Monday, February 8, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Meditations with Sam Adams, Idiot Flesh, and the Breath of Bast
42 years ago...February 3, 1968...Bronx, New York, USA...I was spat forth from the silent Dark Void into the chaotic light of manifestation. The path to today has been fraught with love and hate, passion and violence, stillness and chaos, bounty and decadence. Self-loathing is an art, arrogance an obsession. Trust may be earned, but segregation is an instinct. Peace is a dream, and aggression is natural.
42 years ago...February 3, 1968...Tet Offensive...Hue City, Vietnam...nine US soldiers died for me. They were:
The 2nd Bn, 12th Cavalry
A Company:
PFC Frank A. Azzarito, Brookfield, CT
C Company:
SP4 Michael B. Cervera, Bloomfield, NJ
PFC Harold L. Gray, St Louis, MO
PFC Harold S. Higginbotham, Coral Gables, FL
PFC Edward W. Hughey, Sprott, AL
PFC David Quinones, New York, NY
HQ Company:
SGT Eugene D. Treadwell, Essex Center, VT
PFC Hoi T. Lau, Pasadena, CA
PFC Edward Manowski, Rowland Heights, CA
I honor their lives, and pray for their spirits.
Today...February 3, 2010...Valhalla, New York, USA...Cold bottles slowly disappear from the fridge, only to reappear one at a time on the counter, empty and at attention, like dead soldiers in formation. Soundscapes of art color my mind Fancy. Puffs of smoke carry my dreams back to the Dark Void.
~ Paul Ingrassia
42 years ago...February 3, 1968...Tet Offensive...Hue City, Vietnam...nine US soldiers died for me. They were:
The 2nd Bn, 12th Cavalry
A Company:
PFC Frank A. Azzarito, Brookfield, CT
C Company:
SP4 Michael B. Cervera, Bloomfield, NJ
PFC Harold L. Gray, St Louis, MO
PFC Harold S. Higginbotham, Coral Gables, FL
PFC Edward W. Hughey, Sprott, AL
PFC David Quinones, New York, NY
HQ Company:
SGT Eugene D. Treadwell, Essex Center, VT
PFC Hoi T. Lau, Pasadena, CA
PFC Edward Manowski, Rowland Heights, CA
I honor their lives, and pray for their spirits.
Today...February 3, 2010...Valhalla, New York, USA...Cold bottles slowly disappear from the fridge, only to reappear one at a time on the counter, empty and at attention, like dead soldiers in formation. Soundscapes of art color my mind Fancy. Puffs of smoke carry my dreams back to the Dark Void.
~ Paul Ingrassia
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