Sixties ha ha – shall cease — when the last of us dies. No, a major transfiguration with transubstantiation entering through the back door. To bring out the worst in us, allow me to posit: the beginning – going back to that – are all of you keeping up? Not on November 22, 1963 – most talented observers place that date the 60s started: I’m having trouble keeping my thoughts organized.
It began when the Interstate highways were completed, when the grain state, corn and wheat state universities exploded their money piles to build huge dormitories for their boys and women. About that time, Mario Salvo spoke up at Berkeley – I read TIME Magazine back then so I kept abreast. But the very instant the 60s began – was the very instant that last blob of rotted JFK flesh dropped off his bone. THAT’s when it stared – the Beatles had uplifted their minds to the slurpy, runaround God they sought. The PEAK – it lasted an hour (come on!). An hour at most. One lonely hour in over three millennia, however the message was lost when it ker-flopped into a sin hole, that’s what happened, so we or they could only go where a handful of people remember and that didn’t work.
Useless was this message. Stupid. Weak justification for hedonism. “A force of change in the world” I hear that and my guts twist so hard it’s like squeezing pee out of a towel. The previous set of words was inspired by “Star Spangled Banner” by Hendrix. The music revived the whole memory pile. What a drowned, forlorn picture I presented back then! If I don’t stop now, I’ll go clinical.