The Cinema

in a hush eating mars bars and 

popcorn @ the Oriental theater

where celluloid dreams ooze off 

the screen as Queen Cleopatra shows 

bends, showing us her boobs with

dreams of a roller coaster ride, and—

expectations, the crowd wonders, 

what is behind the red curtain.

A Mirrored Face

face growing dull in mirror, wane

dwindling content, wafered mass

emerald and golden dust covering the

taj mahal as blue blue birdies fly by.

look in her face, lady jesus, and see:

mercy for the wicked, grassland, heart

shaped chocolate, a painted portrait of

madre in the streets of barcelona 1970.

the semiopague face of loretta young,

pulls you into it. watching it's fragile

countenance under water, drawing,

you can't swim, you let go anyways.

Whose to Blame

as a inner city baby cries, stevie wonder chants a message teletype into hot deepness, electric summer night, the bronx 73.

it was the day when martin luther king, gandhi, bobby kennedy,

lenny bruce and john lennon crossed the great divide.

ocean blue whales exhale last breath on beachfront, telekinetic suicide with brief dying symphonies of whale opera and tragedy.

me looking at whale, eye to eye, we both know the world was not guaranteed, unfair even, the padre, rabbi, mayor, and scientist don't know why.

at the planet asylum on 5th Street the doors are open as sunny, beatific and blithe loonies luxuriate in carnival fest. by george the cops don't know right from left, they are arresting trees and tables.

it is old news that the earth has been knocked out of its' orbit by seismic tumbles and cracks, we can still see the moon.

but, what has gone wrong, and whose to blame? we had it right once.

Cocaine Springs

out and out in the brush fields of our town, angles clown around, hug deeply fly and dance to eternal drum beats of extraterrestrial blowing of snow.

they hide out by the factory with faeries, hummingbirds, flamingos, and the pure holy men of coco mountain.

destination unkown for those place sitting and watching time flow.

the dancer waxes slowly to san pedro, heart music in hand, feeling others flesh, soft like white velvet, in a outgrowth of full moon beams.

the silent gray room is everything, visible everywhere, windows and blustering curtains, song of a ocean, dreams as dreams peer.

Saint Pablos

Oil of French Perfume, round and fat as the Mardis Gras, psychedelic beer, drunken wine high.

Dark skinned hash boy carrier burning bricks of flowers and buds, smell so good.

Blue Cubano Cigars licked by Marlene Dietrich, ruby red Lipstick stains, blood stained scratches on face.

Seven Iguanas were gutted, cleaned and boiled in whiskey with water, cut up and washed down with Mescal, Beer, Beans and Tortilla last night @ Al Loco Cafe.

The New York Museum of Modern Art will replicate the motorcycles of "Easy Rider" both Billy's and Captain America's, as well as a 1957 Red Cadillac, fake Sushi for display, Keith Richard's guitar and a Fijian shrunken head.

In the yellow and black Nuclear Energy Plant, the liquified fuel in beer - can swiming pools is clear green and looks like Mountain Dew Pop.

When they sent Sid to Rik's Mille State Home, there was purple phantasm steaming from cracks in frozen walls, and latter, (happily), he evaporates into Spirit.

Three red smoke rings turbo up, a neon staircase of air cork screws its way to next world Nirvana.

Behind a velvet curtain, Gina A. Grade shows a rounded and elliptically lipped, red-brown nipple lining a silky satin bra, her cocoa-colored neck wears a spoon and dagger seizing a jade-link chain clasp.

Lightly dusted oval flaming lips, `tu madre, vaporizing up, out and away from Saint Pablos.

the Fool

Fuller Brush and Skunk headed hipster cleaning floors with a broom and a mop, waxing vestabules shining like pools mirrored and magnified in Saint John Somewhere, America.

Like a killer on death row, he wasn't saved by Mercy or Divine Intervention @ El Diablo Cafe, rubber-kneed, wacko, bozo, dusted and flee covered lover of miasma of de joie red silk hose, skanky hose, and g-strings, like aged nose gay vaporizing at your feet and in front of your face.

When we wrote the script, while we were puffing that night, did Peg Leg plan to scuttle

the Titanic, set it ablaze in fantasy only to resurrect it in cut-ups, like Burroughs throwing

slices of typewritten yellow paper into the air to find a light at the end of a sentence, freely

grooving on another dark boy in Algiers, tempting spheric waves in Yaga and Rum Storms?

Smoke Rings yawning wider and wider, go round and round, rolling up to Elysian Fields. You told me you loved me and then you fucked that fucking Goat Boy with his thin and dirty dung waxed fluorescent hair .

Penciling a poem, that no one will read~ the Fool.

The Lizard King

He was the "Lizard King" who drove on Empty. He was Hercules speaking Greek, the Sun King to boot, he was Victor Mature and Lawrence Harvey.

Quick as a Rattlesnack, he could dance on his feet, roll over, he played Marimbas and Spoons, he was a flat back brand new crisp Dollar Bill, fit tight to the pocket in a Black Leather Wallet with a Silver Chain.

Hummingbirds, iguanas, avatars, monarchs, spirits, id, lizards, angels, ghost, circuses, psyches, dreams, covered in Electric Snow.

It was the time of the long hair freaky people, the ones that ate Mushrooms, Yucca bushes, Banyon trees and vines, they pulsated, exhaled, oozing orgone rays in High Jungle County.

Floret Amour

Peering on beach from Banyon Tree brow, watching Dolphins splashing Blue Sea.

Angels and Monarchs sound tow-colored trumpets for Green Ants on sand uneven.

Red Crown birds dip into blossom nectar, one on one with Prairie Flowers petal-flush.

Heaven's Breath frees Fireflies. Surealism spirit and flash-spots in blue nightfall cloud.

A moment's sojourn scrawled in the hue and tint of needles, leaflets and pines, replete.

A swell of arousal burst forth as dew droplets shower on floret, on fleshly blush amour.

The Evil Poem

The list of miseries I carry around in my bag of machination is a pyramid of verse, that is turned on it's side and starts with a word; ONE, and then balloons into a multi-headed beastly swine spewing blood & vine, a ghastly whats-it with empty soot cavity wanting of life force, wained and hollow, begging for a wooden leg or a scrap or two of tin as eye patches to cover bellicose eyes that exhilarate as they bogey, unsafe & hairy; Poised to whack before being walloped.

Consummate and wanting to beguile or to hypnotize with the regulation of the Scorpion sting at the end of it's linked tail. Accepting no petition from babes in woods, turning deaf ears to wails, howls or bellows.

This beast is my beast, no headmaster, organic barnyard usher, constabulary or necromancer can pattern this feeble muscle, just a spasm really, of godawful evil vile and odious as a Apple soaked in poison, compassionless, premedicated purple haze of death without glimmer, ruby red la cocktail of cyanide, bitter, dry in taste.

In `19th Century, Rome, a Gypsy girl brushed her lips upon my ogre and the horrid thing ripped out the poor child's tongue while munching on her pinkies like twisty crisps.

Paris, Marrakech, Rome, Elise, St. Petersburg or Los Angeles. What might look like a plum or marshmallow

to the unknowing, is my soul, 100% past the rays of God's own glory & redemption.

I am Lucifer unchained, who can fly like Superman through astral spaces from century to century. No wall, barrier, bulkhead, or mother's love, no hexes of Puritans, wooden crucifixes, prayers or black books will stop the evil I will do on your village and family.

I was the Nazi Doctor dissecting twins, I was the Japanese Soldier torturing and raping Peking.

I was the force that pushed your car over, as you plunged to your death, in the Sea on a drunken spree.

I was the Pirate Ship that took your yacht for all it's value and defiled your family and love ones.

I am the living embodiment of all things depraved & nefarious that flies like the spirt vulture and hunts your soul.

I beg of you not to look at me, I will cut your throat before you can flicker, so be forewarned and fly like a Butterfly, fly, North, South or West, fly away from the locus and fector of my heinious and unforgiving fire.

Carnival of Pandemonium

Somewhere warm in the brier of salad days 1969

Or was it on the Appaloosa Turnpike turn off ?

Carnival of Pandemonium corkscrewed in & out

Convertible yawning at untamable wind tempo

Dry skull and cigarette hanging on roadway curve

Hallucination, cloud smack purple breathing OM

Vibrations palpable touching lips to grizzled bone

Deserts of Elysian tombstones beam nighttime sun

Vexed waxen nettled pallid pale bellicose bemused

Great wraith of cryptic past,Oh Lord I'm out of gas.

Hoochino Anyday

In bar rooms full of Red Skins with Pinedust sand on tier.

Where Whisky brawls with Gin and ichor flows in path as

Gats flash bang bang down in count, let Inner Spirit out.

Amnesiac of prodigium, Demon and Messenger of Great Spirit,

Bacchic wars of Big Horn on every crescent, Sanctorum Reservation.

Heat, heat and more heat, bleeds the blind sided Buck Skin Tee Pee.

Specters, are amongst the dingus in this Holy War of Hoochino.

Specters, like the sonar of the Eagle that sees all at nightfall

Specters of the blind poets in the Diablo Bar flooded with Starlight

Specters, as unfading hazard of Red Skin kind, Hoochino anyday.

The Illusive China Ham Sandwich

Eating a wafer size Ham Sandwich in Taipan

Dr. Lee Forensic Pathologist came to mind.

Death of the Salesman old as the Talmud

Jesus throwing Whoppers at me and you.

Could the Chinaman have created illusion?

I pulled back the wafer to expose the ham

To my astonishment an inch in width,

Folded in half, more like a piece of bacon

Cut in length and quartered to appear as a whole.

To say that the Chinamen was without

Sentiment might not be verifiable, for

Wong poured on plenty of Soy Sauce.

The making "Exile on Main Street"

The Rolling Stones looked for studios in Paris and couldn’t find any they liked. They had a truck that was equipped with a studio that could be parked by any theater or empty loft.

In the end Keith Richards house , Nillcote, seemed to be the best choice, near lawless Marceau and Mafia Italy . Philipe Lymen could make smack runs into the lawless Marceau, or into Mafia controlled Genoa.

Mick and Bianca Jagger (who was pregnant) were living in Paris. The musicians, Charlie Watts, Bill Wyman, Mike Taylor, Bobby Keys the horn section and rhythm section were living scattered around. Mick decided they would move into Nillcote.

The Stones were exiled from the UK for tax abuse, and were shaken up by it. They missed the comfort of the Brit food they were used to and the cloistered utero feeling of the safe worlds they had created in their mansions, but not the 90% UK tax. It was impossible to live at that tax rate, the UK is strange.

They felt like true expats, alone with nothing to lose. They were in a Catch-22 situation, sink or swim.

With the positivity of their leader Mick Jagger, his constant happiness and vision. His easy-going style, his ongoing joy of the whole process, Jagger was the glue that held the creative process together.

Keith on the other-hand was muddling through a junk habit and would sleep long hours. Keith would speak of waking-up in a kind of halo , have a taste, as he was listening to the guys working on songs in the basement.

The whole band had to be ready when Keith was up and running, witch unnerved Jagger who felt Keith would do better to adhere to some kind of a schedule.

Mick would sit in the basement jamming, fabricating, but truly missing his best friend Keith, who was at the beach.

The band would kibitz about on songs, Keith when in action was a task master, when a song was ready, a sensation or consciousness swept through the musicians, Keith would start staring at Bill Wyman, who would tilt his bass up about 15 degrees towards the heavans , THAT WAS THE SIGN! 20 takes latter towards the final cut ( which would be hashed over in the Sunset Blvd Studio latter in LA) it happened.

The bewitching open party atmosphere is a major part of putting "" Exile"" together. There was no security, cool people would walk in and out . Anita Pallenberg (Keith's wife at the time, like shooting gallery buddies), reminisces, walking into the living room and seeing a guy with a huge baggy full of smack sitting on the sofa. Of course that was a ticket to get in on the endless partying with the family, but things got dark from then on.

Bobby Keys with a southern draw, the bands sax player never mentioned seeing junk, but admited seeing plenty of booze and ganja, all being used 24 hrs a day. .

Keith had a family whose job it was to score smack for him in Marceau. Tim Lyman would make trips between borders to supply and then use junk with Keith and Anita, Lyman's son, Nicholas could roll joints for the gang, that was his job. At the time Nicholas says the scene felt dark to him at times, but he also felt a charismatic feeling emanating.

They backed the truck/studio up a tiny alley way through untrimmed tree, and ran the wires through the ground floor of Nillcote. It was weird, everyone was so wasted. The horn section might be connected to the studio in a hall way, Bill Wyman was wired right outside of Keith's section. It just seemed like a big cluster-fuck, it was amazing anything was put together.

Keith kept a maid, Matta, who looked like a Voodoo Priestess. Jumbo Jack, the cook, who was as big as Howling Wolf, with triple size hands and wore a Top hat. He doubled as chauffeur. JUMBO COULD MAKE Freid chicken, burritos, hamburgers, fries, veggies, pizza , peel fruit, whatever the family wanted.

Matta was a gambler and loved to play dice, she would organize crap games and got rich winning money from Jagger and Richards. Jagger got the ideal for the song "Tumbling Dice" from the crap games with Matta.

Bianca Jagger was wore a white silk dress . She radiated auras, she was the sun, at the corp of Exile was Micks joy at becoming a father with the beautifully pregnant Bianca.

Aside: I AM GOING TO CUT UP A LIST OF IDEAS ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AT NILLCOTE , AS MICK JAGGER, CUT AND SANG ON THE FINAL VERSION ON "CASINO BOOGIE

Started out jamming.

The Stones were always in debt, tax under labor was 83%. It was impossible for them to live in England. And the powers at be were threatened by the Stones.

Keith felt that they were edged out of their own country (UK).

The album was raw and edgy but the reviews were terrible. 2 years latter it was called the best rock n roll album ever. Mick felt the PRESS was very disruptive to his and Bianca's personal life.

Charlie Watts suffered culture shock at first, but remains in France today.

Keith said it was getting cold outside and winter was coming, the tape was in the truck and everyone left quickly. Even the French Government was scared of the Devils at Nillcote, the best place for artist to live in the world, scared of artist? go figure, as they say.

The stones felt like exiles and they knew they had to do this album. But nobody thought it would be as good as it still is.

There was no mention in the documentary were money was coming from and who was the money manager. Goes unsaid

The stones were the center of the universe at the time, music was revolution.

The whole gathering, family, players, technicians, cooks were a tribe.

Watts says Richards was a true Bohemian, he lived like a rasta man, from day to day and didn't worry about the small shit.

The best music comes when the band doesn't think they are being recorded.

Bobby Keys was a open minded, loving and a accepting good ol boy, odd guy, so straight, but totally in the Nillcote family groove.

Mick Taylor wasn't making any money, but was digging it all.

It was so hot in the basement at times that Mick wrote a song and sang it while playing piano "Where's our Ventilator?"

French man goes to Nillcote, to visit for a day, he is amazed, he ends up partying with the family for six months.

Ian Stewart, who was was a stride genius, who was often called the 5th Stone was never mentioned because he wasn't at Nillcote.

Keith does a interview after shooting junk. He talks intelligently but is wain.

Charlie and Mick walk into the present location of Nillcote, looking arround in 2010 Mick says to Charlie on film, " their was no master plan," and "boring, old recording session, who gives a shit". Mick was the anti-christ of rock n roll those days." Alan Ginsburg crowned Mick the KING of the flower movement.

Keith & Mick, can play like John Hammond in duo and they often do, even now.

The Stones like Ray Charles loved country music too. Keith saw country music and hill people to be like a hallucination in the forest of Tibetan Flags and nomads.

Rock is a beautiful navajo blue turquoise stone on gold caldron to mix things up in…..Keith

The basement was the center of the universe, drink-in Jack, smoking ganja, coca, play as loud as they wanted. It was like recording in a sauna.

Pallenberg calls it a labor of love.

When Bianca and Mick were married it was suppose to be a secret, but didn't stay a secret.

Bobby keys could play all reed instruments and and taught charlie about time settings: 2/4 mostly, to count 2 counts to every 4 beats in a measure, 1+2+. 1 and 2 and down on the 1 & 2, up on the ands. Charlie was a quick learner and it amazes me how he never seems to play out of time.

Nillcote was never empty, there were few disruptions though.

Like true alcoholics they would only eat one meal a day you could drink Pernod, spring water, Jack Daniel, Fresh juice, great Champaigne, Coke-Cola, whatever you wanted.

Charlie Watts says it is hell for everyone, but not for Keith.

Keith would sleep for a whole day, so when group the regualar players went to bed, Keith would just work with whoever was there. Usually Jimmy Miller, who adored Keith, would stay up with him and a few others. Jimmy Miller could play drums. Affable good ol boy Bobby Keys would stay, Keys has a big heart even today.

Allot of the Stones music is all from their hearts, played with open hearts and empty minds.

Keith's people were watching TV and they were robbed, 8 guitars, some amps and stuff, there was no security at Nillote except JUMBO JACK who was cooking. It wouldn't be that way today, impossible, but the free flow love seemed to work as security.

Keith's Mum once said that Keith was born with a good ear. A utterly-amazing ear, Mrs. Richards was just being modest. Listen to "All Down the Line" Alternate Take. Keith plucks 1 note into the air and the harmony is slighty off, but it rocks you to the bone. Don Was says " They open up, "All Down The Line" Alternate take as far as you can.

Mick says "there was no control."

They split to LA. And the emotions and love they were giving out through the album drained them emotionally

Casino Boogie, the lyrics, was inspired by Burroughs cut up method, Mick would write 3 to 8 words on type paper and write 3 to 9 word phrases, write them down with a felt tip pen and cut them into pieces while singing and sing them.

Anita Pallenberg says it was a beautiful world, she and Keith liked to go to a deserted beach, smoke ganja, Keith would jam and sit cross legged on a indian blanket.

Charlie Watts says they mixed the album constantly. Mick and Charlie designed the album cover.

They used the beat photographer Robert Frank's photos. He recommended they film stuff with Super 8.

Mick doesn't like anything you did yesterday he is interested in tomorrow, that keeps him going, CW

Keith did junk to hide from the glare of the press, it was his halo armer. He felt like the junk covered him and protected him, because he was the coolest person on earth, the shit was like a sheild for Keith, he lived in his own universe at Nillcote and still does live in his own Beduin cushioned library. Today's Keith Richards is more of a book freak with a unreal vocabulary and not a junky. He still enjoys a smoke of ganja and snort of Rebel Yell!

_________________________________

Aside: When the album " Exile on Main Street" was relaeased I was one of the first to buy it. I smoked ganja, drank German Beer and listened to it over and over again, fabricating, I was already a Bohemian not because of what happened at Nillcote, but mostly because of reading"On the Road" by Jack Kerouac and Burroughs book "Junky" in 67.

REFRENCES: THE FILM WORK OF STEPHEN KIJAK AND THE INTERVEIWS ON THE DOCUMENTARY BY THOSE WHO WERE THERE.

Freak Show Goes to the Airborne, Texas

"Stan Jiniski's Psychedelic Freak Show" made good money during the four month run in Las Brisas. Stan and Glennis were able to buy a new Black 1959 Cadillac coupe convertible Stan painted the name and logos of the show on the side of his car. The show's name, "Stan Jiniskis' Psychedelic Freak Show"the words in red on the Black Cadillac encircled the logos, a top-hat wearing skull, smoking a cigar, flaming.

The rest of the money was invested in the show, trucks, old school buses, the seats replaced with beds and bunks. All trucks and buses were converted to run on Natural Gas, extra tanks were fitted on racks wielded outside of the busses. Hunketree, the AOWL sailor got a notice that he was getting a section 8 discharge and to pick it up in San Diego. That was good news for him and his midget lady family, Chica, Bonita and Marie, (the foursome slept together every-night).

Hunketree even got a discharge check from the Navy and bought a used 57 burgundy flake colored Cadillac four door . People love to stare at midgets. Worst, Hunketree looked junked-out, like Popeye.

The show would have trouble at the border, Chica, Bonita and Marie were illegals. Turd on the Run was on the run. Leo was from Spain.

Stan would have to go to Mexico City and spend hours in government offices or just make a run for it over the border into the USA.

Stan choose without hesitation to do the runner.

Making the runner was going to involve logistics and planning. Water, beans, flower, cooking oil would have to be stored in the trucks and busses. Stan would use the same invasion technique Swartzkoph used to invade Iraq. " The End Around Sweep". The caravan would move on low moonbeam nights only, with the vehicles lights taped, running roughly 250 miles SE of Brownsville towards the North Star!

All the Mojo that Stan, Chica, Turd on the Run, Coke the albino Leopard (and many others) from their hearts and beautiful rays shared with Mexican friends and audience drained them at times. The freak crew was apprehensive, Americans weren't as cool as Mexicans somehow. Who knows how the tea -party crowds might take the show?

By traveling in the dark, and avoiding border cops, eventually reaching 30 miles into the darkness of the jet black desert. Outside the coolest looking town, first things first, Stan would begin by forging some documents that would act as a International Drivers License, international horizon-permits and such.

And there on the horizon like a phoenix ready to rise from it's ashes, "Stans Psychedelic Freak Show" sets up as morning rises, ready to glow hallows and blow the minds of the people of Airborne, Texas.

It was a though the show landed like a UFO, 30 miles in the desert outside of Airborne, Texas. Or maybe it was like the show had always been there anyway.

The freak crew worked all night unloading planks, canvas, ropes, spikes, wood, lights, generators, costumes. Coke the albino Leopard slept the night though.

The local Sheriff, Sheriff Vester Buttrose. They called him Sheriff Buttrose, was invited by Stan the following night, for a drink of some fancy Berber honey beer. The two old boys jawed for awhile, after a few drinks, they agreed that the International Permits would meet Airborne local standards, and the show wouldn't be censored or disturbed by the Airborne authorities. The Catch-22 was that Sheriff Buttrose wanted a 15% take after every nights show. Stan seemed to be cool with that.

Airborne: POP 123,000, was home to the desert training center of the US Army as well as having a hot dog and a computer factory. Both factories employed Mexicans only. On all levels from management down. Mexicans were the heart of "Stan's Psychedelic Freak Show" it was their show. The enlisted men from the Army training center would come for a chance to see some tit, drink some Mescal, buy weed from Leo.

So the numbers were there, the Mayor, Buttrose, was paid off, they made it over the border, Stan figured this one was in the bag.

Opening night: Blue lights lit up the inside and outside of the painted tent skin. Illuminating Glennis's esoteric and wicked art work. As usual, packed, the Mexicans as always cool loved the show while the enlisted men were subdued, mellow, with the equalizing spiritual effect of the ganja and mescal calming their nature.

The Roster for Tonights so would be rearranged by Stan and Glennis, who by now was Stan's wife and co-owner of the show.

1. Chica, Bonita and Marie the tattooed midget women would come out and have a wrastling match, they would go into the audience and dump popcorn on the Mexicans and take their cotton candy away, take tokes off the from the enlisted mens ganja, and the enlightened men would give the hot midget girls sips from their mescal (Stan encouraged pot smoking at his shows). As usual, Stan the ring master, (wearing red riding jodhpurs, engineer boots, a tux shirt and his Captains hat embroidered with a gold skull and bones) would run into the audience for suspense, pick up all three of the tattooed little ones, to save the Mexican audience and the enlisted-men from the abuse and carry the lady midget wrastlers out of the tent.

2. Quinn would come to center stage, tie himself into a knot and offer 25$ to anyone in the audience who could untie him. A few of the enlisted-men tried and failed, because of Quinns great strength, he could have been the strongman but Stan didn't schedule it.

3. Turd on the Run would come to center stage holding a live white rat, hold it up by its tale, place it's head into his mouth and eat it.

4. Glennis the tattooed lady would come out topless wearing only a bikini bottom ( the enlisted men would go crazy screaming and whistling), Glennis would hang up side down from a line, blue light focused, giving her tattoos a third dimension, all the time extending her arms straight out horizontally, looking like a upside down occult cross.

5. Even Hunketree the sailor got in on the show, he would come to center this time with a blow up love doll, human size in a white wedding dress, gluing a lit splib in her suggestive open mouth, kissing the doll with his mouth open taking mouth hits from the splib, dancing with her, The Mexicans and enlisted- men liked it.

Then unexpectedly, from the center stage entrance, ENTER, The Weird Reverend Cornelius Cornhole and his flock swinging bibles about. The inside of the tent reeked of ganja. When Rev. Cornhole and his flock walked in raising their bibles like weapons. The air was so thick you could cut it with a dull razor.

Once in center stage with the power of Jesus, all the bibles held up and finger pointing by the flock , Cornhole delivered a "Damn Nation" sermon, lambasting the show suggesting pillorying of the audience one by one. Speaking of the pits of Hell, telling the audience they were on the road to hell and should repent now. Describing the high connected and communal psychedelic feeling of the audience, as the Devil himself.

Out of nowhere Stan the ringmaster walks in and he obviously didn't think Cornhole's schtick was funny, AT ALL!

Stan walks into Coke the Albino Leopard's cage, Coke a lousy show-cat jumps on Stan and starts licking his face. Stan gently pushes Coke and says "off boy". He then reached for Leo's bullwhip and walks sharply up to Cornhole and his flock, ripping the pages of the bibles out, using skillful snaps from his bullwhip, causing the bibles to fly in the air, Stan did exactly that to 6 of the parishioners and finally, Cornhole shut up. Stan then dress's-down Cornhole telling him that he wasn't spiritual or high enough to understand or partake in the energy of the show.

Stan scared the bejesus out of Cornhole and his flock, looked Reverend Cornhole straight it the eye with his intense black eyes and says, get off the grounds of the "Stan Jiniski Psychedelic Freak Show" or he and 123 enlisted-men ( who were all backing Stan), would escort them to the exit.

Reverend Cornelius Cornhole and his flock left the same way they came in, minus a few bibles, with a hang dog look on their faces.

6. The closing act was the " Leopard Tamer " . Chica would stand outside the dried mesquite cage holding a plate of apple pie a la mode, Coke would stare at the pie intently, growling and looking ferocious long enough for Leo to hold up a chair and crack his bullwhip a couple of times. When they let Coke out of the cage he would go eat his pie. After the pie he was cool and the kids could come down to pet him.

Stan's and Glennis's show became a standard in Airborne, Texas. Freak folks from all over Texas would drive thousands of miles in vans and on Harley's to see the show. Famous personalities Sonny Barger and Terry the Tramp (Rest in peace the coolest brother ever man!) and the Oakland Chapter of the Hells Angels even came to see the show one night. The Angel's couldn't stop laughing and loved drinking mescal. The enlisted-men would come every-night, just to smoke ganja and get a look at Glennis's tit, or the midget girls big asses. Stan would send boxes of 10$ bills back to the store, the Jiniski Brooklyn Pawnshop, to be put in the safe. So all and all, the magic exuded by the troupe, the blue lights, Glennis's paintings on the canapé, being aloud to smoke dope during the show, the awesome charismatic ambience......... made it a success.

Aside: Last word from ~FL~ the show is still playing in Airborne, take your ma, take your pa, TAKE LA REVOLUTION!

Stan builds a freak show p 5

In a week or so, Stan, Glennis, Quinn, Leo, the Sailor, Seaman 5th class Hunktree, (who was handy and treated his midget girlfriends with respect as a protector and a lover). Got hired by Stan to help with the show.

The little Mexican gals besides being able to wrastle were cute. They had natural black curly hair and pierced noses with gold rings. Leo was looking for a cat and found a Leopard which were extinct. The Lepord was albino, so this was a impossible catch.( which he named Coke) . The albino Leopard was malnourished because he was too blind to hunt. Coke let Leo carry him back to the camp. Also while up in the hills, Leo found shrooms and yage, which he sold for 800 oz. . Needless to say, The Great Spirit was looking down on Leo He fed Coke allot of rabbit meat, frogs, rats, dogs and apple pie which Coke ala mode, which Coke loved.

Stan found a old bullfighting ring 30 Kilometers outside of Mexico City in a town called Las Bresas. The owner rented it to Stan for only 40 pesos, plus free tickets, free ganja, tequila and and a dozen chickens.

The troupe lived in the bullfighters quarters, bullfighting was off season. The freak troupe had the whole place to themselves. The quarters was made of dried old wood, and had a couple of extra rooms and a small prayer station which was turned into a living room. Glennis and the little ladies hung Indian prints from the dry wood rafters, burnt prayer candles and incense. It would be the fortune teller tent. Leo could use one of many bull stalls and staple chicken wire to house the albino Lepard, Coke, as he became known. Although Coke was gentle as a pussy cat unless he didn't get his apple pie ala mode.

Stan would have to rent the same Mexican bus for the supply trip to Mexico City, 35 minutes away. Sheerly unmintigated with the spirit of the Reverend T. Lawrence Shannon, things would be dicy for sure, the spirit Shannon radiates light like a crucifix-spotlight even today on old school buses in Mexico. Glennis, Leo and Stan would do the shopping, there was plenty of locally grown food in the Las Bresas markeT. To build a great freak show at Las Bresas, Stan needed wood canvas, paint nails, planks, a sound system.

Stans' dad Sam was still running the pawnshop in Brooklyn. Stan offered 25% interest in the show. The old pawnbroker loved his son, had money by the millions in his mattress, and believed in his sons ability to get things done.

They had taken the seats out of the Reverend T. Lawarence Shannon special school bus and had the rack on the roof to carry lumber, planks. It was sunny and dry outside, the freak builders went to work.

One day, comin out of the hills a Navajo Indian showed up. His name was "Turd on the Run". He had fled the U.S.A hoping for a better life in Mexico, getting lost in the hills, almost making it to Mexico City he drifted into Las Bresas. Stan hired him for room and board, and all the ganja he could smoke. If Turd touched whiskey he would be run off the sight at gun point.

They would keep the bullfighters quarters as was, use if for fortune telling. . Stan wanted a one ring, but lofty circus tent. The open part of the bull ring consisting of hard pack red mud mostly would be used of donkey rides and the bean and cup cons. He had a vision of a Geodesic dome that would rest on sawdust and the packed dirt. The sailor Hunkytree and the Navajo Turd on the Run came in real handy. Stan drew up a rough design in the sand. They would build a Geodesic dome with a teepee top. The had bought more canvass in Mexico city, ( in addition to the canvas they brought on the "Outlaw Skiff" from Jamaica) and paint, also some simple strung light bulbs and Christmas lights. A dimly lighted color and eerie night time.

They used sail canvass to cover the geo dome with teepee on top made by Turd on the Run and Hunkytree.

Glennis did all the art work, painting the canvas patchwork fashion, she was talented, and loved Freida Kahlo

The structure ended up looking like a STUPA.