Dark Star: An Oral Biography of Jerry Garcia
This content was published June 28, 2024. … Jerry Garcia was in bad shape. At a sound check, he disappeared for 45 minutes. When he came back, there was a plastic shower cap on his head. When smoking heroin, Jerry wore the cap to keep his hair from falling into the fire. This time, he forgot to take the cap off. The show went on anyway.
This is from the epilogue to Dark Star: An Oral Biography of Jerry Garcia. DSAOBOJG was curated by Robert Greenfield, who put together a lovely story about The Rolling Stones 1972 tour. This book later became a podcast series.
Jerry saw his father drown, when Jerry was very young. Clifford “Tiff” Garcia, Jerry’s older brother, cut off one of Jerry’s fingers. Jerry made a living giving guitar lessons in Palo Alto. Somehow this evolved into playing in a Jug Band, which became the Grateful Dead. At this point the story is well known, and a part of sixties lore.
To this reader, the turning point is when Pigpen dies in 1973. The band kept playing. The ouroboros grew and festered. Again, this is familiar to anyone with access to a deadhead. What was not public knowledge was Jerry’s junkie problem. Jerry never shot heroin, but rather smoked it off aluminum foil, aka chasing the dragon.
I first heard about Heroin Jerry in 1986, after he had a diabetic coma. I appreciate athletic substance use in rockandroll, but never did quite imagine Jerry as a junkie. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention when he was busted freebasing cocaine in Golden Gate park. Aside from the heroin, Jerry was severely diabetic, and yet ate sweets and junk food. It is a miracle that he made it to 1995.
Jerry had other issues. He treated the women in his life horribly. He was married either three or four times, and had a collection of daughters. The book has interviews with many of the ladies, and much more detail. There are many other counterculture metaphors metastasizing. I just want to put this book on the shelf, and move on. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Jack Delano took the social media picture in March 1941. “Family
who had moved out of Santee-Cooper Basin, washing clothes on their “new” farm near Moncks Corner, South Carolina” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Whitman Drabbles
You felons on trial in courts, You convicts in prison-cells, you sentenced assassins chain’d and handcuff’d with iron, Who am I too that I am not on trial or in prison? Me ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain’d with iron, or my ankles with iron? You prostitutes flaunting over the trottoirs or obscene in your rooms, Who am I that I should call you more obscene than myself? O culpable! I acknowledge—I expose! (O admirers, praise not me—compliment not me—you make me wince, I see what you do not—I know what you do not.)
… compact truth of the world, There shall be no subject too pronounced—all works shall illustrate the divine law of indirections. What do you suppose creation is? What do you suppose will satisfy the soul, except to walk free and own no superior? What do you suppose I would intimate to you in a hundred ways, but that man or woman is as good as God? And that there is no God any more divine than Yourself? And that that is what the oldest and newest myths finally mean? And that you or any one must approach creations through such laws?
Be composed—be at ease with me—I am Walt Whitman, liberal and lusty as Nature, Not till the sun excludes you do I exclude you, Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you and the leaves to rustle for you, do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for you. My girl I appoint with you an appointment, and I charge you that you make preparation to be worthy to meet me, And I charge you that you be patient and perfect till I come. Till then I salute you with a significant look that you do not forget me.
Of persons arrived at high positions, ceremonies, wealth, scholarships, and the like; (To me all that those persons have arrived at sinks away from them, except as it results to their bodies and souls, So that often to me they appear gaunt and naked, And often to me each one mocks the others, and mocks himself or herself, And of each one the core of life, namely happiness, is full of the rotten excrement of maggots, And often to me those men and women pass unwittingly the true realities of life, and go toward false realities, And often to me they are alive after what custom has served them, but nothing more, And often to me they are sad, hasty, unwaked sonnambules walking the dusk.)
Unfolded out of the folds of the woman man comes unfolded, and is always to come unfolded, Unfolded only out of the superbest woman of the earth is to come the superbest man of the earth, Unfolded out of the friendliest woman is to come the friendliest man, Unfolded only out of the perfect body of a woman can a man be form’d of perfect body, Unfolded only out of the inimitable poems of woman can come the poems of man, (only thence have my poems come;) Unfolded out of the strong and arrogant woman I love, only thence …
… can appear the strong and arrogant man I love, Unfolded by brawny embraces from the well-muscled woman love, only thence come the brawny embraces of the man, Unfolded out of the folds of the woman’s brain come all the folds of the man’s brain, duly obedient, Unfolded out of the justice of the woman all justice is unfolded, Unfolded out of the sympathy of the woman is all sympathy; A man is a great thing upon the earth and through eternity, but every of the greatness of man is unfolded out of woman; First the man is shaped in the woman, he can then be shaped in himself.
These drabbles are taken from Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman. The text used today is from The Project Gutenberg. This collection of drabbles is a birthday gift to Mr. Whitman, who graced our planet from May 31, 1819 to March 26, 1892. The poems drabbled today are found in BOOK XXIV. AUTUMN RIVULETS: You Felons on Trial in Courts, Laws for Creations, To a Common Prostitute, Thought, Unfolded out of the Folds. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Marjory Collins took the social media picture in February 1943. “New York, New York O’Reilly’s at Third Avenue and Fifty-Fourth Street, on Saturday night” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Tetragrammaton
The content was published May 6, 2010. … I foolishly answered the question “If you’re not proclaiming the Gospel, why not?”. My reasoning involved non agreement and good taste, and soon found myself in a fun filled dialog. After the third entry, someone named “Otternam” made this observation: “Zach, I was anon earlier, but I can talk now… chamblee is a troll, so don’t play too rough, ok? I can’t tell if he is Jewish or simply superstitious with the whole G-d wordplay… Id just cut to the chase and use the tetragrammaton” … This is a family blog, and the x rated evidence I could supply (re: am I Jewish?) is not conclusive in the modern USA. Readers will just have to take my word that I am a recovering baptist. In addition, I had never heard of the tetragrammaton. (Zach, the blog owner, used the phrase “decalogue of Exodus 20” to refer to the Ten Commandments.)
Tetragrammaton is four letters which represent the God of Israel. The four letters are YHWH. This is not a song by the Village People. The pronunciation is disputed, and some say it should not be spoken aloud anyway. Many say it is Yahwah, which sounds really cool with a southern accent. Yahwah come back now, heah. … At some point, YHWH degenerated into Jehovah, God, and Allah. The third commandment prohibits the improper use of sacred names, but that doesn’t stop very many people. The internet is not inhibited either, and a website for Tetragrammaton is in operation. … In 2026, another Tetragrammaton is a very fine podcast starring Rick Rubin.
This content was published May 11, 2010. … I left the job interview, and headed to the dmv. The man said to get a mvr, which is something you want to hear at the end of a job interview.The Department of Motor Vehicles is a place where you wait. It is not possible to get through in less than an hour. For emergencies like this, I keep a book in my vehicle. Today the book is Tales From Margaritaville, by Jimmy Buffet. I was at a yard sale once, in the hottest part of the summer. TOM was on sale for one dollar, and I was going to pass. When I got back to my bike, the creeping heat told me to go back up the driveway and buy that book.
The lady in front of me has a birth certificate from Miami, Florida. Why are Miami birth certificates so pretty, when the Fulton county thing I have is a negative image copy, ugly as sin? … There are two old ladies in line before the lady from Miami. They both have hair dyed some hideous shade of faux blonde. Whatever happened to letting your hair go white, and being proud of living that long? … So I got my number, and found a plastic chair that seemed clean. For the next forty five minutes, every time a number was announced, I would look up at the lightboxes above the booths. This did not make the number come up any faster. I soon realized that every time I had been in a government waiting room, my number got called, if only I waited long enough.
Back to the book, which was a series of short stories, told in easy to read sentences. The first story was about a bartender in Key West, who tried to drown himself in waist deep water off the shore. He heard the phone ring in his house, and he decided to go back and answer. It was the phone company, calling to say it was cutting off his service for not paying his bill. When that was over, he was so angry, he decided he wanted to live. … The next tale was about a young man who meets his rock and roll star hero, and winds up hanging out with him. The hero tells the young man there are rules for becoming a star. They were (in paraphrased, copyright dodging form) the bar owner is your enemy, some folks are elbows, and will always be like that, and stay out of police custody. The rockstar is telling stories that get wilder and wilder, like the time he was playing in Montana, the audience was breaking the Guinness record for drinking cheap beer, and his bass player and keyboard man are fighting on stage. Before this story was over, the number was called, and I got my mvr. How the story turned out will have to wait until the next waiting room.
This content was published May 16, 2010. … Sarah Palin recently spoke at the NRA convention in Charlotte NC. She told redneck jokes. · “Some of these animal activists are just … crazy. They think we’re killing Bambi’s mother. I love animals, but in Alaska, Bambi’s mother is dinner.” · “You’re a redneck if you’ve ever had dinner on a ping pong table.” · “You’re a redneck if you’ve ever had a custody fight over a hunting dog. Well, Todd and I haven’t, but we’ve got friends who have!” · “You’re a redneck if your honeymoon was a hunting trip. That was us!”
“You’re a redneck if you’ve ever used a fishing license as ID.” · “You’re a redneck if you’ve ever slept in the back of a pickup rather than pay for a hotel. · “You’re a redneck if you’ve ever said to your husband, ‘Honey, move the transmission so I can take a bath.’ · “And you’re a redneck if you think the last words of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ are ‘PLAY BALL!” · “You’re a redneck if your daughter’s babydaddy calls himself a f*****g redneck on facebook.” · Thank you Matt Taibbi and the NY Daily News. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Jack Delano took the social media picture in March 1941. “Young girl lives in this shack with her husband who works at Fort Bragg. In a settlement near Manchester, North Carolina” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Wired
This content was published May 24, 2019. … Wired: The Short Life and Fast Times of John Belushi was at the Chamblee library, and I took it home. The book begins in 1979, when John was making The Blues Brothers. People were already worried about the amount of cocaine John was doing. The white powder drama gets deeper and deeper, for 405 pages, until John dies March 5, 1982.
Wired has the feel of an endurance contest. The drugs, and the bad behavior, pile up and up. It is similar to Ladies and gentlemen – Lenny Bruce!! The first chapter of LAGLB is a 60 page look at a day in the life of a junkie. The geezing gets tiresome, and the climactic OD comes as a relief.
Bob Woodward is the copyright holder of Wired. He is better known for political writing, most notably about Watergate. Mr. Woodward is frequently criticized. The one comment that keeps coming up is by Joan Didion. In a New York Review of Books essay, Ms. Didion says that “measurable cerebral activity is virtually absent” from Woodward’s books.
Wired is reasonably easy to read, in spite of Mr. Woodward. He feels obligated to explain things. The Police were “an English new wave music group.” The book feels like it is written for people who think drug use is simultaneously terrible, and fascinating.
This attitude is seen in a Washington Post story about the book. “The strongest criticism of the book by those who knew Belushi–who played the chief fraternity prankster in “Animal House” and who was often featured as a huge, overstuffed bee on NBC’s “Saturday Night Live”–was that Woodward concentrated on the dark side of Belushi’s life, providing exacting details of the drugs, alcohol and tantrums that characterized his final days in Hollywood.”
One of the strongest critics of the book was Judy Jacklin Belushi, John’s widow. WaPo had an amazing quote. “The 33-year-old Belushi, who said she cooperated with Woodward for the book … because he was not part of the world of drugs and booze that Belushi thrived on, said that she now believes she made a mistake by allowing someone outside the drug culture to write the book. “He doesn’t tell the story that drugs can be fun … John and I both were drug users, and for a while it was fun.” … Judith Victoria Belushi-Pisano died from endometrial cancer July 5, 2024.
It is interesting to read Wired in 2019. After Mr. Belushi died, the federal government drug policy evolved. On the one hand, anti drug propaganda ramped up, along with drug testing and increased enforcement efforts. On the other hand, the Reagan government was using drug runners to take weapons to terrorists/freedom fighters in Central America. The planes were not empty when they came back to America. The story of drugs in America is bizarre.
Books are a way to pass the time, while you are waiting for other things to happen. You might say the same thing about drugs. Or you could just put both aside, and do something else. … Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Jack Delano took the social media picture in March 1941. “In the second story of tobacco barn used as living quarters by family of workers from Fort Bragg, North Carolina, near Fayetteville, North Carolina” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Another Roadside Attraction Part Two
This content was published May 9, 2016. … This is the second, and final, part of a chamblee54 book report on Another Roadside Attraction, by Thomas Eugene Robbins. The book is due back at the Chamblee library today. There are two possible reasons to hurry up, and finish reading the book. A overdue fine from the local library is less of a burden than a failing grade. The effect can be the same … not stopping to smell the verbal roses, but shovelling the animal product that facilitates growth. FWIW, part one is available for your perusal.
The first note is page 177. John Paul Ziller, and his wife Amanda, decline to get drunk. They consider alcohol to be an imperfect drug. This is a line that I remember from the 1978 reading of ARA. What was forgotten was Marx Marvelous, the narrator of the tale. He proceeds to get sloshed, and quotes Bertrand Russell: there is little difference between a man who eats too little and sees heaven, and a man who drinks too much and sees snakes.
Amanda replies that one of the men sees snakes. She says a lot of things in ARA. It is probably quite charming in person, especially when one is warm for her form. In the text, forty five years later, it can be rather annoying. On page 336, Marx Marvelous learns two things about Amanda: she loves him deeply, and is totally indifferent as to whether, or not, she sees him again. The concept of sexist condescension, germinating when ARA was written, has come to politically correct fruition in the age of Obama. If one is of the mind to do so, they could judge ARA harshly for this.
There is an order of renegade monks down the road from the Zillers. An associate, Plucky Purcell (more formally known as L. Westminster Purcell III) is a visitor at this facility. This residency is a marvel of totally unbelievable fiction, and is essential to the plot of ARA. The monks are a Vatican hit squad, and Purcell fits right in. In a stroke of impossible to forsee synchronicity, two *good* nuns stop by for a visit. They are Sister Elizabeth and Sister Hillary. They make two appearances… on page 183 and page 283. Amanda decides it is nun of her business.
The Zillers have a roadside zoo, and hot dog stand. It does not sell coffee, which is disappointing to many road warriors. “They stop for coffee, and feel cheated when they learn the meaning of meaning.” I first heard the phrase “meaning of meaning” in an eleventh grade history class. It was presided over by a basketball coach, who was not interested in the dribbles and shoots of wars and civilizations. For the first test, “Dudley Doo Right” asked the class to write three pages on the meaning of meaning.
As second time readers know, the essential character in ARA is the body of Jesus. It was in the Vatican, until Plucky Purcell found it, and brought it to the Ziller’s hot dog stand. In this edition of ARA, the mummified savior appears on page 222. This is one third of the anti christ. There is something cosmic about a dead Jesus having a numeric value equal to one third of beelzebub. Or maybe it is merely comic, and the author added the extra s by mistake.
One of the joys of google era reading is easy access to fact checking. (The proposed french word for google was a palindrome, googelegoog). On page 280, TER reports that Carmen Miranda wore size one shoes. The page wikiFeet for Maria do Carmo Miranda da Cunha has pictures, which appear to be larger than size one. The Celebrity Shoe Size List has Carmen Electra (size 7) and Carmen Kass (size 8.5,) but no Carmen Miranda. I suspect this diva detail to be an apparition of overactive imagination.
As ARA rambles on to the uplifting conclusion, a council of war is convened in the hot dog stand. The Zillers, Plucky Purcell, Marx Marvelous, and Mon Cul (John Paul Ziller’s pet baboon) try to decide what to do with the holy remains, known by now as “the corpse.” On page 290, there is a typo, unless “insited” is a scrabble approved word. On page 288, someone is called “utopianist.” This may reefer refer to utopia. A more whimsical vision sees a keyboard musician working for the United Thank Offering. Those Episcopals think of everything.
There are several sides in this debate. Amanda takes the historic approach, and washes her pretty hands of the corpse. Pontius Pilate hands her a bar of soap. Plucky Purcell wants to publicly display the corpse, with the idea of destroying the Catholic church. Marx Marvelous says that lots of Catholics are good people, and telling them that Jesus is dead would hurt their fee fees. Sister Elizabeth, and Sister Hillary, are used as examples.
In truth, the fictional debate has been rendered moot in the post Nixon, but not post racial, world. The Catholic church soldiers on. The revelation that *some* priests like to forcibly sodomize pre adolescent boys has barely mattered to the masses. The church has taken a (catho) licking, and kept on ticking. Co-dependent Protestantism does even better.
Page 290 was where I had to throw down the book in disgust. Plucky Purcell, backing down from his plan to destroy the church, admits that *Jesus* was a pretty good guy after all. Never mind that the story he quotes is from the Bible… written by hundreds of anonymous authors, hand copied by anonymous scribes, compiled and edited by the Romanized church, translated by a queer English king. How can you trust a book like that? And yet, the PR of Jesus persists. Even the most vicious critics of the modern Jesus worship church have a soft spot for the old boy.
One *page 69,* John Paul Ziller warns against anthromorphizing, or assigning human emotions to non-human animals. And yet, 222 pages later, the text anthromorphizes the cult of Jesus. It must work, because the conclusion of ARA leaves the Roman Pedophile Church intact. … Tom Robbins went to the hotdog stand in the sky February 9, 2025. Pictures today are from Georgia State University Library. The social media picture: Ford Motor Company mechanics, Lawrenceville”
©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Lewis Grizzard
This content was originally posted April 23, 2012. … If you lived in Atlanta between 1980 and 1994, you heard about Lewis Grizzard. Some people loved him. Deacon Lunchbox did not. Lewis told good old boy stories about growing up in rural Georgia. Many of them were enjoyable. Lewis also made social and political commentaries, which upset a few people.
I have mixed feelings about Lewis. The stories about Kathy Sue Loudermilk, and Catfish, could make your day. His opinions about gays, feminists, and anything non redneck, could get on your nerves. The column for the fishwrapper upset me at least twice a week.
In 1982, Lewis (a first-name-only celebrity) wrote a column about John Lennon. Lewis did not understand why Mr. Ono was such a big deal. I cut the column out of the fishwrapper, and put it in a box. Every few years, I would be looking for something, find that column, and get mad all over again.
The New Georgia Encyclopedia has a page about Lewis, which expresses some of these contradictions. “If Grizzard’s humor revealed the ambivalence amid affluence of the Sunbelt South, it reflected its conservative and increasingly angry politics as well. He was fond of reminding fault-finding Yankee immigrants that “Delta is ready when you are,” and, tired of assaults on the Confederate flag, he suggested sarcastically that white southerners should destroy every relic and reminder of the Civil War (1861-65), swear off molasses and grits, drop all references to the South, and begin instead to refer to their region as the “Lower East.” Grizzard also wore his homophobia and hatred for feminists on his sleeve, and one of the last of his books summed up his reaction to contemporary trends in its title, Haven’t Understood Anything since 1962 and Other Nekkid Truths.
In the end, which came in 1994, when he was only forty-seven, the lonely, insecure, oft-divorced, hard-drinking Grizzard proved to be the archetypal comic who could make everyone laugh but himself. He chronicled this decline and his various heart surgeries in I Took a Lickin’ and Kept on Tickin’, and Now I Believe in Miracles, published just before his final, fatal heart failure.”
As you may have discerned, Lewis McDonald Grizzard Jr. met his maker on March 20, 1994. He was 47. There was a valve in his heart that wasn’t right. The good news is that he stayed out of the army. At the time, Vietnam was the destination for most enlistees. The bad news is that his heart problems got worse and worse, until it finally killed him.
Sixteen years later, I found a website, Wired For Books. It is a collection of author interviews by Don Swaim, who ran many of them on a CBS radio show called Book
Beat. There are two interviews with Lewis. 1986 1987. One was done to promote My Daddy Was a Pistol and I’m a Son of A Gun. This was the story of Lewis Grizzard Senior, who was another mixed bag.
If you listen to those interviews, you might change your mind about Lewis. The one-liners and country boy stories are still there. Daddy Grizzard was a soldier, who went to war in Europe and Korea. The second one did something to him, he took to drinking, and was never quite right the rest of his life. His son adored him anyway. When you put yourself in those loafers for a while, you began to taste the ingredients, in that stew we called Lewis Grizzard.
I still remember the anger that those columns caused … I have my own story, and know when my toes are stepped on. The thing is, after listening to this show, I have an idea of why Lewis Grizzard wrote the things that he did. Maybe Lewis and I aren’t all that different after all. Pictures today are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library. The social media picture was taken October 31, 1956. “Wrecked police automobile” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Life And The Horror Of David F. Wallace
This content was published March 1, 2025. … I have been going for walks lately. Usually it is a half hour, up and down the path. I decided to stretch things out a bit this afternoon, and go to the library. This may have been pushing things too far. The mapmywalk app says I went 3.06 miles. My feet held up pretty well, but my right knee is none too happy. I am going to keep an ice pack on it for a while, rub some icy hot on it, and hope for the best.
The listening component has been this 160 minute talkathon about David Foster Wallace, written by Derek Swansson. DS talks about himself as much as about DFW, although with far happier results. The file was something I plucked out of archive-dot-org, and it was one of these videos with one picture for the entire visuals. The seminal video was 4.3 gigs, and it was a pain-in-the-ass to play. I had to download a media player, and follow arcane instructions, to save it as a 138mg audio file. This is now fairly easy to play, and I listened to it on the phone.
During my morning walk, I decided to go inside, take off my coat, take a piss, and continue with my walk. While this was going on, DS was talking about the decadence of Bret Easton Ellis, who was notoriously unkind about DFW. BEE was talking about totally depraved behavior in New York and California, which is not a bit surprising. DS came to the conclusion that BEE was a bigger prick than DFW… a notorious hetero sex/drug addict. Taking a piss break on a walk pales on the decadence scale next to the pre-rehab antics of Infinite Jest or …
When I write about other people, I like to use initials. Using the surname alone doesn’t sound right, and titles like mister, mrs, or, god forbid, ms, are too much work. Unfortunately, a middle name is not readily available for DS. I did ask Google what his middle name was … or his first name, or his real name … and I was referred to Chad Derek Swanson, on the Missouri State Highway Patrol Sex Offender Registry. In 2016, when CDS was 29 years old, he got in trouble with an 8 year old Female. The incident took place in Shawnee, OK.
David Foster Wallace And The Horror Of Life is the title of the show. The file was published September 18, 2017. The date is important. DFWATHOL appeared 7 years ago, and a lot has happened since then. But you knew that. It is around this time that the ME-TOO phenomenon got started, and one wonders if DFW would have been caught in that trap. The sexual proclivities of DFW had somehow escaped me until I heard this show, and I must say that it increases my opinion of him. Especially if he could perform while dosing on prescription anti-depression remedies.
DFWATHOL talks about gnosticism, and the archons. Gnostics had a different view of the world, which was highly inconvenient to conventional religions, especially after the concept of yahweh uber alles took root. … “ we arrive on Earth with two souls: an immortal soul that seeks union with our divine spirit, or True Self; and a mortal soul that identifies with the False Self and its attachments to the material world. The Gnostics further elaborated that the True God had given us our rational, immortal soul … “while the Demiurge (a.k.a Yahweh) was responsible for our sensuous, irrational, mortal soul …” · The spell check for Archon: Arson, Anchor
“there’s a hostile, jealous god known to the Gnostics as the demiurge, who created this calamitously fucked up world and now rules it, maliciously, with the help of inter-dimensional mind parasites, known as archons who stoke our pain and mental anguish so they can energetically consume it …” The transformation of “YHWH: The Kenite God of Metallurgy” into THE LORD is one of the greatest feats of marketing the world has ever known. The good ship DFWATHOL does not travel up that tributary, and if it had, it would have been a lot longer than it’s already debilitating 25k words.
I listened to the last twenty minutes or so while driving to dinner. I go to cici’s buffet in Peachtree Corners, even though it is terrible for me, and probably an outpost of corrosive Archon flavored capitalism. Whatever. I always go down Peachtree Industrial Boulevard past the shopping center, to the gas station where gas is always cheaper than in my neighborhood. Tonight, when I arrived, there was a lady talking about how straws are skinnier now than they used to be. I can’t say I ever noticed. This is the strangest pickup line I have heard in a while. … Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Arthur Rothstein took the featured photograph in June 1942. “Queens NY Nursery school at the Queensbridge housing project. Drinking milk”©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Page 123
This content was published March 7, 2008. … A blogger named Amber Rhea posted something called a meme the other day. Ms. Rhea got this meme from “After Hours” by Texasgoldengirl. The subtext at AH is “random discourse from a retired escort … virtue is insufficient temptation”
“123 meme” got my attention. I decided to use this to generate text to put between the pictures. “The rules: look up page 123 in the book that is nearest to you at this very minute · look for the fifth sentence · then post the three sentences that follow that fifth sentence on page 123.” … The book closest to me is “Webster’s Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary”. This volume has been a valuable ally since I got it in 1971. Nonetheless, it was a poor choice for this exercise.
The next book was “The Penguin Book of Gay Short Stories”. Page 123 was part of an excerpt from “My Father and Myself” by J.R. Ackerley. Here is the passage: “This was a thing I had never done before, reluctantly since and out of politeness if requested. It is a form of pleasure I myself have seldom enjoyed, passively or actively, preferring the kiss upon the lips, nor have I ever been good at it. Some technical skill seems required and a retraction of the teeth, which, perhaps because mine are too large or unsuitably arranged, seem always to get in the way.”
This content was published March 22, 2015. … It was a gray sunday afternoon. The sky drizzles onto the bright green baby weeds. Basketball dudes are dribbling before they shoot. If there was only a subject for a blog post, then all would be lovely. One answer is to look in the archive. There was a post in 2008 about page 123. “Look up page 123 in the book that is nearest to you at this very minute. Look for the fifth sentence. Then post the three sentences that follow that fifth sentence on page 123.”
The book nearest to the work station is an outlet store edition of “Leaves of Grass,” by Walt Whitman. There are two problems here. The book only has 109 pages. It is also full of poems, which do not contain sentences. LOG is digitally available, easy to copy/paste, but does not qualify.
The book under LOG, and technically closer to the work station, is Quiet Days in Clichy, by Henry Miller. (The last word, KLEE she, is a neighborhood in Paris.) The book was purchased at a yard sale in 1978, read with little enjoyment, pulled off the shelf in 2014, and rediscovered.
Mr. Miller apparently thought about the story in French, and then transcribed it in English. It is a great story. Two men live in Paris, scrounging meals where they can, and screwing a lot of ladies. One has a name similar to Anaïs Nin, who was an extramarital pal of Mr. Miller in those days.
The copy of QDIC here is an Evergreen Black Cat paperback, which sold for $.75. It is the classic back pocket paperback, measuring 4″x7″x 3/8″. The bookmark is one page 79, where the authorities came to visit the two men. There is a problem about screwing an underage girl. The authorities are impressed by the fact that the men write books, although not in French. The authorities leave. The men talk about the beauty of the under aged girl’s mother.
The one star reviews for QDIC are festive. Ivan Searcy I am a street photographer and have been living, 4 to 6 months a year in Paris, for the past 35 years. I was hoping that this book would reflect on the café and street life in Clichy during the 1930s, but all it did was to show that Miller is a psychopath that likes to abuse women. Even when he writes about sex, he is an amateur writer. I think that his claim to fame was that his books where ban in the US. Stewart D. Isbell “photostew” I purchased this book for the new Kindle for iPhone app and the book is not formatted properly. There are an endless amount of pages that only have one sentence, sometimes only one word! To read this book you have to flip through a huge amount of pages. Great book, and yes, it was only .80 cents but still… pretty much useless. Jamie E. Skelly get over yourself.
Maybe we should share what comes after the fifth sentence. “Tahe your time and get what you can out of the old buzzard. I have nothing to do,” I added. “I’ll sit here and wait. You’re going to have dinner with me, remember that.” Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. John Collier Jr. took the social media picture May 14, 1942. “Washington D.C. Filling up with gas on the day before rationing” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
David And Elton
This content was published March 24, 2023. … On page 327 of David Bowie: A Life, the Live Aid show goes down. One backstage reunion did not go well. “There wasn’t much love lost between David and Elton–perhaps they’d fallen out at some point …”
Elton John says he fell out with David Bowie over ‘token queen’ remark “David and I were not the best of friends towards the end. We started out being really good friends. We used to hang out together with Marc Bolan, going to gay clubs, but I think we just drifted apart…. He once called me “rock’n’roll’s token queen” in an interview with Rolling Stone, which I thought was a bit snooty. He wasn’t my cup of tea. No; I wasn’t his cup of tea”.
1975 was a different time. David Bowie was moving out of Ziggy Stardust, and became the Thin White Duke. At some point he starting doing lots of cocaine. On page 196 of DBAL, Jayne County has stories. “It was pretty obvious the David was taking coke. He became very skeletal in his appearance and began rattling off speeches that sounded meaningless to the rest of us–strange things about witchcraft, demons, and sexual prostitution in ancient times … weird things that made everyone nervous. He began to get paranoid and accusing people of ripping him off and stealing his drugs. … He had to have cartilage removed from one part of his body and put in his nose because the coke had eaten his nose cartilage away.”
While David was popular in 1975, and had a certain aesthetic aroma, Elton John was a phenomenon. Everything Elton touched went to Number One. Elton was one of the most popular solo acts the market ever sold. Maybe David was jealous of Elton’s success.
By all accounts, Elton did his share of “hooverizing.” In 1975, Elton was officially in the closet, although a lot of people knew otherwise. In one impossible to confirm story, a friend was working in an Atlanta club called Encore, later known as Backstreet. One busy night, he was in a hurry to get somewhere, and bumped into someone. The person he knocked over was Elton John.
The infamous Rolling Stone interview was part of the damage. “Rock & roll has been really bringing me down lately. It’s in great danger of becoming an immobile, sterile fascist that constantly spews its propaganda on every arm of the media. …. I mean, disco music is great. I used disco to get my first Number One single [“Fame”] but it’s an escapist’s way out. It’s musical soma. Rock & roll too — it will occupy and destroy you that way. It lets in lower elements and shadows that I don’t think are necessary. Rock has always been the devil’s music. You can’t convince me that it isn’t.”
Cameron Crowe How about specifics? Is Mick Jagger evil? David Bowie “Mick himself? Oh Lord no. He’s not unlike Elton John, who represents the token queen — like Liberace used to. No, I don’t think Mick is evil at all. He represents the sort of harmless, bourgeois kind of evil that one can accept with a shrug…. Actually, I wonder … I think I might have been a bloody good Hitler. I’d be an excellent dictator. Very eccentric and quite mad.”
Playboy Magazine gave David another chance to talk about Hitler. “I’d love to enter politics. I will one day. I’d adore to be Prime Minister. And, yes, I believe very strongly in fascism.” “Rock stars are fascists, too. Adolf Hitler was one of the first rock stars.” “PLAYBOY: How so?” BOWIE: “Think about it. Look at some of his films and see how he moved. I think he was quite as good as Jagger. It’s astounding. And, boy, when he hit that stage, he worked an audience. Good God! He was no politician. He was a media artist himself. He used politics and theatrics and created this thing that governed and controlled the show for those 12 years. The world will never see his like.”
PLAYBOY: “Last question. Do you believe and stand by everything you’ve said?” BOWIE: “Everything but the inflammatory remarks.” We don’t know whether a jab at Elton was inflammatory. “I consider myself responsible for a whole new school of pretensions–they know who they are. Don’t you, Elton? Just kidding. No, I’m not.”
Seven daily grams of coke (DBAL p.223) did not kill David Bowie. He soon moved on to make The Man Who Fell to Earth. People magazine helped out with the publicity. “No role could have suited David Bowie better in his first major movie than that of an inscrutable interplanetary traveler outfitted with human skin, sex organs, Ronald Reagan hair and humanoid pupils to slip in over his horizontal, mismatched feline slits.” Forty years before Donald Trump made the tangerine toupee cool, Ronald Reagan was prematurely orange. Pictures today are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library. The social media picture was taken August 11, 1965. “MGM party for Judson Moses at Aunt Fanny’s Cabin restaurant” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Didion & Babitz Part One
This content was published February 12, 2025. … Didion & Babitz has hit the streets, as anyone who reads instagram knows. Lilianne O’Lick knows how to sell the soap, as well as a dirty story that leaves many readers wanting a bath. This is not my first time with either Eve Babitz or LOL. D&B is the story of Eve Babitz and Joan Didion. … Neither lady had a middle name. Chamblee 54 has written about EB on several occasions. 123021 032622 010523 This is not the case with JD. I once had a paperback copy of The White Album … I never got past the abandoned gas station being the authentic west.
“Finishing Didion and Babitz has become a Herculean effort on my part. Lili Anolik clearly hates Joan Didion and continually criticizes and condemns her. This book should be called Loving Eve Babitz, Wench, Whore and Failed “Artist”. Anolik seems to fashion herself as a therapist, making some drastic, others ridiculous, excuses for Babit’s tawdry behavior. … This seemed to be an exercise in “look at my big word vocabulary. I’m going to repeat what I just said using big words that no one ever uses just to impress you. “ From an Amazon one-star review, “Loving Eve Loathing Joan,” by NFox.
(“The seventies in LA weren’t a decade under themselves but an extension of the previous decade: the Sixties the flower child, the seventies the juvenile delinquent that the flower child—a Bad Seed all along—grew into.” p. 124) The sixties were special, too beautiful to live, too profitable to die. Being a kid in Georgia was just one way to see it all. I had little notion of what was going on then in California, and by the time I started to get hip, California had Mansoned its way into a permanent Altamont. EB was playing the game, and the players.
Carrie White was a celebrity hairburner, who wrote a book Upper Cut: Highlights of My Hollywood Life. She is probably not the same Carrie White as the telekinetic teenager at the center of “Carrie” but one cannot be too certain. The CW in D&B went to Hollywood High with EB, and was in the glamour sorority that EB missed out on. CW remained close to Rosalind Frank, who was the fairest of them all in High School. Alas, life after graduation did not work out, and Miss Frank died an early, drug related death. This untimely demise got EB busy writing.
Page 168 sees the first appearance of Bret Easton Ellis, who simply had to be in this book. The first time I heard of EB was on the BEE podcast, which later had an appearance by LOL promoting her first book about EB. BEE idolized JD, and was a close friend of JD’s daughter Quintana Roo Dunne. It is rather poignant that BEE enters this narrative as part of a discussion about JG Dunn’s apparent taste for male company. John Gregory Dunne is the husband of JD, and the younger brother of Dominick John Dunne, … another bicoastal fudge packer.
I was trolling google, looking for dirt on JD … there is a small mountain of dirt on EB … and I stumbled onto a bit of clickbait, “It’s Time To Retire Joan Didion’s Most Famous Line.” The line is “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” I had probably heard it before. I process a lot of commodity wisdom these days. It goes in one eye and out the other … assuming that useless knowledge leaves the head the same way it gets in. Which brings us to page 211, where LOL ends a chapter with JDMFL.
There is a line about EB, whose inclusion in this feature is required by law: “In every young man’s life there is an Eve Babitz. It’s usually Eve Babitz.” Credit/blame for this tidbit is usually given to Earl McGrath. When “Eve’s Hollywood” came out, the line was on the blurb page, written by “anonymous.” EH “came out” in March 1974, with a glamor girl cover photo by Eve’s number one lady lover, Annie Leibovitz. D&B does not have any hint that EB and JD were cleaning carpets together. … Part two of D&B is available. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. “The social media picture: Unidentified soldier in Company H, Vermont uniform” ©Luther Mckinnon 2026 · selah
Didion & Babitz Part Two
This content was published February 21, 2025. … At 1838, February 19th 2025, I shut the cover on Didion & Babitz. Say what you will about author Lilliane O’Lick, she is one helluva storyteller. D&B was easy and fun to read. The book ends with a description of Joan Didion’s memorial, a star-studded celebrity event. Page 339 had one final bit of tackiness: “On the day Joan’s obituary appeared in the New York Times, journalist and podcaster Maris Kreizman took to Twitter. “I want to believe that Joan Didion lived an extra week out of spite so that she could officially outlive Eve Babitz.” p.339
The dedication page to Eve’s Hollywood mentions Steve Martin (the car.) The car is a 1965 VW, which Mr. Martin gave to EB. She later said “Linda Ronstadt was his girlfriend and I was his girlfriend and we were both doing him wrong.” EH was released in March 1974, about the same time I saw Mr. Martin open for Nitty Gritty Dirt Band at the Great Southeast Music Hall. Nobody in the Nitty Gritty crowd had any clue who this white suit wearing banjo player was. John McEuen kept stumbling into the microphone, saying “this guy cracks me up.” p. 215
”Huntington’s disease (HD) is named after George Huntington, who described it among residents of East Hampton, Long Island in 1872. It is a hereditary neurodegenerative disease.” HD claimed both EB, and her father, Sol Babitz. EB was aware of her fate for many years. The most famous victim of HD was Woody Guthrie. Many speculated that son Arlo would get HD, but he never did. “Woody’s most productive time artistically was in the 5 years immediately preceding the onset of overt symptoms of HD. I hypothesize that subclinical HD may have been an important driving force behind Woody Guthrie’s creativity.” p. 244
We know little about LOL. She was 32 in 2010, and went to Princeton, after doing high school somewhere else. LOL has the same last name as her Manhattan Doctor husband, but leaves no clues about her maiden name. We do have “A note my older boy, Ike, left on my pillow Valentine’s Day 2020” “DEAR MOM YOU AR WORM AND COTULY AND YOU HAD SEX WITH BREAT ESTIN ELIS BUT DONT TRY TO HIDE IT FROM ME NAW LETS GET DOWN TO BUSINESS I WANT TO GO TO THE NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM THIS WEEKEND AND I WANT NO ARGUING ABOUT IT”
Page 290 marks the return of Bret Easton Ellis. EB tuned in to “Less Than Zero,” which made BEE a star before he was old enough to (legally) drink. EB compared BEE to Jim Morrison, … another way that People Are Strange. BEE met EB for dinner about this time. There is no word on whether BEE was EB’s dessert. This was about the time AIDS was becoming obnoxious, and EB decided to tone down the whore-of-babylon act. The bi-leaning-gay Paul Ruscha had been a long playing EB boyfriend, which probably has nothing to do with any of this.
On May 7, 2000, JD appeared on In Depth, a PBS talk show. After a polite discussion, and a chance to promote here most recent book, the show was opened up to callers. One of the callers was EB, who introduced herself as “a friend of Joan’s from Hollywood.” JD dropped her stone face once, when EB said that JD’s house “was the first time I ever saw Spode china.” JD did not show much pizazz in that brief clip. I don’t know about the rest of the show, because I am not bored enough to watch it. JD was never known as a vibrant personality. p.306
There may be one defining difference between author and subject. EB wrote a piece about her near-fatal fire titled “I used to be charming.” Recently, LOL did an interview promoting D&B. “I always think of the last line of a Salinger short story, “Uncle Wiggily in Connecticut.” … “I was a nice girl once, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I?” I think about that all the time, because I used to be so polite. And now I’m just used to getting yelled at and told I’m a jerk or to go away. I just don’t mind at this point.”
Page 332 has EB in her final years. In 1997 EB was badly burned, and never fully recovered. That story is available elsewhere. By the time Donald J. Trump was President, EB had become a talk radio consuming conservative, to go with HD. LOL went to California frequently to have lunch with EB, and talked to her on the phone. In one of these conversations, EB asked “Where can I find a blouse the same shade of blue as Melania Trump’s eyes?” When I asked AI that. I found a description of the Ralph Lauren dress FLOTUS wore to her first inauguration. ““She looked simply flawless.” … This is the final installment of D&B. Part one is available. Pictures are from The Library of Congress. Arthur Rothstein took the featured photograph in June 1940. “Brooklyn NY. Red Hook housing development. Jimmy Caputo, seven years old, and Annette, three years old, at their nightly prayers.”
©Luther Mckinnon 2025 · selah
Ham On Rye
This content was published January 29, 2019. … Ham On Rye is due back at the library today. I could not renew it, because someone else had made a request. This was going to be a snow jam day, but it did not even deliver a good drizzle. Going bonkers over an inch of snow is an Atlanta tradition, and I would not have it any other way. Which does not write this book report.
HOR is about the childhood of Hank Chinaski, who is really Charles Bukowski. It seems like a dreary affair. Hank Sr. is a sadistic asshole. He gets off on beating his son. Mother sits back and does nothing. The story is set in depression Los Angeles, which adds to the morbid ambience of the tale.
A discerning reader can see the roots of the acorn that grew into Charles Bukowski. One of his few childhood friends had a basement full of home made wine. Charles went down there, and made a life long friend. Before long, daddy put a padlock on the basement.
Someone who will write Notes of a Dirty Old Man needs to get out of grammar school first. At some point, a near fatal case of acne hit. Hank was going to the hospital, and receiving acne cures that made daddy seem warm and fuzzy. Eventually, Hank went on to getting drunk whenever possible, and then fighting the person who supplied the hootch.
For all the horny talk, there is little sex in HOR. Hank goes to get drunk with some kid who had a hot mother. The kid passed out, and mama came home. Hank hits on mama. She pulls her skirt up. Her pussy hair is half gray, and not pretty like her head hair. Hank decides to go home instead.
Hank graduates from High School, gets a job in a department store, and gets fired within a week. Hank bounces around, wins a pile of money in a drinking contest, gets kicked out of the family house, and gets kicked out of a Filipino boarding house. Hank starts talking the pre-Pearl Harbor pro German talk, only to discover that the Nazis he meets are idiots. The story ends with the announcement of Pearl Harbor. Hank does not enlist.
A story like this needs a one star review. “I can handle depressing books. I actually steer away from anything too frothy. This one, I am afraid, would depress a circus clown after his best stage performance. Dark. Sad. No uplifting moments. I finished it, hoping it would have some redemption at the end. Wrong. Went from depressing to clinically depressing.” … Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. Russell Lee took the social media picture in August 1938.“Group of Negro women at revival meeting, La Forge, Missouri ©Luther Mckinnon 2025 · selah
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