in case you missed....Lloyd and Hillwill - part 1

Part Two of Three - Lloyd and Hillwill

 

The Tattoo Artist

     I was still in the Air Force when I first met Hillwill. A good friend of mine, Paul Antonioli, brought him to my room on base. They came in and Hillwill leaned on a bookcase I used to divide the room and it almost toppled over. As he was straightening the books he noticed my collection of Edgar Cayce books and said he was interested in the one on hypnotism. I told him to take it home and read it but he wanted me to tell him about it. That night we got distracted with other things but a few weeks later he asked me to tell him what Cayce had said about hypnotism. We had become friends now so he opened up to me. He said he had a civilian friend in Marysville who wanted to hypnotize him. Hillwill said he trusted me to tell him straight and true and help him through this. What an unusual position for me to be in, I thought. No one had ever asked me for advice before. I went to meet this friend of my friend. His name was Rex Traylor and he was a tattoo artist. We left his shop and went to a restaurant nearby. Hillwill had described him as more than a friend, as like a brother to him. Rex didn’t have much to say to me not I to him. Afterward I tried to talk about it, struggling to find words to explain my findings to my friend.

     “He’s got internal silence, which is good, but it’s dead silence. He’s been dead inside long enough to be cold but not long enough to stink.”

     “He’s in some sort of covert group like a coven or something.” Hillwill said. “They hold séances and they want me to attend and get hypnotized.”

     “Oh shit! No way Hosea. Edgar Cayce was not a fan of hypnotism in his day and time and I don’t think there has been much safeguards added since then. He said there are too many loopholes and side effects that go with it. The poorly trained hypnotist can leave a residue of his or her consciousness in the subconscious of the subject. And of course, someone might fuck you up with a post hypnotic suggestion that conflicts and confuses you.” I gave it to him straight. “We just don’t know enough about it yet to play with it.”

     “They’ve been putting a lot of pressure on Rex for a few months now to get me in. I’ll either have to go along or lose his friendship.” He still seemed to be undecided.

     “It’s your ass.” I said.

     The next day Hillwill drove up the foothills to a favorite place of ours called Bridgeport to be around nature and think things over. He listened to the river and to the trees but his head was too crowded with conflicting voices to make any sense of it all. His Buddha had gotten lost in the shuffle and was not often seen any more. The high that Lloyd had brought only four or five weeks before had faded. He was ripe to be plucked.

     Hillwill came up the trail to his car and found that he had a flat tire. Not only that, but he had no jack and there was no one around. He’d picked a seldom-used area so he’d have a good chance of being alone. Then Rex Traylor drove up. Rex got his jack and helped change the tire. Rex was sure this would seal the deal with Hillwill.

     “Our lives and fates are tied together, you and I are brothers forever.” Rex told his friend.

     “I’ll come to the meeting but I won’t be hypnotized.” Hillwill told his friend.

     The next weekend I was at Hillwill’s apartment on base. He was fasting and I was smoking a joint of what we called K-Jay, reefer laced with Angel Dust, that is PCP. We were both drinking reefer tea and I was reading Kerouac aloud when the phone rang at ten-thirty. It was Rex. They were going to have a séance and they wanted Hillwill to be there at eleven-thirty. He said ok. We were getting our things together when a dark shadow passed over the room. The air became dense and stifling. Our nerves were fraying and we couldn’t breathe. We ran to the door and got a couple good snorts of fresh air.

     “Something came in over the phone”, I said, “something that wants our will.”

     “We got to get out of here but I ain’t going to that meeting. I’ll need a place to stay tonight.” He said.

     “Let’s go to my place.” I said.

     The pressure in the room was intense as we hurried our things out to his car with him clutching a Bible and me my Kerouac. We took Three Bridges Road scared all the way that something was going to jump up and get us. Back at my apartment in Linda, outside of Marysville, we felt better but the memory of that presence, that something that wanted our souls, would remain to remind us that there are forces in this world that you just don’t play with.

     A few days later Hillwill went to see Rex at his house in Maryville. Rex had a gun. He was depressed because he’d failed to pull Hillwill into the group. His status with the group was in jeopardy and he wanted to kill himself. He accused Hillwill of ruining everything and double crossing him. Rex put the small handgun to his head but Hillwill grabbed his hand and they locked into a battle for the weapon. They rolled over furniture and onto the floor in a desperate dance of wills. The gun eventually come loose and Hillwill held Rex down as long as he could. It seemed they stopped struggling and relaxed a bit. But Rex broke free and went for the gun as Hillwill made a gigantic flying tackle across the sofa onto a coffee table. More struggle and then a relaxed exhaustion again. Then Rex broke free again and they tussled and fought like this for over three hours until Rex’s girlfriend came home and held the gun on them to make them stop.

     The next day Rex received an invitation to go to San Francisco to study tattoo art with the renowned artist, Lyle Tuttle. He left immediately and he and Hillwill were still friends.

Hughie

     Hughie had come to my place once tagging along with Hillwill and Antonioli. Before he got in I wanted him out. He was just too flaky even for the likes of me. Now who am I to call someone else flaky when I’m peeling from both sides, over, under, and side ways down. But Hughie seemed to be a bit dizzy and never had a good word to say. Later I heard he had gotten a bad discharge from the Navy. So I turns out that Hughie was in Rex’s group and after Rex went to the City Hughie calls up Hillwill and tells him he’s going to kill him. Hillwill says fine, meet me at Four Corners at the Gulf station at four o’clock. So Hillwill shows up alone and unarmed and ready to die. Hughie drove by a few times but didn’t stop. We never saw or heard of him after that.

To City Lights

     Hillwill said he needed to find out more about his medallion and the Priest who issued it. All he knew was the name of his Priest was Han Ten Khanakammakan and he had taught at the Wat Pho Temple in Bangkok. I told him to get his Gold Duster cause I knew the place to go. Soon we were shooting the breeze past the Sutter Buttes on Highway Twenty, then south to I Five, and West on 80 to the City of the Bay, San Francisco. In a few hours we pulled up to City Lights Bookstore and parked in the rear. The clerk directed Hillwill to the basement while I made my way across the alley to the City Lights Bar. I recognized the owner, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, as one of the players at a card game. I sat at the bar and soon Mr. Ferlinghetti came to get his drink revised. I leaned over to speak to him but as I did a man abruptly sat on the stool between us cutting us off. The man was mumbling, to himself, I suppose, and Lawrence peeked around behind him and looked at me. I shrugged as if to say no, no, I’m not with him. This was not odd for the City at that time though.

     As Lawrence turned with his drink to go I leaned back and said, “Christ climbed down.” He stopped and looked at me. “Good one.” I said. “One of my favorites.”

     “Thanks, one of my favorites too.” He said, as the third man continued his monologue.

     An hour and a half later Hillwill had found out what he wanted to find out and we were rolling over the Oakland Bay Bridge. We stopped in Berkserkly at the Psychedelic Cab Company to see if Lloyd was working. A blackbeard who looked like a pirate told us Lloyd was probably up in North San Juan. He said Lloyd don’t live by no schedule.

     Back on the road Hillwill told me what he found out about his medallion. There were seven instead of five and there was a legend about the disciples smelling jasmine when the teacher was present in the third eye.

     “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Have you been burning a lot of jasmine incense?”

     “No, not at all, but I smell it and I’ve learned that when I do, I can look inside and the teacher will appear.” He said.

     “I just figured it was incense on your clothes.” Then I confessed. “Sometimes I think I can see him too.”

     This led to a long and great conversation in which we updated and rounded out our knowledge of the events of the last few months. Then as we peaked on the Yuba City Bridge I told him what I had found out at City Lights.

     “I had a good talk with one the clerks there. I asked for information about cults and covens that might be operating in this area. I told her about Rex and his group. She said they were probably an offshoot of a Bay Area group and maybe an Aleister Crowley magickal coven.”

     “Who?”

     “Aleister Crowley. She said he was a poet, mountain climber, and founder of early 1900’s secret societies.”

     “Yeah, I heard Rex mention the name.”

     “She said some of these groups pretend to be involved with Wicca, the worship of the Earth Goddess, which is benign, but they are actually into demonology.”

     “If the shoe fits…”

     “And Crowley lived at Loch Ness in 1904. I wonder if maybe he created the Loch Ness Monster?”

     “What?” Hillwill said.

     “Yeah, just think about it. Nessie was Crowley’s pet.”

     “Maybe it’s true!”

     “I’m gonna research it. Write a memo to the President.” I said.

     As I got out at my apartment in Linda we both felt closer to the center again.

     Hillwill asked the poetic question, “Do you know what time it is?”

     I looked at my bare wrist and said. “Yeah, it’s half pass a cow’s ass and a quarter to his nuts.”

     “No, seriously, Firefucker.” He said laughing. He was shining toward me.

     “The time is right, Mountainstryder.” I said.

     The next day we went to find Lloyd.

to be continued ---- Last Part: Back to Lloyd

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Consolation Prize

When things don’t work out
and you don’t win the first prize
and you feel just shit out of luck
not to worry, if you have a lover
just go home and fuck.

Old man Bob Barker
On that stupid price is god show
Says as often as a vacuum sucks
“Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t win.
But still, you can go home and fuck.”

Former President Clinton
now I really like the sound of that
and Senator Hillary, who wouldn’t suck
could do us all a favor now
if they, would just go home and fuck.

When the game is over and you’ve lost
So what, life goes on and on
No shame to lose but don’t get stuck
stroking to that great release
Oh yeah, just go home and fuck.

---

Twenty Horses

Stand clear, for I am Twenty Horses
Stand clear, and cover your ears
I am Twenty Horses
And these animals I raised to glory
These are as good as the War God’s Horses

As a young warrior
I went into the mountain
To find my purpose
“Keep twenty of the best
Of the War God’s horses

For your people, when fight comes.”
That I have done
And they called me, “Twenty Horses”

Now, that fight is done
But our spirit is not
The stand we made will stand forever.
On the Western Plains
I still ride with the wind
Feel my breeze
For I am Twenty Horses

---

Drunk Man Preaching

There’s a drunk man preaching
On a street corner night
Bible in his left hand
Bottle of bull in his right

There’s a drunk man preaching
As I walk on down the street
It’s fades into the mix
Of the noise of the world
Drunk man preaching
Becomes the cry of our species
All that is off-balance
The crux of the problem
Is right there
In the drunk man preaching
What the good book says is true
Don’t let your left hand know
What your right hand do
There’s a drunk man preaching
The power and the glory
Forever and ever, amen.