"Ocean of Water. Ocean of Blood," Anne Easter said to me as she removed the two needles still stuck in my belly. Amazement crossed my eyes when I saw I'd been stuck deeply- pig deeply - I always have my eyes closed when I am being treated - OR - It's on your belly drooling from a table - eyes half closed listening to the best of Tibetan throat singing getting jiggy with the stillness and wonder of healing. "I am relaxing, I am relaxing..... I watched Anne pull the needles out of my belly. "I am gonna need a 'Flying Dog' beer after I drink the prescribed hundred onces of water Ms. Easter ordered." The woman scraped the evil chi off my neck with a jade stone. I will never disclose the name of my friend Burnz Daily, but Ms. Anne Easter is legit - You got a muscle that wants to quit - She is a Mastress. I will give you her phone number. Please say I refferred you. She is a bitchin Goddess and one of the ONLY women to recognize my ability to Phunk Funk d'Funk - after Dumpsta Funk had me repping DC beats center stage on the apron of Ktaos Radio Solar Station's Stage - Which is hard (fer a lady) Cuz I am no Lady when sons of Neville lay down the bass better than the Mississippi River - One of the only women to recognize with awe. I mean - I awe myself. I don't know where I go sometimes when I dance. That night I was on fire. I Had family troubles close to the heart - and I did what the mighty band Dumptsa Phunk told me to do - "I put it in the Dumpsta". I called in the quarters, I entered trance, I know I felt the ancestral soul of my recently deceased first hardcore comedy writer - As my mind became present I observed my body trucking like a choochootrain - arms hauling like a hippie round a bonfire on five hits of acid with no intention of stopping - If you have seen such a thing - which - of course - I have only read about - Of course - Those who know don't say and those who say don't know - Ask me why I am writing you this - I reply (with full fly bass beats) "Coddleston Coddleston Coddleston Pie" . Anne said she'd seen me channel Janis Joplin on stage. All I knew is that I had called in the spirit of a Raven Grandmother whose soul - only while funking - focused on feeding the Earth with her worship. The Gonzo had gone - And taken the professional hostage.
"The Underbelly is the place we hold our compassion for ourselves," Anne informed me as she removed the needle from the "Ocean of Blood". I thirsted in that department worse than a sundancer on his tenth day..." As I caressed my My 'Underbelly' - I thought - "Dear God, she doesn't even know the name of my next movie - " Every movie to me is a spiritual journey. I see the ensemble of credits movie goers watch sprueling over the screen as a Sort of "Cabalah" - Tree of Life - Enterprise - Psychedelic USS Enterprise. All these minds - spheres of light - coming together to take each other on a journey of higher meaning - My first movie I produced is titled "Washington Interns Gone Bad." Watch it free in chapter form on Youtube. The movie I am currently producing is "Underbelly Blues." It is the dreamchild of Mr. Seamus Reed and Director Phil Messerer. I beat myself up over this production. Literally. When I took my Bodhisatva vows I placed myself in service to the artist. A.A. Bailey once wrote in her work 'A Treatise on White Magick', "The true Initiate proceeds no matter what the cost is to the lower self." Those words shook my soul. I proceeded. I ate crow. The ladder of success is climbed wrong by wrong. Sunday nights in the 70's, after the "Wonderful World of Disney" was off air, I'd take the few precious moments I had to slip out the front door, sit atop our steps and pray with the will of a child who has journeyed to Santa's lap that I would be initiated by the masters. Please .Please.Please. Then, I would say goodnight to the sky, go inside, get tucked into bed, and of course - Stay awake for another four hours praying we all not perish in a nuclear holacaust. If I wasn't worried bout nukes, I was listening to the illicit wisdom of rock and roll with the radio tucked under my covers like a guinea pig wrapped in a towel. "Please, Lord. Life is so neat! Let's not blow it up."
It all comes down to bad coffee. Like my beer - 'Flying Dawg', Guiness, or Gabe's Brew ( I am not telling you who Gabe is. You can't get his brew from the stow yet. He is a personal friend. His ale goes down like turkey on Thanksgiving - It just feeels so right. ), I care about coffee. A good coffee shop can empower you to work three days in a row without sleep and hallucinations. A good coffee can lend you that extra executive punch needed when you are in a pitch room of fat meety turkeys impressed with their opinions and ability to Estimate Prophets - We all know - There is only one 'Estimated Prophet'. - It was written by the Grateful Dead. I would skip over at least ten available coffee shops for the correct foam on my cappacino - Walk, Bike in LA sun and traffic with no shades, drive and park illegally - For Cafe Etc. Cappacino Foam. I learned I liked my cappacino dry.
I learned I liked my cappacino dry In Taos New Mexico in the hospitality of The Tazza Cafe - The Oldest Coffee Shop in Taos and purveyor of Mr. Mark Hoffman's Entheos - A journel of psychedelic spirituality - Look - let me brak my Gonzoidal Rant here. - Psychedelic therapy is an alternative to Psycholitic Therapy. That's all, Folks. Experience vs. Analysis and Observation. First vs. Third person. There is madness to both methods but psychedelic does not necessarily mean hopped up on peyote like a buffalo in group mindset (altho-). Ask any Tibetan Monk, but DO NOT squeeze the Shamen for the answers - Like Freud (The analitic side) they usually ask questions. I know this through my experience with Dr. Tim Leary before he passed - And I bet that Bright eyed Tim would like his Cappacino dry as well. Dry is espesso on the bottom - foam on top. Wet has milk and - in my young Barista's discerning eye - runs the risk of turning into a foamy latte - Which is great but I want my 'cino like a Bukowski poem - Punching me in the organ til I hear the music - The Phunkedelic music (A third therapy that has yet to be explored to it's proper depth) of the poet's pain. Waking me up like a good blues song lyric - "She's a cold Fridgedare Woman. She opened her mouth and a light came on." For me, a good cappacino is like falling through a cloud, smacking yourself awake on the hard dry Earth, and loving it enough to do it again. Then there is your "Kick in the Ass" which is how I fell in love with the Tazza Cafe passing through on my way to Elle Ay by way of Washington D.C. ( D.C. Stands for Duck and Cover). The Kick in the Ass is Espresso with Coffee. The Baristas at Tazza are mighty particular about their grind, their beans, and don't take no crap. No Crap coffee. No burnt coffee. No Cheap Coffee. They know a steamer from a grind. A Demi Tasse from a Demi Pleiadien. Aliens come to Tazza for their coffee. A wicked wise Blues Musician - Shamboo- Shows up every morning at seven for his Americano. Coffee is clockwork. It Ticks. We all have our ticks. Some of them aren't bloodsuckers. Some are kinks - and they were a great band. The Kinks were awesome. The Kinks understood what it is like to have the "Underbelly Blues". Proof -
The tax man's taken all my DOUGH,
And left me in my stately home,
BLazing on a sunny afternoon.
And I can't sail my yacht,
He's taken everything I've got,
All I've got's this sunny afternoon.
Save me, save me, save me from this squeeze.
I got a big fat mama trying to break me.
And I love to live so pleasantly,
Live this life of luxury,
BLazing on a sunny afternoon.
In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertime
My girlfriend's run off with my car,
And gone back to her ma and pa,
Telling tales of drunkenness and cruelty.
Now I'm sitting here,
Sipping at my ice cool beer, (Flying Dog - No doubt)
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
Help me, help me, help me sail away,
Well give me two good reasons why I oughta stay.
'Cause I love to live so pleasantly,
Live this life of luxury,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertime
Ah, save me, save me, save me from this squeeze.
I got a big fat mama trying to break me.
And I love to live so pleasantly,
Live this life of luxury,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon.
In the summertime
In the summertime
In the summertime
That was when Philly wanted to shoot - In the Summertime. I had asked George Stranahan twice for a million dollars and twice he had said "YES". I learned a lot after my first 'Yes' . I learned you can't expect to put the paperwork in the hands of the more experienced and have them not try to take it away. I learned the depth of executive paperwork. I learned some lawyers are a million bucks an hour. I learned that men who want to fuck you, will guide you, but even they aren't handing you the keys to your kingdom and family's security without a little something wet - and we've established I am a dry cappacinist - Lawyer's ignored me. Lawyer's who vouched loyal whored me. Very difficult waters to tread. I have never had a yacht. My career has taken everything I got. Still I learned the verbage - and passed it written into Philly's email which sat unnoticed ( Because like me - Philly functions best in the artistic) for three weeks. Philly and I had equal experience with the executive branch of film producing - Just like the amount of experience the Kinks had with girls like Lola - Til the song was formed and it was a hit. I learned that when you go to a VIP function of Sacred Cow's "How Weed Won the West" you shouldn't eat six pot brownies thinking you are a pro at Gonzo - Go to bed on Friday Night - Wake up Tuesday with paperwork overdue - It must have happened before to at least a BeeGee or two - CUM ON!!! It is Seamus's first feature narrative effort - The guys busted a nut when George said Yes to me. I will always be grateful to the guys for giving me that opportunity to ask - But Phil must of felt I was a "Big Fat Mamma Tryin to Break me' - Because to do that kind of paperwork properly - Takes a while. ... As York Says in his scene with Norman - "We all make mistakes." I also learned you shouldn't turn your birthday into a business meeting because cocaine cowboys will try to covet you to their bedroom and not boredroom - We shot in the Winter. To be fair, I also placed the ads for actors, helped with costuming and fittings, got in touch with people who doubted Phil's Genius, Drove Phil and Seamus scouting for location, shot some TV shows for prop 19 (You need a medical prescripstion for weed if you are crazy enough to make movies) , Made some appearances on Johnny Dam's Newdissidentradio.com, was shocked and horrified a fan of my comedy took the Discovery Channel in Silver Spring Hostage, Handled a Washongton DC Smear Campaign backroom style, opened for for some rock bands at Buddhafest, worked out comedy set three to five times a night, helped the folks at Hollywood Outlaws launch their tv station whenever I could, and force fed my epileptic roommate sugar risking injury every time a seizure came on, assisted Gov. Gary Johnson and Senator Mike Gravel when they came to town,was robbed on Thanksgiving, Stalked, Had my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from surviving assault triggered while accused of being a fake persona on Facebook known as" Holly Wood", survived being jumped while taking money on an under the table job, and celebrated Christmas with me and Good Ole Flying Dog. But Phil wanted Summer hours of Daylight. Which we could have - if we shot in June of through August 2011 - But the appocolypse may come inspite of my anti-nuke prayers and Phil, like me, suffers anxiety. "Save me. Save Me. From this Squeeze."..... Like any Enterprise - You gotta get your Kinks out. And you need to get them out, as I have Learned, "IN THE SUMMERTIME!!!!"
The shoot comes. I am ragged. I have cared for everyone else's needs.The delight of shopping for my character's corset becomes a chore. My Character - Madame X- is a Jewish Mother Dominatrix. I loved the humor in the irony of taking care of everyone and disciplining no one - especially herself - As a method actress I was going places. And Phil kept saying they were good without me. Then Phil would call me up and ask for me to produce ten actors overnight. Or tell me to do one thing. I would do it. He would forget he told me. Or deny it. If phil wanted a raging Bitchery of a performance he was doing his best to needle me into it. I worked til I cried an "Ocean of Water". I was Tippy Hedrum. Phil was Alfred Hitchcock . He wanted me to blog when I didn't have time to Blog, and would call me enough times while I was blogging that I would stop blogging - Plus I was attempting to help my "son" get a leg up in the stand up game - Taking him to San Diego's Comedy Store, Booking him in the Belly Room of the comedy store, and attempting to jump on chump money during an Arizona gig that was off the chain in terms of Gonzoid misery - Fuck 'Fear and Loathing!' Now Larry Malloy is a man the guys brought on board and he lent beautiful experience, equipment, and wisdom to the scene - Inspiring me to battle my addiction to tobacco (Which reared its ugly head) once again - God bless him. And while I wanted to walk away, Collapse, give up , etc, Phil's vison and Seamus's care for his industry buddies inspired my loyalty. "The true Intitiate proceeds regardless of the cost to the lower self".
The night before I shot my scenes with Actor Zane Helberg, Phil called. He was in a panic. He needed boardroom actors - Would I call around - Seamus tells me we don't need them- I call around again - cancel them - I have four hours to sleep when my roommate takes six times the amount of Insulin she needs and explains to me it is the wrong insulin and poison control instructs us to immediately go to the emergency room. We go across town to the hospital that takes us po folk - Broken by the taxman - I put .49 cents in my gas tank. I get to Phil an hour earlier than he would like the call to be for me - I insisted knowing how long it would take to dress properly. Phil is broken and bleary eyed like the character played by Saxx Carr - Zeus - a madman lost at work in his laboratory. His wife,Marcia ( a spicy beauty with a Japanese Brasilian heritage) consumes the bathroom/dressing room taking her shower - She has done all the makeup and whatever else her husband needed - She earns her shower- No bitchery from this diva - Phil, Marcia, Much, and Seamus, turned Phil and Marcia's bedroom into my dungeon! But THEN ---- SOMETHING APPOCOLYPTIC OCCURRED!!
The one true thing I could count on Phil for was good coffee. Solid coffee. Better than starbuck coffee - which is nowhere near my standards but will do - Messerer turns to me - I am injurred, sleepless, about to dup six inch boots - HE OFFERS ME INSTANT COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What?!?!?!? AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS? INSTANT FUCKING COFFEE!?!?!?!? John Lennon got the song wrong. It should be "Instant Coffee's gonna get ya! Gonna knock you right on your feet." I choke on my shock. Nightmare. Not true. I am not in this Hell. This is not my life. This is not my acting career, and THIS IS NOWHERE NEAR A DRY CAPPA-FUCKING-CINO BIYOTCH!!!!!!... I check myself. Check my humility - I am being tested - But ZEN - !!!! THE DOP (Director of Photography) shows up, and Philly - my buddy - Follows behind him like a puppy dog - " Good morning Larry, May I make you some Espresso?( Birds chirp in the air - I hear Snow White sigh) What?!?!!?!??!?!? MOTHER FUCKING WHAT?!?!?!? AFTER I PLACED MY NAKED PHOTO IN FRONT OF THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT IN THE FIRST SCENE OF "UNDERBELLY BLUES"???? I saw stars. I went somewhere crusty and filled with hatred. Instant coffee is Satan's Urine. I did not have the gas money to get home from this shoot. I was broke. Broke like every character in our movie - jonesing- jonesing- spiritually, addictively, desperately Jonesing to - Like the Kinks sing - "Live that life of Luxury."I just wanted a good cup of of coffee. I gave Phil what he wanted. Larry said it was award worthy. who knows. Everyone says it's funny. I cannot gauge my work. I improvised twice for twenty five minutes of high raging bitchery - "The Unbearable Lightness of Being Madame X". The only Compassion for myself, my challenges, my failings were to be found in that one good cup of coffeee. Phil and I have made up. I am in recovery now with the folks at Tazza Cafe. I have Gabe's beer to drink, Dry cappacino's, and Flying Dog Brew - Which I will always be true to - No matter the cost to the lower self.
Which brings me to my conclusion. Alice Bailey was wrong - The aspirant should proceed - yes - but not without compassion for the cost on the lower self. ... Our ego's , our hungers, our cuts, and our bruises - Our UNDERBELLIES! - The places we are soft and vulnerable and strive to hide. Our fear of losing control of our visions, dreams, successes... Our abused child,Our Janitor, Our bereaved mother, our stripper, our freak, our meth addict, Our pink slipped executive, our transgender, Our driver, our pimp, our faux Ganxsta - Our well-respected man about town who's doing the best he can - So conservatively and yes - "Ocean of Blood" - Our mother fucking cold killing mercenary who takes no pity. Always make time for good Coffee. Always make time for Good Beer. Always make time to Laze on a Sunny Afternoon. It is the only way to Treat - The "UNDERBELLY BLUES"
Amen. Awomen. And a couple of Flying Dog Beers with Some Strannahan Whiskey.
Bad coffee will make you buy nukes.
P.S. Adam Kokesh - Founder of Iraq Veterans Against the War - was recently bodyslammed and choked for dancing beneath the statue of Thomas Jefferson in Washington DC. IF I can't dance, it's not my evolution - So sayeth the OCEAN OF ROCK AND ROLL. Phunkedelic therapy. Mutate or get out.
Nice.
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