Thursday, April 7, 2011


I am very tired of my own voice.

For obvious reasons.
Sitting on the street where Lenny was... Just breathing the free... air.

This is not a highway, but we'll call it that. Actually it's a street in Lionel Town, Jamaica.
To my right is a bright green field with seven palm trees in it. And I can just see the tail of one
cow in the bush. (We'll assume it's not a bull). The tail is switching flies.
No more on that.

I digress. At least I hope I am digressing.

Lenny was a Rastaman. He was also a poet. The two cultures sometimes
Lenny also liked the odd drink of Wray and Nephew full strength overproof
rum. With Lenny it was always an ODD drink..
This not a commercial, but "full strength" in Jamaica is a euphemism for pure
at least 200 proof mind-clearing white rum. In a glass you can almost see the
fumes arising and disappearing into the air above. If you light this rum, of course it burns.
It burns for a long time in a shot glass. It is burning now.
This is one of Lenny's lights.

The stars are so bright they seem to be saying something especially to me.
I know many doctors in the North who would call this a psychotic thought.
I know one or two doctors who would say thoughts like this
are the very definition of sanity.
Hunter S. Thompson uses the term, "the place of definitions." If
he were here, he would use it now.

I don't entirely understand the proof system regarding rum like this.
That's O.K., courts in North America don't entirely understand the proof system
either. In a former life, I was a lawyer.
When I do not understand something, I let Walker Ballantine join me.
There's nothing that Walker Ballantine doesn't understand. Because Walker Ballantine
doesn't try to understand anything.
"It's a ridiculous pursuit," he says.

As a matter of fact, when I think about it (which I try not to) Walker Ballantine's
a lot like Lenny.
The poet, Charles Bukowski, used to say, "Don't try."
In fact, "DON'T TRY" is written on his tombstone.
Another famous poet used to say, "The smallest leaf of grass proves
there is no such thing as death."
These guys love Lenny, but someone is laughing. I pray to the Lord of
the Meeting Rivers, that that laughter is not mine.

I hear a voice say, "Stop burning the rum. We don't need lights
that badly!"
Did I say that?
No, that's not what I said. * (* see Walter de la Mare's poem on the subject)

The proof system no longer matters in the North** as much as it used to.
Because the North, if you look at the matter closely, no longer has civil rights. Ballantine
has a legal mind, frightening in it's clarity.
So does Lenny, but Lenny never spoke about such things. He said they
didn't matter.

This BLOG used to be about the fact that the Christian world needs a system
of initiation, a methodical step by step path with elders along the way aiding the traveller,
giving him directions, pointing a finger along the Way.... during the always painful process
of Realization.
Not any more.

Now this blog's about Lenny.

(The tail's still twitching in the weeds.)