“When referencing actor Errol Flynn, Warner Brothers studio head, Jack Warner, noted in his autobiography, My First Hundred Years in Hollywood, “To the Walter Mittys of the world he [Flynn] was all the heroes in one magnificent, sexy, animal package”.
I had met Hollis after SHIPS ended my homelessness and moved me into a shared house across the alley from where H lived on 19th. and Alder. I liked the cut of his jibb when I first lay eyes on him. He had a twinkle in his eye, the mirth of a swashbuckler. Hollis claimed his uncle was the famous actor Errol Flynn. When I informed H my mother and aunt had seduced Errol when they were seventeen, unsheathed his sword, and had their way with him, he did not look too happy, and the contest was on.
In front of Safeway, there used to be metal tables and chairs – with umbrella – screwed into the ground. They are gone now, because here is where H and I had our office. We shared our ideas for a movie, or two, to kill time. I told my friend he reminded me of Thurber’s character he born, Walter Mitty. H cringed as I drove home my point like a rapier. I showed him no mercy because he kept running me over with the long limo he swore he would own one day – after he became a Rock Star. Or was it a Movie Director?
This morning I googled Walter Mitty and discovered Ben Stiller will play Walter in a movie due out in 2013. Another friend and Mitty type, swears all the great ideas are somehow looted from the very poor, the desperate geniuses of the world who are down on their luck, have no money, or place to come out of the cold. Hey, wasn’t Jesus dirt-poor – and homeless? Isn’t the Bible the No.1 Best Seller of all time?
After another brilliant round of could have and should haves, I almost let out a gasp, for Hollis now reminded me of someone.
“Hollis, stop talking. I think we both win, because you remind me of Berkeley Bill Bolagard, my homeless character in my novel ‘The Gideon Computer’. I think he is your age! Look at your last name. There is Bill. Then there is your love of Southern generals, your middle name, Lee, and Bolagard. My friend Nancy, of yogurt fame, bid me to write the history of the hippies.”
It was here I knew Hollis and I had crossed paths again for a noble puropus, for this is the novel that got me into Recovery when I realized I was seeing my future. The Gideon Computer is science fiction about the last hippie who finds Godhead in a computer.
“Hollis! Cease! We are both going to be famous one day, that is, if I ever finish my novel that I began in 1986.”
Mr. H gave me his famous “Yeah! Right” look.
On the way to the Springfield Library I showed my adopted veteran son the mural on the side of the Emerald Art association building.
“My kindred are in this painting. They 86ed me from the Art Assication when I questioned the term “Conservative Art Association”. My famous sister died with the surname Benton, as in Jessie Benton, who married John Fremont ‘The trailblazer’. This is your history too – because you are my best friend at the end of my life!”
Hollis gave me a look of disgust. When it looked like he was going to get his SSI money he told me he wanted to invest in the movie we were extras in ‘Sister Ruby’ it held up for lack of funding. This film was just shown at Cannes. When H got his money, he talked to an Investor Broker who had set up shop near Safeway about investing in Disney.
“John, I am going to help you become a millionaire!”
“Yeah! Right! I hope you had showered, and were not coughing like crazy – in his face! STOP SMOKING!”
My nickname for Hollis was STINKY WHEEZER. When he went back to smoking after his second stay in intensive care, I swore I would put his nickname on his tombstone.
“Here lies Stinky Wheezer.”
Yesterday when the guy at West Lawn asked if I wanted words to be put on Holli’s urn – FULL OF HIS ASHES – I looked at Maria from HUD-VAsh, and uttered H’s nickname. Mary let out a gasp.
My nickname is SPANKY. Michael Harkin’s nickname is SPARKY.
STINKY, SPANKY and SPARKY. There is a little Walter Mitty in us all. Bill Bolagard ‘The Last Hippie’ suffered from a case of Grand Grandiosity.
At the 4th of July concert, I went up and talked to the beautiful blonde you see in the grasp of Stinky and Spanky. She sang in the band that played before Paul Revere and the Raiders. I felt Stinky’s eyes on me. It was on. Just before the fireworks began, Stinky disappeared. When the light show ended, alas Mr. S came back. In his hand he held a hand signed poster of the Raiders.
Mr. S was big fan of the Portland trailblazers. “What is in a name?” Hollis searched in vain for his kindred’s name on the Cherokee Rolls, he suspecting he was a due a million acres – and then some! Then come our limousine ride, our road trip to Oklahoma, Stinky hustling us out of his limo in the middle of nowhere, he dressed in the a three piece suit, and smoking a big cigar!
“STOMP THAT STOGY OUT!”
Hollis will be none to happy to learn (somehow) it was I who found THE HOLY GRAIL. But, there are still things out there yet to be discovered by us Trailblazers, Wanderers, and Best Friends – everywhere! For instance, no one has found a cure for Homelessness. God knows Jesus did his best, gave it a good go. But, the Son of God – failed! Perhaps he just wasn’t humble enough?
Is it possible that those who hold the world’s most grandiose dreams, will come to meet with homelessness – because they will never give up their dream? Consider all the homeless Vets and………..The American Dream of God, Home, and Liberty.
P.S. The Julia Frantz Fan Club is looking for a replacement. Life will go on. It is amazing how many people who bonded with Hollis, find that hard to believe. Why?
Upasni Maharaj, born Kashinath Govindrao Upasni, (May 5, 1870 – December 24, 1941 ) was considered by his disciples to be a satguru. He lived in Sakori, India and is said to have received God-realization from Sai Baba of Shirdi. Sakori is located in Ahmednagar District of Maharashtra, about 5 kilometres (3 mi) from Shirdi.
Upasni Maharaj was the second of five sons, born into a Hindu and Brahmin family of priests in the village of Satana, India, in the district of Nasik. His father’s name was Govind Shastri and his mother’s, Rukhmini.
After a career as an ayurvedic doctor and three marriages where all three wives died, he began to hear a singing voice that he could not explain. This troubling sound, along with various other problems, led him on a difficult quest that finally culminated in him meeting Sai Baba of Shirdi who is said to have given him God-realization at the age of 42. Sai Baba then claimed to be the one who was calling him inwardly.
He died in Sakori, India on December 24, 1941, at the age of 71.
Satguru (Sanskrit: सदगुरू), or sadguru, does not merely mean true guru. The term is distinguished from other forms of gurus, such as musical instructors, scriptural teachers, parents, and so on. The satguru is a title given specifically only to an enlightened rishi/sant whose life’s purpose is to guide initiated shishya along the spiritual path, the summation of which is the realization of the Self through realization of God, who is omnipresent. A Satguru has some special characteristics that are not found in any other types of Spiritual Guru.
The recommendation says that the first and the foremost qualification of the True Master (Satguru) is that he must have known the True Lord (God) himself.
In one of Kabir’s songs the satguru is described as the real sadhu:
He is the real Sadhu, who can reveal the form of the Formless to the vision of these eyes;
Who teaches the simple way of attaining Him, that is other than rites or ceremonies;
Who does not make you close the doors, and hold the breath, and renounce the world;
Who makes you perceive the Supreme Spirit wherever the mind attaches itself;
Who teaches you to be still in the midst of all your activities.
Ever immersed in bliss, having no fear in his mind, he keeps the spirit of union in the midst of all enjoyments.
The infinite dwelling of the Infinite Being is everywhere: in earth, water, sky, and air;
Firm as the thunderbolt, the seat of the seeker is established above the void.
He who is within is without: I see Him and none else.
Walter Mitty is a fictional character in James Thurber’s short story “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, first published in The New Yorker on March 18, 1939, and in book form in My World and Welcome to It in 1942. Thurber loosely based the character on his friend, Walter Mithoff. It was made into a film in 1947, with a remake starring Ben Stiller scheduled for release in 2013.
Mitty is a meek, mild man with a vivid fantasy life: in a few dozen paragraphs he imagines himself a wartime pilot, an emergency-room surgeon, and a devil-may-care killer. The character’s name has come into more general use to refer to an ineffectual dreamer, appearing in several dictionaries. The American Heritage Dictionary defines a Walter Mitty as “an ordinary, often ineffectual person who indulges in fantastic daydreams of personal triumphs”. The most famous of Thurber’s inept male protagonists, the character is considered “the archetype for dreamy, hapless, Thurber Man”.
Although the story has humorous elements, there is a darker and more significant message underlying the text, leading to a more tragic interpretation of the Mitty character. Even in his heroic daydreams, Mitty does not triumph, several fantasies being interrupted before the final one sees Mitty dying bravely in front of a firing squad. In the brief snatches of reality that punctuate Mitty’s fantasies the audience meets well-meaning but insensitive strangers who inadvertently rob Mitty of some of his remaining dignity.
When referencing actor Errol Flynn, Warner Brothers studio head, Jack Warner, noted in his autobiography, My First Hundred Years in Hollywood, “To the Walter Mittys of the world he [Flynn] was all the heroes in one magnificent, sexy, animal package”.
In his 1992 biography of Henry Kissinger, Walter Isaacson records that on 6 October 1973, during the 1973 Arab Israeli War, Kissinger urged President Richard Nixon’s Chief of Staff General Alexander Haig to keep Nixon in Florida in order to avoid “any hysterical moves” and to “keep any Walter Mitty tendencies under control”.
Last night I went to Eugene’s first Friday Art Walk. I had planned to read from my novel ‘The Gideon Computer’ that I began in 1985 after I visited my childhood friend, Nancy Hamren, at the Springfield Creamery. We had talked about our hippie days in San Francisco, and Nancy suggested I write the history of the hippies because I could recall so much. A year later Berkeley Bill Bolagard was born, he the last of the hippies, and homeless in the future. I sprang forward a quarter of a century in order to reveal our fate. Bill has a date with destiny he soon to be captured by a giant computer that appears to be benevolent, but, is after the Artful Dodgers of the World, those rare souls who find a way out, an escape from shame-based societies. The Gideon Computer is capturing all the Magic in the world in a monstrous GUILT TRIP.
When I was seventeen, the movie ‘The Trial’ blew me away. I had recently done a painting titled ‘The Wall’. It shows a figure walking towards a group of four figures standing at the base of this dark brown wall. They can go no further. They are loitering. They are waiting for me, the lone artist to arrive, so I can experience their despair, their Dead End. This was inspired by our move to the Land of Lost Angels when I was sixteen. Bryan Maclean saw this painting. You have seen this arched door through this blog.
When I got downtown I saw the outline of a phantom figure drawn in chalk, like the police would draw around a corpse. I read these words inside the chalk line;
I found two more phantom homeless outside the No Shame Theatre where I arrived too late to read. These outlines are portals. I knew I had arrived, in the future. It is time to open THE DOOR. I am ‘The Gate Keeper’
In 1965, I opened the door to the apartment on Pine Street where I lived with Nancy Hamren and Carrol Schurter, and in walked Stanley Augustus Owsley. He took a kick at Tadger, Nancy’s little dog, which bid me to ask this asshole I never met;
“What’s the matter with you. Don’t you like dogs?”
“I hate dogs!” Bear snarled.
Owsley gave the Beatles the LSD they took when they made ‘The Magical Mystery Tour’ that Thomas Wolfe compares to Ken Kesey’s bus tours. While Owsley made love to Nancy, I am in the next room making love to Carrol. The connectedness that we orignal hippies felt, is legend. This is because we established a psychic network with one station. We could hear and feel each other. We did ur best to protect this station and keep on broadcasting. Last night Chris Wandel called me from the Village to listen to Our station that is growing fainter and fainter as the Magic Mundi is consumed by the haters of magic, who pride themselves on making people afraid and guilty of something, and any ol something will do.
I am the Destroyer of Shame. I will take no prisoners. I have come to set you free, and you know who you are! The Hippie Rapture has commenced. Be prepared. Make love not war!
Below is a video of Tracy Twyman who banned me from her yahoogroup. I had invited her to come to Eugene and try out for the SluG Queen, because I was not buying her alien reptiles of satan living underground ditty. Tracy and Stanley would have hit it off.
All four Beatles were Knighted by the Queen.
“SLEEPS Action Alert!
Friday January 4, 3pm to 7pm in Downtown Eugene
Meeting 2:30pm at the Atrium, 99 W. 10th Ave.
SLEEPS is calling for a Flash Mob Die Off action & Guerrilla Street Theater. This action is being done in an effort to bring attention to the ever growing number of unhoused people who die each year in the streets and parks of Eugene Oregon.”
In my novel ‘The Gideon Compter’ I have my hero. Berkeley Bill Bolagard, captured by a malevolent computer designed by his rival for Monica’s affections, Thomas Gideon, a Catholic, who realizes there are billions of snippets of guilt we humans are evading. If only they could be strung together and stored in the Vault of Shame, our souls would be captured in a labyrinth of despair from which we would never escape. To make sure his labyrinth was air-tight, he needed to capture the greatest Artful Dodger of them all, his nemesis, Berkeley Bill, the last Hippie on earth.
“Don’t lay your guilt-trip on me!”
Thomas has a Pope of two in his family genealogy, and is the un-sung King of the Shame-based planet. Tom is the only one who does not need an alibi because he is the designer of the labyrinth he drops lost souls into. He is the Papal Bull. He is a………GOD!
I began this novel in 1986, and worked on it at the same time I was authoring Elfin. I got sober when I realized I was seeing into the future. All the information above was once on the rosy world web.
In April of 2011 I was informed my aunt Lillian Molnar was dead by an attorney that was handling the Rice Trust. He wanted to distribute $310,000 thousand dollars to my kindred who had excommunicated me. One of them is Randy Molnar who proves alien photos are fakes. Mark, is godless. Now that I have connected them to the Windsors, they can not ignore me – especially when I reveal the neglected source of the Grail Legends. You can say this on my Vita……..”Finder of the Holy Grail”. And I let go a hardy laugh!