House On Fire

One night back in 1971 my friend and I were returning from a Sha-Na-Na concert in Boston. Mark drove along the Jamaica Way and after rounding the circle at the entrance to Arnold's Arboretum he sped up toward Forest Hills. His Nova had a lot of pull for a V-6. Both of us were digging Jimi Hendrix's HOUSE BURNING DOWN on the 8-track, then Mark exclaimed, "Man, look at that."

A house was ablaze atop a hill.

There were no fire trucks in sight.

"Let's check this out." Mark exited from the Arborway and headed toward the conflagration.

We got out of the car and shouted out, "Is anyone in there?"

The house looked abandoned, but Mark wanted to make sure.

"Where you going?" I asked, because the flames were spreading down from the top floor.

"Making sure no one is in there." Mark stepped onto the porch, lifting his arm to shield himself from the heat. He backed away and I smelled that the fire had singed his jacket.

"No one's in there."

We heard the sirens of fire trucks.

"Let's go." Mark trotted back to his car. "If the cops come, they'll think we set it."

"They like neat stories."

We left the scene of our non-crime in the direction of Forest Hills Station. Concannon And Sennet was a bar beneath the elevated tracks. Beers cost twenty-fire cents and nothing quenched the taste of fire like a beer for a teenager.

To watch Hendrix's HOUSE BURNING DOWN, please go to the following URL

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnYWfVPT5aI

Jimmy Before He was Jimi

Jimi Hendrix Shotgun Live 1965 Night Train Backing Buddy & Stacey. Oldest Known Film Footage of Jimi Hendrix Playing Guitar On Nashville's Channel 5

To see this VDO please go to the following URL

http://www.zappinternet.com/video/tavTfoFhuR/El-primer-video-de-Jimi-Hendrix/

No Eyes for Jimmy

After the US Army discharged Jimi Hendrix in 1965, the Seattle native moved with drummer Billy Cox to Nashville. That city might have been home for the Country-Western scene, but for Hendrix and Cox it was someplace to call home while they were gigging on the Chittlin' Circuit. The two performed with Chuck Jackson, Slim Harpo, Tommy Tucker, Sam Cooke, and Jackie Wilson, but Hendrix hated playing a supporting role for these stars and moved to New York in hopes of becoming a headliner.

While winning #1 at the Apollo Theater, Hendrix had to support himself by touring with soul recording artists such as Wilson Pickett and I might have seen him in 1966 at BC High before his trip to London. No one in the audience other than a few black-cock struck Catholic school girls had eyes for the future immortal guitarist. Wilson Pickett was the center of attention with his hits MUSTANG SALLY and FUNKY BROADWAY. Within a year Jimi Hendrix would burn his guitar on the stage of the Monterrey Pop Festival.

The world would never be the same.

To see Jimi with the Wicked Wilson Pickett please go to the following URL

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9yIoVuUM-M

The Fire Of UnWealth

The riches of the world have flooded the coffers of banks and the elites. The middle class still dream about joining the upper classes, however their actual wealth is tied up in real estate mortgaged to the hilt. They own nothing and the situation is worse for the poor. The only way to regain equality is through theft. The same as how the wealthy accumulated their riches.

But better that everyone is equal.

Reject wealth.

Burn all possessions.

They are only theft.

Burn burn burn.

Of woman.

Of the people.

Rock on.

Randall's Island Now

In July of 1970 Randall's Island at the confluence of East River and Long Island Sound hosted the Randall's Island Pop Festival. The concert organizers originally had scheduled three-days of shows, however several headliners cancelled the third day. While Jimi Hendrix as always sold the show, the Village Voice called the gathering 'the day the music stopped.'

That weekend I was in Montreal with Irish friends dropping LSD.

I tried to hitchhike to New York.

They stopped me and I never stepped foot on Randall's Island.

Not until last Labor Day weekend.

While my boss traveled north with her husband to watch her niece's dressage trials, I took care of her pugs, Samson and Delilah. The old dogs and I liked to take it easy, but it was a beautiful afternoon and I had brought my bike. My boss had suggested a tour of Central Park, however the Manhattan's lung was rammed with tourists. I looked on the computer for an alternative. The Google map showed Randall's Island.

Bridges straddled the ancient island of Minnehanonck. I had driven over it countless times. I plotted the distance. It wasn't far away.

I rode along the East River

The tide was fierce.

Billions of sea acres washed through the river.

The current was strong.

I rode up to the pedestrian bridge.

Plastic trash littered the concrete.

On the other side everyone was having a good time.

Hot fun in the summertime.

I knew no one and no one invited me to join them.

It was 2015 and I couldn't blame, so I rode on past the soccer field.

The RFK Bridge spanned the straits.

I had shook the Senator's hand at a trolley station in Boston.

The year had been 1968. Boston.

He remains my hero

I loved everything about the Hell's Gate Bridge.

According to Wikipedia the engineering was so precise that when the last section of the main span was lifted into place, the final adjustment needed to join everything together was just 1⁄2 inch.

Perfection.

Or close to it.

Like no one sees anymore.

I thought pre-Roman.

Except the stone bridge dated back a hundred years to a time of civil unrest.

Workers were fodder, but also appreciative of their accomplishment from all angles.

The summer wind graced the afternoon without a whisper under the bridge's arches.

I forgot the greatness of Rome and admired the architecture.

Everyone else on the island was thinking BBQ.

Not football.

Not nothing.

And nothingness is easier to achieve than enlightenment.

Especially in the trees of Randalls Island and the Hell's Gate Bridge.

1915.

To see Jimi Hendrix at Randall's Island, please go to the following URL https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2-m6QRiEO0

House On Fire

One night back in 1971 my friend and I were returning from a Sha-Na-Na concert in Boston. Mark was driving along the Jamaica Way and after rounding the circle at the entrance to Arnold's Arboretum he sped up toward Forest Hills. Both of us were digging Jimi Hendrix's HOUSE BURNING DOWN, then Mark exclaimed, "Man, look at that."

A house was ablaze atop a hill.

There were no fire trucks in sight.

"Let's check this out." Mark exited from the Arborway and headed toward the conflagration.

We got out of the car and shouted out, "Is anyone in there?"

The house looked abandoned, but Mark wanted to make sure.

"Where you going?" I asked, because the flames were spreading down from the top floor.

"Making sure no one is in there." Mark stepped onto the porch, lifting his arm to shield himself from the heat. He backed away and I smelled that the fire had singed his jacket. We heard no screams and smelled no burning flesh.

"No one's in there."

We heard the sirens of fire trucks.

"Let's go." Mark trotted back to his car. He was holding weed. "If the cops come, they'll think we set it."

"They like neat stories."

We left the scene of our non-crime in the direction of Forest Hills Station. Concannon And Sennet was a bar beneath the elevated tracks. Beers cost twenty-fire cents and nothing quenched the taste of fire like a beer for a teenager.

To watch Hendrix's HOUSE BURNING DOWN, please go to the following URL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGyjcfR-dlY

YOU BET I COULD Uschi Obermaier

The other day Duncan Hannah posted a black and white photo of Uschi Obermaier. I was struck by her free beauty and the fact that I had never heard of the 1960s icon. In an article from the Independent Uschi railed against working-class Munich and said, "I used to wish for a plane crash, just for a bit of action. Where I lived, I felt nothing happens and nothing ever will happen." Like many youths of that time I knew this feeling of spiritual displacement. Uschi escaped a dour existence to become Germany's #1 groupie. Of Hendrix she recounted their affair at the Kempenski hotel, "He was the most beautiful of all my men. Making love with Jimi was one of the most profound experiences for me." Excuse me while I touch the sky. Later a radical she left Europe with a pimp. They were a cool couple. Now more than ever. ps