<![CDATA[A WIZARD'S GUIDE TO THE UNIVERSE - Blog]]>Mon, 19 Mar 2018 22:02:35 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[ A COSMIC OCCURENCE FOR THE AGES (DO YOU KNOW FINGERS?) PART 1]]>Sun, 27 Sep 2015 03:38:31 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/a-cosmic-occurence-for-the-ages-do-you-know-fingers     I first started living in Oregon about 1975. I first lived in the Columbia River George, in a tiny town called Coopey Falls. Then in a couple of years, I moved to Lincoln City, which is where I first heard about the Weiser Idaho Old Time Fiddlers Contest. Being a multi- instrumentalist that I was, along with the raring to go on any road trip, at the drop of a hat, propelled me into sacrificing my normal comfort zone by traveling as a passenger, with my lady friend in her VW van. I was so used to the height of my Chevy van's doors, that I banged my head on the top of the VW door frame, way too many times. You could say I took my lumps on this trip.
     Upon arriving in Weiser, it was certain that the party was on. People were in the streets, the bars were overflowing, tons of bikes were parked along the streets and the whole town was a buzz. We immediately went to find a place to set up camp. This place was called Mortimer's Island. There were campers, converted school buses, tents and vans everywhere. We settled in and took a well needed break from the very long drive we had just taken, when I noticed that one of my close neighbors was getting his fiddle out. I immediately grabbed my guitar and we started to jam. Holy smoke and I do mean smoke, this guy was taring up the fiddle like no one I had ever heard or played with before. He was able to ad-lib and embellish notes and moves to my compositions as if we had played together all of our lives. We became musical soul mates within minutes. For the next week we partied and jammed so much, that my fingers were bleeding from the hours of torturous abuse. My right thumb was shredded from the constant friction I had put it through. When your playing and you can't stop playing, because the music is so fuckin awesome and you are willingly suffering through it, so as to complete the tune perfectly, well.....,this is masochistic surrender. The music outweighs the pain and takes precedence over anything that can possibly interrupt it. This initial meeting, was the foundation of the story I am about to tell you. My new friend's name that he went by was Fingers The Fiddler. I came from the Oregon coast and he, from Utah, only to meet for the first time at Weiser, Idaho. By chance, our first meeting.
      After partying and preforming in some incredible jams and taking my music to new heights, it was time to go back to the Oregon coast. Sadly we parted ways but left each other our addresses so we could meet again. I was even invited to his wedding, but was never able to make it to Utah, to attend. We lost track of each other and for years all I could think about, was how I had finally found that person that was a perfect match for my musical style and that now, I had no idea where he lived, or if I would ever see, or join forces playing music with him again. After the tank had been filled, would the vehicle ever start again? Time marches on.
     During the next five years, I traveled all over the west and was in Santa Cruz, California for the very first time. I cruised downtown for a while and noticed that allot of young people were carousing about the storefronts and playing music and dancing colorfully, in this college town full of hippie types. Lots of tie-dyes. This was my style of action, so I randomly grabbed a T-shirt and was off to seek out and enjoy. I came upon a group of pickers and strummers, just getting down, on their prospective instruments. I stopped and listened with open ears and was impressed with the talent of this red headed mandolin player. The song that they were playing came to a crescendo and as the music stopped, this red headed stranger looked up at me and said these incredible words, " Do you know Fingers?..... "A bright light came on in my mind. I asked him, "You mean Fingers? Fingers the fiddler? You bet I know him." My mind was racing with memories of Weiser. Could this possibly be?  His response blew my mind so wide open, that my brains were temporarily scattered all over the universe. Upon collecting my thoughts back together, he then said, that Fingers lived just down the street and was having a birthday party. Apparently, when I had randomly chose a T-shit to wear, I chose my Weiser Idaho, Old Time Fiddlers Contest T-shirt and this is what he stared at while he was playing. The art design of guitars, fiddles and mandolins, displayed on the front of the shirt, propelled him into asking me the question, did I know Fingers? Over the years, Fingers had talked largely and told stories of our musical interlude in Weiser, Idaho and Woody, the mandolin player, was one of the interested recipients, of one of these stories. So putting all of these coincidences together, is what lead him to speaking the magic words that reunited me and my long lost musical soul-mate. ( Do you know Fingers? )
      We took off immediately and arrived at the house where Fingers was having his 26th birthday party. "Happy birthday!" I spoke with my eyes wide and my face aglow. What a shock to find me at his door, a supernova of excitement was bursting on the scene. The reuniting of two wizzzing asteroids in the same galaxy, retroactively seeking to burst into space and go play our musical hearts out. We shook off the shock and were ready to rock! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We grabbed our instruments and were off to the plaza to blow minds. We played and played and played some more in celebration of our cosmic reunification. A complete stranger, in a place that I had never been, asking me an amazing question, that I'll never forget, "( Do you know Fingers? )" This incredible moment in time, would change our lives forever. Two musical entities, colliding in space and time, only to create an amazing array of musical power, stretching out like a supernova of beautiful musical melodies, throughout the universe. This was an amazing moment in time, but there is another amazing moment that lye ahead, that would blow minds even further, into an infinitesimal place where our minds cannot fathom reality, one far beyond the grasp of our imagination. One that defies the odds.

      To be continued, my friends, stay tuned        Wizzzmo

<![CDATA[A COSMIC OCCURRENCE FOR THE AGES (FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS) PART 2]]>Sat, 26 Sep 2015 07:39:22 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/a-cosmic-occurrence-for-the-ages-follow-your-dreams-part-2     So when we last left our heroes, an amazing occurrence beyond definition, reunited two musical forces that would forever be in touch and never lose track of each other again. I traveled allot, following various poker tournaments around the country, but now every time I would be going from Oregon to Los Angeles, I'd be stopping in Santa Cruz for a few days to play marvelous music with my virtuoso friend Fingers. We'd play downtown, by the lighthouse, at various friend's houses, anywhere they would let us, we could not get enough of our natural fit. I always looked forward to our next meeting, knowing some day that we would meld our talents together and record our musical wizardry for the world to here.
     The new millennium would find me primed and ready to finally record my long awaited first CD. I had invested a large chunk of cash, in a limited liability corporation that showed much promise. I even opened up for a Save The Music fund raiser for VH1, amongst other great gigs that were centered around the Phoenix area. Things were going great, the first three months of recording found me in a new environment. I had never realized the work and precision it took to record my first tracks, but I stuck with my vision, till I lost steam with only seven guitar and vocal tracks recorded. I needed a break and took a half a year off to regain my momentum and my vision. During this time my friend Fingers and his wife Chris, were having another child and it was time to go back to Oregon, as being in Phoenix for so long was getting to me. I decided to go to Oceanside, California, and then, after a few days, work my way up the coast to Santa Cruz, where I would visit my friends and congratulate them on their newly born son.
      I leisurely took my time and was passing through Laguna Beach, when I spotted a bead store. I had been collecting old rare trade beads and was always exploring new bead shops that I had never been to. So like a pirate seeking treasure, I pulled my ship off the road, to see what delights awaited me and my crew. I was traveling with my dog friend, Kid, who also was wanting to stop for her own reasons. I ravaged the trade bead case and found many rare and unusual beads, some being highly collectible, 400-500 year old specimens of chevrons. Chevrons, that had been formed and designed, mainly by the Dutch and Italians, hundreds of years ago. I made a fairly large purchase, so as to add these rare treasures to my booty, but it was now time to get back on the road.
      I stood outside for awhile and was noticing how the hillside reminded me of this reoccurring dream that I often had. The plush green landscape and the one story houses, all lined up on top of each other, was just like a dream that I had dreamed many times. I decided to follow my dream and see where it would lead me. I started going up the hillside, observing the beautiful overgrowth, just like my dream. The houses, the lush plant growth and the beautiful sunny day, made for a nice afternoon interlude, but it was time to get back to the highway and continue my trip north to see Fingers' and Chris's new son. I zigzagged through the labyrinth of alleys and small streets and was one block away from the 101north, when I came to a stop sign. I came to a full stop by a laundromat and was ready to take off, when to my left I heard someone say, " Ray!" I turned my head and to my phantasmagorical amazement, my focus unveiled my eternal, cosmic, musical counterpart, FINGERS! Words cannot describe the shock and awe that had just entered my realm of reality. "Fingers " I spoke out, with my voice cracking, from me trying to grasp at reality and make sense of this overwhelming moment. Then, what to my wondering eyes did appear. Wow! I searched my soul for some deeper and inner meaning. The numbers, the odds, the incredible journey, stopping at the bead store and then my dream, taking me up into the hills and down the alleys, only to arrive at that stop sign, at the same time that Fingers, who thought he had forgotten his keys, would then turn around and see me and say my name, of which I would then respond in overwhelming disbelief. Wow! I believe that if a zero was the size of a penny, the length of zero's, the odds to 1ratio, for this occurrence, would stretch to the moon.
       After the reality set in, I parked and we scurried inside the building where Fingers was playing with a group of musicians, who were entertaining seniors. This charitable organization that Fingers worked for, was called Young At Heart. This was one of his steady gigs, entertaining at old folks homes and bringing life and awakening memories in these beautiful elderly souls and  magically making people feel happy and young again, through the power of his music. I would have to say that this gallant and heart warming soul is truly one of our American heroes. Giving without measure gives in return.
       We went down to some great seafood restaurant and marveled at our intertwining labyrinthine like paths and their undefined crossings. We tried still to figure out a deeper and higher meaning for all of this, in which we were left stuttering and dumbfounded. First, the complete stranger, in a place that I had never been, plucking me out, like a particular grain of sand, from a haboob. Then, me following a reoccurring dream that I had, up into the hills, only to descend and arrive at a particular place, at a particular time, on the corner of anywhere U.S.A. and to be there simultaneously, when Fingers turned his head to see me and then call my name. The odds to one ratio of this occurrence would stretch" to infinity and beyond. "
        I hope you enjoyed my favorite story, keep coming back for more great stories of my extensive wanderings throughout the universe. Further tales of my adventures await you         So till next blog,   Stay thirsty my friends                              Wizzzmo]]>
<![CDATA[JUST CALL ME KIRK]]>Wed, 02 Sep 2015 19:19:01 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/just-call-me-kirk       A while back, about 5 years ago, I was playing poker at a club in Seattle. The waitress, a Korean gal named Sunny, was the food and drink server for us players. Many times my food would arrive when I was involved in a hand. I would just hand her my money and she would say, "thank you Kirk, thank you. Well.... my name was not Kirk, but Captain Kirk, from Star Trek was a cool guy, so I just let it slide and allowed her to call me by that name.
        Months passed and I was still frequenting the joint, when I again got hungry. My order arrived and it was time to pay up.{ I have a bad hip and lower back problem, which makes walking a problem. I even use a red diamond willow staff to help me with my struggles that I have walking.} The bill came to about $7, so I handed her a ten spot and told her to keep the change. She then replied, "thank you Kirk, thank you," as she  had always done before. After months of calling me Kirk, it was time to clue her in on my real name. I said," Sunny, did you know my name is not Kirk? " She replied, "oh! what is your name?"  " I told her my name was Raymo. She then said, "oh Laymo, I didn't know." Upon hearing Laymo, a cripple man that I am said," hey Sunny, just call me Kirk." The laughs were loud when this all transpired and what was also funny was that she had no idea why we were laughing.

         Beam me up Scottie                      
         Stay thirsty my friends             Wizzzmo

<![CDATA[BREWSTER STORIES (12) THE GRAVEYARD]]>Mon, 31 Aug 2015 18:00:48 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/brewster-stories-12-the-graveyard      A couple score and two or three years ago, on a night something like this one. On a warm night, the night of the August full moon, just seemed like the perfect time for me and four of my cohorts to take some LSD and go do some nighttime nature tripping. One of the group claimed he knew where an old pioneer graveyard was, but you had to go across a long pasture and over one of the many pioneer erected walls that are strewn all across upstate N.Y., then into bushes taller then us to find this overgrown cemetery and it's gravestones. This sounded awesome, so we all dropped a tab of some barrel acid and got into my car to find these very old, hidden burial grounds.
      We drove towards Carmel, just about 10 miles out of Brewster. Then down some old back roads and found a place to park on the side of the road. The sky was brightly lit by the full moon and flashlights were not needed to see. The meadow was a pale grayish silver and we all started briskly walking, then running towards the stone wall in the distance. After that 1,000ft dash, we came upon a wall of placed stones. This stacked stone wall was long and surrounded the pasture we had just ran through. Now it was time to hop over the wall and start searching for whatever we could find. The LSD in our systems was flowing fast as we maneuvered over the wall one by one. The thick bushes, we were now in, made it hard to see anybody else, but we could hear each other and that was good enough, until one of the guys shouted out! " I found a grave." We all met up where Chris, who had yelled from the area of his find and were now finding a few more headstones amidst the many tall bushes. One of the dates read, that the women had died in the early 1700's and that she had been very old at the time of her passing. This made her born in the early 1600's. This was all so fascinating to me. These were some old forgotten graves that we were walking amongst, tripping our brains out on that night of the August full moon. Then.......,and this was really fucked up, this little asshole pushes over one of the gravestones! Holy shit! Everybody was freaking out over what this asshole had just done. Sacrilege! Then...there came a shrilling scream in the distance. A girls scream! We were all freaked out and what Chris had just done, but worse yet, the scream of a girl in the not so far distance, was even more frightening. We didn't know which way was up, as we went to investigate the origin of the scream. We came upon a house that was located down a steep slope and could see a screen door, from where a light was shinning and nothing much more. That's when the door abruptly opened and a man with a shotgun stood in the opening. He shouted, " Who's up there?" We were scared shitless and remained quiet and hidden, only about 100ft away, until Chris answered, " Nobody up here but us ghosts." That's when the man let his dog out. My feet were finding it hard to get traction, after all, I was running faster than Freddy Flintstone. Then, Chicky pushed me out of his way in trying to vamoose, I fell over a boulder, but was quick to get back up and scrambled back into the bushes and avoided the K-9 assault.  
        We were now back in the burial grounds again. The burial grounds that we so sacredly violated, before we heard that scream. It felt like we were trapped in a labyrinth of bushes, not knowing which way was out. When suddenly, we heard a sound. It sounded like a beeping space probe. Then, it started getting louder and louder and seemed to be coming right at us. Beep-beep..........beep....beep. We knew in our hearts we had disturbed some spirit and it was gonna get us. We were naturally confused from all the erratic steps which we had taken in our meandering about these hidden burial grounds and then the scream which lead us astray and now, we were being stalked by something unholy. Which way to go? It got more and more intense, as we got more and more confused. I then suggested that we follow the moon and eventually we will find the wall and get out of here. We hacked through the bushes with fear that the provoked spirit was gonna get us and punish us for the deeds we had done. Louder and louder and seemingly on our heels it was. The bushes started thinning and then the stone wall appeared. The sound of the beeping had gotten to the point where we were all overtaken with fear and were running for our lives. As we frantically  climbed over the wall the sound suddenly stopped. With all of us scared out of our wits, we then ran as fast as we could across that pasture and back to my car. We were all out of breath and now flying down the road at dangerous speeds, so as to get as far away from our LSD enhanced encounter with a pissed off spirit. This was very disturbing to me and my good friend Bob, who was part of this shotty posy. We were both brought up to respect the living and the dead and were both ashamed and embarrassed to be part of this disrespectful deed. 
      The gang had left and only me and Bob remained at my hideaway in Brewster. First daylight was coming on and we both were still tripping pretty heavily. We went in the backyard, which was now covered in an eerie, early morning, misty fog. We sat down in the grass, damp with dew and bubbling with life. I was in the midst of observing some microscopic worlds within and was watching life as it existed between the grass blades below me. Bob was sitting up erect with his eyes closed, feeling the millions of misty dewdrops on his cheeks. Only on LSD does one get these sensations of heightened awareness. This is the essence of life and we were experiencing some of it's fantastic rewards, right there in my backyard, on my lawn. I guess you can say we were at a high level of consciousness. That's when it came back. The disturbed spirit which we had left at the cemetery was now in my backyard. It somehow found us. The intermittent beeping sound started getting louder again. We were freaked! We decided to turn to God to help us send this spirit back to it's resting place. It was seemingly in our laps, when our thoughts of God became stronger and stronger. Within a few shattering moments of uncertainty, it was then gone. The beeping sound had disappeared from our ears. The spirit was appeased and sent back to it's grave. Bob and I were back at ease, knowing that the entity was gone from our realm of reality.
       I never to this day ever heard that sound again and hope I never do.

       Stay worthy to yourselves my friends          Wizzzmo

<![CDATA[REQUIEUM FOR JIM MORRISON]]>Thu, 06 Aug 2015 02:46:31 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/requium-for-jim-morrison     I was waiting for the sun to touch me, when you said "hello....I love you, won't you tell me your name?"
     Indian summer had come and gone, like our love.
     People are strange, but you were a wild child and I was a back door man.
     You.... The L.A. women who could light my fire and keep it burning, till the end of the night. Love me two times baby, love me twice today. Join me in my Spanish caravan, as I take you on a moonlight drive down love street.
     You make me real, but waiting for the sun to shine, is like being on board a ship of fools, who's only hope, is the cry," land ho!" There's no land. There's no light. They've been floating for a long time in their crystal ship, Fragile to the storm that would bring the end of the night to an unknown soldier. Not to touch the earth, or to see the sun, his odds of survival, five to one.
     Yes, this is the end. Though riders on the storm we weren't. I still loved her madly and when the music's over and we run for cover in the raging storm, with thunder and lightning flashing, there she will be. My eyes have seen you. I can see your face in my mind. An easy ride. My wild love, queen of the highway, on dawn's highway bleeding, amidst a crawling king snake. What a blue Sunday.
     So, awake! You angels and sailors. Curses, invocations, the world on fire. Lament. Strange days will follow, till we brake on through to the other side. So while we're waiting for the sun, let's get our kicks before the whole shit house goes up in flames. Light a fire for Jim, for we are stoned, immaculate, just waiting for the end to come.
     This is the end.
         My only friend, the end.
     I used 43 titles from the Doors song-list to complete this piece. I hope you enjoyed it.

     Keep your fire lit, my friends

<![CDATA[AN OREGON COUNTRY FAIR - LOVE AFFAIR]]>Sun, 05 Jul 2015 17:47:00 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/an-oregon-country-fair-love-affair     Since 1977, I have been going to the Oregon Country Fair. At the beginning, my fair experiences were enhanced by the core of beautiful people that attended this remarkable yearly event. I had a magic bubble that I blew around my van every time I entered the fair. I would float softly and unnoticed past everyone and answer all questions with the right words to get me to the next point and beyond, till I came to a spot under the shade of this beautiful tree in crafts parking. There, I would set up camp for me and my dog Ryan. The shade was necessary for my K-9 buddy and gave me peace of mind while exploring my new home. Fantastic times and vivacious memories of the music, the costumes and the beautiful women that I met, will always be imprinted in my brain. One of these women would sweep me off my feet and we would leave the fair together. Our predestined meeting at the barter circle would spark an Oregon Country Fair love affair from which I would never recover.
     This year I brought my 36ft. school bus, all decked out with seven beautiful air-brushed paintings of Mt. Hood, ocean scenes, a covered bridge and Timothy Lake, all of which were displayed on two sides and the back of my bus. I had just designed one of my Just Say Mo' T-shirts and was having a great time trading them at the barter circle, when Pam, who I had met earlier in the fair, wanted the T-shirt off my back. She had that look in her eyes that she might want more than my shirt, so I happily obliged her and took it off and gave it to her. We hung around each other for the next couple of hours and then, after lots of conversation, we realized that it would be great for her and I to just leave the fair and go on a spontaneous adventure together. I was an old pro at this spontaneity stuff, after all, my specialty in life was being a free spirit, always following the path ahead of me and seeking my destiny and dreams beyond the horizon that lye up ahead. Let's just go for it, being my motto. So we did.
     We spent our honeymoon in a Salem motel where we sanctified our spontaneous passionate love affair with a night of romance and release. The O.C.F. was the spring that sprung the fling that sent us hurling into the lofty clouds, where we would continue floating for days. We went through the Columbia River George and across the Bridge Of The Gods and then back to the Oregon Coast just digging on each other's company and making plans for our future. I knew it was love when upon waking up one morning, I was nibbling at her ears affectionately and noticed there was something in them. "Pam, what's that in your ears" I spoke. She started laughing and then told me she had put gum in her ears to muffle the sound of my snoring. I thought to myself, this must be love. I've been a snoring bear all my life, furry and hard to sleep in the same room with, but she said she would be able to cope with this problem, so all was fine with our continuing romance. She then told me that she worked at the food co-op in Arcata, California and needed to get back down there being she had never called work to let them know why she wasn't there. While on our way to California we passed through Lincoln City to drop off my bus and take my van, being it was easier to drive and it also got better gas mileage. Upon introducing her to my friends, I kidded around that we had been married and were on our honeymoon. A few of them went for it, after all, we were in love and on our way to Arcata to put her stuff in storage, so we may drive into the sunset hand in hand and follow our dreams of love and travel. Everything was wonderful. Little did we know, but we were soon to find out that she had been reported as a missing person and her friends and family were not knowing of her whereabouts. After a few calls, we cleared everything up with her loved ones and were now, not being sought after by the law. We had no idea of this threat of being arrested and just chalked it up to being irresponsible lovers, still floating in those lofty clouds of love. We continued our journey south to move her stuff out of her house and into storage. She had quit her job and got her check and we were now just putting the finishing touches on our future plans.
     We spent a couple of days cleaning the house and discussing a few discrepancies that we had. I was in favor of taking the van, where she preferred the bus. I had previously been on a bus trip to Santa Cruz, which was a trip from hell and had experienced lots of anguish and remorse on that initial launching of my bus. We came across our first disagreement and dilemma, but I convinced her that the van was the best choice. At least that's what I thought I had done.
     The next day we were invited to a party that her friends were throwing for her, being she was leaving. Kind of a going away party, you might say. I was not feeling very social that day and chose to hang out in the back yard near the garden. I must not have made a very good impression with her friends and I think her friends must have wondered why she was with me at all. I was not your stereotypical good looking guy and was about six years older than her. At least it seemed that way to me, because on our way back to the house she said she wanted to just sleep alone that evening. It was like taking a giant step down from the cloud I had been on for the 11 previous days. It was like I had been stabbed with a dagger. Devastation set in. My fantasy was ripped to shreds, I was in shock and not knowing what went wrong. For most of the evening I could not sleep wondering what was happening to my Oregon Country Fair, love affair. Was it just another love affair? Was it over? Now what's gonna happen? In the morning when I awoke, the feeling that encapsulated our Country Fair romance was not the same. Questions of our future romantic continuance seemed to have already been answered. We both knew it was over. Holy shit! She quit her job, moved into storage and was now homeless and without a job or a plan and there I was in Arcata not knowing what to do. What a whirlwind! At least it was still summertime. She learned that her sister was going to visit their folks and would meet her and give her a ride south to L.A. in a couple of days. I, feeling the sudden emptiness in my heart, would return to Oregon and maybe try to understand just what happened that day of the party. We had strangely, in the space of only a few hours, come down from the lofty clouds we had so lovingly inhabited, only to crash land in the harsh reality of life's uncertainty. What a ride we had been on. I didn't know what to think, only that it was over and it was time to move on down that path that lye ahead. So it was me and my trusty dog Ryan, hitting the lonely road once again, traveling on. We exchanged some numbers and I tried to get in touch with her through one of them at a later date, but was unsuccessful. I never seen her again, but was happy to have been part of an amazing love affair and romantic adventure that started at one of the most magical, mystical places on earth, The Oregon Country Fair.

      The Oregon Country Fair is still making dreams come to life.

      Live the love my friends                   Wizzzmo

<![CDATA[BLOG ME BABY BLOG ME BABY ALL NIGHT LONG]]>Wed, 03 Jun 2015 01:18:28 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/blog-me-baby-blog-me-baby-all-night-long     Blogging Town has had it's troubled times. Cannabis Eating Crabs From Outer Space took me to a different region in our vast Universe. Blogging went to shit! Stories got put on hold. Creativity in my humor blogs disappeared. Poof!
      HOWEVER! I've purchased a cam-corder and I will soon be moving in another direction. The first Wizzzmo Show will be coming to my site as soon as I can make my set worthy of what you would expect from the Wizzzmo. That's right, the Grand Wizzzmo Of Cannabistan will soon be in your living room with his music, humor and spirited creativity. You can only wonder what is next, for even I don't know. Your next stop,.............The High Light Zone.

        Keep on Keeping on my friends,      Wizzzmo

<![CDATA[BREWSTER STORIES (4) FREAK OUT FREDDY]]>Sat, 30 May 2015 18:25:00 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/brewster-stories-4-freak-out-freddy        Here I go again, reaching back into my memorium of stories so as to tell you 'bout an epic night that I experienced on a mountain down the tracks in the dark by the lake where we hung out.
         It was a hot summer night in Brewster N.Y. My Dad had built a summer home for our family a few years back and this is where I spent most of my summers. My friends and I were out to find a new hangout where the cops couldn't show up and try to bust everyone. I had heard of such a new place only that day. I heard we would have to go down the RR tracks about a half a mile. Then climb a mountain through fallen leaves that had been undisturbed for years probably slipping and sliding as we would be making our own trail. Then finally we would make it to the top." So what do you think everybody? "" Let's do it!"" Yea baby!"  I guess we were up for this one, so a group of us including my dear friends Bob and Diane took off to find this encampment.
         We walked down the tracks for quite some time till Squink (This older creepy kind of freaky guy with Charlie Manson type eyes) guided us to the base of the small mountain. That's where we all dropped a hit of some of this new LSD that he brought from Pennsylvania. We heard that others up on the mountain were all tripping. So, being adventure seekers as we were, we thought we'd take a hit and started climbing the mountain.
          This was not like any other acid I had previously tried. It was called STP coated Sunshine.  Orange barrel acid coated with heavy duty three day liquid acid. This we didn't know. (would it have made a difference?) Probably not. But it would have still been nice to know. We started our assent. Upward and onward we climbed. My blood was really pumping fast through my body as we arrived at the crest. It was a dimly lit summer sky that added to the shroud of mystery coming from all of the moving silhouettes of blanketed people I had never seen before. The acid was coming on really strong when we ran into some of the locals that had dropped some a few hours ago. They sure looked strange as we gathered around the giant campfire which was surrounded by large rocks. One was about five feet high. I wondered how it could have possibly gotten there? The Brady brothers were there along with Mike O'Brien and another local named Dennis or Wack. That's when Fred, who was acting very strange and not saying anything came up beside me and rubbed up against me. This was not happening. "Get the fuck off me you freak, go fuck mother nature or something." I firmly suggested to the weirded out normally straight Fred. Well....after a while, there he was humping on that big rock. His pants were half way down and he was grinding away on the boulder. We were all really fucked up, but not that fucked up. Fear of thinking we all were getting too high seeped into my brain. It was daunting. A loathing fear moved in like the dragons breath on a blood soaked battle field. Excalibur. " Quite the trip to this point. What do you think."
            I took a little spin around the encampment in which all of the leafless trees were dwarfed from the unshielded blowing winds that once graced this mountain top. Slowly moving silhouettes of monk-like figures in the shadows made for an eerie backdrop. The lightly lit night sky was starless and a strange smell of beans and fire smoke permeated the air. I needed to regroup with Diane and Bob so I set out to find them.
             With the Grim Reaper on my ass I arrived at the campfire. Everybody was staring at Freddy. He was sitting close to the fire just gazing into it. He was in a deep trance. His appearance was altered and his hair was like Robin Lopez's of the Blazers (Electrified). We all looked on. His face morphed into a devilish demon-like face and if you looked at him too long he would catch your gaze, then snap his head suddenly and look right into your eyes. Then he would point his finger at you and speak in some ancient phantom dialect "Rac shnat riddely bac nock shnar micknar. " and then stare back into the fire. Holy smokes! I'm totally freaked. I continued watching from a distance. We were all wondering if he'll ever come back to reality when someone yelled, "he's got his foot in the fire." Sure enough, all this time one of his feet had been partially lying in the fire. His sneaker was melted to his foot. Mike O'Brien, his good friend ran to the fire and pulled him away from it. The melted sneaker was smoldering. He was now receiving help from his friends and his brother Joey. What a Climax!" Let's get the fuck outta here," I cried. We all boogied and went to my house where I ended up tripping for way too long. I was tripping the next day and beyond. I Sure was glad when I finally came down and got some sleep.
             For years Freddy was never the same. A piece of his mind and his soul had been violated by some demon or something that night. This was one of the scariest trips I had ever been on and I didn't trip very much after that. I never seen Freddy after that night and could only wonder what it was like for him to have gone through that strange experience and be glad it wasn't me in his shoes.
   Stay hungry my friends for more tales from my memorium.
<![CDATA[FIRST RAINBOW - THEN SUNSHINE (A HIPPIE STORY)]]>Mon, 18 May 2015 03:28:28 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/first-rainbow-then-sunshine-a-hippie-story   In my younger mid twenties, I was traveling cross country quite often. What could be a better way to experience an adventure? I had been staying with my parents in Yonkers, N.Y. where I grew up. I worked construction for my Dad for a few months, trying to get some money together to go back out west, where I now decided I would be living and making my home. My total worth was not enough to buy another van, so I decided to take Rainbow up on her offer and accompany her in her station wagon, on a cross country trip, back to Oregon. I was not a solo unit at this time in my life, my companion and traveling partner was my dog Ryan, the coolest dog in the galaxy, no doubt. We went everywhere together, every time, every day, every every. You know what I mean.
    So the launching date came and I found myself with my dog on my parents front lawn. We were all hugging and saying goodbye, when I kinda felt as if something wasn't right and that it just didn't feel as if I was leaving. I even said to my Mom, that I really didn't feel right, but nonetheless we boarded the wagon and in a moment, we were off on our journey cross country. I was now a passenger, not a driver. I was not turning the wheel, I was not stepping on the brake, I was not in control. This was very strange to me and made me rather uncomfortable and extremely alert with eyes wide open at all times.
     We had been traveling for a while now and I was getting use to my part time passenger status, as I now was now driving most of the time. We were on our way westward and cruising on a warm day, when we incurred our first problem of the trip. Overheating." Oh well, no big deal, I'll fix it." It was hot and after getting some cool water from a nearby stream, I did the deed, I checked the hoses, fixed the cause of the problem and we got back on to the interstate. We were traveling through Michigan now, on this multi-lane interstate highway, that passes through Marshall. It was about 3 in the afternoon and we were just getting over having our first problem, when we had a blowout. The rear right tire was destroyed, but I was prepared with a spare and a good jack to fix it. I grabbed the tire iron and got out to observe and tackle the problem, when HOLY SHIT! fire was coming from the backside of the wheel, by the axle. In panic I grabbed this multi-gallon water bag and tried to fit it under the back bumper and squeeze it on the protruding flames. This was not working, as the fire was in the axle and water would not douse a grease fire anyway. The interstate had slowed to observe the spectacle, while from 200 feet away, running as fast as he could, was a truck driver with his fire extinguisher. He was aware of our dilemma and was playing the part of the knight in shining armor, So with extinguisher drawn, he lay white powder to the flame. The battle raged on. Wonderfully wielding his magic, he conquered the dragon dramatically and put it's wrath to rest. We stood by in near shock and was glorifying and praising him for his gallantry, when from out of nowhere the flames reappeared. The dragon was not done and the flames were worse than before. All of this was happening right underneath the gas tank and sticking around was no longer an option. We ran for the nearby hillside, while the brave truck driver flayed to rest his discharged weapon. The flames were growing out of control and the highway was frozen, with no way to quicken the infantries arrival. I realized that all my wares that made me who I was, were still on board. I had to make a decision. I could let my guitar, flute and my grandfather's violin, all burn in the wagon, or I could go back into the dragons fiery den and rescue my love, my musical instruments and my dreams. I knew what I had to do. Without hesitation, I ran back to the fire, knowing it could explode at any time. I flung open the door to the backseat, gabbed my instruments and turned to run, when my faithful friend and K9 companion jumped into the back seat. He thought it was time to leave. "Ryan" I yelled! "lets go!" He immediately responded and we fled the scene to the nearby hill where everybody was rooting us on. We were safe as I sat smiling and caressing the strings of my beautiful guitar, knowing that I had conquered the walls of the castle and escaped with my love and my life. The dragon blew his flames forty feet across the highway and consumed all of our remaining possessions. By the time the calvary arrived the fortress was burned to a crisp. Very little remained. I realized at that moment, why I felt the way I did, when I said goodbye to my family. The moment when I felt that I was not leaving with comfortable insight in going out west. I knew something wasn't right, just a feeling you could say, a premonition perhaps. Sensitivity, yes. As we sat in the back of the air conditioned State Trooper car, we wondered, just what would we do know? The only things that survived the battle were my instruments, a pair of Fry Boots of Rainbows, a pair of cut-offs that were in the middle of all my burnt clothes and a denim jacket patch that had these words on it, (Have A Nice Night). Cute!
     We slept at a nearby hotel and boarded a plane going back to N.Y. the very next day. I had been staying with my parents who had a homeowners policy that allowed me to collect on my losses and with a couple of receipts from my Dad's friends camera shop, I had enough money to buy a van, so I could get back out west, in the style I was most accustomed to. A hippie van.
     Funny, but hanging around Untermyer Park, which is where all the hippies gathered, I met a blond hippie chick that was very alluring and charmed me into taking her with me, on my trip back across the country. Yea right. You believe that shit? She wasn't charming, she was a dumb blond, a pretty, young, sweet looking girl, ready for adventure and I was just the guy to take her on one. Oh yea! I was like any other horny young hippie, wanting a beautiful babe to travel with. So there we went, my dog Ryan, me, and my new girl, Sunshine. Pretty funny! I left to go out west with a girl named Rainbow and we were turned away by the dragon. So I came back to strengthen my caravan and while doing so, met a fair maiden, by the name of Sunshine. What a bunch of hippies, Rainbow and Sunshine, etc. But now it was time for me to leave the east coast and go back out west. (The west is the best) We can only wait, as another story counts on time, to release it from it's grasp. So stay tunned, till next time.

      Keep truckin' my friends        Wizzzmo

<![CDATA[JOKES PUNS AND ITALIANDROMES (6)]]>Tue, 05 May 2015 08:02:06 GMThttp://wizzzmo.com/blog/jokes-puns-and-italiandromes-6     Why are so many Italians named Tony?............
      Because, when they were getting on the boat to come to America, many were stamped, To N.Y......... Hello statue? ,,,, No... it's a my cousin.... Of course it's me, liberty.
       Hey, do you know Tony spelled backwards is y-not. And why not? After all, ( go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog ) spelled backwards is the same-a-ting. That's -a- nice
       Hey..., Tony,... my doctor said I'm getting Alzheimer's disease. What am I gonna do........?       Hey, fugetta bout it.    Badda bing badda boom.
       What do you get when a Jamaican women has a baby with an Italian man ? ........A nice-a-little Pastafarian      lol
       And so I will say good night with another Italiandrome.
          Amore. Roma  and may we all break bread with our meatballs.
            Just don't break-a-my balls.
       Join me in a glass of wine my friends        Wizzzmo]]>