Bipolar II WordPress. The. Good and the Bad

Who Needs Acid When Your Brain Can Fly All By Itself?

For example.
Try and figure out what’s going on with WordPress.
It keeps swallowing up my pieces and putting them places I can’t get to easily – at least on the iPhone app. –
Luckily I had clumsily selected to receive copies of my published pieces via email (I was too lazy to change the setting) and that’s how I found out where it was.)

I love sharing this experience.
It happened when I was pretty young.

After a year (or two) after university, I left to pursue one of my other Passions –
Modern Dance.
A la Isadora Duncan style.

(In other words.)
I was primed for revolution.

Starting with my exposure to Black Radical politics of the 70s – you know, the forefathers of the black yuppies – while I attended a high school where I was a minority.
And I liked those politics.
Hey, c’mon.
What’s wrong with that?
Why is thatradical?

I loved the stuff.
The Blank Panthers.
I dug it.
Early stuff.
Operation Push.
When Jackson showed his ability to unite the Black People.
Through these auditorium filled meets on Saturdays.
I never attended one.
But a friend had asked me to go.
Now I regret that I didn’t.

When I was sixteen I found myself sitting between two Black Panther in a City of Chicago van. Then they received help from the city to organize. As a political and social entity.

Imagine doing that now.

That would be the equivalent of the US government saying:
This way, please. For terrorist training camp.


So there I was.
Slight and fragile.
Anchored on either side by two men made of bricks.
There was no way I was gonna get hurt sitting between them.

One was older.
In his forties.
He was my bodyguard.
He wore a black blazer.
And wore sunglasses –
(I think.
Can’t remember now.
Fucking ECT!)

Maybe it was the other guy?

The other one was younger.
Maybe late twenties to early thirties.
He was big and toned.
And his face reminded me of a snakes.
Good peripheral vision.
Eyes placed at the edge of the face.
And the face was designed similarly.
The most prominent part was the tip of a triangular design.
And that was – happened if you took a pencil and drew on line down the middle: forehead and nose.
To fill that pattern out, the rest of the face looked pulled back –
Like a snake’s.

(Sorry about that.
Have no idea if it makes any sense.)

He wore a hat on his head.
Not a beret.
But one of those wool hats that are flat on top and have a little visor up front …
Maybe he’s the one who wore the glasses.

I have no recollection of what we talked about –
But we did talk.
They asked me questions, I remember.
Especially the guy in the blazer.
While the other one mostly listened.

The purpose of the trip was to pick up supplies the city had donated to the organization –
Paper and writing supplies.
Office stuff.

(I don’t even remember that part!
But it may have been that the supplies were already in the van.)

They dropped me off first.
(I think.)
I think that because I remember having to climb over the big guy to get out.
(I think.)

But before that happened.
When they knew I was gonna be dropped off …
The one in the blazer handed me a couple of nuggets of Hash.

I was totally surprised.
But happy.
I felt as though we had connected in some deeper fashion.
And I saved it.

What differentiates me from others while aware there are others like me out there.

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