October in Jack Kerouac's St. Petersburg

October in Jack Kerouac’s St. Petersburg

This is the site of the former Cactus Bar on 1844 18th Ave South St. Petersburg, FL 33712 where Jack Kerouac was severely beaten. He was discovered crawling along the road, taken to jail to sober up, and released on $25 bail. Two weeks later, he died from massive internal hemorrhaging brought about by the beating and years of heavy drinking. There is a Boost Mobile kiosk and a convenience store there now.

He died at St. Anthony’s Hospital on October 21, 1969.

I was born on October 21, 1973.

I suppose I first heard about Jack Kerouac this way…

Then I began to notice his books on the bookshelves. You know, the ones that have the ubiquitous Penguin orange spines?

Seeing them along the shelves, with their neat uniformity spoke to my desire to find order in a chaotic universe. Besides, being a child of the 70’s, orange was my favorite color. I even designed the cover of my poetry book as an homage to how much I love those Penguin books.

Strange World Weather

I suppose that is something we have to discuss. The pull of Jack Kerouac goes beyond just his literary achievements. There is a fashionably hip sense of cool in dropping the name Kerouac.

Kerouac Wore Khakis

The Gap used his image to sell pants that have now become the standard uniform of retail wage slaves everywhere. Before that, Khakis were cool, because Jack wore them.

He was a handsome fella, there is no doubt about it. He was cool without looking like he was trying to be. With his dark and stormy good looks, he was referred to as the “James Dean” of the typewriter. Perhaps that is part of his appeal, a sort of aspirational wish fulfillment for all the terminally unhip writers out there, thinking they might catch a bit of his je ne sais quoi by association... or osmosis…

It is an illusion though, the cool confidence that exudes from his photographs. He was painfully and awkwardly introverted. Not the Dean Moriarty character, but the Sal Paradise, hero of his own inner landscape. Always on the outside, observing. Readers made that mistake for decades, reading his character study of Neal Cassady as a biography of himself. His desire to not let them down probably contributed to his decline as much as anything. He overindulged in substances as a means of escaping his shell and became a caricature of the person that people expected him to be. It was a costume. A mask. A personae similar to the one that most of us have to don in order to get through our workday.  At the end of the day you have to disrobe and stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering who is the genuine person and who is the sideshow. If you do this too often, the blurred lines between the mask and reality become harder and harder to partition.

For my initial foray into “On The Road” I was obsessed with trying to figure out who were the real life counterparts to the characters. By doing so, I missed passages of such spiritual beauty and enlightenment.

I, too, did Jack a disservice.

When I read the “Original Scroll” edition I was able to do so less distracted, because the actual names had been restored. I have mixed feelings about this.

NPR: The Original Scroll

Consider this quote from the man himself:

My work comprises one vast book like Proust's except that my remembrances are written on the run instead of afterwards in a sick bed. Because of the objections of my early publishers I was not allowed to use the same personae names in each work. On the Road, The Subterraneans, The Dharma Bums, Doctor Sax, Maggie Cassidy, Tristessa, Desolation Angels, Visions of Cody and the others including this book Big Sur are just chapters in the whole work which I call The Duluoz Legend. In my old age I intend to collect all my work and re-insert my pantheon of uniform names, leave the long shelf full of books there, and die happy. The whole thing forms one enormous comedy, seen through the eyes of poor Ti Jean (me), otherwise known as Jack Duluoz, the world of raging action and folly and also gentle sweetness seen through the keyhole of his eye.

Jack Kerouac

Kerouac wanted uniformity of names throughout, but his publishers objected. Whether or not he wanted to use real names or their character equivalents is left to interpretation.

Kerouac Character Reference Key

The last line of On The Road is: “...I think of Dean Moriarty.”

The last line of The Original Scroll version is “...I think of Neal Cassady.”

Moriarty has 4 syllables whereas Cassady has 3. Subtle difference to anyone who hasn’t written song lyrics or poetry, but 1 syllable in those forms can make worlds of difference. Listen to how convincing the line is when delivered by Jack on the Steve Allen Show in 1959.

Kerouac on the Steve Allen Plymouth Show

The two had worked together previously in 1957. As an aside, Kerouac is reading from Visions of Cody as well as On the Road.

Poetry For The Beat Generation

This coming year (2016) I plan to read Jack Kerouac’s The Duluoz Legend which consists of the following books. I plan on skipping The Town and The City in favor of The Sea Is My Brother. I will also be adding Lonesome Traveler and Book of Dreams.

BOOK TITLE	TIME COVERED	WRITTEN	PUBLISHED
Atop an Underwood	Various	1936–1943	1999
Visions of Gerard	1922–1926	1956	1963
Doctor Sax	1930–1936	1952	1959
The Town and the City	1935–1946	1946–1949	1950
Maggie Cassidy	1938–1939	1953	1959
Vanity of Duluoz	1935–1946	1968	1968
On The Road	1946–1950	1948–1956	1957
Visions of Cody	1946–1952	1951–1952	1959 & 1973
The Subterraneans	1953	1953	1958
Tristessa	1955–1956	1955–1956	1960
The Dharma Bums	1955–1956	1957	1958
Desolation Angels	1956–1961	1956–1957	1965
Big Sur	1960	1961	1962
Satori in Paris	1965	1965	1966

Going to fill in the dates as I finish each one.

My Jack Kerouac reference books.

18 books in 1 year shouldn’t be a problem.

Jack Kerouac A/V materials.

The Dharma Beat

Jack Kerouac Timeline

1922:	Born Jean Louis Lebris de Kerouac in Lowell, MA on March 12; third child of Gabrielle and Leo Kerouac, French-Canadian immigrants to New England.
1939:	Graduates from Lowell High School.
1939- 1940:	Attends Horace Mann Preparatory School, New York City.
1940- 1941:	Attends Columbia College, NY.
1942:	Sails to Greenland as merchant marine on S.S. Dorchester.
1943:	Enlists in U.S. Navy, discharged on psychiatric grounds. Sails to Liverpool as merchant seaman on S.S. George Weems.
1944:	Meets Lucien Carr who introduces him to Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs. Jailed as accessory and material witness in David Kammerer murder case (killed by Lucien Carr). Marries Edie Parker so that her family will pay his bail.
1945:	Begins writing The Town and the City. Meets Neal Cassady in New York.
1946:	Marriage with Edie Parker annulled. Collaborates with William Burroughs on an unpublished novel, And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks, an account of the events surrounding the Kammerer murder.
1947:	Travels to Denver, California, and back to New York.
1948:	Meets John Clellon Holmes and invents the term beat generation.
1948:	Begins working on earliest version of On the Road.
1949:	Travels with Cassady to Louisiana and San Francisco. Moves briefly to Colorado with mother (Memere). Visits San Francisco. Returns with Cassady to New York.
1950:	The Town and The City published. Travels to Denver, then with Cassady to Mexico. Marries Joan Haverty in New York.
1951:	Reads manuscripts of Burroughs' Junkie and Holmes' Go in February/March. Writes On The Road, the third version, on a single roll of paper in three weeks during April and May. Separates from Joan Haverty. Discovers compositional method of "sketching" or "spontaneous prose" and begins to rewrite On The Road as the experimental book Visions of Cody; continues work into 1952 at Neal Cassady's home in San Francisco. Hospitalized with thrombophlebitis as a result of heavy Benzedrine use. Travels to California.
1952:	Writes Dr. Sax in Burroughs' apartment in Mexico City. Travels to North Carolina to visit sister Caroline in Rocky Mount, back to California where he works as a student brakeman and writes "The Railroad Earth" in California and Mexico before returning to New York. Daughter Jan Kerouac born in Albany, New York.
1953:	Writes Maggie Cassidy while in New York. Travels to California; works on railroad; takes job on S.S. William Carruth; leaves Carruth in New Orleans. Writes The Subterraneans in New York.
1954:	Visits Cassady in San Jose. Studies Buddhism in New York and California. Writes "San Francisco Blues" in San Francisco Some of the Dharma in New York and North Carolina.
1955:	Travels to Mexico City where he writes Mexico City Blues and begins Tristessa. Meets Gary Snyder and attends "Six Poets at the Six Gallery" reading in San Francisco on Oct. 13 where Ginsberg first reads "Howl."
1956:	Writes Visions of Gerard in North Carolina. Travels to California; stays in Marin County. Writes The Scripture of the Golden Eternity and "Old Angel Midnight." Works as fire lookout in Mr. Baker National Forest, Washington, where he writes the journals that would become Book One of Desolation Angels. Finishes Tristessa in Mexico City where he prepares Book One of Desolation Angels. Returns to New York. Ginsberg's Howl and Other Poems published by City Lights in San Francisco. Desolation Peak
1957:	Travels to Tangier, Morocco where he types and edits Burroughs' Naked Lunch with Ginsberg, then on to Paris and London. After returning to New York where he meets and lives with Joyce Johnson; moves to Berkeley with his mother. Visits Mexico City briefly; moves to Orlando, FL. with mother. Travels to New York. During this time On the Road is published and Kerouac gives readings at the Village Vanguard. Writes The Dharma Bums in Orlando.
1958:	Buys home in Northport, Long Island. The Subterraneans and The Dharma Bums are published. Neal Cassady sentenced to five years in San Quentin for possession of marijuana. Begins writing sketches for Lonesome Traveler.
1959:	Narrates film Pull My Daisy in New York which is based on his play, The Beat Generation. Begins writing column for Escapade. Dr. Sax, Mexico City Blues, and Maggie Cassidy published. Travels to Los Angeles for Steve Allen Show appearance.
1960:	Travels to California, stays at Bixby Canyon (Big Sur); suffers alcohol withdrawal and nervous breakdown. Returns to New York. Tristessa and Lonesome Traveler published.
1961:	Book of Dreams published. Moves to Orlando with mother. Travels to Mexico City, where he writes Book Two ("Passing Through") of Desolation Angels. Returns to Florida, where he writes Big Sur.
1962:	Moves back to Northport with mother. Big Sur published. Kerouac The Long Island Years
1963:	Visions of Gerard published.
1964:	Moves with mother to St. Petersburg, Florida. Sister Caroline dies. Meets Ken Kesey in New York with the Merry Pranksters. Neal Cassady is the driver. It is the first time they have seen each other in years.
1965:	Travels to France. Writes Satori In Paris and Pic in Florida. Desolation Angels published.
1966:	Satori In Paris published. Moves to Hyannis, MA, with mother who suffer a stroke. Marries Stella Sampas, sister of childhood friend Sebastian Sampas.
1967:	Moves to Lowell with mother and wife. Writes Vanity of Duluoz.
1968:	Neal Cassady dies in Mexico. Vanity of Duluoz published. Travels to Europe with friends. Appears on Firing Line hosted by William F. Buckley. Moves with mother and wife to St. Petersburg.
1969:	Dies in St. Petersburg, Oct. 21, of abdominal hemorrhage due to complications associated with alcohol abuse.

There is an abundance of literary destinations associated with Jack Kerouac.

Jack Kerouac's birthplace at 9 Lupine Road, 2nd floor, in the West Centralville section of Lowell, Massachusetts. He was born on March 12, 1922.

His third home in the West Centralville section of Lowell.

Lowell National Historical Park

Kerouac Park located at 75 Bridge St Lowell, MA 01852.

Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg at Jack Kerouac’s grave in Edson Cemetery located at 1375 Gorham Street in Lowell, Massachusetts - Lot 76, Range 96, Grave 1.

Direction to Kerouac's grave

133-01 Cross Bay Blvd, Queens, NY 11417

Jack Kerouac in Tompkins Square Park Manhattan in the Fall of 1953.

Jack Kerouac's New York City

The William S. Burroughs House at 509 Wagner St, New Orleans, LA 70114.

Kerouac Spots in Denver

Kerouac in Mexico

Beats in Tangiers

Jack Kerouac and Al Hinkle (aka Ed Dunkel’ in “On The Road’) in San Francisco 1952

Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac in San Francisco 1956.

Kerouac Spots in Friendly Frisco

Big Sur Trailer

Watch Your Step at Bixby Creek Canyon

Lawrence Ferlinghetti standing outside his cabin located by Bixby Creek in Big Sur, below the Bixby Creek Bridge on California State Route 1. In the summer of 1961, Ferlinghetti persuaded an alcoholic and troubled Jack Kerouac to take a solitary retreat to the cabin, and attempt to get his head together. Kerouac wrote the novel Big Sur about his impressions of the time he spent there.

City Lights Bookstore

The house at 1418 Clouser Ave, Orlando, FL 32804 where Kerouac lived from 1957 to 1958. On the Road was published on September 5, 1957 while he resided here busily  typing up the manuscript for The Dharma Bums.

The Kerouac Project

Which leads us to his final destination, St. Petersburg, Florida.

Located at 5169 10th Avenue North St. Petersburg, Florida 33710.

Kerouac was clearly on the decline as evidenced by his 1968 appearance on the William F. Buckley show.

Such a striking difference from the 1959 appearance on the Steve Allen show. This was only 10 years later.

I have been to the St. Petersburg house twice. The second time was October 2015.

To get there from our home in Sarasota, we have to cross the dreaded Sunshine Skyway Bridge. Not the first one. The first one had an unfortunate (ahem) incident…

The Sunshine Skyway Bridge Disaster

No, we had to cross the more vertiginous replacement bridge.

Everytime I reach the apex, I begin to hyperventilate and (possibly) pee myself a little. It doesn’t help to look down and see massive cruise ships passing underneath with plenty of room to spare.

After reading an article in which others had done the same, I had decided that I wanted to type up a letter and drop it off at his last house.

I was so intrigued and desperate to see what lay inside that house. So many possibilities swirled around in my head. When I got home, I found out someone had actually gone inside. Ben Montgomery, a staff writer for the St. Petersburg Times had gained access by contacting Pat Barmore who has been trying to raise money through a non profit called The Friends of Jack Kerouac to purchase and renovate the house. The house is owned by Kerouac’s brother in law John Sampas. Sampas gave the key to Barmore after a window was broken.

Inside the Kerouac House

The house has been empty since the early to mid 1970’s. There is still a television antenna sticking up out of the roof.

If you look in the garage window, you can see a ‘72 Chevy Caprice up on blocks.

This is Jack Kerouac’s desk inside the house, and what I presume to be his typewriter on the right hand side of the photograph.

That sure looks like a type of Hat that Kerouac liked to wear as in the photograph below.

Kerouac had a few hangouts in the Tampa/St. Pete area. One was the Beaux Arts Gallery located at 7711 60th Street North Pinellas Park, Florida 33781. Jim Morrison read poetry there in 1962 while he was a student at St. Petersburg Junior College. The building unfortunately burned down in 1992.

He supposedly had his last drink at the Flamingo Sports Bar in St. Pete.

He is supposed to haunt the halls of Haslam’s bookstore

One thing that Reporter Ben Montgomery did not photograph was the bathroom. There are 3 in the house. On Monday October 20, 1969, around 11 in the morning, Kerouac was sitting in his favorite chair, drinking whiskey and malt liquor, trying to scribble notes for a book about his father's print shop in Lowell, Mass.

While eating a can of tuna fish, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach and went to the bathroom. He began to vomit up large amounts of blood. He yelled to his wife, “Stella, I’m bleeding!” At St. Anthony’s Hospital he was given transfusions amounting to 15 liters (about 15 quarts) of blood. During the evening of the 20th, he underwent a desperate 3 hour surgery to tie off the burst blood vessels, but his liver which was damaged by cirrhosis prevented his blood from clotting.

I wonder if he dreamt of his life as he lay there dying. Perhaps he thought of this incident that happened 26 years earlier.

The USS Dorchester was sunk by German submarine U-223 on February 3, 1943. Jack Kerouac had previously sailed on this ship and would have been on board that night had he not received a telegram from Coach Lou Little, asking him to return to Columbia University to play football. This tragedy was also notable for the heroism of the Four Chaplains who gave up their life jackets and went down with the ship.

He did so much during those 26 years.

So much.

He died on October 21, 1969 at about 5:45 in the morning having never regained consciousness from the surgery.  

It was a Tuesday.

He was 47 years old.

St. Pete Times Article

CBS News anchor Walter Cronkite announced on the evening news that, “Jack Kerouac, the novelist who wrote On The Road reached the end of it today.”

I would like to think that he would be pleased to know that he is still in print and being read in 2015.

One of the letters stuffed into his mailbox read, “Stopped by to say hello. Sorry to have missed you.”

For further reading see…

Burning Furiously Beautiful: The True Story of Jack Kerouac's "On The Road"

Why Kerouac Matters: The Lessons of On The Road (They're Not What You Think)

The 10 Edicts

I have been working on a fiction novel called "The People's Republic of Retail" since July of 2010. It's basically a cartoon-y surrealistic tale of people who work at a retail store called Mega★Mart (similar to Wal-Mart) who get fed up with their ill treatment and have a revolution in which they take over the store. The story centers on two mains characters - Eric George, a self proclaimed "man of the people" who doesn't like people very much and M.Alice who has many axes to grind and will do so by any means necessary. It's basically an allegory of George Orwell's "Animal Farm". So... an allegory of an allegory. After the Oktober Revolution, this happens...

The Mega★Mart sign is taken down...

and the UTOPIA sign goes up.

After M.Alice turns evil and banishes Eric George, UTOPIA becomes DYSTOPIA.

Shortly after the revolution, when jubilation is at its highest, the "people" decide on 10 Edicts. These are to serve as the 10 commandments of the new store.

Utopia's 10 Edicts

(M.Alice reads them off. Eric George is putting on the finishing touches with a can of Neon Green spray paint)

1. NO UNIFORMS

2. NO PROPAGANDA MEETINGS

3. SOURCE LOCAL

4. CHEAPER IS NOT ALWAYS BETTER

5. NO SCHEDULE CHANGE WITHOUT CAUSE

6. PUSH THE HEALTHY ITEMS

7. OFFICES ALWAYS OPEN

8. JOB SECURITY

9. STRENGTHEN THE COMMUNITY

10. EQUAL PAY FOR ALL

After M.Alice takes over and Eric George is banished, a few changes are instituted...

DYStopia's 10 EDICTS

1.    UNIFORMS (M.Alice gets a cheap deal on wool uniforms from Kazakhstan)

2.               MEETINGS 4 X DAILY

3. SOURCE GLOBALLY

4. CHEAPER IS     ALWAYS BETTER

5.    SCHEDULES CHANGE WITHOUT CAUSE

6. PUSH THE SNACK CAKES

7. OFFICES CLOSED

8. THERE IS NO JOB SECURITY

9. STRENGTHEN THE COMPANY

10. EQUAL PAY FOR ALL LOWER CASTE ASSOCIATES

My Favorite Children's Book

My Favorite Children’s Book

My friend and fellow writer (she is actually published) Katherine Harbour recently asked me if I could write a few words about my favorite children’s book.

Katherine Harbour

Here goes.

I work at Barnes & Noble in the Children’s Book Department. I do storytime. I have a 5 shelf bookcase at home full of children’s books.

There are so many to choose from.

I have been an avid reader for most of my life. I attribute this to a couple of different influences.

My father (through means unknown to me) came across a cache of comic books when I was a young lad. He paid my allowance in comic books. It worked like gangbusters, until I discovered the secret location of his troll hoard in a cubby ‘neath the stairs.

Those comic books sent an electrical shock wave up and down my spine and caused my eyes to spin and unleashed torrents of my imagination.

My Great Grandmother Naomi used to take me to the Velma Teague Library in Glendale, Arizona.

I remember dozens of people thumbing through vinyl records searching for an LP to check out. There were comic books there as well. My obsession was the discard racks at the entrance full of pulp science fiction novels with lurid and fantastical covers.

To this day I still fetishize discarded books. My particular kink lies in books from far off libraries that still have the library cards inside with names and dates.

That is how things get embedded in our psyches and our collective unconscious minds methinks. A mixture of childhood sense overload and budding hormonal desires. I still get a particular warm shiver when I find a certain book at a used bookstore or when my rabid comic book desires get whetted.

Anyway, we were talking about children’s books. Let’s hit on a few while I try to settle on one.

Brighty of the Grand Canyon by Marguerite Henry. As an Arizona kid reading a true legend about the place I was from was a real treat. The illustrations by Wesley Dennis are like kid catnip. I love this book so much I currently have two copies.

Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume. When I was in fourth grade an elderly teacher began reading this to us as a treat. I was desperate for each installment. I had to know what happened next. I was feverish. I was manic. I was obsessed. The way my teacher would lick her finger before slowly turning to the next tantalizing page filled me with unquenchable anticipation. I tried looking at a new version of this book to see if I would get the same sense memory from it to no avail. Without the Roy Doty illustrations, it just wasn’t the same.

How To Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell. With laugh out loud humor and Vonnegut like short chapters, I read and re-read this one until it literally disintegrated in my hands. This is the only cover for me. New updated covers of books you loved as a kid seem, at the very least, to take away some of the ownership you might feel for a beloved tale of childhood yore. Here is an example below.

You see? Just not the same.

There are others. So many others. Bunnicula - which sent me spiraling into the vortex of anticipation known as the Scholastic Book Fair…

My Side Of The Mountain by Jean Craighead George and the film that followed…

Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls which spoke to the spiritual yearning that has been a companion to me and something for which I have had to struggle to reconcile in the face of what I know now vs. what I knew (or thought I knew) then.

The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary …

There are some children’s books that transcend the genre and becoming something more. They speak to us at the various stations in our lives and are as relevant to us when we are young and when we are old. Like…

And…

The above you could read to an infant, or a graduate, or at a wedding, or to someone on their deathbed, and it would have meaning at all those occasions.

Okay? Okay. I’ve stalled long enough…

Drum roll.

a beat...

(insistently) Drum Roll!

My favorite children’s book (at this time) is…

As much as I love Quentin Blake, Joseph Schindelman has been and will be the only illustrator for Roald Dahl’s Charlie And The Chocolate Factory. I have focused a lot on illustrators throughout this piece. Illustrators are vital. Tellers of tales are vital. When you find the perfect partnership between the two, sparks and magic are created.

Is there a Hunter S. Thompson without Ralph Steadman?

What would The Wizard of Oz be without William Wallace Denslow?

No, for a children’s book to become a classic it has to fire on both cylinders - a fantastically written tale married to timeless illustrations. That is why I love “Charlie And The Chocolate Factory” so much.

Joseph Schindelman in The New Yorker

I love classic Disney. Roald Dahl is like the anti-Disney. He is the Agent Smith to Walt’s Neo…

Whereas (most of the time) Walt & crew polished over the rough edges, Roald Dahl dove right into them with sinister delight. The book is like a children’s version of Dante’s Inferno. Dahl was a treasure. His voice is sorely missed.

Schindelman’s illustrations scratch an itch deep down in my soul. I am as satisfied when studying his delicate whimsical crosshatching as I would be eating a Wonka Scrumdiddlyumptious Bar. Truly a masterpiece.

I even tried to duplicate his drawing technique. 

Like Charles Schulz, Schindelman's exquisite technique is far more complex than it appears upon initial inspection. Don't believe me? Try to draw Charlie Brown. A lifetime of experience and practice can make the hand into a magical instrument.

Well, there it is. My favorite. For so many reasons.

My own well worn and much loved copy.

What is yours?

I’ll close with this quote from the film version…

fin

The Retail Manifesto

From my novel "The People's Republic of Retail". As things begin to unravel at Mega Mart, despotic store manager Bill Cox doubles down on meting out punishment in an effort to quell the oncoming rebellion. Eric George, as a suspected ringleader, is suspended (exiled) for two weeks. He sits down at his manual typewriter and begins typing out what will become known as "The Retail Manifesto".

The Retail Manifesto

Part I.

    We are the ghost generation. We are the hidden mechanism that runs your service economy. We are the spectral hands that stock your bread & milk - your staples. We are the expired student I.d. generation - forced to work menial jobs for minimum wage. We are a generation stunted by debt - held back from our greater aspirations by maxed out credit cards and high interest rate loans.

   
You lured us in, before we had a chance, with the promise of things we couldn't afford, and now we are stuck making french fries - sweeping floors - and selling your gasoline. We have been locked in a prison cell whose only key is submission. We have a name for our prison. We call it Retail!

Part II.

    We are the wage slaves. America's forgotten sons and daughters, trapped behind WAL's (sic). You see a big box - we see a gulag. You see low prices - we see the true cost in the precious blood & sweat of foreign children. Children who should be in school rather than manufacturing things that could be made in American factories by American workers paid decent wages. You see economic development - we see urban sprawl & the death of the middle class. You find comfort in the monotony of suburbia - we are wondering, "where is our American dream?"

Part III.

    The corporations have become tyrannies - ruling vicariously through media outlets that spread more lies & misinformation than news, through politicians bought & paid for, through political action groups who capitalize on fear & hysteria to get the populace to vote against their own self interests. Did you know that the money squandered on wars and disinformation could pay for universal health care and education for all - several times over? These robber barons and their stooges spend more to oppress public initiatives than it would cost to allow them to just pass. It’s time to wake up - strike torches - and burn our way through the web of lies that protects the rich while crushing the poor and working classes!

Part IV.

    We have been in a coma - turned into zombies by corn syrup and Ritalin and anti-depressants. We medicate ourselves into a stupor to hide from the bleak realities of roles we didn't choose but were lead to like cattle down a chute to the slaughterhouse floor. I say we face the world awake - with our eyes wide open! We don't need more medicine. The situation is depressing. Only when we face this inescapable fact - consciously, can we effect real change!

Part V.

    We are beginning to rise from our slumber. There are those of us - inside the machine, who are sounding the alarm. We were educated inside your institutions despite your best efforts. You cut taxes for the rich while slashing public education perennially. But in spite of it all we have uncovered the truth. We have read the banned books. We have learned the story of labour movements - excised from our history books. We know - now, that our world has fallen to shadow. It has come to pass, as Orwell prophesyed, that all the hard won advances now lay rusting across the landscape, the promises abandoned like Midwestern factories, the ghosts of prosperity reflected in shattered windows and ivy-entwined brick. The once mighty cities have fallen - like mythic civilizations, into modern day ruins. Detroit - Cleveland - Allentown - Baltimore - Flint: Once they were citadels of enlightenment & culture - now infested by drugs & poverty. How could so much promise be wiped away, and for what? To make room for big chains? Multi-National conglomerates bringing forth low wages - poor benefits, and big box blight? It doesn't have to be that way. The future is not yet written. We have a choice. We can wrest control of these monstrosities, and against all odds, we can rebuild the dream!

Part VI.

    You cannot run from accountability. You who have hidden behind a flag made in China. You who have shouted down opposition with empty gestures of patriotism - while justifying the deaths of scores of young men on foreign battlefields. Did you ever notice that in war, only the blood of the young gets spilled? I say no more! The real war is here! It's time for us to rise up and heed the call!

    
Individually, we can be defeated. But united, we are a revolution! Like a million trees growing out of the cracks of American sidewalks, we will fight and persevere. The goliaths of greed will fall and on their foundations we will till the soil of a better tomorrow!

Today Mega-Mart!

Tomorrow the World!

Eric George

Labor Day