WIZZZDOM & POETRY (VEGETABLES)

       YOU'LL NEVER MAKE THE SHOT,
           IF YOU DON"T TAKE THE SHOT

              VEGETABLES

       Vegetables, steam'em, oil'em,
         par boil'em
       Vegetables, mindless, rind-less,
          prevent blindless
       Vegetables, juice'em, have a twosome,
           seduce'em
       Let them seduce you, reduce you,
            let loose you and have some
                vegetables

       Take the shot, have some veggies my friends
            
                Wizzzmo

LEVITATION

       Just before I was five years old, my family and I, moved to Yonkers, New York. Harlem, where I was born, was going through a major change. The predominantly Italian neighborhood that my grandparents chose after arriving from Italy, was now being quickly replaced by Blacks and Puerto Ricans. The neighborhood was becoming undesirable and my parents chose to move out and raise their new family in a better environment. The next town north of the Bronx, was Yonkers, which was located on the Hudson river, named after Henry Hudson the pioneer discoverer of the river. We moved into a three story apartment house, one of six duplicates that were built next to each other across from School #9. I never had far to go to get to school, as I could see the classrooms right from my Mom and Dad's bedroom window.
       The way the apartments were designed, was in this order. The back room overlooked the small backyard, followed by the kitchen, a foyer, where the bathroom was located off of, the living room and then the three adjoining bedrooms. My bedroom was one that my sister and my parents had to pass through to get to their's. It was also right up against the noisy television, that was directly on the other side of the wall, which my bed lye up against. This often made it hard for me to get to sleep, as my parents watched the tube for a couple of hours passed my bedtime each night. I had to escape from the noise and vibrations that the T.V. was emanating, just to get to that state of consciousness that would allow me to drift off into sleep. I would go somewhere in my mind and eventually, I would succeed. One night I would take this to an entirely new and mysterious level. I found myself in a state of relaxation I had never experienced before. I was lying on my back and was weightlessly hovering about two to three feet over my bed. This moment, one which I had never felt so relaxed, was one that I accepted as a normal occurrence and just went with it. It seemed to come as no surprise and I don't really know how long I was in this state, as time was irrelevant and seemingly non existent. I heard nothing and felt nothing, only peace and tranquility. Suddenly, one of my parents touched the door knob. At that moment that my ears made me aware of my existence, I found myself back in my body, which was still lying in my bed. I had apparently left it and at that instantaneous moment of awareness, became one with it again. For years I never questioned this, or even thought it was unusual. Then, later in my life, I would come to realize that this was a special moment, for the innocence of life at a young age can make amazing things happen, things that seem to be impossible now, were never questioned by innocence then. Nothing quite like this has ever happened to me since that night. But nothing, is something just waiting to be.
      
       Stay focused my friends, for life holds many wonders.     Wizzzmo

AWOKEN BY FOOTSTEPS

   Awoken by footsteps of winter, I ran to the door
     The winds raging roaring,
       exploring the cracks in the floor
    The fire unstarted, but soon the flame flickers the warm
      Though brightly the sun shines,
        it's hidden away by the storm

     I ran to the fire to see if the coffee had burned
       Then back to my book,
         noticing that the pages had turned
     I lye by my lover, in wonder, for what be the reason?
        Are these wind blown pages my life
          passing by in the seasons?  

      Stay cozy my friends          Wizzzmo

A FLAGRANT FOUL

       In a crowd amidst the fragrance
       In a crowd of welfare vagrants
       Stood a man whose foul was flagrant,
        on and off the court

JOKES, PUNS AND PALINDROMES (3)

       What did Timmy give Lassie for mothers day?
               Collie flowers     Ha1 Ha! Ha!
         If actor Kevin Bacon 
          married my friend's daughter,Megan                                  
             she'd be Megan Bacon
                Oink! Oink! Oink!
         If I jumbled Jim Morrison and got Mr Mojo Risen
          Then I can jumble Craig Stokke and get
           Goat Kickers
          To many goats eating your blackberries?
            Who you gonna call?  Goat Kickers
              Got a lot of blackberries?
               Who makes the best blackberry wine?
                Craig Stokke  It kicks ass
         My friend was working so much at his job,
          he had no time to do anything at all. 
         Now he's growing herbs for a living
          and has plenty of thyme on his hands.
        Coincidentally, joining the two nurses for lunch,
         down in the cafeteria, was a paradox
           they were all lost in Austin
            and it's two vortexes
             and 2-4-Tenna-C
          dammit I'm mad  Spelled Backwards Is
           dammit I'm mad
         Murder for a jar of red rum  In Reverse Is
          Murder for a jar of red rum

         Drink up! my friends             Wizzzmo

ALL IN MY HEAD

       The wind, blows a dandelion across the yard
          gets caught up in a spider web
            that started out as a thought in my head
        Only to be catapulted, trampoline style
            back up in the sky and then,
              in a swirl, gets whisked away
              out of my minds eye........goodbye

           Take flight my friends           Wizzzmo

         P.S.   ( never odd or even ) spelled backwards is
                  ( never odd or even ) That's odd, ain't it?
         B.S.   ( Barney the purple dinosaur stole the Nik Nak Paddy Wak give a dog
                    a bone song and has gotten away with it. )
           
             Beware the purple dino my friends     Wizzzmo

ARTSY LEATHER TIES FOR DOGS

        FOR WHEN YOUR DOG JUST HAS TO LOOK IT"S BEST
             UNIQUE DESIGNS FOR YOUR SNAZZY SCHNAUZER
                                              OR HIS FOXY TERRIER
                                               OR SOME DINGY DINGO
                                                EVEN A SHEEPISH SHEEP DOG
          ONE OF A KIND - LIMITED COLLECTION
             SOON TO BE AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE
                FROM WIZZZMO"S TREASURE CHEST
                   STAY WITH ME MY FRIENDS
                     FOR THE GRAND OPENING
                       COMING SOON
                         BE PATIENT
                           THANX
                       

             Keep checking back my friends         Wizzzmo

MY DASHBOARD (HOME PAGE NEWS)

       Ever since the summer of '69, I have adorned a unique and creative dashboard. My first, consisted of three items and was located on the dash of my 1967 Chevy, Chevelle Malibu. The big three at the time were, a fancy cut crystal, from a wine decanter, a carved wooden pipe type character, that I so weirdly named Schnork Swaller and a clay sculpture named Headly. Headly, was formed by my fingers and my imagination, way back in the 8th grade and has been hanging out on various dashboards for about 45 years. He's even played poker and is the star in one of my favorite stories. HEADLY'S POKER RUSH. Boy....It couldn't have been that long ago. Could it? Don't answer that!
        My current vessel has a dash, that is rather dashing, if I may say so myself. If not, you may say it then, or you might think to yourself, BOULDER-DASH and you'd be right. You can get your eyes delight, by viewing the welcome video, located on the Home page. The process of uploading, is carefully being handled by the Head Minion, Sun Marko. May the farce be with him. I am also posting a photo of one of my previous dashes and will add to the collection, if and when I find more. My guide to the universe goes through my dashboard, so, all aboard! here we go.....Oh yea! Would you please slam that stupid door, I need to get it fixed. Thanks.

          Hold on my friends,  
          Welcome Home                   Wizzzmo

POTHEAD THE SLACKER MAN

           I'm pothead the slacker man,
           my whole life has been a scam
           What I start. I don't finish,
           'cause my brain cells have diminished
                    I'm pothead the slacker man.......puff.......puff

             Sing this to the Popeye jingle.
                   All together now.................I'm......da del a dut ta da...yea! like that
                         SWEET!

                  I dink me braint me burn cells, Olive

                         Stay stoned my friends

             Wizzzmo

INNER-CITY CAGE

       Cyclone rusty fences
       intimidate our dreams
       Everybody's lookin'
       beyond the fence it seems
       There's a big dog
       down the alley
       Ain't no short cuts here
           and it's a rainin'
           on my glasses
           inner-city fear

       Miracle on 45th street
       children's stockings overflow
       It's the crystal grass that crunches
       when the morning mist has froze
       And when the sky was open
       another star explodes
            It's that distant light
            we're all lookin' for
            as we travel down this wild
            and tragic road

       So send your spirit flying
       through the land of no escape
       It's that emptiness we're filling
       as we overcompensate
       And please stay by the main road
       and don't forget to check your gauge
              And stay within the limits
               of your inner,
                  of your inner------inner-city cage

       These are the lyrics for INNER-CITY CAGE  a track on my CD STORYLAND soon to be available on wizzzmo.com     A TREE CLIMBER RECORDS release.

       Stay thirsty my friends          Wizzzmo

WIZZZMORELLA'S SLIPPERS

       I, the mighty Wizzzmo, was once a great prince, before I was promoted to Grand Wizzzmo Of Cannabistan.  My fair lady, was swept away by The Dark Lord of the ruling party, ever since my travels have lead me to the far reaches of the galaxy, only to be turned away with an empty heart. These slippers, were the only thing that was left of my lady and by my lady, only these slippers shall fit. This spring......, as of today in fact, a glimmer in the darkened realm of the ruling party has sent it's light force to shine somewhere on Alberta, in the Land Of Port. Soon, there will be a flareup and a portal will appear. From this, shall my lady materialize. After all this time, the only way I will know for sure, that this apparition is she, is if the slippers fit, oh so perfectly.  
        The moon will be high, as will I, come first (LAST THURSDAY). Look for Wizzzmo and try on the slippers. Who knows? You may be the one to receive a night, in the grandest of galaxies of which return is optional.
         PLEASE HELP END MY SEARCH

         Be there my Lady Of Cannabistan       Wizzzmo

HITTING A SUPERFECTA

       When I was about 19 earth years, I lived with my folks in the downstairs finished basement, of this beautiful stone and shingled house, that my Dad and Mom had recently purchased. I, at the time was working for my Dad doing waterproofing. One day, while on a job at Conney Island, we stopped for lunch at an outdoor seafood stand. We all ordered some kind of seafood and I had the soft shell crab sandwich. It kinda looked funky, a small dead crab on a bun. This, I was gonna eat? Even my friend Bob said, " your not really gonna eat that, are you?" I looked down and said," screw it" and eat the sucker. This wound up being a real bad decision and I would wind up getting infectious hepatitis. This landed me in the hospital for a day or two and kept me from working my job.
        I was hanging around, just being board and decided to have my Dad pick up a racing form for me. While studying some of the races, I decided to put some extra thought into figuring out what the Superfecta was going to be. The Superfecta was picking four horses in a row. Exactly, 1st, 2nd, 3rd and fourth. I drew a track and imagined just what I thought was going to happen. The make believe results were uncanny. 1-2-7-6 or 1-2-7-4 were my picks. The uncanny part, was that all the horses names, reminded me of getting stoned. Check out these names, (hold HIGH) was first,(keySTONE waverly) was second, (keySTONE momento) was third and the other names of the fourth place horses were indifferent. My deciphering, was for a dry track, which the weather gal had previously predicted on the morning news. I was unable to go to the track, which I lived only two miles away from, so I had my Dad make my bets for me, at the OTB. I had to wait for all the races to be run, before I could call the result line and see if I won. Shortly after dinner, the skies opened up. There was thunder, lightning and torrential rain. The track was soaked and all my figuring was for a dry track. Oh well.......,so I then dialed the number. There was only one race that the superfecta was offered and it was the last recording on the result line. Thunder was clapping and the storm was still raging, when the recording spoke. The winner of the ninth race was number 1, Hold High. Finishing second was number 2, Keystone Waverly. Finishing third was number 7, Keystone Momento. By this time, I knew that I needed the 4 or the 7 to be a winner. I anxiously awaited. Then the voice spoke, ( I was at the edge of my bed when) it said, finishing fourth was number 6 Afton Rooster. Yahoo! Celebration! I won! I won! But wait..., how much did it pay? The recording continued, And tonights superfecta, 1-2-7-6 pays $1,864.00. This was a great payout and gave me some cash to be flamboyant with and I knew just how to spend it. I would end up buying a pound of the best black Afgany Hash ever. This, I kept in my draw and smoked over the next few months. What a great way to recover from that gross crab sandwich. I never had a draw full of hash before. How impressive this would be, while entertaining my friends. Well, my memories are sharp and I can still see that gross crab clearly in my mind. YUK!!! 
             Making a positive, out of a negative, is always the goal. Satisfaction and surprised are welcome validations.     
         
              Stay lucky my friends            Wizzzmo

MY FIRST TRIP AS A PROFESSIONAL POKER PLAYER

        I first started out playing poker at a young age. All of my family, my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins and their children, all learned what a flush was before we had indoor plumbing. Just kidding! but..you know what I'm trying to say. Gambling was a family tradition, just like pasta on Sundays. That's-a-nice!
        I first came to Oregon in 1974 and by 1977, I was chosen for the job of being the first center dealer in a poker game, run under the new social gaming rules. This was at the Barge Inn on Newport's scenic bay-front. My boss, Jim Williamson, found me over in Toledo at the Timbers, a local tavern with poker and black jack. I was slingin' the cards at the poker game they had and he liked my style. I dealt for about the next three and a half years for Jim and then for Old Man Phil. I made a ton of money working for tips alone, but fishing got bad and the economy was changing and tips took a serious plunge downward.
         One night I was dealing at The Abbey, a bar, not a tavern. This provided a different flavor to one's taste, one with booze in it. I was tired of dealing with the cheapskates, that were now the nucleus of my game. One of these people was a jerk named Tom, who dressed like a politician, had perfect hair and an extra large head. I didn't care for this guy to begin with. On this night I was dealing the game as usual, when Tom went on a little rush. It was a bad night for tokes and it was getting even worse, Tom had just drug his fourth pot in a row and had not tipped the dealer (me) at all. In fact every time he would drag a pot, he would get into a convenient conversation with a fellow player, totally ignoring the vital toke that paid my wages. This did not sit well with me, I took the remainder of the mucked cards and sent them flying like a ninja star, right into his stack,where I then spoke forcefully and directly to Mr. Tom, " You can keep you fuckin' buck, Tom! I quit this job and from now on your gonna see me on the other side of this table and you ain't gonna like it!" I was done dealing poker, Man did I feel good telling that cheap asshole off." Now deal your own cards asshole." These were my final words.
           For the next few months I terrorized the Newport poker games. In fact I went an astonishing 63 wins, with only 4 defeats. My game was dialed in. I was a force to be reckoned with. Amazing magic and psychic phenomena seemed to be mine to play with. I dedicated a poker hand to a departed friend by outwardly  saying with all my powers charged up to their max, "I'm gonna flop a straight flush wheel!!!" I stood up, seemingly demanding it, then it appeared. I in fact, had flopped a straight flush wheel!!! Incredible you might say, maybe bullshit!, or maybe you can understand just how wondrous this world can be when things like this occur, for I have had many occurrences of their own incredibility, grace me with their proliferation. My confidence was at an all time high. I needed a test. Was I really this good? If I am, well...I guess I've gotta find out. So off I went, to see if I could cut the mustard on the road.
            My first test was going to Montana, where I heard there were many poker games in many towns. After going over Lo Lo Pass, I headed south to a little town called Hamilton, which bordered another town called Corvallis. I was traveling with my faithful companion Ryan, my dog type friend and co-pilot. I was soon to find a poker game. I sat down and learned that the pot could not go over a hundred dollars, by law. This was how it was in Montana. They also played no limit, a game that I had little experience with. I shortly realized the way the game was structured, was perfect for manipulating your odds to one ratio. This style of play I took to like a duck to water. I destroyed the game, which switched from town to town every other night. It was starting to feel like the new guy in town was waring out his welcome, this coupled with being the only hippie for miles had me thinking it was time to move on. This was not from being psychic, it was just common sense. On the fifth night, I was playing tough as usual, the town pro, Mike, had not won since I had arrived on the scene and he was getting more and more frustrated. I had the nuts and made the perfect bet to get the maximum number players to call. It worked perfect, but upon dragging the pot, a projectile (the dealer button) went wizzzing past my domain. It was cowboy Mike, he had had enough and was letting it all hang out by physically expressing his displeasure with me." That no good lousy tie dye wearing hippie from wherever better leave town by sundown." Is what I was receiving from his brainwaves. I stood up without taking my eyes off of him and asked the dealer to please cash me out. I was given some cash, which I didn't even count and I was on my way north in a flash. "It's time for us to boogie Ryan," I said to my faithful co-pilot. Well.... then he, with all of his gathered doggish wisdom said. "     " , I still knew what he meant, so we made tracks and headed north. It was now dark and every time headlights came up fast behind me, I thought it might be Mike and his boys. Not until I was miles away would I stop being paranoid.
           The next day I woke up in Missoula, a much better place for a young hippie like me. This college town was great and I felt way more comfortable. So I passed the test for my first time out and found other games in Missoula to be just as lucrative. I felt like a man with a new tool and a job just waiting to be done. This is how I got started, in being a professional poker player.

             Stay moving my friends                Wizzzmo

JUST SAY MO & A TIE DYE TENT

       This is a story about the Reagan era, when circle, slash, no signs and just say no, were being propagandized and spread all over the nation. My talent for putting a play on words, was in full force around then. Just Say Mo', as in just say more, was mine. I claimed it! The capitalistic part of me was out to make some scratch on this one. After all, this is the way I was able to hustle my way through life, by taking advantage of opportunities, when they arose. I drew up a couple of designs for these bumper stickers that said...  JUST SAY MO'. First, I incorporated a caricature of Jerry Garcia, then, I inserted a triangle in the background, to represent the area near Humboldt county, where the best pot is grown. That was one design. For my second design, I used a skeleton, smoking a joint. I then had a thousand of each printed up and was getting close to being ready to hit the Laguna Seca show, which was still two weeks away. The Grateful Dead were playing with David Lindley and this would be a great time to sell some bumper stickers.
        I was down near Corvallis, swimming on the Willamette River, when the idea to construct a tie dye tent came to mind. It would attach to the side of my van where the doors opened. This would add another room to the side of my van. Nice!..... Then, to make it a tie dye.......awesome! I then drove to the hardware store, where I picked up all the lengths and fittings of PVC pipe that I would need, I then assembled a shell that the tent would go around. After hours of testing my ingenuity through trial and error, I came up with an awesome design. Now, I needed to figure out, just how to get this canvas sowed up, so it would fit the shell. I found an industrial tent sowing outfit with a real cool owner. He helped me finalize my design and then had his sowing masters, piece it all together for me. This was going to be amazing, a tie dye tent, with the dimensions 8x6.5x5ft, Wow! I can't wait to dye this monster. 
          I had a friend who lived in Corvallis that was a tie dye artist and a jazz singer. She would be the main cog in getting this project rolling. That was the start of a 13 hour tie and dye party. We tied and dyed all night and into the early morning. Then, it was time to assemble our masterpiece, and a masterpiece it truly was. The vibrant colors, still wet and glowing, mixed with the morning sunlight, was like being on an acid trip, one that Technicolor movies couldn't come close to equaling. There it was, a hippie dream come true and this hippie was ready to get truckin' down that road to the Grateful Dead show, at Laguna Seca Raceway, just east of Monterey. California here I come. So the key hit the ignition and I was off to see the show, to sell some bumper stickers.
          I had never been to this venue before and was cheerfully guided to a great spot on a hill. Lots of rolling hills, made for quite the spectacle, there were Dead Heads everywhere. I set up my newly designed tent and invited some of the neighboring tribe to come on in and burn one. The tent was a real hit and I got lots of praise for my accomplishment. Show-time was getting close, so I loaded up all the bumper stickers I could carry and was on my way to take in the music and dancing.
           The next few days were more than gratifying, I danced through the crowd on my tippy toes, yelling, " Just Say Mo, a buck a throw, send one to Nancy, Jerry Mo, Skelly Mo, don't say no, just say mo." I never had so much fun and sales were constantly taking place. Dollars and stickers were flying through the air. I wound up selling over 1,500 of them on that trip. The tie dye tent, the bumper stickers, the people, the music, the dancing through the crowd, this was an amazing trip and a monster success that would pave the road for my next five t-shirt designs. I still had a month before my next show in Eugene,Oregon at Autzen Stadium, this would be enough time to design my first t-shirt that said, Just Say Mo'. then, I was off on another adventure, just keep truckin' on an' on.

             Stay Truckin' my friends                 Wizzzmo

WELCOME PLANET EARTH

          Welcome my friends, you have chosen wisely and you have landed softly at wizzzmo.com. My wizardly talents, intermeshed with my art, my music and my love of laughter are now right here on display for your reading and viewing  enjoyment. Feel free to carouse about my offerings and read my adventurous true life stories, original humor and poems. Maybe then, catch some videos. Daily Blogs are evolving, as time marches on. While previous blogs, are stored in my index for you to access. Pretty sweet. So hop on board and let me take you on a ride through the universe and may you always be happy and free.

EXTRA EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT !

   Many of my friends refer to me as, the traveling Tie Dye Hippie Wizard. I love my life, cruzzzing the universe in one of my many camper vans that I've chosen to use as my vessel of transport. It's been the only way to fly, for me. My stories that I have compiled in my memories, are truly unique and entertaining. Many strange and unusual occurrences have taken place, in the millions of miles that I have traveled. I've been an artist and a musician and have entertained all over the galaxy. What I am offering to you, is a chance to enter my world and share in my gifted array of talent. I can only hope to please. So may your senses be overwhelmed by your laughs and smiles and may your travels take you miles and miles and then drop you off at my domain, so that I, for you, may entertain.

           I humbly welcome you with open arms to wizzzmo.com   ENJOY

THE LIFE OF WIZZZMO

       Early in my life, I was taught that freedom and happiness were high on the ladder of life and to make sure you don't lose your grip, or you may fall. The teachings of my parents were important in following my own life's pursuit of that higher wrung. Being my own boss and not having to answer to anybody, as I set out on my journey through the universe, was key in allowing me the freedom I so cherished. Dealing with the obstacles that I faced, along the path that I had chosen, was a challenge. I had to rely on my talents to get me bye and in many cases, I found out that my scope of talent was vast and it helped me in becoming a freelance poker player, singer, songwriter, musician and artist .With magical powers at my fingertips and an arsenal of talent, I was able to live my dream of freedom from the system. This was the hippie dream that I sought out and molded my life around. My grandfather was a musical genius, painter and inventor, who taught me many things at a young age. This is where my wizardry and magic were handed down from. My grandfather was Venetian and my grandma, Czechoslovakian. The artist and the gypsy. Naturally I became a traveling junkie, with my goal being, to turn that ignition key on and cruise on down the road, whenever I felt like doing so. Truckin' down that road in style, was and still remains, my quest. I was molded to wizzz through the universe, always making sure that I stopped along the way, so as I may smell the roses and allow the fragrance to lead me to my destiny, leaving smiles along the way, as a comet leaves a tail. With well over a million land miles journeyed, I felt a compelling duty, to share some of the many highlights and great stories that I've amassed through my experiences as a universal traveler. May your experience with Wizzzmo be dynamically entertaining and educational as well as a totally titillating experience for you. I'm told that being a hippie is like being a national treasure. Well.....,the treasure chest of my life has been opened up for you, so dive in and grab your share of my true stories and DAILY BLOGS and please enjoy my humor, poems and videos. There's lots to come! So take a running jump and catapult yourself into my galaxy and let freedom and happiness be you guide.,

            Welcome my friends to wizzzmo.com, I hope you enjoy my gift to you        
                                             
                                         Wizzzmo

PED XING or PED ZING?

       Sometimes a person goes through life without the knowledge of just what the heck certain things mean. Such as, a painted bunch of letters, on some  roadway, that make absolutely no sense to them. Figuring out meanings of  abbreviated words kind of pose a problem sometimes, you might say. Then you find out, just what has puzzled you for so many years, like when the light finally comes on and things become clear for the first time. It makes you feel so ridiculous, that you've been so clueless for all these years. You can't believe you could have been so zero minded, for so long. For years and years. Yes...!  I'll admit it.  That's me.....So what? Well....... I've got a real beauty, pertaining to the above, for your reading entertainment my friends and this is it.
        The first time I think I ever laid eyes on this painted lettering, (PED XING) I just couldn't make any sense out of it. Why would someone paint PED XING on the road. As far as I knew the X in Xing, was pronounced like a Z, as in xylophone. If it was a cross, it would be up and down, not like an X as in ax. The only thing I was confused with, in my mind, was why would it be painted in the roadway. There weren't very many pedestrian crossings back in the 60s and 70s, so as far as I was concerned, PED XING must be meant for airplanes, being it was written obviously for someone up high to read it. I must not have been high enough,......Yea....that's it!
         So... I drove down the road thinking these painted warnings were for airplanes, even though they were written in the most unusual places for some pilot to be looking down and try to see them. Ah! Maybe they're for helicopters, that might be it. So... There I was with my friend Diane, maybe we were burning one or just cruising or something, when I said," Ped zing..., man, for years I've wondered why that's painted on the street."" What the hey does ped zing mean anyway?" I asked.  She couldn't believe here ears, could he be serious? No way! "What do you mean ped zing? That means pedestrian crossing. Your not serious?"..."Your kidding, right?"" Well...no, I always thought that was a zee like in xylophone and don't know why anybody would think it's a cross and call it crossing." "That's rediculous! I was brought up Catholic and that's no cross." Totally amazed that I was serious, she then started cracking up and could hardly stop laughing.Tee he he ha ha ha! totally hilarious.........she laughed on and on.......Oh well..... as far as I was concerned, being enlightened to the fact was funny, but I still think that it's not a cross and that maybe, someone, should just make some signs to put up where drivers can see them anyway and not paint the dam road either. I wonder what the pilots of these air born contraptions think of PED XING? Maybe one of them has been wondering for years what he should do when he sees that stupid message on the street. Maybe like me he wonders, just what the heck does ped zing mean anyway and hopes it's not something meant for him.

           Stay focused my friends                   Wizzzmo

A DISASTEROID

       How odd of a commodity
         can a disasteroid be
       While dashing through space
           towards it's destiny?
        How well is time framed
          in that picture on your wall?
        When it seems about time
           for that picture to fall
        Are you but an infant
           in your own infantry?
        Will someone catch you
           when you let go of me?
        Are you trying to be the doctor
           of your own documentary?
        Will you come to surmise 
            that your eyes 
                have lost 
                    sight of me?
        For your darkness
             has swallowed
                 and taken
                      the light of me
         So like a boomerang 
               I'm cast out
                  to eternity
          And as I wizzz
                past the stars
                   I will yearn to be...free!...
                                                            free!...
                                                                       free...

         Stay creative my friends                   Wizzzmo

UFO SITING (1) RAY DAY & CROG

       After visiting Santa Fe in the mid seventies, I had fallen in love with this amazing place. The land of enchantment is truly an accurate description of this fabulous landscape. I had gone to Fiesta before, but now I was traveling with two other great musicians that I had met in Portland, which I now called home. I told them of the burning of the Zozobra, a pagan ritual which has been celebrated since 1712, in which a 50 ft. human-like moving and groaning figure, representing evil, is burned down in a fantastic spectacle with fire works that light up the sky. Then, all the evil spirits are gone and its Fiesta. Viva la fiesta! Viva la fiesta! Its party time. Then, everyone goes to the plaza and the celebration goes on for a couple of days. Great times were had, but it was time to hit the road again.
        We were now on our way back from this musical tour we had been on, in which we were street musicians just trying to make a buck. Chandra-mar was our name which we went by and original music was our trademark. We were all songwriters, however, we played mostly Day Cathey's compositions, which were beautifully written, with enchanting melodies and lyrics. He was truly a great songwriter and together we were wandering troubadours. 
         So here we were, low on funds and headed to Las Vegas. I had been driving for quite some time in the desert and had now gone through Kingman Az. The night was a warm one and I was driving in my cut-offs, when about half way to Vegas we ran into a wall of heat. It had gotten even hotter than it was. It kinda felt like it was about 110 degrees or more. Sweat was gushing out of my pours, when on the left hand side of the road appeared a bathroomless rest area. It was just a slab of black top and was the only pullover between Kingman and Vegas. As I pulled off the road, one of my headlights went out. We had also been running the engine pretty hot and it needed to cool it down. While I and Day were fixing the headlight and allowing the engine to cool, Crog was playing his classical guitar in back of the van. He had written an orchestrational piece about the Snegs Of Cracknoid a real freaky composition which when played properly, wood produce sounds from the corners of the room you were in. Crick, crick sorta sounds. I even heard them before one time indoors and could not explain how this was done. So, the scene was now set when Crog alarmingly shouted out," What's that up there, look!!!!?" Quickly concerned we looked up at the sky only to see a huge glowing sphere of light with another light protruding out of it like a spotlight going off towards the 2 o'clock position and dissipating into nothingness. We had never experienced anything like this before and were frozen in awe. We were in the middle of nowhere, gazing up at this unexplainable entity, my spine was getting pins and needles as we watched on in wonder. It seemed to loose intensity and was somewhat fading away slowly. You couldn't tell if it was or if it wasn't for sure, but it seemed less intense as I grew more tense. The pins and needles I was experiencing had now gone to my brain, I was thinking it was absorbing into me and that I was feeling radiation. We were all overcome with amazement as it ever so slowly faded to nothingness. As it dissapated I was left with pins and needles in my brain and was worried they would not go away. Not knowing what we had experienced and having fixed the light we took off and got back on the highway. By the time we got to Henderson, just short of Las Vegas, I had still not completely gotten rid of my brain tingles. It took about three hours till they were gone. Was it some unknown extraterrestrial energy absorption? Or was it just me being overcome with fright from the experience? I could only wonder.
          Years later I had picked up a hitchhiker on the same road, in which he told me, he also had seen the same giant orb. I further investigated and looked into the UFO archives, in which I found out that this phenomena had been documented and observed by others in which there were no explanations.
           There are other times that I've had unexplainable celestial events. I will be writing about them in the near future, so keep checking back.

           Keep your head up my friends            Wizzzmo

SCROLLING IN MY SWEET BABY'S ARMS

       Hey now my friends, I hope your enjoying my stories and humor that I have offered up for your reading pleasure. PLEASE SCROLL BACK for more stories and jokes. The way this DAILY BLOG works seems to leave my stories in the dust. You have the broom to clean it up. Just go to PREVIOUS PAGES for more adventures from WIZZZMO'S MEMORIUM.
        May the tip of your mind and the edge of your reason guide you to the universal joint I have waiting for you.

         Keep searching my friends                 Wizzzmo

MAGIC AT THE CATHEY HOUSE

         This story is about a friendship between two powerful wizards and the magic of a vortex called the Cathey house. A true story of an experience I once had on a magical afternoon in Southeast Portland, with my recently departed friend Day Cathey.
         On an old Portland street, somewhere in a Southeast neighborhood, is a very magical place. I have many fantastic stories to tell you about this very old house and a friend who grew up there. This is one of those stories. Day was maybe the only man I knew that could recognize and bring out the magical talents in my repertoire. And all of this at the mere drop of a rabbitless hat. One of his talents was making you feel special from anyone else. His presence turned on the shinning lite from within. Amazing things became possible without the barriers that he could make vanish, when we were in each others company. Music, poetry, creativity, and wondrous events took place when we got together. He was truly a conductor of that energy that lyes within. One of these amazing moments happened in the front upstairs bedroom on this kinetically chosen September afternoon.
         We were sitting up in the bedroom  where he was staying at the time of this phenomena. I was checking out some of the old nautical pieces and arrows, along with his fathers hand crafted bows, which hung on the wall. His Dad was quite the marksman and had various types of trophies he had been awarded. One of these was a beaded brain tanned leather belt made with old small faceted beads. This had been awarded to his Dad for marksmanship by a northwest native American Chief and just added to my fascination of this house's treasures and stories. Being surrounded by so many interesting items of this families historic past, made me feel like I had traveled back in time. This was a talent I had not yet mastered.
          So this is how things unfolded on that whimsical afternoon. We were both sitting down trying to be cool on that hot summer's day, when through the top part of one of the open windows floated a dandelion seed. It floated slowly and weightlessly, as I opened my palm inviting it to land. We were astonished by its softly driven will, for there was not even a current of air to be felt. I never moved my hand to accommodate its flight towards my palm, yet it landed effortlessly as it came to rest for a while on its landing strip. Chills were moving up and down my spine as we gazed upon this vessel messenger which allowed us to feel the essence of the moment. For about thirty seconds it visited, letting us know we were on the right path and all pieces of the puzzle were in place. Then, content with it's mission, it departed, defying gravity and lightly lifting itself up, it then journeyed out the top[ of the other open window. This made me feel like I and my friend Day were truly chosen to be gifted with this observation of such an amazing occurrence. Thus, solidifying our positions in this realm of reality.  Our paths were aligned with that moment in time, in that room, at that magic moment, at the Cathey House.
           I will sorely miss my masterful friend Day Cathey, but his music, magic and escapades will live on in my memory.

            Stay with me my friends                    Wizzzmo

 

Drawings by Ray Mancini

SPONTANEITY (SANTA FE)

       I recently wrote a story about how I met my first dog. That was in Untermyer Park in North Yonkers. Well... about a mile north of Untermyers was a small college called Seton College. That's where I met Terry Rapp. She was a student at the same time that another friend of mine was going to Seton. This was the first year they allowed males to attend this college and my friend Richie was one of the six lucky guys. I had found an awesome place to hang out and party. The large dorm was all girls and the three little lower buildings were co-ed. One of these houses was the party spot. That's were I hung out. We would have smoke-a-thons by rolling and cleaning all the seeds from the Columbian pound of pot the we all chipped in on. Last one standing gets the leftovers. All night long and further we endured. Most of the time the last three left would call it quits and just split up the rest. I was usually one of those three and so was Terry. We became good friends and had some great adventures that year. Then she left the area and ended up going to school in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
         Summer had come and gone and September was fading. I called up Terry in Santa Fe and talked for quite some time. She kept saying how pink and orange and amazing the sunsets were. The 7,000 ft. elevation played a big roll in creating rainbows and awesome sunsets. With the Sangria De Crista mountains lit up during sunsets. And double rainbows everywhere, it was sounding like a faerie tale that I wanted to be a part of. I kept saying,"I'll see you tomorrow, I'll see you tomorrow." After about an hour of long distance conversation I had to go. I'll see you tomorrow all of a sudden clearly became a possibility to me. Wouldn't that be awesome I thought, to actually show up at her dorm room the next day? I sprung up from my sitting position and checked the little box in the corner of my room where I kept my funds. Shit! Only $140. "Hey Dad! " I shouted up the stairs, for my room was in the basement. I then ran up the stairs and told my Dad what my plans were. My Dad was always there to help me pursue my adventures and dreams. I really loved my father immensely for being that way. He loaned me the rest of what I needed so as I may pursue my whim. I called the airport, made a reservation and got a ride. Five hours later my Dad said good-bye and good luck and I boarded the plane right on time. This was crazy good and I could only imagine what her face was going to look like when I appeared at her door
           I arrived the next morning at Albuquerque Airport and had to transfer to a smaller plane. Oh my God this plane is not just small its.....Oh well here I go. Six passengers, a Piper Cub they called it. We took off and for the next seventy miles I held the barf bag close. Up and down the wind currents took us. My stomach was being toyed with and displaced. Somehow I made it without barfing. Truly amazing!
           After getting a cab ride right to the dorm I immediately set out to find her room. Oh, the anticipation. My imagination running wild with wonder. What will she do? I hope she's there. Then...., there it is. Number 202, here I go! Knock Knock, I rapped on the door. "Come in she said." I slowly cracked the door open till I caught her eyes, then flung it wide open and said, " I told you I'd see you tomorrow." She leaped up from her  studying position on the bed and into my open arms. We spun around hugged, kissed and laughed boisterously. What a gas. This really turned her on. Me too of coarse. The spontaneous life is for me baby. All of this was truly an amazing experience for me and set the tone for future spontaneous decisions that would also have glorious outcomes.
             I stayed in Santa Fe for a couple of weeks then set out hitchhiking with two beautiful girls I had met at the college. We were going to Las Vegas so as I could meet my parents and then return with them to Yonkers where I still lived. This ended up to be another trip to write about, but that's another story. 
            
             Stay thirsty my friends                       Wizzzmo

BORN IN '51 AREA 51 MAYBE

        I always say to my friends when I'm asked, just how old am I." I'm older than the days forgotten." This is truly my age, for your only pretty as you feel? : ) As pretty as you feel inside. ( Grace Slick, Jefferson Airplane 1971) Are we not but a collection of memorabilia and treasured trinkets that we have collected throughout time? How far can a smile travel on it's own? Are we a melody? Are you in tune? Do I have any idea what I'm trying to say? Or is this all gibberish? Just remember Dave, April fools is on its way. Play it safe. Stay inside.

        Stay in tune my friends             Wizzzmo

WIZZZMO'S CREDIT BUREAU

           I need to take this opportunity to thank my Head Minion on his diligent efforts to create mostly all of what you are experiencing visually and structurally. He is truly a master of skills and is a bright star in his own galaxy. I the wandering Wizzzmo, Master of my own domain so knight thee SUN MARKO, Head Minion for wizzzmo.com     You may kiss my ring.      Just kidding!
          
            Stay true to your friends my friends              Wizzzmo

WHY?Z-DUMB HUMOR

      Why does the guy or girl always have to touch the drops or puddle of blood in a horror movie? Why do they stop and scream instead of running away? What is wrong with this portrayal?     Wait...Don't answer.     After all," how much wood can a woodchuck chuck?" I asked Charlie. He thought awhile and then just chuckled. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Who cares.
      
       Take caring to heart my friends             Wizzzmo

BREWSTER STORIES (4) FREAK OUT FREDDY

        Here I go again, reaching back into my memorium of stories so as to tell you 'bout an epic night that I experienced on a mountain down the tracks in the dark by the lake where we hung out.
         It was a hot summer night in Brewster N.Y. My Dad had built a summer home for our family a few years back and this is where I spent most of my summers. My friends and I were out to find a new hangout where the cops couldn't show up and try to bust everyone. I had heard of such a new place only that day. I heard we would have to go down the RR tracks about a half a mile. Then climb a mountain through fallen leaves that had been undisturbed for years probably slipping and sliding as we would be making our own trail. Then finally we would make it to the top." So what do you think everybody? "" Let's do it!"" Yea baby!"  I guess we were up for this one, so a group of us including my dear friends Bob and Diane took off to find this encampment.
         We walked down the tracks for quite some time till Squink (This older creepy kind of freaky guy with Charlie Manson type eyes) guided us to the base of the small mountain. That's where we all dropped a hit of some of this new LSD that he brought from Pennsylvania. We heard that others up on the mountain were all tripping. So, being adventure seekers as we were, we thought we'd take a hit and started climbing the mountain.
          This was not like any other acid I had previously tried. It was called STP coated Sunshine.  Orange barrel acid coated with heavy duty three day liquid acid. This we didn't know. (would it have made a difference?) Probably not. But it would have still been nice to know. We started our assent. Upward and onward we climbed. My blood was really pumping fast through my body as we arrived at the crest. It was a dimly lit summer sky that added to the shroud of mystery coming from all of the moving silhouettes of blanketed people I had never seen before. The acid was coming on really strong when we ran into some of the locals that had dropped some a few hours ago. They sure looked strange as we gathered around the giant campfire which was surrounded by large rocks. One was about five feet high. I wondered how it could have possibly gotten there? The Brady brothers were there along with Mike O'Brien and another local named Dennis or Wack. That's when Fred, who was acting very strange and not saying anything came up beside me and rubbed up against me. This was not happening. "Get the fuck off me you freak, go fuck mother nature or something." I firmly suggested to the weirded out normally straight Fred. Well....after a while, there he was humping on that big rock. His pants were half way down and he was grinding away on the boulder. We were all really fucked up, but not that fucked up. Fear of thinking we all were getting too high seeped into my brain. It was daunting. A loathing fear moved in like the dragons breath on a blood soaked battle field. Excalibur. " Quite the trip to this point. What do you think."
            I took a little spin around the encampment in which all of the leafless trees were dwarfed from the unshielded blowing winds that once graced this mountain top. Slowly moving silhouettes of monk-like figures in the shadows made for an eerie backdrop. The lightly lit night sky was starless and a strange smell of beans and fire smoke permeated the air. I needed to regroup with Diane and Bob so I set out to find them.
             With the Grim Reaper on my ass I arrived at the campfire. Everybody was staring at Freddy. He was sitting close to the fire just gazing into it. He was in a deep trance. His appearance was altered and his hair was like Robin Lopez's of the Blazers (Electrified). We all looked on. His face morphed into a devilish demon-like face and if you looked at him too long he would catch your gaze, then snap his head suddenly and look right into your eyes. Then he would point his finger at you and speak in some ancient phantom dialect "Rac shnat riddely bac nock shnar micknar. " and then stare back into the fire. Holy smokes! I'm totally freaked. I continued watching from a distance. We were all wondering if he'll ever come back to reality when someone yelled, "he's got his foot in the fire." Sure enough, all this time one of his feet had been partially lying in the fire. His sneaker was melted to his foot. Mike O'Brien, his good friend ran to the fire and pulled him away from it. The melted sneaker was smoldering. He was now receiving help from his friends and his brother Joey. What a Climax!" Let's get the fuck outta here," I cried. We all boogied and went to my house where I ended up tripping for way too long. I was tripping the next day and beyond. I Sure was glad when I finally came down and got some sleep.
             For years Freddy was never the same. A piece of his mind and his soul had been violated by some demon or something that night. This was one of the scariest trips I had ever been on and I didn't trip very much after that. I never seen Freddy after that night and could only wonder what it was like for him to have gone through that strange experience and be glad it wasn't me in his shoes.
         
   Stay hungry my friends for more tales from my memorium.
                                           Wizzzmo

JOKES PUNS AND PALINDROMES

     So I said to Suzy;" Hey Suzy! What would happen if your Shih Tzu and my Jack Russel Terrier were to have pups?"      Well...  They'd have Jack Shit Sue.
      Just how gross are your groceries?
A Toyotas a toyota ( Backwards is ) A Toyotas  a Toyota
      Never even          Never odd or even
No sign in evening is on    +    Rotator   Are all PALS SLAP

      WARNING!!!  25% Of all women in this country are on some sort of medication for mental illness.   This is extremely scary 'cause that means 75% are running around untreated.

       Be careful my friends       Wizzzmo

THE LAND OF THE TURKEY BUTTS

         In a pirates voice.... 
     Over the river and right past your nuts
      There lyes the land of the turkey butts
      So slice up the gizzards 
      And pass me the guts
      'cause we're in the land of the turkey butts

      Rip off a leg
       Slice up the breast
       Let the dogs devour the rest
       The stomach, The liver
        The neck and the nuts
        Yes we're in the land of the turkey butts
              we're in the land of the turkey butts
         This is the land of the turkey butts

       Stay hungry my friends        Wizzzmo

THE NINE OF DIAMONDS ( Poker )

         I've been playing the game of poker nearly all of my life. As children of an Italian family, my sister and I played poker all the time. I started playing in my early teens for money and usually won. There have been times that I know what card is coming up next. This was a gift handed down to me from my mom who was very much in tune with psychic phenomena. I've always been fascinated with my gift and cherish those shinning mystical moments when they occur. As a student of the art I have been gifted with incite and sensitivity. Magical mystical occurring phenomena are no strangers to me when cards are involved. I never know when I am just going to say something that might develop into a phenomaly. There,.. I just said it.
         I was once    I was sitting    in a game    that was fitting   so I then    did my bidding.    If you think    that I'm kidding    check this out    hope your sittin'    It's all true     I ain't shittin' 
         I was playing in a $5 limit hold-em game one weekend in Coos Bay OR. Gussies was the name of the bar and Earl was the host and owner of one of the most successful hold-em games ever. It always went 'round the clock and lots of players would play all weekend without much sleep. They had live music at night and Blackjack and Poker went 24 hours. What fun. We played at a large table in which there were lots of comic like characters in the game on this Saturday night.
          The dealer in the box who was slinging the cards for this storied hand was named Brenda. She was a worthy opponent in the game and a pretty sharp distributer of the cards as a dealer. She rapidly table shuffled the deck in which one of the cards got tweaked between her thumbs. It flew up in the air and floated down from it's flight right in front of me. I picked it up. It was the 9 of diamonds. Earlier that week an associate of mine had said to me, "the nine of diamonds is the key card." He never told me why. But that was all the information I needed when I picked up the card and held it up to the table of players and said in a fatalistic voice,"The nine of diamonds is the key card and where I decide to place it will determine the next hand." I tossed it back into the deck. Brenda shuffled, cut and dealt the next hand.
           After the first round of betting everyone was in. There was a raise but that didn't matter to those flop seekers. Well...  the flop came A-2-5 of clubs. There was a bet and three raises. Only three hands went into the muck. Then the turn brought another Ace, a diamond. A-2-5-A was now the cards everyone had to play off of. Rhoda, the gal in the two seat had flopped a straight flush. She was the lucky holder of the 3-4 of clubs. Lou,an Elmer Fudd kinda red neck sort of a nit,that nobody liked had wired Aces in his mitt and loved how all these suckers were paying him off with his four of a kind. Or so he thought. There were also three other flushes out there in the field of players as the river came. (This was truly amazing to have three flushes, a straight flush and four aces in the same hand. I've never seen anything like this anomaly before. The nine of diamonds was truly the key card that made this all happen. With a little help from the wizzz. And Brenda.) An insignificant king of hearts completed the five cards out in the middle of the table. A-2-5-A-K the A-2-5 being clubs, were the community cards that you could play off of. All three raises on the flop, all three raises on the turn and all three raises on the river made for a healthy pot. Of coarse Rhoda, the proud holder of the straight flush won the pot leaving Lou, the jerk, wallowing in the muck and mire. Moments like this are comforting for me knowing that some power has been instilled in me to direct life's traffic when called upon. The outcome was soothing to the soul and gave me this great story that I just wrote for all of you to share in. My aim is true and my aim is you.

           Stay lucky my friends                       Wizzzmo

WIZZZ-DUMB

     It's better to have a steelhead in your plate
     Then a steel plate in your head

WIZZZ-MORRISON

              
  Here is a jumble for you.    JIM MORRISON    Rearrange the letters in his name
       
            If the doors of perception were cleansed
           Everything wood appear to man as it is
                                          William Blake
            I notice that when people are joking,
            They're usually dead serious
            And when they're dead serious
             It's usually pretty funny
                                           Jim Morrison
         
  Well.......Here's the answer... Spelled and read backwards       nisir ojom rm

              Stay strange my people              Wizzzmo

THE CAVES OF JUPITER

          In my vast travels through the galaxy, I came upon a place where the key to our ongoing existence is located. As I swooped on down through the dark thick atmosphere of Jupiter, I discovered a mighty force to be reckoned with. In these dark caves exists a mighty warrior who has vowed to devote his eternal existence to the absorption of pain and suffering for the good of all mankind and the universe as we know it. This being's name is Mezo Magluhi.
           The universe has become more and more fragile with the growth of the human species. Emotion, pain and striving to exist freely and happily are becoming harder to deal with.This is the result of our thinning fabric of reality and it's effect on the ever increasing emotional power being projected into space. The more people. The more emotion. Thus more pain.
            Our reality right now is being threatened by a relentless force that reaches out to emotion and tries to empower itself by it's attachment to a host. This connection can cause cracks in the fabric of time and what we perceive as reality. This is where Mezo Magluhi's power to absorb pain and emotion is so important to our continuance. Existing in this colloidally suspended reality as we do, makes us vulnerable to an anomaly that can crack the fabric of time and shatter our perceived reality and possibly the universe. This would be accomplished by these so called Cracknoids successfully reaching there emotionally charged host. Magluhi, absorbs this relenless pain of these Cracknoids and keeps the cracks from reaching there goal. YOU! These Snegs of Cracknoid from beyond space and time can only be stopped by this beings ability to hold them back from their driven goal. This is ultimately achieved by intensely enjoying their emotionally driven pain and absorbing it into his core. Thus rendering these Snegs powerless to reach as far as Earth and it's people.
             As a race we must try to love and be loved for hate and violence can only lead to pain and emotion. It is unknown to us how long we can hold out. For humanity's vulnerability to extraneously powerful emotional displays is becoming evidently more and more frequent this century. Lay caution to the wind my fiends. Please, mellow out. Burn one with a friend. Have a beer with a redneck. Help your fellow man become enlightened to the fact that we are all in this together. Let us join forces to combat these Snegs of Cracknoid and keep them from shattering our universe.
              May we all live in peace. This is our wake up call. Maybe the hippies were right.
     
               Stay mellow my friends                     Wizzzmo

" WHERE'S CARL? "

         Around 1972 on one new years eve I was invited to White Lake in upstate N.Y. to attend a party at my friend Rainbow's house. This area near Monticello and close to Woodstock was an area heavily trafficked by the Mob from the 30s through the 50s. Many scalawags disappeared in this area. Some say bodies were thrown in White Lake, never to be found. Unpaid loans were a no-no and this is maybe why some may have met there demise. Who's to say? Not me!
          Rainbow lived in a house that used to be a caretakers house which provided shelter for the staff of people that once ran the popular three story Hotel. Her roommates Cathy and Less were a team of exotic dancers part time. Their full time jobs, like Rainbow, were working with autistics and mentally challenged people. Some of these people were also attending the festivities planned for this new years eve and provided an interesting mix for what was to come.
           Three of my friends road up with me from Yonkers and Brewster to attend. Bob, Carl, and Diane. Also Jeff and Jimmy D., two more friends drove up in a separate vehicle. Jimmy D. had some Window Pane acid (LSD) and generously passed it around for everyone to help themselves. I and Jimmy were the only ones left who hadn't taken any. Two hits remained. I put one of them on my tongue and took a drink. I was on my way to whatever was to come my way. Upon passing the final hit to Jim, the container slipped out of my hand and the last hit went in to the thick carpet. I felt bad when we couldn't find it and finally just had to give up looking for it." Sorry Jim." What could I do?
           It was a white landscape we walked out into when we decided to venture over to the old Hotel. The mist was freezing all the grass that had sprouted up between the snow. Every thing was glass-like in appearance and the grass crunched when walking on it. In the distance were faint colored lights coming from the small airport. In my altered state it seemed like the Arora Borealis. We were coming on to the LSD pretty heavy when we reached the Hotel. Rainbow had the keys and let us tripping hippies inside to explore the unknown.
            We formed a small group of three. Tripping partners you might say. Carl, Diane and I were all having a spooky time of it at that Hotel. All the furniture was covered with sheets. The musty smell and no lights made this all seem like a movie set from some ghost story. We frolicked for a while, then about a half an hour or so went by when I asked Diane, "WHERE"S CARL?" She said she didn't know and started calling, Carl! Carl! Where are you Carl? There was no answer, so we set out to find our buddy Carl.
             We started by looking down by the lake. The lake had been frozen for quite sometime and out in the middle of it someone even left their car. There was a creaking sound coming from some area where boats were frozen into the ice. Diane, in a quivering kind of voice said," Car...r...l is that you?."  No it wasn't him. We were now tripping our brains out when I said, hey... let's move on, he's definitely not down there. Good thing, but we still had no clue. We then went up to the road and headed towards town. Higher and higher we were getting. Just knowing that if Carl was this high he might wander off nature tripping and not realize how cold it was and freeze or who knows what? We then came upon some bushes that were shaking and moving like someone might be in them. I said, "Hey Carl is that you?" We paused for a response, When I said, "Diane, lets get out of here because if thats him I don't want to see him."" What in the world would he be doing in the bushes?" We were getting more and more freaked out as we went on down the road.
              Then from out of the crystal-like ice covered setting appears Jeff Halsey. He was coming back from town where he had gone on a beer run. He was hoofin' down the road nearly unstoppable. He was extremely pissed that the store was closed. We shouted, "Have you seen Carl? " Sarcastically while still briskly moving down the road he shouted," "Yea, he's in the middle of the street directing traffic down town." Man was I pissed. How could he leave him there and not even care? We were freaked out even more now thinking Carl had lost it and we better get to him before anyone else does.
               We then continued our quest to find Carl before the Cops did. We were really wound up for what was to come. Off the road in an abandon building with no front door, about fifty feet away from the road, came the sound of someone walking inside. I approached the dilapidated house calling out cautiously." Carl is that you?" I could here footsteps in the house as I slowly approached.  Closer  and closer I got to the front door. Suddenly! A scream! I turned around only to see Diane's face scrunched up in sheer terror. Looking up she screamed! "It's Carl! It's Carl!" It had looked like he was hanging from the rafters up in the attic with his head tilted sideways saying "beep beep""beep beep" His penlight was strobing on and off. On and off. I ran to her as we hugged in dreadful despair. The horror! " He's lost it, he's lost it," we cried. While we were the ones who were losing it. Then, in our panic ridden and confused state, Carl appears from the house as if nothing had happened. At least nothing happened to him."Hey guys what's happening?."  He most cheerfully asked. We then all hugged and laughed knowing we were all back together. Our tripping group was now reunited and we were all safe. Like the Wizard Of Oz arm in arm in arm we made our way back to Rainbow's to celebrate the new year. Dan Hicks and his hot licks was playing on the stereo when we arrived back to the living room. I sat down and began thawing out from my ordeal that I had just survived. This music took me to a mellow place where I really needed to be. I eventually got it back together and enjoyed the rest of the evening with all the amazing people that had gathered to celebrate the new year on that crazy night in White Lake, N.Y. I will never forget this New Years Eve party for as long as I live. What a trip! What an adventure!
        
                Stay thirsty Jeff Halsey                       Wizzzmo

MY FIRST TIME SMOKING POT

        I graduated from high school in 1969. Yup the class of '69. Kinda has a ring to it. Well... I thought about it but never had smoked a joint before. My good friend Carl knew this and was gonna be the first to get me stoned. Seems once you smoke pot it becomes your mission to get others stoned. Kinda like a sci-fi alien flick I once seen. He directed me to a cemetery at the bottom of Odell Ave. Right off the Sawmill River Parkway in Yonkers were I grew up. I parked my car and looked 'round and 'round. It seemed cool so I kicked back and let Carl direct. He lit up the joint he had just rolled and puffed it then passed it to me. I took a hit and held it in as directed then blew it out and waited. Carl took another hit and then passed it back to me. Carl's eyes where slits naturally, but now you could hardly see them. Funny thing was that I was feeling nothing unusual occurring in my body. By now Carl was hysterically laughing and carrying on, amazed I was straight .I smoked more and more and we finally finished the roach. Still nothing. This was amazing to Carl as he was totally ripped out of his gourd. So I started up the car and went home. After dropping off Carl I climbed the two flights of stairs that I had climbed at least three times a day since kindergarten.
        My Mom was reading the paper or the Readers Digest when I opened the door. I was ripped. Climbing the stairs got my blood moving and the THC was filling in the cracks that let you know you are stoned. Or however it works. I got to my room quickly while my Mom read on. Thank God she didn't ask me to do anything for her 'cause it was ground control to Major Tom. Come in, can you here me.
         My room was psychedelic with black lights and day glow paintings I had hung on my wall. There also was a large red glowing ball that my friends and I lifted from the top of a lamppost indicating a fire alarm in Mt. Vernon, a neighboring town. Being mischievous at a young age was pretty common in life and I was no exception. My Mom was always wise in her teachings. She said do not follow the crowd, believe in yourself and be a leader. Not a follower. Good words to live by but sometimes we slip. Anyway...My walls around my desk were covered in aluminum foil so as the glowing colors from the paintings would form a menagerie of colors in the crinkles of the reflective foil. This was what I was fascinated with as I stared at my wall for a long long time. This was the coolest feeling I ever felt up to that moment and my creative alarm clock had just been wound. I began my life as a pot smoker at that graveyard with my friend Carl and will probably take God's gift of ganja to my grave.       My long time friend Carl passed away about five years ago. However, he lives on dearly in my memories. You'll be hearing more about my adventures with Carl and others in one of my most absolute favoritest story ever.      WHERE'S CARL?

          Stay Stoned my friends               Wizzzmo