of your life?”
Now it was Simon who starred out the window with a far away look in his eyes. Andrea said nothing.
“Do you see that rock out there Andrea?”
“What?” she asked, frustrated with this distraction. “Don’t change the subject. I want to talk about this.”
Simon ignored her. “That rock has been sitting there for a million years. It’s seen storms, and floods and droughts and battles. It’s probably seen native ceremonies and caravans of settlers and things that we have no idea ever even happened. And it’s never moved. Never done anything but be a rock.”
Andrea’s eyes drooped in a way that anyone’s eyes would when faced with the sad difference between nature and humanity. She stood and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. They stood for a moment in silence with their arms wrapped about each other’s waists.
“You are so thoughtful,” she said, finally. “I love it.”
Simon looked embarrassed and bowed his head. He laid his beer on the dresser and pulled the girl’s lovely frame in close against his body. Her breasts pressed against his naked chest and they danced into the early hours of morning. When the music stopped Andrea lay naked with her head on Simon’s shoulder, their creamy flesh glowing orange in the early morning sunlight.
“Simon?” she said softly, “I still want to go back to school. For both of us.”
Simon kissed the top of her head and sighed. “Yeah,” he said, looking out the window. “I think that might be a good idea.”
“There’s just nothing of substance in the world these days Simon! Nothing at all to give two thoughts about!” Andrea spouted, taking a slug off of a fifth of Johnny Walker and lying the half-full bottle on the hotel nightstand.
Simon walked out of the bathroom shirtless, wiping a bit of vomit from his lower lip. He slid a Barclay cigarette from his pack beside the TV, lit the end of it and flopped himself onto the love seat by the open window. He coughed. “What is it exactly that you are looking for?”
Andrea was in her underwear and a spaghetti strap sleep-shirt, her hair in tangles, a cigarette resting between her skinny fingers. She fell onto her stomach, pouting. “Anything Simon! I am looking for absolutely anything that isn’t this worthless wasting away of our lives.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Simon said calmly taking a drag from his smoke.
“If you’re looking for a motivational speaker you’ve come to the wrong guy.”
“Oh!” she said playfully, bouncing off the bed and kissing Simon’s chapped lips.
“You’re worthless.” She gazed out the hotel window at the red rock illuminated in the purple moonlight. There was magic in Tempe on such desert evenings. “Let’s have a baby,” she said. “Let’s get married, buy a house and make lots and lots of babies. What’d you think?”
“I think we better keep practicing for awhile longer. And…” he began kissing her between words, “I think you are drunk. And I think you are a dreamer. And I think that you make me very happy. What more purpose do you want?”
Andrea glowed at his comments but her spirit was restless. Words were not enough. “I want it all!” she said, waltzing about the room. “I want to see the world and have adventures and have a nice house and kids and a picket fence and a meaningful job. I want my life to have purpose!”
“So…I’m chopped liver, basically.”
“Of course not!” Andrea said straddling his lap and kissing him multiple times with a mouth full of fire. “I want you too. Who do you think I would have my kids with? I couldn’t possibly go on all these adventures by myself. The world is scary, I would need you there to protect me.”
Simon laughed, nearly shooting amber ale from his nose. “Ah yes, I suppose I would be your knight in shining armor.” He took Andrea’s face in his hands, looking lovingly into her eyes. “You are wonderfully odd and perfectly beautiful but absolutely insane. How exactly would we afford to do any of this?”
“We could get jobs!” she said.
“We have jobs,” he replied, gently lifting her off of him so that he could retrieve another beer from the small refrigerator.
“I mean real jobs. We could go back to school and get real jobs with salaries and vacation time and insurance and then we could afford to do whatever we wanted. We could see the world and buy a house and have kids and it would be wonderful! Come on Simon, think about it.”
Simon’s face was losing its calm. The thought of sitting in a classroom listening to pretentious academic types tell him about the happenings of three thousand years ago was enough to envelope his entire person in total disgust.
“Mm Hm,” he said. “Well you get on that. I am a free man. There’s no way you’re getting me back into any goddamned university, no matter how wonderful you think it will be. I am finished with that life.”
Andrea’s face turned as red as her hair and she didn’t know whether to cry or yell. She did both. “Damn it Simon you’re so stubborn! What is this life going to get us? Getting drunk in random hotel rooms just to get away from living in our parent’s basements! Do you really want to work these shit restaurant and construction jobs for the rest of your life?”
Now it was Simon who starred out the window with a far away look in his eyes. Andrea said nothing.
“Do you see that rock out there Andrea?”
“What?” she asked, frustrated with this distraction. “Don’t change the subject. I want to talk about this.”
Simon ignored her. “That rock has been sitting there for a million years. It’s seen storms, and floods and droughts and battles. It’s probably seen native ceremonies and caravans of settlers and things that we have no idea ever even happened. And it’s never moved. Never done anything but be a rock.”
Andrea’s eyes drooped in a way that anyone’s eyes would when faced with the sad difference between nature and humanity. She stood and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. They stood for a moment in silence with their arms wrapped about each other’s waists.
“You are so thoughtful,” she said, finally. “I love it.”
Simon looked embarrassed and bowed his head. He laid his beer on the dresser and pulled the girl’s lovely frame in close against his body. Her breasts pressed against his naked chest and they danced into the early hours of morning. When the music stopped Andrea lay naked with her head on Simon’s shoulder, their creamy flesh glowing orange in the early morning sunlight.
“Simon?” she said softly, “I still want to go back to school. For both of us.”
Simon kissed the top of her head and sighed. “Yeah,” he said, looking out the window. “I think that might be a good idea.”
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