Above is an old photo of the California Hotel where I believe my mother lured my best friend to his doom. They took the bus here after the Presco Children went to sleep, or, drove here in Rosemary’s Ford Anglia. I believe Bill Arnold was thirteen the first time she got him – between her legs – and in the clutches of her evil soul.

For several hours yesterday I watched The Movies on CNN. Almost everyone of them were applicable to my life story. My friend Casey began to notice my family was an architype. It blew his mind. He called me twice a day. We have long conversations. He became jealous. Victor, Mark, and Victor’s grandson, Cian, were very jealous of me. Our sane and sound family history was almost nil. What was left of it, appeared to be in my possession.

But, I was an oddball, a quirky artist and poet. These are powerfully logical Germans of good German stock. all three – HATE ART! Rosemary told her three eldest children she was a criminal who made porno movies, and did tricks for Big Bone’s Elmer. She told us she had a scholarship to Camarillo State Mental Hospital. In 1990, I told my father if they cut off his leg I want to mount it like a Marlin. When I saw the Sopranos I saw Vic and his branch of the family. His father was a professional gambler. His second wife Dee-Dee, shot my father in the back. The bullet is in his grave.

In my dream, my brother dies as he lived –  coward! His son is a coward. Is he considering sending some Filipinos after me? I may be impervious. I may live forever. I might be the archetypal Greek god, Dionysus. I was a secret architype, a template that is laid over the movie industry – and the music industry? Perhaps I am the Greek Godfather who is in charge of the Nine Muses?

You see, I was destined to be  great movie director. But, there is the real deal. After my death I began to direct on a level only the gods know.

When my mother told me my father was going blind from a rare disease, I flew from Boston to Oakland to see him at the hospital. The year is 1971. He is putting an ice pack on his – good eye. he already lost one. Several years later I found out our Dirty Dee-Dee knocked pop’s eye with a five pound ashtray. No cops were called.

What a little prick Cian O’Brian is. What a coward and a punk. He tried to lure my daughter away from me so he can have some more – fresh start – a do over! He inspires me to finish my story – and bury him under it! I will take no prisoners.

When Vic looked up at me at the hospital he saw this very strange and powerful person with energy pouring out of me. I was trying to do a healing. Big mistake. Big Victim had already got to my sisters after getting them good ad drunk. Did Dee-Dee know?

John Presco

Copyright 2019

The metaphorical character of the story related in the lyrics has inspired a number of conjectural interpretations by listeners. In the 1980s the Rev. Paul Risley of Cornerstone Church in Burlington, Wisconsin alleged that “Hotel California” referred to a San Francisco hotel that was purchased by Anton LaVey and converted into his Church of Satan.^[44][45] Other rumors suggested that the Hotel California was the Camarillo State Mental Hospital.^[46]

https://rosamondpress.com/2016/10/10/the-bohemian-club-of-crockett-2/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hotel_California

https://rosamondpress.com/2018/08/20/chas-cunningham-real-life-villain/

https://rosamondpress.com/2018/09/26/why-i-died/

https://rosamondpress.com/2011/11/17/the-greatest-soap-opera-ever/

https://rosamondpress.com/2012/06/03/dirty-dee-dee-knocked-my-eye-out/