Thursday, June 17, 2010

Wild Bill Blackolive

CASSIDY AND CHANTEL VISIT THE COASTAL BEND



Suddenly Cassidy was out of prison. He was out slightly early, I think. I never got this exactly, he was doing seven years, I understood, though he caused trouble, next I think he was doing eight, but he did seven and a half.


His parents (white, middle class, loving) had arranged an apartment in Oregon, somewhere for him and mighty Chantel. Suddenly they emailed me from Austin, Tx. Then Cassidy called, from Austin. Suddenly they were in Corpus Christi, 20 miles from Aransas Pass in the Coastal Bend. Next they were here, Aransas Pass, Tx 78336.


Years back now in my living with my old mother Cassidy had contacted me, asking for my zine, BLACKOLIVE’S LAST LAUGH, telling me in one breath on paper he is an anarchist punk rocker doing 7 years for stealing socks. He was into zines. Likely all in first paragraph, I forget exactly, he spoke of having trouble because he proclaimed he hated “cops, racists, Nazis.” In Oregon prisons the officials would set the skinheads upon him, try to get him killed, as these nazi groups are the bigger gangs in the US Northwest. Next letter or so I heard his complaint the officials had let the skinheads steal all his books and papers (even his toothpaste) in his cell when he was out. At that point he was already contacting folks everywhere, Google Cassidy Wheeler. In our correspondence he got changed to different prisons in Oregon 4 times, for organizing, agitating. I got the ACLU into it, twice in those early years took calls from them while they visited prisoner Cassidy Wheeler, though when the 911 madness had them too busy for me and Cassidy, I quit them.


Correspondence always was aggravating. They would turn my envelopes to him back in any redneck excuse. They tried to get him killed and he fought a lot or sat in solitary. My first question to him had been: Are you a crazed hundred twenty pounder or a bold two hundred twenty pounder. His answer: I am more the crazed two hundred twenty pounder.


Meantime, he was reading, consuming. Dear Reader, Google Cassidy Wheeler.


I met him here and was surprised how average his size, pudgy, six one, smallish hands but medium bone structure, though a large head. For him to be any kind of true two-twenty would have taken a lot of weight lifting in prison, which mostly he did not. He had written that fighting he usually does alright. Here, in Aransas Pass, he told me, well, they see your eyes, and probably then back off. OK.


I am sitting here with Lyla who was ninety March 7 or 8 of 2010. A decade ago here Medicine Dog was young and troublesome, requiring two

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runs per day, but now he is 13, very arthritic. I have young Choyota, my female spayed from Lyla’s pressing in stress, after two litters with Medicine. Choyota is coyote/chow. Choyota is highly intelligent and still feral, and Lyla might barely pet Choyota, who is beautiful but Lyla identifies with Medicine and his arthritis. I sit here looking back….


How childish was I, stupid with females, obsessive. Firstly, being alien, I had to build myself against other male inanity. I like to fight. I guess this is OK, hell, it allowed me some asthmatic peace.


Cassidy called from Austin. He, and as well Chantel, knew people in Austin. Chantel had old friends in Austin while Cassidy knew these couple housemates, one a black guy who had done thirty something years in solitary before freedom, who looks pretty good, and his buddy this white individual who had traveled by bicycle thousands of miles in Asia. I did not this time get to find out how he knew these two stalwart men. I never this time did get to inquiring from Cassidy information particulars. His parents had presented this Oregon apartment for him and Chantel but he would there be on probation. Cassidy had had to move on. I said to him, hell, come on down, so what it is Xmas, you are family.


This was getting into holidays of Xmas of 2009. In that purpose was also here Mike Olive, fortunately. When Mike was in Corpus Christi twenty miles over with Judge RD Hatch III and David (Bix) Bayless, Cassidy/Chantel were getting off bus in Corpus. Mike called here asking was Cassidy in Corpus yet and they could ride with him and Hatch and Bix.


Cassidy and Chantel just missed that ride, were on bus coming straight to Aransas Pass, no stops in between somehow. As Lyla’s great helper Janet was leaving for her day, suddenly Cassidy called in Aransas Pass. Janet headed home but passing the bus stop she looked and saw this likely couple, with their packs and sacks. Astute Janet cell-phoned me, asked me to describe Cassidy. I did so poorly rather, she hollered from her car at him is he Cassidy Wheeler, and he said he was and Janet picked them up and brought them to here. I called over to Hatch’s Aransas Pass house then, where had arrived those three fellows and they came over and met Cassidy and Chantel.


Forsooth, Kelly Olive was also here, had just come in. Kelly entered house in Medicine Dog clamor (the favorite, next to their keeper) to see Mike and Hatch and Bix and Cassidy, Chantel. Maybe Kelly got here before did these others. Accept mine weak memory, Dear Reader, but I recall, still on my thoughts of being large or small in rat prison, I waved and laughed that Cassidy is not even bigger than we are. Chantel is short and plump and pretty and the alert woman, trying to gather this scene, she is a young 38, a 9 years older than Cassidy, both are Aquarius like is earthy Kelly who though is Aquarius, social. Cassidy’s knowledge came on in, of his work from imprisonment in the US where prisoners can get hands on books, often. Chantel mostly sat quietly. She was impressed I asked if


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she is Aquarius. She has not believed in Astrology. I had guessed Cassidy’s sign during our correspondence, though he is earthy, is on


the cusp of Earth sign Capricorn. Astrology is not my bag, I sometimes see possibilities, over decades, examples without greater study.


I presented my guests to their upstairs bedroom. A small room and double bed, this was the parents’ room. Now Lyla is too crippled to come upstairs.


At that point Cassidy had shared his West Coast good weed with Kelly and me. Kelly had to get back to Seguin, as usual. Lyla then was being unbothered. Mike was here, for Lyla, and memory has it to be next day was Xmas Eve. This was the least celebrated Xmas in history of Billy Eugene’s and Lyla’s kids. Lyla did not attend, I barely remember opening a couple gifts.


Cassidy had this passel of herb shop drugs from liberal Oregon, some to smoke, some to drink. The smokes seemed nothing good as pot, but there was this smoking herb that was witch doctor mind fuck. I did a bit with Cassidy, could see the effect was reality destruct like DMT. Cassidy said it is related to DMT.


That next early day, Lyla took greater pain in her legs and I helped Mike get her with wheelchair into pickup he had from Kelly’s Olive property on Medina River Hill Country – no correct license on farm truck so it be. Mike went with Lyla to Emergency in Aransas Pass, Tx 78336, this small town Emergency that is very busy unto chaotic.


I already had slugged down this large concoction Cassidy had fixed up, for we three, on deck, in chairs, looking out over country crazy crank desperation road and gnarled oak brush at Aransas Pass city limits.


Cassidy interestingly is the one person I have met other than myself who says he is a psychic adventurer. He said so, in years of prison reading, when he got my THE TORTILLA HIKE. He had been given his 7 or 8 years, he was this white delinquent already hip to computers and psychedelics. Right. He said to effect, hey, I hadn’t known you were such a “psychic adventurer.”


By time he and Chantel were here I had been days uncomfortable in my condition bodily. I have damaged joints of shoulders I now am outflanking, in routine, to repair, repair the joints via easy and long movements. I had been having trouble sleeping on shoulders, particularly my left, and it was giving me too much pain, this morning Mike took Lyla to Emergency in Aransas Pass. Psychedelics are blood thinners, and I knew stoned on psychedelics I would be free then of pain. There was more excuse to get whacked, and anyhoo we had Mike Olive to care for Lyla.


Before slugging down Cassidy’s concoction, we firstly this morning had done some smoking. Of these smoking herbs, Cassidy again gave me the related DMT thing, and this takes a human personality… into this warp.

The above writing is an extract from a longer work by Wild Bill. BEATNIK will inform anybody who's interested when the full story is available somewhere.

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