I spent allot of my day, texting my old friend, Peter Shapiro, about our mutual friend, Christine Wandel, who said this when I suggested we might get a place together on Beacon Hill. She knew I lived there in 1971. I suspect she was jealous.
“You’re blood isn’t blue. You can’t live there!”
I told her l like to fantasize and shop for homes on Zillow. I told her about this townhouse in Alameda looking out at the Bay Bridge and San Francisco. Then I talked about us living on Beacon Hill – again! She snapped at me, and made a rude declaration, that in hindsight began the Second Civil War, because I told Peter;
“My ancestor is a Captain of the Constitution, and I’m going to – blow her dingy out of the water!”
Earlier I had seen Lindsey on the news responding to the idea he should be charged for Insurrection. My ancestors were Patriots in South Carolina, as were the ancestors of Dottie Witherspoon – who I saved! Christine is now telling me – I am not worthy to save her life! I wonder who is – Donald Trump?
BINGO!
Wandel is acting like she is telling her life story to a Right-wing Insurrectionist – who may have read my blog! She regrets being part of the promotion of LSD – as does Ken Babbs – who bathes in the glow of being the Last Hippie Leftist Standing! What about me? Both Ken’s bonded with boring women – while I got a Beacon Hill Hellion on my hands! Look how Wandel keeps on the attack, even though the artist Stefan Eins has a strong grip on her arm.. C is trying to stop a Euro-Skank from giving the traditional Euro greeting.
“No woman is going to put her lips on my man!”
I’m going to start Psychodrama Gardening Therapy and charge folks allot to garden and work out their issues – while Babbs gets ready to thrw out another ball at the Em’s game!
BORING!
Why do I get all the Girly Action?
John Presco
https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-psychodrama-5193006
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ken_Babbs
The purpose for this Happening was to link the psychedelic tribes from the west and the east. Many people tend to remember the east tribe because of Timothy Leary and LSD. Many misjudgments have been made on the Pranksters and their promotion of LSD. However, Babbs makes it clear that “just because we used LSD does not mean we were promoting its use. (LSD) is a dangerous drug…[It’s] a way, I guess, of breaking down the conformist ideology.”[2]
https://news.yahoo.com/grand-jury-lindsey-graham-facing-121931648.html
On Friday, we learned that a special grand jury recommended a few dozen people for indictment, including 21 people who weren’t. Graham was among those recommended for charges but who face none. (Trump and 18 others were indicted.)
That’s a shame because Graham was open-eyed in his complicity. He is the king of Trump’s sycophants.
Defying the Boston Mafia
Posted on February 12, 2014 by Royal Rosamond Press
Above is me in 1971. I lived on Beacon Hill in this apartment building. I had unlimited guts. I took on the whole world.
In 1971 my attorney told those who refused to move out of our home on 40 Anderson Street, a four story building on Beacon Hill, to move to the top floor for our safety. I was in a legal battle with the brother-in-law of the head of Boston’s Mafia, and they were losing. This guy was a top-notch attorney. The owner of the grocery store down the street who liked me, said;
“They want their building back. They will hurt you.”
When I heard the door being kicked in on the main floor, I rushed downstairs to find the door to the old managers apartment knocked off its hinges. Then I heard the awful sound of the squatter’s three month old black lab having its throat cut. I shouted;
“Get out there!”
There was silence, and then this question;
“Are you the manager?”
“Yes! Get out!”
“You come in here!”
“We got something for you!” said the second voice.
When I refused, they came out carrying bloody knives. I stood my ground. Just them, Shaheb let out a long blast from his horn. He was on the steps with three of my neighbors. These demons folded their knives, walked passed me with smirks on their face, and were out the door. I rushed to find the puppy. I almost fainted when I saw its blood smeared on every wall. I went in search of her and found her body stuffed behind the toilet. I picked her up. She was still warm. I began to cry. I began to wipe her blood off the walls before her owners came home. When they did, I was still crying because it was my vanity, our vanity, that killed her. She was completely innocent. She didn’t have a clue about the battle for the building she lived in. She was happy. She was horrified by the cruelty inflicted on her. I will forever hear her cries.
We won our case. No one likes killers of puppies. Not ever the mob bosses. This is when Shaheb told me he was considering getting guns to fight for the building that was sold in auction to a family construction company who never made the changes they said they were. It took all the light I could muster to talk Shaheb out of a armed stand-off.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2014
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2012/09/02/vegas-handsome-johnny-rosselli/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2012/08/12/the-sharon-family-in-bay-area/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2012/06/05/eastwood-american-royalty/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2012/06/01/the-pilgrims-society/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2012/02/17/the-gooch-hart-benton-and-mcdowell-family/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2012/01/28/son-of-art/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2011/10/28/the-coakleys-and-the-angels/
https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2011/09/11/sharon-family-reunion-at-palace-hotel/
Saving Dottie Witherspoon
Posted on September 12, 2011 by Royal Rosamond Press
Tonight, The Tea Party Express, will be having a televised debate. For the most part, the Tea Party is the latest cult to come down the turnpike in order to save America. Most tea party members, are Jesus Freaks disguised at capitalistic Patriots, verses, Leftist anti capitalist Hippy Socialist who want America to be a Communal Welfare State modeled after the old fashioned Jesus, before he was remodeled by Dick Armey to be the second coming of Howard Roarke, who rapes his love-object who is playing female sex games in order to own power in Industrial America, the land of Rich He-men. So much for the Woman’s Movement. It’s back to old fashioned values where women wore Quaker dresses, like the ones worn at the Lighthouse Ranch, where Dottie Witherspoon took our Blue Tick hound dog, when she ran away to find Jesus.
Thanks Dottie! This is how I am treated after – I SAVED YOU?
I met Dottie through my friend, Michelle, who I met a year earlier. She was a member of The Process. She wore a long black robe with a hood. Her younger friend wore a blue cape, because she was a novice. I fell for the novice, and we became lovers. I would later rescue Michelle from a Mafia chief. But, lets save that story for another day.
Dottie was Michelle’s naive roommate, who had come to Boston from South Carolina. Michelle was concerned for Dottie because she was going to move back to New Orleans, and she was a babe in the woods. On cue, into Dottie’s apartment comes Devil Boy, a weasel like entity that had taken acid and was proud of his witchy powers he had discovered within. To prove to me he had the right stuff, he points his finger at Dottie’s cat, and shot it with a jolt of bad energy. The cat thought she was going to be petted, approached, purring, and now winces after being dosed with bad energy. I was not impressed.
“You’re a little shit, aren’t you? How would you feel if I did that to you?”
I watched Devil Boy wince, he looking in my eyes wondering why I was not afraid of his black magic. We had our Clint Eastwood moment, and he left, never to return. I moved in and became Dotties lover. The cat fell in love with me, and followed me like a little puppy when we went to the park. That’s us up in a tree.
Above is a photo of Girmson the head of the Process, and Mel Lyman wearing shades. Mel married Jessie Benton the daughter of the famous artist, Thomas Hart Benton, Garth Benton’s cousin. The children in the tree are Mel’s children, some born from Benton’s womb. Thanks to my genealogical research, these folks are kin to the Royal Stewarts. Mel claimed he is God, an Avatar, thus, God is my kinfolk.
I watched allot of 911 programs yesterday, everyone of them declaring “America will never be the same.”
They said the same thing about the Charlie Manson murders, and the Jim Jones Jesus cult suicides. Then there is David Koresh and Waco. What these folks have in common is the hatred of Government. Jone’s generals murdered Congressman Ryan, shot him dead with a rifle. Then Reverand Jim brought out the big vats of poisoned Cool-aid. Today, weak willed folks are woofing down that Tea Bag Espresso and carrying guns to rallies. Yeehaw!
Nope! It’s the same ol America, full of religious nuts fleeing real civilization because for the most part, they are insane! Osama Bin Laden was a religious fanatic trained by the U.S. Government to bring down the Evil Empire of Socialist Communalism. When the CIA betrayed him, Bin went after Anne Rand’s hero high atop the Trade Tower. The rest is common American History!
Jon Presco
Copyright 2011
http://goalumni.homestead.com/
The Lighthouse Ranch was one of the Christian communes I was involved with when I was a new Christian in the Jesus Movement. I lived at a Christian commune called Living Waters in Whitethorn, Calif. for a couple of months. Living Waters was a part of The Lighthouse Ranch. On Sundays we meaning all the members of the different communes met at a church for worship and dinner. Durkin oftened preached or taught the Bible. The commune Living Waters had around a couple hundred people living on a large tract of land. We often would go to Eureka to work or for fellowship.
I remember all the Jesus Freaks around Living Waters coming for weekends of worship, praise and teaching. There would be up to 500 people at these gatherings of Jesus People. I will never forget the worship services of hundreds men, women and children singing in tongues and dancing in the Spirit.
I lived at Living Waters for couple of months and left due to lack of women and food. I still have a small Good News for Modern Man NT I bought around that time. I still miss the spiritual fellowship of those days of long ago. I suppose I am still looking, longing, and searching for the kind of spiritual fellowship I had with Jesus Freaks here among the Dutch Reformed.
Cat Down On Hancock Street
Posted on November 1, 2021 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Portrait At Hancock Street
by
Vincent Rosamond Rice
Copyright 2021
At the end of our two hour Halloween talk, Christine Wandel tells me she got a letter from her “fake mother” informing her her cat had to be put down after it attacked her “fake sister” Louise.
“What color was the cat?” I asked my friend of fifty-four years.
“White.” Christine told me, and I got chills.
“What color were it’s eyes?” I asked.
“I don’t recall.”
“Think. This is very important! Where did you get that cat.
“From a cat farm outside Boston.”
“You made a special trip. Was it a special cat?”
“It was special to me.”
“Did it have blue eyes? The reason I ask is because in my novel ‘The Gideon Computer’ you (Monica) own a stuffed white lama given to you by your father, And – it has blue eyes! Your father had blue eyes. Were they the same color as my eyes?”
“When did you write this book?”
“I began it in 1986 after my friend Nancy suggested I author the history of the hippies. I thought if I wrote about The Last Hippie, I could better tell our story. This book began to come true. This is why I got sober. The head of Serenity Lane thinks I am a walk-in. But, I believe I am a Futurian. Who was in the car with you?”
I told Christine that I highly suspect Lousie wanted her dead. I was told her fake sister beat her up all the time, and no one came to her rescue. I suspect the appearance of Christine’s twin at school, opened a closed door. The Good Doctor owned a crystal ball and a large black Chrysler. He sent his daughter to a college as far away from Louise as he could – without sending her to Europe. How about Le Rosey?
Here is a photograph of me up a tree with the cat I saved from a Warlock, when I saved Dottie Witherspoon. It would walk with us to the park – to play with her dog-friends. I was going to ask Christine if she saw the movie ‘Whatever Happened To Baby Jane’, but we were weary of this look into a glass darkly.
The Gideon Computer Atop Beacon Hill
Posted on November 19, 2020 by Royal Rosamond Press
After I talked to my friend, Casey Farrell, I realized I had employed my science fiction novel, The Gideon Computer, to return to Beacon Hill – in the future! It was not safe for me to do so in 1987, or 1986, because I should have died at the hands of very bad men stabbing me to death with knives – back in 1972! Being a Futurian can be confusing. Memory loss – works both ways! I suspect Casey is a Futurian, too, because he came up with a antidote for the creative condition, and not writing it down – he forgot it! This indicates it is a common antidote – of the future – that we both got a glimpse of, and, may return again in one of our hour long discussions. We are going to do a radio show, the name of, will remain a mystery – for now – excuse my pun. Edgar Allan Poe was authoring the first Science Fiction.
Six years ago Chris and Stefan bought a house together in Wilkes-Barre. They only knew each other for a month. I told Chris this may have been a very bad idea. How did she know he would not take advantage of her? He may be a famous artist, and all that, but, do all artists have a stellar reputations?
They had met at a Landlord dispute group in the Village. Christine was being evicted because she had twelve cats. Stefan came to her rescue when she began to cry, and helped find homes for most of the felines. He also painted my ex-lovers appartment – and turned it into – his museum! Hmm! Stefan was living in a hotel. Then they wanted me to buy the abandoned house next door that was about to be torn down. Christine said there was a black cat living in this ruin – that would not let her near it. I was appalled!
“You want me to spend my Trust from my uncle on a building I would not be able to live in – just to save a black cat?”
“Yes!”
“You’re insane!”
Then Christine told me she believed Stefan wanted her dead so he can sell the house.
“He needs money to spend on his Euro-Skanks who have been tricked into seeing him as a great artist. But, he’s not. In half a minute, he twisted a piece of wire, and hung it on a nail!”
“Did he drive the nail into your wall?”
“No! It was already there! He is so pleased with it. He hung all this other trash next to it. We worked so hard fixing my place up. I wanted us to get married after I put him on the Deed. He squiggled this Love Contract on a piece of paper with a badly drawn heart. It’s embarrassing. He put a picture of just himself under it. I take the heart down when we have company, which doesn’t happen anymore. At a gallery, he covered my mouth when I wanted to talk about the show. The artist was asking for some input!”
One of these skanks is an artist – who tried to kiss Stefan on the mouth as a art gallery. Christine physically prevented this. The video shows the three swirling round and round. Chris throws her cup of wine on the rude woman. This artist empties her cup on Christine’s head. This skank is seen with Eins and Herman Nitsch who conducts blood crucifixion rituals. My Boston Blue Blood ended up shoving her lover into a large plastic garbage can full of cheap Dixie cups and Styrofoam paper plates.
To discover The Black Cat, by Edgar Allan Poe, allowed me to ground all my information in my Gideon Computer. Christine had called me a hundred times to make a report on the insane relationship she was having with Eins. I told her many times to not tell me about them because she was triggering my PTSD. The alleged rape of Eins with a toilet plunger by a three hundred pound homeless woman – was enough! She showed the NYPD spatters of blood on the ceiling. When she changed the locks on the door he went to the hardware store – and bought a crowbar!
“You got a hardware store in the Village? He actually slammed the crowbar down on the counter and asked in his German accent; ‘How much?”
Six years ago, I began a painting of this quarrelsome couple. On Halloween ( a year ago) I added tombstones with the name ‘Cat’ on them. I warned Chris not to be alone with Stefan at the house that I put in this work. Stefan goes once a year to tend to his statues in Austria – where the long arm of the law could not reach him. It now occurs to me Belle’s angel warned her daughter about Eins – who couldn’t wait to meet her! I told Stefan we were coming on the train.
“He’s a Doctor Strange kind of guy!”
Three years ago Peter Shapiro, who played for The Loading Zone, wanted to pay my plane fare so I could see what was going on with his old flame. Stefan was avoiding me. The Zone had played with the Grateful Dead at one of Kesey’s acid tests. Pete met our mutual lover at a college mix in 1994. Christine was going to Mill’s College. Peter formed a group called ‘Benny and The Boners’ and played at frat parties. Pete’s father was a professor at MIT. It was love at first sight. The three of us lived with the band in an old Victorian in downtown Oakland.
Oh how I miss our midnight chats coming from a park in the Village. I asked the woman who took my virginity when I was twenty, shortly after I was told by psychics I had died, if she was afraid to sit in that park at night.
“No! Many people know me, and are afraid of me. Strangers to this park pick this up. No one sits closer than ten feet. They walk around me. Predictors do not want to get hurt. A infected scratch can take them out of the hunt. They need their fix. They may have even heard rumors about ‘The Cat Lady of Greenwich Village’.”
John Presco a.k.a. John Wilson Poe
Copyright 2020
I will be reading from The Spoon River Anthology on my facebook.
https://www.facebook.com/greg.presco
Yam Eating Scanks
Posted on August 9, 2019by Royal Rosamond Press
When Christine told me she went to an Art Gallery opening, where on a table was a big plate of freshly nuked yams – next to cheap bottes of wine – I began to salvitate, because I saw Van Gough’s famous painting ‘The Potatoe Eaters’ . Yams are called ‘Sweet Patatoes.
“Was there a table cloth? If so, what color was it?” I wanted details. What a bi-line!
“You should have seen them. Some of them had colorfully dyed hair. They were almost eighty. It was like Easter for old hags. They made sure to wear dresses with no sleves so everyone can see their arm-flesh flapping. The more winkled – the better! Half of them were wearing black leotards with holes and rips in them.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“The scanks, the old European scanks, who came up to Stefan to get their Euro-kiss! It was disgusting. The germs! The dirty nasty scank germs. I didn’t want to catch what they got!”
This was my inspiration for my painting of Chris&Eins. I pictured them coming to the door of the gallery.
“Excuse me. Can I see your invitations?” the scank at the door asks.
“We don’t need no invitation. We’re Yam Eaters – of the Village!”
“Oh my God! What a privilege to have you here.”
“We came to eat some yams. It says you will serve them. We love yams!”
“You Yam Eaters go way back. To Holland, I believe?”
“Yes, Holland. You have pegged us. Now can we eat some yummy yams?”
“Excuse me, art lovers! Attention! We got members of the Yam Eater tribe with us!”
This review dovetails nicely with my review of Pynchon’s ‘Inherent Vice’. I am getting to own the Big Picture, being I have been up close to very beautiful women, and, they light up your consciousness, in ways – still to be explained. They are other worldly creatures. The Greek acknowledged this – and the church – who owns thousands of naked statues.
I camped fifty days with a young woman who looked like a young Gene Tierney, who like Rena, suffered from mental illness most of her life.
The truth is, Stefan Eins is jealous of me, and not because Christine and I were real hippie lovers. It is because of the photograph I took and sent it to him that depicts a fossil of his famous horsehoe crab in the cement in downtown Springfield Oregon. I pointed out the smashed-down pipe that the citizens identified as the source of The Creature that came to dwell in their world. Was it from another planet, a planet of Yam Eaters?
“Take note of the flattened pipe. It looks like a penis that delivered The Demon Seed!” I said in my e-mail to Eins.
For five months Christine gave me a eerie report on the hole neat her radiator that she claimed her landlord had drilled in order to spy on her.
“Do you think he is using a spy camera?”
“No! I think he is using his nose – to smell if I still got too many cats!”
I finally got wise. All my life people have been punishing me, torturing me, because I own a UNLIMTED IMAGINATION that has to be from another planet. I am – alien! I was forced to grade potatoes when I was a child. My father was The Spud King! His secretaries called him Vic The Nazi – to his face!
“This battered pipe represents the oppressive church that hides the truth of our real Genesis. They intercept our sexual beings – then pound the shit out of us!” I said to Ein’s on the phone. He called me.
A year later, Christine is telling me Stefan’s mother used to torture her son’s penis by sticking objects up it.
“She wanted him to become a priest. He went to seminary school for awhile, but, he was haunted by bad memories!”
“She was sticking a piece of straw up his penis.” I offered. “This was a common practice amongst German mothers. They did it get all the urine out so the baby won’t dribble. My father claims the same form of abuse, and thus is his excuse for abusing all four of his children. His people came from Germany. This shit gets passed down. Parents refuse to believe the truth that our memories go back – more than they want to know! They don’t want to miss their chance to recreate their abuse!”
Stefan was traumatized as a boy. But, I shocked the shit out him. I had done his portrait, captured his inner self, that he believed would never be revealed. Too many people are hiding in the places made for Creative Open People, they using this opening as their Cloak of Invisibility!
“See! I am wide open to almost everything! Even though I hate yams! I have no problem eating Art Yams!”
I am done with that! I am very psychic. Stefan sent me an e-mail, and called me up and asked if I could resend him this image. He must have got spooked and deleted it.
As for the hole in Christine’s floor………..
“Get a box of Fix-All.”
“What is that? How do you spell it! Hurry, the store is about to close, and I need a bag of kitty litter. My wrists are giving out. I may not be able to carry food home, just the litter! God! Why am I so hungry? This stems from my childhood, where at dinner-time my parents would make me sit at the dining table and watch my brother and sister eat steaks. When they were done, my Fake Mother brought out a bowl of luke-warm, Cream O Wheat. My family would snigger as I ate. I cried and cried! They didn’t care! I don’t know where I am going to get the money to feed all my cats!”
“Christine! Did we talk about the German Psychologist, Allice Miller. I think she is suggesting the reason you adopt so many cats, is, because you are ‘The Un-Wanted Child’. Your parents only wanted – TWO children. That was their ideal! Every time you bring home a new cat – you are spitting in your parents face!”
“Oh that’s nuts! My mother – is not my real mother! My father met a beautiful woman who wanted only ONE child – ME! After my father delivered me downstairs in his office, my real mother – who wanted me – disappeared! I think she was/is a Catholic!”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Miller_(psychologist)
I’m done fixing stuff, unless you want to hire me for a lot of money! Has Stefan ever fathered a child? Did he get a vasectomy? If you don’t want people to react to your art, don’t create. If you don’t want people to react to your writing, don’t write! If you don’t want people to response to your acting – don’t act!
Christine claims Stefan is not a real artist.
“He rarely paints, or twists a piece of wire anymore!”
I think Stefan became an artist in hope of meeting someone who could figure him out – and fix him! The Catholic Church – failed! I did not! Now what is Eins going to do? If you don’t want get fixed – stop going to a shrink!
Has anybody painted a box of Fix-All? Consider this box my Ready-Made.
John Presco
Copyright 2019
Reading from ‘The Gideon Computer’
Posted on January 2, 2014by Royal Rosamond Press
Here is John Gregory Presco reading from his novel ‘The Gideon Computer’. This is a time capsule for my grandson, Tyler Hunt, the son of Heather Hanson.
Copyright 2014
Prologuehttps://www.youtube.com/embed/usJAysuIwo8?version=3&rel=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1&fs=1&hl=en&autohide=2&wmode=transparent
Chapter Onehttps://www.youtube.com/embed/_kGDI4wBiAE?version=3&rel=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1&fs=1&hl=en&autohide=2&wmode=transparent
Part Twohttps://www.youtube.com/embed/EerNhlauYIw?version=3&rel=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1&fs=1&hl=en&autohide=2&wmode=transparent
Rosamond Press 
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