was so relieved that I broke out another bottle of good wine and tenderloins with cognac after dinner. I still had a stash of that pure cocaine and we got so messed up, we had sex like normal people. We kissed and fondled, as we rolled around with me on the top, and her on the bottom. I fucked her, and fucked her until she had a climax that wet the bed, with the fluid of pent up LOVE. She cried like a little girl whimpering statements of undiscernibly primitive origin. After, we cuddled and

Slept a deep sleep of content and satisfaction. I woke up to the sound of someone inquiring a presence, and wanting permission to board my boat. I threw on some shorts, only to find a gorgeous young man with a beautiful body inquiring safe passage to wherever we were headed in exchange for the laborious act of cooking and swabbing the decks. He was bumming around for a few years in the Islands and He was a seeker of Truth and Understanding of the Universe.

I laughed, and liked his easy going manner. I asked if he had references, and he said yes, but he also had debts with the Bar and Restaurant where he had worked for the previous 6 months. I got dressed and took him in the dingy to get the information from his employer. Well, his name was “JAH MON” and the previous boss said he played like a big spender, to impress the numerous female conquests that were tourists. He charged more than he made, at his own place of work, as well as tabs in a few other establishments. I agreed to help him out, because I knew Carol was deciding her fate and it included going somewhere I wasn’t. It cost $1,100 to clean up his debt and leave on good terms with everyone celebrating our departure like we were long lost friends. When we returned early in the morning around 3 A.M. Wolfe barked and snarled at our arrival and Carol greeted us with the shotgun aimed in our direction, but lowering it at our recognition.

She was so worried because we were gone so long and didn’t know what to do until morning, when she could swim toward shore. I told her JAH MON was joining us and he was the boat cook and dishwasher. She immediately liked the accommodation, because it was her previous position. I asked, “Jah Mon” to pick

A bunk and went to the main salon to crash for a couple of hours. When I woke 5 hours later, he had breakfast ready and was whistling a happy tune. Carol was beaming and we discussed our journeys direction over the navigation table. I broke out some lines and everyone was a willing participant in the orgy that developed. JAH MON had a beautiful body that pleased men and women without regard to orientation. We had a wild time on the boat for three weeks and 5 Islands visits where we went ashore for provisions and dog food for Wolfe. I had a deck step installed on the fantail and the dog always crapped there, so itself cleaned with the next little wave. He was so intelligent and security conscious that I never questioned his attitude. If he didn’t like someone there was a reason. I trusted his instincts. Well when we got to Trinidad there were smugglers and people that supplied smugglers and wannabe smugglers all approach us in every bar and restaurant. I denied interest, but my stash was low and I found a Dealer Bar/Restaurant Owner, that I felt I could trust, and purchased an ounce for $300. We weighed anchor and headed back North, stopping everywhere along the way, for a few months of sightseeing and fishing in the warm tropical nights, as the winter was in full swing Up North. I thought a lot and was ready to settle down somewhere for a few years. I was bored and even stopped fucking my mates for a few weeks. Carol wanted to go to Miami and visit friends without dicks. She hit me up for severance pay, and I said I would give her a grand, when we reached Key West. JAH MON didn’t complain and was constantly cleaning and polishing everything. He never let me fuck him in the ass, because he was a virgin, and I resented that. He had fucked me 20 times in 2 months and even while I licked Carol’s pussy, and she watched me wiggle and squirm as JAH MON stroked in and out of my ass. He was a Good Stud, but never believed there was pleasure in getting ass fucked yourself. When I tried to talk about it he was embarrassed. I just left Him alone, but would have loved to Fuck Him.

Maybe I was a twisted sister, turning into an, Old Queen of The Gypsy’s, as I developed with age. We arrived back in Key West, with golden tans and long hair and beards, as we used the Zodiac to ferry Carol and her acquired goods ashore. She had spent 3 months of Quality time, and we never had an argument or temper tantrum, even in the worst storms or as we weaned ourselves from cocaine use and sexual desire simultaneously, as though someone threw a switch that said NO. I was sober and celibate for 2 weeks since our last stay in the Caymans, where I went to visit my Bank, and found everything secure. I gave Carol $5,000 just because the Bank didn’t rob me. I was ecstatic and pulled out a set of emerald earrings from my safety deposit box as a memento. She gave me a deep tongue in the mouth kiss that tasted like JAH MON’s dick. I know because, He had a certain

Flavor different than anyone else. She caught a cab and JAH MON and I headed toward Sloppy Joe’s Bar to get some local flavor and get drunk. There were new businesses opening and operated by Snowbirds that arrived and didn’t go home. Tourists coming and going, up and down the Highway 101. Just to eat a meal and head back to Miami in the same day. I sailed up to the base yard on Stock Island and had the boat hauled out of the water and shored up, in the same space it used before. I had millions in the Bank in the Caymans and a desire to do some smuggling again. The Russo’s had left many messages in the three months I was gone. I called the nephews with a plan of partnership with JAH MON whom didn’t know anything about my past or history. When I asked, he professed undying LOVE for his Captain. He was GAME for it if he was going to make money like me. I was so Happy I Blew Him right then on the boat.

He tasted just like Carols last kiss; I knew it when he agreed. She had blown him before leaving the boat. That dyke was a good cocksucker. He was a stud. He always arose for the occasion, but didn’t think he was GAY. The nephews arrived in a week in a Heavy Metal Car, a 1968 Plymouth Charger with a big block motor and a hydra stick transmission. It was painted orange and was loud in the exhaust with Crager Mags and leather interior. They looked like gangsters and were armed and dangerous Mafia dope dealers. We lived on the boat and met the guys in a restaurant on the Ocean to discuss business. They had been scoring in New York from some Puerto Rican that was robbing them with weak cocaine. I agreed to find some for their constant supply needs, and arranged to meet Jorge at the Cuban Club for information. Jorge was discreet about affairs with men, but held me in both hands and kissed me long and hard right at the Bar announcing “Chiquita’s” return. We went upstairs where it looked dusty and dingy and I felt like I was in someone’s home that was suffering from Depression. He couldn’t get an erection and cried like a baby. I comforted him and suggested he lay off the cocaine, and booze for a month like I intended. I was already clean for 2 weeks from cocaine, after 2 years of constant use. I was planning to make money as a smuggler, and intended on working hard to stay clean for a year. Let see what happens, sometimes you have to use it if it’s there. Well, Jorge’s cousin had a shrimp boat full of “Mota” which was Columbian Red and Gold marijuana, as well as 50 kilo’s of Bolivian Flake Cocaine. They had to pay cash, so we waited until a mule carried down the money, as we relaxed in the sunny tropical sun. I got him a good price of $1,500,000 for everything on the boat, except transportation, which they were required to supply. I made $500,000 on that one deal because the boat held 2 tons of pot that was wrapped in 40 to 50 pound bales wrapped in plastic. We rented 2 U-haul trucks with phony Ia.‘s and loaded them up with the pot as they put the 50 kilos of cocaine in the Charger. The Pot you could smell 50 feet away, and I wished them Luck, because it was a long trip to Boston. It was JAH Moon’s first deal, so I gave him $50,000 for his effort in loading, and being involved in our Business together. He spent all night counting his money, bewildered and star struck, exclaiming I could fuck him in the ass if I was Gentle. I was delighted and felt better about him, after he climaxed and shot a load across the room in the Hotel we had for the night. He said WOW, a few times as I hit his G spot. We slept together as close as brothers can get. We had bonded totally. I was a booty-bandit, and not the least bit ashamed. I gave him $50,000 and FUCKED HIM IN THE ASS!!!!!

I only get a GRAND, and I am depressed……….

I WISH SOMEONE WOULD PAY ME $50,000 TO FUCK ME ANY WAY WHICH WAY, BUTT LOOSE……..

I NEVER GOT MORE THAN $5,000 WHEN YOU REALLY ARE ACCOUNTABLE. I WAS PAYING FOR THAT EXCLAMINATION OF MY FIRST MATE EXCLAIMING,”YOU CAN FUCK ME IN THE ASS IF YOU ARE GENTLE.” I HAVE LOVED HIM EVER SINCE. I GO FOR VIRGINS, NO MATTER WHATEVER THE COST. I SPENT 4.5 MILLION ON VIRGIN CONGRESSMEN, ALONE. IF I ONLY COULD HAVE AFFORDED THE PRESIDENT. I DID AFFORD HIS WIFE, JUST CHECK OUT THE RECORD OF HOW I GOT FREE IN A CASE IN NEW JERSEY THAT WAS HELD AGAINST ME

I HAVE A PLAN TO USE MY YACHT AS A TOURIST VESSEL, AND AT THE SAME TIME PART OF THE “PIRATE FLEET.”

THE YACHT IS ALL WOOD AND BEAUTIFUL IN ITS REGAL STATUS AS IT ENTERS ANY HARBOR. A “HINKLEY” AROUND 57’10” WITH A SYSTEM OF PANELS THAT WERE CALLED A “PIVAR SYSTEM” IT HELPED TO KEEP THE BOAT AFLOAT BY HAVING A MINI-COMPARTMENT HULL, DESIGNED TO BE REPAIRED AND NOT ABANDONED, EVEN IF THERE WAS A BREECH. A BREECH EXPIERANCED ON ONE MISSION CARRYING A TON OF WEED IN BALES USED FOR “BELOW DECK” STORAGE KNOWN AS “DONNAGE” THE HEMP HELPED WITH BOYANCY AND STABILIZATION. THE COMPARTMENT BREACH WAS A 5 IN. HOLE CAUSED BY AN AGGRESSIVE CORAL OUTCROPPING ON AN UNCHARTED ISLAND. “KEY WEST” WAS A BOOM TOWN IN 1971 AND I HAD A FEW INTERESTS, AND OLD SMUGGLER FRIENDS AS I DEVELOPED MY LIFE OF ENTERTAINMENT. I WASN’T A SPRING CHICKEN AND AT THE OLD AGE OF “24”, I TRAVELED EXTENSIVELY TO “PROMOTE” AND “DISTRIBUTE” THE NEW CULTURE EVERYWHERE I WENT,

WITH EVERYONE I KNEW. “JAH MON” LEFT AFTER HIS FIRST MILLION AND ESTABLISHED A BEAUTIFUL RESTUARANT IN GAUTEMALA, “LAKE ATTILAN”, “IN A SLEEPY LITTLE INDIAN VILLAGE, WHERE THE LARGE MOUTH BASS, SWALLOW YOUNG DUCKS FOR BREAKFAST.” CALLED “PANAHANSCHAL“.

One Day I was a Captain, with a Yacht, and over 9 Million in Cash in an Off-Shore Account in the Cayman Islands and I was able to Invest in an International Conglomerate, that fueled the Tourist Industry, with Investors, that needed a safe haven for their excessive cash accounts. I was all male again, and hadn’t been a butt-boy for 7 months and had no desire after evaluating the Discrimination Effect in my Business World, of Smugglers and, Killers, and Businessmen. They were created of the same determination. If they suspect weakness they get their Predator Freakiness On! Your Own Family Will Throw You In The Dirt. Get Real. There is A Total Discrimination against Adults Enjoying Anal Sex. In 24 states you cannot enjoy “Cocksucking” in Public as a Giver or Receiver and I have fond Memories of Both of those positions. Our Sex is our Business. Just stop investigating Human Behavior! You will always be shocked at the outcome. I decided to donate my yacht to the next Generation of Smugglers in the “CONCH NAVY”, with a payment plan if they were successful, by 1975 it was all under surveillance, and you were Lucky or Not. I had (9 million) enough, and decided to become a “Trekker.” The Intrigue and Mystery of The Orient was calling to me and I was leaving on a journey that would take me to 54 countries, as an American Artist Oil-Painter and Portrait Artist in Bars and Cafes, using pencil or pen, on napkins, in exchange for drinks and sexual favors. I decided to fuck the World. One Person at a Time. Wolfe, was my friend and companion, but refused to be a landlubber and went with his yacht as its owner. Therefore, if they got busted, he was the boss and made all the decisions and paid off all the debts.

I wonder how that worked out, I never saw either again, and I hope they had High Adventure like I did.

We only have one Life to completely fuck up. I was getting better every day, enjoying Life and Living. Looking back is never any Good, Dream Forward. I can only be Grateful toward “GOD” the Creator of all my Life’s Experiences. I am Spiritual, rather than religious otherwise I would start a New Religion that used ceremonial sex/drama instead of Masses. I got fucked in the ass for your sins, type of Imagery for a sacrifice, rather than Crucifixion. I could see New Holidays like, “The First Penetration” “The Farthest Ejaculation” and to replace Christmas, “The Daisy Chain” where all the boys are trying to make a continued effort to circumvent the Planet with a Fucking Conga Line. Every year they failed to stay connected due to flaccid penis problems. Ha! Ha! I am sure if I ran for President, I could stop War in most instances with a Blow Job or letting North Koreas Top Brass fuck me in the ass, in exchange for stopping their Nuclear Arms Program. Those little dicks would be a pleasant massage. As your President I would admit being Commander in Chief of the first Gay Military since Sparta. If you want Advancement you have to Blow your Senior Officers, or Let your Sergeants fuck you up the ass. If you’re good at that, you could be a General in no time at all. I think it is already like that. Colin Powell gives Great Head and Has a Pussy for an asshole that self-lubricates. How did that happen? Well, I’ve always been “CRAZY”. In 1975 I was broke, because I left my money in a Bank in the Cayman Islands with an unscrupulous Banker. A DR. Anthony Laeyetta. Noticing that my account was stagnant for a few years he forged a Death Certificate and Last Will and Testament leaving everything to a long lost cousin that disappeared with everything including my goods in the Safety Deposit box. I was in India searching for Peace and Contentment without material dependence. You really have to be careful of what you are thinking and how it affects your Real and True Existence. I made 2 million of that money hustling my Ass. Now, I lose over 10 million and I don’t even care. No regrets and no deeds or titles or suits or ties or even shoes anymore. I moved to Hawaii to become a surfer, musician, artist, poet, and writer of the early days, (and my specific outlook as a discarded youth) in the streets and alleys of the world. The living underbelly of humanity. The truth about “Homeless Wealth” and “Make the Government Pay” theories. A lesson plan for Insurance Fraud with a list of licensed Quack Doctors and Lawyers that Lie for a buck, for only $19.95 I am getting involved with the new Industry of Personal Computers and Steve Jobs has a plan to call his model “Apple” a logo with a bite taken out of an apple image. I am going to be 30 in the year 1977 and become a Manufactures Representative, to use my skills with people and travel and arrange Representation in countries I have been, with people that I know. I have been straight for over 2 years at this point because a new disease called “AIDS” or HIV is killing off all the young men that are hustling. They have put ass fucking out of business, in this life, for me, but I don’t even look at cocks anymore, and always have a whore in my bed. Young whores that are fun and crazy. They let me play out roles, using positions I learned in the “EAST”. I have a beard and mustache at times and look athletic in build. I can run a Marathon and swim all day. I use a new bicycle system called “Mountain Bike” and eat Organic foods as well as belonging to Gold’s Gym, which is everywhere

Apple Home Business Computers are being made in a plant in Waukegan, Illinois and I have friends in Racine, Kenosha, and Milwaukee that have Businesses and would enjoy a visit even if they don’t buy a toaster from me. I visit the plant and meet an old friend in shipping that knows I am a manufactures Rep. and arranges to meet me at a local restaurant for lunch, on Him. He tells me I can purchase a unit for $999 no tax, on any given workday through him, a maximum of 5 units’ a day. The retail is $1,800 and I write him a check for $5,000 to start up our connection and get my wholesale business underway. I run them up to Wisconsin and sell them to retailers for $1,500 and the General Public for the full retail. I am able to unload every shipment in a few days and I find software bundles I add as a bonus to close the deal with independent businesses. I am breaking the law, but the enforcement isn’t online at the time and this new high-tech gear is unfathomable to your garden variety cops who become some of my customers. I feel almost normal and have a bulging Bank Account in Ireland. I am fucking women on the road that I pick-up in bars and impress with my Worldly Knowledge and Exquisite Taste. I still think about my youthful experiences and they have forever ruined my ideas of normal. I need to imagine a rape scene in order to cum and ejaculate, with me being the victim and surrendering my virgin ass. Sometimes the perpetrator is a White Art teacher from Texas, and then a Cuban Image with a purple cock, sometimes a Chinese guy with a small cock trying to be a big boy and The Big Bad Black Man with a 11 inch throbbing muscle taking deep strokes up my ass. Oh well, fantasy used to be my Reality, but for the most part, I am glad those days are gone. I don’t even know why I stayed Hustling soooooo long. I never thought I was Gay even when I crossed dressed in Key West 24/7. I had convinced myself I was working an impersonation job that required my ass to be used as a trampoline in this Special Olympic Game. Make that $1,000 a night, and soap and water will wash the entire residue away. I was wrong, because I never had any coaching in my morality or right decision making factors and resented my Family for never even caring. When I played the prodigal son and returned, I was questioned about my reasons, with a final statement of “What Do You Want”? I had been gone 16 years and never missed. I bounced out of the state with $30,000 made in 2 months as a Rep. My next Destination was Hawaii. I would move to The Big Island and seek Peace and Harmony near a Live Volcano that had wilderness land for $5,000 an acre. I wanted to pursue Art and Music and Surf for the remainder of my days. I landed on Maui and moved to Paia, to a two bedroom plantation style house on Fireman’s Lane. It was a quiet plantation town where surfers gathered to surf Hookipa and Baldwin where The Big Waves showed up in the winter. I bought a long board and learned to paddle out and stand-up and surf in one day. I went over the falls a few times and almost drowned every day. I got tan and healthy and visited Lahaina a few times a week for Entertainment and Restaurants cruising ladies and making friends. I stayed at the Pioneer Inn for $28 a night, and started selling small paintings under the Banyan tree. I had a really mellow time and life was good. I left for the Big Island to get into Agriculture and Marijuana cultivation because that culture had a large demand. I purchased a lot in Kalapana Gardens, in view of an active Volcano and close to Drainpipes a beautiful beach and wave to surf as well as Kaimu Bay a few blocks away. They had a store called “Walter’s” run by an old Chinese Guy and his wife “Maize.” I got a truck and a dog and prepared to build a house with a real permit and landscape it, to create my Shangri-la here in Paradise. It was a perfect area for growing and prospering so I spent all my savings on building and collected food stamps to eat. I was a starving artist with a, “Dream Forward” and no looking back. A young surfer named Richard bought some land that he named for the turtles, called “Kalani Honua”, that he was going to develop into a Retreat. I worked as a carpenter and electrician as well as painter totally stoned out of my gourd, on the best reefer I ever smoked. It was local Kalapana Kine. I know the work was quality and the community “Richard” developed became a meeting and gathering space for everyone into new ideas and a new way for living. I sold beads and small oil/canvas landscapes everywhere I went. My boats name became my properties motto, “Safe Sojourn”. I first hired the local Heavy Equipment Operator, Henry to meet me at the property with a CAT dozer. It was a large blade attached to a strong Diesel engine and was heavy metal construction so the jungle and lava were no match. I had placed poles with red flags all over the property so he had an idea of where he was going to scrape. We agreed it would take all day and he would give me a little extra for $500 and I agreed immediately. At 9PM he was finished and packed up and paid off and I was a Happy Camper. That machinery made a road and circular drive with an additional house pad and garage on one corner and an identical pad opposite with a tree lined divider for privacy. I than bought a heavy metal rake and shovel. 2 truck loads of crushed rock as a surface material, spot dumped in a planned sequence and then raked and evenly distributed by me. I than brought in top soil for my lawn and garden and set up a doughboy pool for catchments‘, placed near a grove of thick Ohia that I stretched a tarp and used the angle and position to catch water and fill my pool. It was coming along really fine. The area had a real Paradise Feel, and I began my communication with an inner Spirit. I swam everyday and familiarized myself with my surroundings. The Volcano always was going off and everyone didn’t care because the life was really beautiful with that element of danger. Fishing was great and I smoked fish and wild pig and took it into Hilo and sold it to the local groceries and pop stands. I had completed one house with roof system using local aggregates and curly ohia poles for my major beams and slabs of koa and monkey pod for my counters and permanent furniture as well as the crapper outside built over a pooka hole with toilet paper in a coffee can to stay dry. I built a box big enough to allow two people to crap at the same time if there was an emergency, as often the case when a diarrhea episode was evident.

Another coffee can held “lime” in a powder form that is spread over the waste to curb disease and odor. It also speeds up decomposition and makes great fertilizer for marijuana cultivation as well as any flowers, but people don’t like to use it for garden vegetables. They think it is unenlightened and a cultural Taboo. I gave the homestead 4 hours every day and soon there were 3 structures on the property with unusual roof designs that allowed sunlight into the buildings all day long and limited viewing from above. I used alternative building materials such as bamboo easily split with a bush knife and a rubber mallet. This nailed green in place f or inner walls and designed throughout the house with pyramids, squares, and angled cuts and when dry, coated with a sealant. I found a woman whom made the woven palm and Lalhalla mats and she created my roof panels that were nailed over plastic covered ½ inch marine plywood nailed into twisted ohia beams. Someday, I would build a house around the crapper because when it is winter and raining at 5 AM you might catch your death a cold, flu, or pneumonia. I even had an old porcelain tub in the yard that I used for a hot tub. I built a rock box to mount the tub upon and underneath was a fire box where I built a fire and heated the water to boiling where I used a hose of cold water to correct the temp. To my desired degree. Robinson Caruso didn’t have it so good when I figured out that you can grow the most delicious vegetables in your own garden. I fish and hunt pigs with a rope and a knife. I pound opihi off the rocks with a butter knife and grow “paka lolo” that I sell at Harry K. Brown Park to Tourists and Dealers that arrive daily in rental cars for their businesses in Honolulu and Maui that sell to the tourists along with a burger and a shake. If you end up with large amounts you can sell it to Mama San in Hilo and her nephew, whom really own the Korean Bars and Hotel Street Whore Houses in Honolulu. One time they bought around 100 pounds for $80,000 I didn’t want it around, because it would disappear and cash in hand made more sense. My best friends in Puna already showed their true colors when I caught them snooping around. I built the property exclusively to grow pot by using a semi hydroponics’ system indoors for 3 months and then transferred into my outdoor zone for full maturity and maximum flowering of the “BUDZ”.I used chicken shit, seabird and bat guano, with calcium and fish emulsion, as well as greensand and vermiculite. I used 5 gallon pots suspended in square pans for their constant bottom feeding of a solution, mixed in a 50 gallon drum, that held all the mangos that were ground scored and sugar cane pieces floating in rainwater with fish and bat shit added, and covered to work its magic as a nutrients supplier, in the flowering stages of the plant, that created a sweeter bud, and stronger potency. I was recognized by the locals and now had to take a break because everyone was stalking me to discover my system and get rich by ripping me off. I rented out the property to a couple from New Orleans that I never met before and decided to journey around Asia with a bedroll and Guitar. I had over $100,000 in Travelers Checks in my backpack and a brand new passport in my real name. I didn’t visit my real family in over 10 years and didn’t want to look back, because they were so hurtful and evil. God Bless them with Ignorance and Boredom. They would never understand how to be content and reasonably happy with this Beautiful Life we were given. I was, and the Orient would help me to sharpen my perspective, and teach me more than I need to know. I decided to start my TREK in Bangkok, Thailand and mess around with whatever I chose to do in the moment. I tried the nightlife and the day life, I went to temples with different deities than I had ever experienced that had millions of followers and little cults in India that only had hundreds. I made it to a Monkey Temple or two that were dangerous to human contact without the proper gear. The monkeys attacked me in Katmandu, with shit hurled in my face and stones connecting on my back, as I ran for my life, down the mountain trail at 6AM without a friend or guide. The locals that saw me from a distance laughed and poked fun at me for the remainder of my stay. I could have been killed another time by a red assed baboon that had claws that ripped off girl friends shorts and had to be subdued with a hammer. I hit it in the head and knocked it out. After that he stayed away with a new found respect for man. She was menstruating and the Monkey could smell it which stirred up his passionate response. The Coconut grove was a Copra Plantation gone unattended, except for the different occupants protecting their individual trees and families. Some of the human tribe looked as intelligent as the monkeys or more likely the same as I experienced these new remote cultures first hand. People lived in walled villages and behind closed doors out of respect for the big cats and large snakes as well as rogue elephants that routed whole villages when they got pissed off. Coral snakes are called 2 steps, because that is how long you will live without anti-venom. I was in the South of India in an Ocean Resort and I strung up a hammock in a Banyan Tree at night to save my money for other things. When I was awaken by an angry mob first thing in the morning. They organized a ceremony that first blessed the tree, and than using gasoline started the whole tree afire. Well, they sure were going to make me stay indoors at one of their open facilities whether it was a hotel or peasant shack. I went for Breakfast and returned to the tree which was surrounded by hundreds of people watching this magnificent blaze. All of a sudden a Giant Snake came crashing down from the umbrella top of the tree that was 30 feet long and 4 or 5 feet thick in the center, where some animal was being digested. Now I understood why they were angry at my stupidity and recklessness. If a tourist got eaten and it was discovered, I would have ruined their industry. I left that community and went to Poona for enlightenment and maybe meet the Guru. Some place called “Darmsala”, was the home of the “Dali Lama”, and people from all over the World visited in search of “Enlightenment“. Vegetarian food was cheap and you could live on pennies a day. A few cents was all it cost for “chai” from the “baba’s” whom dressed in loincloths that resembled diapers that also wore turbans or had long hair and beards as they smoked pipes called chillum’s all day and all night selling hash on the side to tourists like me. I gave a $20 to a chai-baba and he gave me a couple of kilo’s of Black hash from the Kashmir District of northern India. I threw it in my backpack and headed for a Beach community called, “Goa”. It was The Hippy Destination during the 60’s and now a tourist trap with café’s and restaurants, bars and Hotels as well as Cops and robbers. I found a nice Bungalow surrounded by Beautiful Flowers and Foliage, Plants, and pool on the Ocean for $8 a night. I started selling hash to the Tourists that were white so as they definitely not undercover cops. The British and Australians as well as Americans were all looking to get stoned and I gave them a thumb sized piece for $5 that made me $10,000 off of 2 kilo’s in 90 days of Dancing at Disco’s and Romancing in the sand on the Beach at Goa. It was a wonderful Experience until someone tipped of the police and they cornered me on the Beach herding me into the water where I made my escape, because they didn’t follow or use their guns and I swam a few miles around a jetty. When I left the water I noticed 20 or 30 sharks circling around, that I hadn’t noticed before, and never was bit or nipped because I wasn’t afraid and not emitting any fear into the water. I made a bee line to my bungalow and picked up my things and headed right for the airport and a flight out of the country to China and the City of Beijing. I wasn’t surprised at the English Writing on the wall in the Chinese Airport that says, “If You Smuggle Drugs, and You Will Die”. Every so often they line up the prisoners and shoot them in the Square, for a public display to deter crime. I played my Guitar and sang in the Square and a crowd gathered to witness this strange “farang” or (round eye’s) exhibition of unusual screaming and pounding rhythm on a box like instrument, calling it rock and roll. The Chinese don’t applaud and you know you are doing well when they bring their children over to pet you on the head as they would do to any domesticated animal. I had smuggled some joints into the country and smoked with some college kids that told me we would be shot for our activity if caught. I got paranoid and left China after 10 days of growing panic because they put a serious person on my tail that never slept. If I went anywhere at any time I noticed someone in step with me. I saw the reflection in the back bar mirror and the glass doors. They were on to me and my fearless disrespect to their Cultural Revolution. I had to go through an extensive search when I left the Hotel and when I arrived at the Airport they wrapped tape around my backpack that said something in Chinese to the effect I was a person of Interest. When I did finally arrive in Honolulu, I was given an ultimatum of an X-ray or jail containment for 72 hours because they thought I was carrying drugs in my ass. I took the X-ray and was free to go home to Kalapana Gardens and my Home Sweet Home. Well when I arrived my Home was a Hippy Commune that had carved names and symbols as well as tags of graffiti from gangs and bands visiting from all over the world. All the dishes were broken or missing and all the spoons bent over and used for cooking drugs that were injected into the arms of the junkies who were my new roommates. It had become a residence of liars, cheats, thieves, and rippers that had to feed the monkey on their back. I was living a past Karma and never did Heroin until now, where I smoked it every day for free, or so I thought. It only was for free because I exchanged the property usage. In a month I was injecting the drug and in 2 months I was going to Thailand to smuggle some back that was pure poison and could be diluted 10 times and still be addictive. I was back in the dope game and didn’t even swim or surf anymore. I did play a lot of music and created jewelry and made beads from scratch coupled with seashells and seed beads in a rainbow display. The years passed without a memory, and the Volcano in the Spirit of “PELE” wasn’t putting up with the rampant decay of morality, or the constant drug abuse; and overflowed the entire community with molten lava; leaving fire and brimstone in its path. A Biblical Drama, that completed changed the entire landscape, and oceans cape as well. “Drainpipes” and Kaimu Bay surf breaks had disappeared and thousands of coconut trees, as well as 40 or 50 homes. We managed to move the painted Church, out of Harm’s way and after it had run its course, it reversed its path; in the other direction. She is like a hula dancer, swaying side to side, “PELE” she goes. I had completed large Format oil/canvas Images that I Displayed in Pavilions’, in the County Park System

I trusted my Art was safe, and it was; until my “Art Show from the Lava Flow.” I made a Gallery out of a fence at the end of the highway in Kalapana, where I displayed “ART”. I created these Images for everyone’s Benefit, until one day when someone stole them all; a friend found their location, and they were returned to me. I was given a date for a one man show and showed up on the prescribed time to be told I had been replaced by a Barbie Doll Collection. I think the year was 1996 and if you were a CRAZY ARTIST you were expected to create a disturbance. I wouldn’t expect anything less from, “Moi”. So, I spent time and money “TREKKING with ART“, all over t he world. I didn’t climb, “Everest”, but managed to get a nosebleed in the Himalayan Mountains for 3 days, until I traveled to a lower elevation. I was feeling light headed, and living in a woozy state of being.

I was drunk without alcohol, and when we had a nip, I was drunk on a few ounces. People that live at High Altitude are like feral goats. They look and smell just alike, only the real goats are friendlier. They often have more to say that makes any sense at all. In the wilderness there isn’t any restaurant or bar or café. Someone might share yak butt dried after being smoked shoe leather. Rice, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, and peppers, are a whole wide world commodities item list. In the Orient it is Tea and Salt. I always started out my Trek’s with a few pounds of Great Tea. I had some Black Chinese w/poppy seed mixture, that gave everyone relief from pain, and induced a Dream State of Consciousness. In fact you can buy dried poppies at Pier 9 Imports, and boil them with your tea to get the same effect. Or the local florist gets dried poppies and you can order them for a decorative motif, just use them as a tea, to get the narcotic benefit. I make sure I have a final filter processing system in my backpack. I learned about fallen fruit in orchards that touched the ground with weeks of intestinal trouble due to eaten fruit infested with micro bodied worms and microbes that were killed by using a small amount of arsenic issued by a Specialist in Truckee Hospital, California on a return, from the Amazon River Basin. I saw the same people in Bolivia as well as the whole mountain trail of Asia and even the Inuit Indians of Alaska are same people they have in Peru, Bolivia, Guatemala, Mexico, and The Sierra Nevada’s on our West Coast. The Mountains of Burma, I drank with the people in remote regions that never heard or seen Jack Daniels, or Wild Turkey. I introduced them to a spectacle they wouldn’t forget. We managed to survive 54 countries in this manner of using duty free goods, setting an example of, Quality Entertainment in a Bottle. I was like a Foreign Dignitary Representing the Modern World. I had the state of the art Backpack that had hidden supports made from Titanium and had a back straps compart- ment, so it could be carried like a suitcase. I had a one inch mat of super foam that was waterproof. I had a sleeping bag that was good for 30 degrees below. I had a winter parka, gloves, and gators with hiking boots from Italy. I wore layers and usually jeans for my regular 2 changes of clothes; in case you enter a society that cares .I also had deodorant, and cologne. In the tropic’s I got down to the “Jams” and Hawaiian Shirts that seemed to work well. In all my travels I have decided to settle down here in Reeds Bay Resort Hotel. In Hilo, Hawaii on the Beautiful Bay.

 

 

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