On this day, May 25, 2025, I insert Candy Christian (Christensen) at the Oaks Motel where she lets the Dead Writers who live there do anything they want to do – with her. Just knock on room 44, and she will let you in. If you want to grab her privates – she will let you.
I am wondering if Michael Barry was inspired by this, he creating a Candy Messiah for those who are not falling in love with Jesus, and want this love – to be more about them!
Alas I found my cinema double. Brando tried to get inside Candy – for real – during a love scene. This elevates her to a new level where Christians voted for a man who got convicted for lying about his dalliance with a porn star. I want Harry Dean Statin to play……The Man Who Couldn’t Die.
“Nobody dies……at the Oaks Motel.”
John Presco
While in her father’s social sciences class, high school student Candy Christian awakens from a daydream in which she seemingly descends to Earth from space. Following a poetry recital at Candy’s school, eccentric Welsh poet MacPhisto offers her a ride home in his limousine. En route, MacPhisto forces himself on her but is unable to proceed after becoming too inebriated. With the help of her Mexican gardener Emmanuel, Candy takes MacPhisto inside to help him out of his liquor-soaked clothes.
Roaming the streets of Manhattan, Candy ends up in a Sicilian bar in Greenwich Village, where she is beset by a group of mobsters. An offbeat underground filmmaker, Jonathan J. John, takes her into the men’s room and records her for a film. As the room floods due to broken pipes, two policemen arrive and assault Jonathan, whereupon a drenched Candy escapes.
As Candy wanders across a field—surrounded by flapping banners and hippies playing music—she revisits many of the characters whom she met throughout the film before finally returning to outer space.
Ewa Aulin won the title of Miss Teen Sweden in 1965 at age 15 and was then approached by Gunnar Fischer, who asked her to appear as the young girl in his short film Djävulens instrument (The Devil’s Instrument). She subsequently represented Sweden in the first-ever Miss Teen International pageant, on 6 April 1966 in Hollywood, California. She won, earning the title of Miss Teen International 1966.[1]
Miss Teen International is an international beauty pageant for girls aged 15–19 years of all nationalities, operated by Ecuadorian businessman Rodrigo Moreira, owner of all intellectual property rights in Brazil,[1] Chile,[2] Costa Rica,[3] Dominican Republic,[4] El Salvador,[5] Ecuador,[6] Mexico[7] and Panama.[8]
The current winner is Éffora Consoli of Brazil, who was crowned as Miss Teen International 2023, on November 15, 2023, in Guayaquil, Ecuador.[9]
Principal photography was originally set to start September 1, 1971, but was delayed until the following summer.[2][4] Gene Barry raised the financing from private sources.[2][5] Filming finally began July 31, 1972 in San Francisco and surrounding areas, and lasted “six or eight weeks”.[5] Locations include Sam’s Anchor Café, Angel Island and the Lyford House in Tiburon, the Bay Bridge toll plaza, Golden Gate Park and downtown Berkeley.
Don’t Go To The Oaks – Motel
Posted on December 2, 2021 by Royal Rosamond Press
I was born to be a Pulp Fiction Writer – amongst other things! Is there a Philosopher in me? I think I will be writing – for Ludwig Wittgenstein – from now on. It is said writers pick someone to write for. All the folks I picked, are dead, or – want me dead! Christine has someone living in her house named Steven King. He is the latest MAN she has taken hostage. She’s trying to take me hostage again with this contrived story about Ruben Blades being the father of her daughter, Julie. I want Blades to be in my movie that takes up where MISERY left off.
As promised, I am adding Harry, Liz, and Richard – to the Oaks Motel Crowd. I am also including Montgomery Cliff – and Wittgenstein – because I just discovered he inspired several movies.
I want to do a painting of the top photo and title it “I prepared his way! John the Baptist. That’s what they said about me in regards to my sister’s amazing, but disturbing success. The American Family Collective Success was GUARANTEED to all American Children. However, when success comes to a member via being a successful artist, actor, or writer, the Collective feels cheated somehow. They deserve SOME MONEY. They want the one who led the way – TO REALLY SUFFER! My family hates my long sobriety. They wish I would take another drink – and die a painful death! They want me to feel an un-insulated aguish at the Oaks Motel, listening to Mr. and Mrs. Presco (played by the Burtons) fight – around the clock! They want to have me feel like someone put a cutup clock spring in my hamburger meat, while they go to town to spend their illgotten – ART MONEY!
The children are only aware of the world contained within their parents’ compound. When they realize that the (to put in Wittgensteinian terms) that the limits of their world are not imposed specifically by metaphysical constraints (and rather by physical restraint by their parents), they begin expressing their tumult in disturbing fashions.
Here, Lanthimos exemplifies Wittgenstein’s idea that “the limit of language are the limits of my world” in that once the children are exposed to newer ideas and combinations of older ideas in newer forms, the limits of their world begin to expand, leading them to new and unsettling revelations.
Way Too Cool To Go To Highschool
Posted on July 8, 2014 by Royal Rosamond Press
Wondering what became of our High School Chum, Michael Barry, I googled his name and found perhaps the worst movie ever made that Michael directed, and his famous father, Gene Barry, starred in. ‘The Second Coming of Suzanne’ is about a “Manson-like filmmaker Jared Martin” who hires a beautiful woman to play a female Christ! WHAT!!!!!!?
In 1972 I began a short story titled ‘Golden Girls of The Corncob’ that was about the search for Rena in the sand dunes of Nebraska, she kidnapped by Amazons who believed she was the female Christ. I was living with Peter Shapiro at the time, and did my infamous painting of Rena that Christine beheld and took up art. My friend, Michael Harkins, and I talked about taking his white Bentley to Nebraska and do a documentary about the search for the Female Redeemer.
It was going to be an Art Movie. Michael had just become a Private Investigator. Oliver Stone’s people wanted his antidotes about his good friend, Jim Morrison. Michael was a good friend of Beat Poet, Michael MacLure. Harkins would do investigation work for Bruce Perlowin ‘The King of Pot’ who became his good friend when he married Bruce’s ex-wife. There is a movie due out about Bruce.
Bryan, Michael Barry, and myself, sat together at a art class when we went to University High School. After, Ryan O’Neil, we were the coolest dudes in school. Bryan introduced me to Ryan who sat alone way out on the playing field. He was a ultra-loner. Bryan and Michael were very witty, cut-ups, who were close with Hollywood stars. At seventeen, we were grown men stuck in prison-school. Our pretty teacher was a young Preppy who favored the head cheerleader and her boyfriend the quarterback. They wore their letters to class. They had no talent, but got much attention from our art teacher who we deduced was feeling sexy again with this blonde couple that were allowed to fornicate. It was school policy, we concurred in front of our fourth tablemate, a girl who we made blush for fifty minutes. She hardly said a word, but, we got to know her signals, know when we really blew her mind. I am sure she still talks about us. We were very handsome.
Our teacher avoided coming to our table, because we would mentally undress her, or, so she thought. We were bad boys, even though Bryan and I were the best artists in school. Bryan drew and did watercolors of Beach Bunnies, cute surfer girls with freckles and pouting lips. I had to tell them they looked like him. This is when Bryan titles me ‘The Painter of Trucks’. I had done a watercolor of the Jack London Produce Market that was chosen to tour the world in a Red Cross show. It looks like Barry made a psychedelic Art Movie, not like the one being made about Thomas Pynchon’s novel ‘Inherit Vice’ which I predict will be the second worst movie ever made. For Christ’s sake, who did the wardrobe?
So, my ex had her group at Cornell that consisted of Pynchon and Richard Farina. I suggest a double-feature, while folks, drop!
When the film ‘Magic Trip’ was being made here in Eugene, rumor has it one of the producers introduced a lot of LSD to the area that Marilyn and Kenny Reed ended up taking. Marilyn went to Uni and then to Europe with Jeff Pasternak, another Uni Alumni. For sure Michael Barry got good and dosed, which prompted his father to try to bring his down to reality, the only reality he knew.
The nude scene with art gallery is….Rosamondish! The crucifixion scene was shot on Mount Tamalpias where Rena and I camped in 1970.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2013
The Second Coming of Suzanne (also known as Suzanne) is a 1974 film directed by Michael Barry. It stars Jared Martin as an obsessed San Francisco indie film maker who hires a beautiful young woman called Suzanne (played by Sondra Locke) to star as a female Christ in his next film. Richard Dreyfuss appears as a member of the crew who becomes concerned at the increasingly weird antics of the rest of the ensemble, which culminate in the crucifixion of Suzanne on a local hill. The film was inspired by the lyrics of Leonard Cohen’s song “Suzanne”, as heard on the soundtrack. The director’s father Gene Barry is also featured, as a TV presenter, in a somewhat opaque sub-plot.
This appears to be Michael Barry’s only known film as a director.[1][2]
The film music was recorded by Touch.
The overall mood of THE SECOND COMING OF SUZANNE (1973) is melancholic. Even though we’re told well in advance that a Jesus-obsessed filmmaker plans to crucify the new Redeemer (Suzanne), when the actual moment finally comes we’re still not prepared for bleached-out Sondra Locke’s agonizing screech as Jared Martin pounds a shiny spike through her right wrist while she hangs by ropes from a mounted crucifix.
Of all the excessive, bizarre and psychologically deranged films that came out of the early 1970s, this is truly one of the weirdest. It’s little surprise that writer/director Michael Barry (son of Gene) helmed no other movies. (They don’t allow you to get near electrical equipment at the Funny Farm, you see.) That he called upon his famous dad to appear in this morass should’ve brought something positive but alas, Gene was clearly ailing in 1973. Bloated to an enormous size, he had to wear suspenders with suit trousers, the beltline of which rode about 4 inches below the poor man’s armpits. (Barry slimmed down again sometime after this atrocity escaped from the bad movie dust bin and assaulted the sensibilities of unsuspecting film patrons.)
I LOVE Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne” (it opens and closes this film) and the classic debut LP that it came from. Sadly, I’ll never be able to hear that song again without thinking of a goshawful picture about a female Messiah who’s spaced out from peroxide fumes.
On every DVD you see of “Suzanne,” Richard Dreyfuss is speciously represented as its star. While his character was the only one who wasn’t totally insane here, his sobriety is probably why Dreyfuss gets maybe 90 seconds of screen time. He complains that a freaky tribal gathering is not his idea of a business meeting and later screams “No!” as Martin is about to drive the first spike home. That admonition is the only answer anyone who wonders if they should see this claptrap will get from your reviewer. It’s a cinematic herpe.
Based on a song by Leonard Cohen, this peculiar experimental film set in late-’60s San Francisco was executive-produced by game-show mogul Gene Barry, the director’s father. It concerns Suzanne (Sondra Locke), who gets crucified in a film-within-a-film which receives much of the screen time. Suzanne is meant to be a Christ figure, and the story focuses on her use as a doomed symbol for the beliefs of Manson-like filmmaker Jared Martin. Richard Dreyfuss and Paul Sand are among the cast of this offbeat, grungy little film which deserves points for originality if nothing else
http://ancensored.com/clip/The-Second-Coming-of-Suzanne/Sondra-Locke/27140
Four years ago I became friends with Rick Cobian. He picked my brain for various reasons. He was amazed. When he told me he was in contact with the producers of a new movie about the Pranksters, I told him they are heading for The Cliff.
“Watching a film about someone on acid is the most boring thing ever invented, even more boring then watching some dude floss his teeth!”
“How so?” asked Mr. Cobian.
WE all have something inside of us that needs to get out – is what I should have said – and then kept my mouth shut. After giving Rick an interesting answer, he said maybe he should put me in touch with these guys – before they start filming. I knew that was not going to happen, because folks had already got in line and were blowing a lot of sugar up each others ass. No one wants to hear the truth from someone who might know something – at this stage!
http://www.shroomery.org/forums/showflat.php/Number/10661496
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The Oaks Motel – A Play
Posted on May 15, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Oaks Motel
A Play
by
Jon Presco
The Last Hippie on Earth, does not know he is the LHOE. At seventy one, and in poor health, he begs his old hippie friend to allow him to come visit him – before they both die!
Employing impeccable Lost Hippie Logic, he has backed his buddy, and his attorney wife, into a corner. There was that blood pact they made while looking for Time Portal in Honduras, so long ago. He is on the verge of discovering it was not, Sheena, who did not want him in her home, but Pretzel who did not want to see that fucking freak ever again. He could not accept that most people are motivated by ‘Love of Money’. Wanting money gave safe signals to fellow human beings. Everyone who knew Cecil, was afraid of him, because the “I’m Safe” sign never went off over his head. Pretzel was afraid if he came to the house, Cecil would discover the evidence he had ‘Copped Out’ all over the place. This might set him off. He might fly into a rage – and try to hurt himself, or…………..?
So Sheena paid for a room at ‘The Oaks Motel”. However, when Cecil called to say he was in town, and thanked her for getting him a room with a “color T.V.” she started reading things into this thank you. Was Sheena detecting a……deadly sarcasm?
Detecting that Sheena was tightening up, and on the verge of becoming a rea cunt, Cecil layed on her the itinerary he had in mind.
CECIL: “Hey Sheena ‘Of the Jungle’, I bet you like ribs. There’s a ‘Juan’s BBQ HUT across the street. I thought we can get a couple of racks and celebrate Epiphany Day’ in my room. Are you hep to what that is? I brought my costume. Do you and Pretzel have some glow lights?
Pretzel comes in and finds his wife trembling. There is urine rolling down her leg. Pretzel grabs phone.
PRETZEL: “What did you say to my wife – you dirty old fuck?”
CECIL: “You haven’t called me a “dirty fuck” in ages! Wow! Does that bring back memories!”
(The play Michael took me to see was ‘The Beard”. I could be wrong. You know the old saying…..”If you can recall, you weren’t there!”)
Christine’s Typewriter
Posted on November 19, 2021 by Royal Rosamond Press
Christine’s Typewriter
by
John Presco
A Serial-Novel
Copyright 2021
Over a month ago. I boxed and sent via UPS, Christine Wandel, one of my manual typewriters. It sat in her hallway on Carmine Street in the West Village – for a week! Why she didn’t bring it into her appartment, is the beginning of this haunted tale that led me to learn my favorite actor is dead! God rest his soul.
I will be conducting a ceremony at sundown, where I will assign this actor’s heavily-textured soul to the Oaks Motel in Oakland California. He will be the first Thespian in residence. I think I will put Taylor and Burton there as well, in the next room, sos his tortured pathetic soul can be woken in the middle of the night by screeching and hollering!
I wanted Harry to play me in any movie made about me, or, anyone I know, but, as fate would have it, Mr. Statton has been chosen by the God’s of Pathos – to haunt Christine’s Typewriter! I have been accused of engaging in automatic writing in regards to my blog, Royal Rosamond Press. I have have given credit to My Muse. I wanted to help Christine become a Village Writer. but, I think she is a……Muse Snatcher! I think she – wants it all! She wants to own my Magic Jinn so it will type all day and night and generate a small library of novels – and several blogs! She wants a car, a literary vehicle – that writes automatically – just like the car in the movie ‘Christine’!
Harry was in the movie ‘Christine’. He plays Detective Rudolph Junkins. In my serial, he will be, Michael ‘The Spark’ O’Harkins. I have created this Pulp Detective to get to bottom of this. What the hell is going on? I think I created a – MONSTER!https://www.youtube.com/embed/J0pMmth5tDw?version=3&rel=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1&fs=1&hl=en&autohide=2&wmode=transparent
Christine (1983 film) – Wikipedia
Wise Blood (film) – Wikipediahttps://www.youtube.com/embed/ieBmy6qjiCI?version=3&rel=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1&fs=1&hl=en&autohide=2&wmode=transparenthttps://www.youtube.com/embed/Wh13eaXsxCQ?version=3&rel=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1&fs=1&hl=en&autohide=2&wmode=transparent
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Philip Roth Now At – The Oaks Motel
Posted on May 23, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press
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Philip Roth will now be next door to Tom Wolfe at The Oaks Motel. Will there be masturbation after death? There will be an alphabet soup of old man noises coming trough the thin walls, then, the meeting of the minds out at the ice machine. Time to get really real. What’s holding them back?
These are the pioneers of the Graffiti Arts. The World of Eisenhower had a lock on reality. A Coney Island Dog of the Mind. Just over the hill is Kaspars where the Hell’s Angels hung out. They parked their hogs outside and hung their Levi-ass over a diner stool. It was good to have bad boys in your hood.
Ah, hell! Kesey’s got a room at the Oaks. So long Eugene! I win! That’s Ken Babb’s bookcase. Now we got a gang, of Oakland Realists. They celebrate Oktoberfest down the street. I’m going to get them to include the Three Ghost Writers in the festivities. There will be the ride of The Headless Horseman into the Black Hole. Irving can hang.
I’m going to call up the owner of Kaspar’s and suggest the Kesey Dog, the Wolfe Dog, and The Kosher Jack-off Dog. Maybe he will put their names on the stools. Sure it’s a lie. Writers are liars. Then………….they die!
Rosamond Press 
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