8/6/65Christiansted
St. Croix, Virgin Is.
John, Leni, & People
2o yrs. ago today we dropped “Little Boy” murdering 70,000 Japanese in the name of peace & continue to kill today under that very same slogan in Viet Nam. Stupid ass Americans don’t ask me to partake of your madness. If you haven't learned from the French it’s your loss. Break, break, ‘neath the cold gray stones oh sea & I would that my tongue could utter the thoughts that arise in me.
By now you're all back from the western trip have’n rap’d with those poets you respect & given the Bay Area a taste of our music. I think of the Artists’ Workshop Soc. burst’n into life again, the direction it will take, & miss it so.
The Virgin Islands are beautiful, but what a hellish trip it was down here. I’ve been across the north American continent six times from end to end. Traveled from SF to Mexico City & back to Detroit alone, but novor have I gone on such a mentally strenuous journey. Finally it came to an end & Larry, Billy & I have sought sanctuary in the Holy Cross Church thanks to the kindness of Father Sears. The first night we were here Billy ran the I Ching down to the Father while we all sat around the piano drink'n beer. It’s such a treat to watch the golden sun duck behind the mountains of St. Croix of an evening only to be summoned each morning by the cock crow’n for dawn. I'm the little red rooster, baby, too lazy to crow for dawn. The brown-skinned women of the island are my heart’s delight & I've eyes for one who hangs out at the Peppermint Parlor. I tend to think of her as the "Pink Panther" because she always wears a touch of pink in her dress. Yes! you are tempting baby, baby, tempt me all the time.
Just spent my last 8 cents to buy an air mail envelope so as to write you & fuck man--I don’t care. If nothing else I’ll live on sunshine & saltwater. Everyone's free in America/ democracy in America/ big Fascist finks in America/ everything stinks in America--well not quite everything. There’s still a few islands of hope & love--yours being one. I have but three treasures now. The first is love, the second moderation, the third humility. From love one gains courage, from moderation one attains abilitys, & from humility one achieves greatness. Ah! things are not so bad. We hope to have work by the end of next week.
Billy & Larry have just about amalgamated into one & their whole vocabulary has been reduced to two words -- change & bop. I’ve nicknamed them Billy Bop & Larry Change (God knows I hope for one). Billy & I have decided to make a movie of Larry & call it "the film maker" or "the new Buster Keaton.” Sometimes of an evening we walk to the public garden & sit among the green, blue, & red lights that play off the palm trees & foliage & I make them stop the idle chatter & tell me something. Then I tell them something & we learn from each other & get high as if we’d smoked or dropped something really good. What is this something I'm gett'n into? Hey! Last rdght I had a dream. It was too much! The characters of my dream were like the drawings out of Playboy’s "Little Annie Fanny." Dig it! Part of the dream is set in an old & beautiful 1920's mansion with golden glass chandeliers high on a hill in SF. The house is huge & has many plush rooms all thickly carpeted. This night I leave my bed & a dark-haired young nymph to answer the knock at the door. Down the long stairs I go & open the door to find wrapped in fog—a New Jersey Jew Wth bleach-blond hair, wear’n swim truinks, a pullover parks jacket, & carry’n a fiberglass surf board with a stack of surf’n records tied to it ask'n for a place to sleep. I ask him to stop in out of the chilly night air while I go & see where there’s room. I check with the many people who live in the house & learn that there' s rooms only down, down stairs. Back to the dude & tell him to follow me & he does sing’n go’n to surf city-yeh! Yeh! in the warm California sun. We go downstairs & as I open a squeak’n door the light falls on three spade cats lay’d out on pads on the floor each with a candle, lamp, pipe, & bowl next to it & they’re all wear’n big dreamy grins, turtle neck sweaters, red berets, & sunglasses -- obviously they're usin’ it as an opium den – groovy! I motion to the Jew surfer to follow me & be quiet. I find him a pad & as we’re sitt’n his surfboard against the damp wall, he’s sing’n go’n surfin’ in the warm california sun’ WARM CALIFORNIA SUN! -- I'm thinkin’ hey! this is northern california & the ocean is kinda cold & stays that way all yr. around. As he lays down I tell him this & as I'm closin’ the cavern door I hoar him weeping -- then one of the spade cats whispers "take up blondy & cool out, you’re bouge’n my dream." Back upstairs & slide into bed with the dark-haired nymph -- just then she turns to me & says “lf I left you alone would you think me decadent?" I wake up to find a wall of rain outside my window.
Ran into Muhammad Ali Cassius Clay again -- this time at the St. Croix hospital where I went to get a food-handlers card. On the plane from Miami to San Juan I gave him my book of Tao -- the most valued possession I had at the time. Remind me to tell you a story about it soon.
If we went into the desert only to get away from a crowd of people we would soon find ourselves surrounded by a tribe of devils.
Go into the desert to find Him & His love -- through both you will come to know all men.
I’m in love with this island & its people, Billy, Larry & I hit town at sundowm a little over a week ago. That night Bill & Larry decided to go out & sleep on the beach, while I stayed in town, to look for a lodge’n for us. That first night I slept on the balcony on the police station & vdien I awoke that morning I found myself in love vith Christiansted. Ah! the magic of the West Indies, the pidgin English of the natives wich is totally incomprehensible at times, & the soft sounds of the steel bands. We’ve made a friend and he’s as beautiful as he is black. Malcolm Francis, who drives a truck on the island & owns a 58 Chev -- yellow & green with a continental tire on the back. The other night we decided to visit Allister, Paulino, Ed & Family who live outside of Fredricksted 10 miles away on the other side of the island. Malcolm pulled up behind the church, Joe Tex singing softly -- "You better get it" on his 45rpm record player. Larry & I slip inside the church quiet as a mouse. Larry boosts a few beers while I get the only three 45s I brought down here. Then we shoot off down the palm-lined road listen’n to Down in Mexico – Coasters, All Around the World – Detroit’s own Little Willie John, & That’s Your Mistake – Otis Williams & the Charms -- to see our people & watch the moonlight dance off the waves crash’n against the beach outside our friends’ door....
Kenneth
ALL AROUND THE WORLD
as originally sung by Detroit’s own Little Willie John(for Mary Ellen)
Well if I don't love you baby
..
grits ain't groceries eggs ain’t poultries & Mona Lisa was a manAll around the world I’d rather be a fly Light on my baby stay with her till I die with a toothpick in my hand I dig a 10 foot ditch & run thru the jungle fightin lions with a switch Because you know I love you baby Oh, you know I love you baby Well if I don't love you baby..
grits ain't groceries eggs ain't poultries & Mona Lisa was a manAll around the world I get blisters on my feet Trying to find my baby & bring her home with me You better run into me baby & be convinced If you don’t run into me woman you ain't got no senseCuz you know I love you baby &c.
All around the world I never will forget Lost all my money my woman & my pet Got to have you baby, settle for nothin less Give up all my good-time girls instead for happiness Because you know I love you baby, Yes you know I love you baby Well you know I love you baby Yes your smiling face is my every delight&c
(transcribed by Kenneth Schooner)
  |
Home About Us Search Site Map What's New Archives Visual Literature Music Store Contact Us Links Messages