You were right. You were famous. When I said you weren't that famous, it was just to piss you off. Only said it because you were such an egomaniac. But you were right. When they suicided you, it became evident that everyone knew you.
Saw it in a vision several years after you died. It was a hand-held device, reminiscent of a radar gun that staties use to speed-trap folks on highways. They knew you were in a down state, a rough patch, that you were weakened. They hired some goon to point it at you while you were sleeping, from the edge of the field outside the renovated turkey coop apartments you rented in New Hope, PA (Solesbury Township. Ironic.) I saw it. They kept doing it until it had microwaved your brain enough to drive you insane. Another revolutionary suicided.
Always wanted to write something in homage to your legacy, a book on bipolar with a chapter on the corrupt Rx industry for you, but it lays fallow (that book) most likely to never be published. You were writing a book on manic depression when they took you, yes? Yes, I'm a wimp. How could I possibly do the right (write) thing? We clashed, being in-laws and all. But you had a profound affect on our lives. And I was then and am proud of you, my former out-law father-in-law. I'm sorry. I was such a little puissant to you. (But it was so much fun:) All these years, you've tried to help from the other side.
Exercising free speech these days is more dangerous than ever. The bastards (corruption) are destroying the constitution.
On a personal note, your death 'Pop, as Andy called you' was the beginning of the end for Andrew and me. I did love him. But he insisted on a downward spiral after we lost you, getting himself under a guise of impunity (others unprotected) into more and more trouble, making me more angry and crazy trying to get a damned college education while working and having breakdowns under the stress.
|Mid-80s, Sloppy Louis in NYC, R-2-L back, sister Phyllis, Abbie, brother Jack,|
Aunt Rose, mother Florence (she adored her family), and an unidentified uncle? (far left)
Next book reads will be oldies. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig. The Carlos Castaneda series, not necessarily in order. Have been getting into reading Zen Gardener and other great bloggers. Blog, web-log. These guys kinda remind me a little of you, Abbie. Truth Warrior types. Eye Like Icke. in5d.com. Augureye. You would be so angry about the shit going down on the people these days. Your kind is missed.
My father Bino has been gone since 93, and I've become estranged with my mother and brother in recent years. A recurring theme, me losing family. Got no parents left. Ok, No, happy now? So Happy Birthday, Abbie. Cheers, to you.