Monday, April 15, 2013
Music, Poetry, Pussy, and History.
(4)
So I am so looking forward to April 20th, 2013, Marijuana Day, in The Mile High City of Denver Colorado! (Huff, huff!)
And April is National Poetry Month! I love poetry, of course. The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam is my favorite. I also love The Garden of Proserpine. These two poems were among the very best things I learned in High School. Chemistry, of course, was the very best stuff I ever learned there. It explained everything. Everything! Sip. The eventual result of those Chemistry classes was that they provided an alternative explanation to those Religion classes taught by Father Manning.
Poetry and Chemistry changed me. Sip.
My Chemistry teacher was an ugly nun we called, 'Horseface.'
Father Manning was 'The Rector,' who exuded 'ultimate control.' He hated me for some reason, and flunked me twice! Why did he hate me? I don't know.
Horseface once caught me reading 'The Iliad' (Greek historical novel) in her classroom. She confiscated the book early in the school year. She returned it to me at the end of the year, possibly hoping that I would have to pay heavy late fees. Little did she know that it was my practice at the time to 'steal' books from the Public Library, then return them after I had read them. I had 'stolen' that book, and therefore I had to pay no 'late fees.' I was such a naughty little boy back in those days!
The only teacher at BEHS that I ever really liked was a nun who taught Literature. She was young and beautiful. She was one of a local minority we called, 'Air Force Sisters' because of their elaborate 'headress.' She made it her mission to literally read to us the novel, 'The Scarlet Pimpernel.' I would watch her as she slowly moved around the class room, reading. We would occasionally make eye contact. At those times it was obvious that she liked me too! I would have fucked that woman at the drop of a hat!
I flunked Apologetics (Religion) taught by Father Manning... twice! I ended up in Summer School, helped by my (then) girlfriend, Ann Bellinger. I eventually passed the Summerschool test, and as a result I could join the USAF in September of 1954 as a HS grad. Which I did.
While in Basic Training at San Antonio Texas I had my last encounter with my very best lifelong friend, Leslie MacDonald, who was in pilot training. We played a game of chess. I won. He was pissed. He 'prophetized' that I would end up in Japan married to a Japanese woman.
Later, in Japan, I would learn that he had been killed in Japan after he had ejected from his F-100 too late on final approach after running out of fuel.
My last remaining friend from back in those days at Bishop England HS was Richard Maclean (sp - check the 1954 BEHS Yearbook). He went on to become a transport pilot (presumably because he was too tall for a fighter pilot).
Richard and Leslie were the two most influential people in my life. Richard taught me about Classical Music, and Leslie taught me about Short Wave Radio. My uncle Russ was at least equal to those two beloved friends: He took me for my very first airplane ride (in a Piper Cub) in about 1946.
By the way, my youngest sister, Libby, went with my brother David (the circumcised) to one of my HS Reunions back in 1994 or so. I did not attend, but Libby mailed me some photographs from that event. The most interesting photo was that of Anne Bellinger, my old girl friend from HS. She was poised on a stairway with her right hand extended and her middle finger extended, obviously Flipping The Bird to the photographer. She was 'smiling.' Her abdomen appeared to be somewhat swollen. I thought nothing of it for several years but eventually began to wonder why my sister bothered to attend me and my brother's reunion. Libby, unfortunately, turned out to be the creepiest member of our family. Some years ago I got a postcard from Libby saying, (tap) 'I wish we could be a family again.'
The 'tap' is significant. Gerash the stalker is very impulsive.
No, Libby. We will never be family again.
So I am so looking forward to April 20th, 2013, Marijuana Day, in The Mile High City of Denver Colorado! (Huff, huff!)
And April is National Poetry Month! I love poetry, of course. The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam is my favorite. I also love The Garden of Proserpine. These two poems were among the very best things I learned in High School. Chemistry, of course, was the very best stuff I ever learned there. It explained everything. Everything! Sip. The eventual result of those Chemistry classes was that they provided an alternative explanation to those Religion classes taught by Father Manning.
Poetry and Chemistry changed me. Sip.
My Chemistry teacher was an ugly nun we called, 'Horseface.'
Father Manning was 'The Rector,' who exuded 'ultimate control.' He hated me for some reason, and flunked me twice! Why did he hate me? I don't know.
Horseface once caught me reading 'The Iliad' (Greek historical novel) in her classroom. She confiscated the book early in the school year. She returned it to me at the end of the year, possibly hoping that I would have to pay heavy late fees. Little did she know that it was my practice at the time to 'steal' books from the Public Library, then return them after I had read them. I had 'stolen' that book, and therefore I had to pay no 'late fees.' I was such a naughty little boy back in those days!
The only teacher at BEHS that I ever really liked was a nun who taught Literature. She was young and beautiful. She was one of a local minority we called, 'Air Force Sisters' because of their elaborate 'headress.' She made it her mission to literally read to us the novel, 'The Scarlet Pimpernel.' I would watch her as she slowly moved around the class room, reading. We would occasionally make eye contact. At those times it was obvious that she liked me too! I would have fucked that woman at the drop of a hat!
I flunked Apologetics (Religion) taught by Father Manning... twice! I ended up in Summer School, helped by my (then) girlfriend, Ann Bellinger. I eventually passed the Summerschool test, and as a result I could join the USAF in September of 1954 as a HS grad. Which I did.
While in Basic Training at San Antonio Texas I had my last encounter with my very best lifelong friend, Leslie MacDonald, who was in pilot training. We played a game of chess. I won. He was pissed. He 'prophetized' that I would end up in Japan married to a Japanese woman.
Later, in Japan, I would learn that he had been killed in Japan after he had ejected from his F-100 too late on final approach after running out of fuel.
My last remaining friend from back in those days at Bishop England HS was Richard Maclean (sp - check the 1954 BEHS Yearbook). He went on to become a transport pilot (presumably because he was too tall for a fighter pilot).
Richard and Leslie were the two most influential people in my life. Richard taught me about Classical Music, and Leslie taught me about Short Wave Radio. My uncle Russ was at least equal to those two beloved friends: He took me for my very first airplane ride (in a Piper Cub) in about 1946.
By the way, my youngest sister, Libby, went with my brother David (the circumcised) to one of my HS Reunions back in 1994 or so. I did not attend, but Libby mailed me some photographs from that event. The most interesting photo was that of Anne Bellinger, my old girl friend from HS. She was poised on a stairway with her right hand extended and her middle finger extended, obviously Flipping The Bird to the photographer. She was 'smiling.' Her abdomen appeared to be somewhat swollen. I thought nothing of it for several years but eventually began to wonder why my sister bothered to attend me and my brother's reunion. Libby, unfortunately, turned out to be the creepiest member of our family. Some years ago I got a postcard from Libby saying, (tap) 'I wish we could be a family again.'
The 'tap' is significant. Gerash the stalker is very impulsive.
No, Libby. We will never be family again.
