Saturday, March 01, 2008


Looking at the P.O. Box with scratches I felt very strange thinking of her putting her key into that very lucky numbered address. I had been coming to Hawaii for a number of years and had I known she lived that close to where I had been staying I don't know whether I would have tried to contact her or not.

Sitting on Joe's patio I could practically see the street she had lived on. It was right near the Community Center and Holy Ghost Church. They had changed all the numbers on her streets around that area just off the already very fragmented Lower Kula Road but I am sure it was basically the same.

I had wanted to talk to her for over two years now about a comment I had made on a video that used her image as well as mine. It was an arrogant declaration for dramatic effect and since the videographer decided to cut in her image I felt it gave the impression I was talking about her.

I complained about it because the thought that my stupid remark might be taken as an insult festered in me for a year. When I told the director I wanted to contact her about the video he said I just wanted to see her for other reasons not the question of copyrights or misunderstood content.

Posting on the Internet has opened my eyes to whys and what-fors of blogging. I have come to believe it maybe the most irresponsible, useless, self-center and dangerous thing one can do. With it, like the past, I must just let it be.

Only You


How bizarre it is when violent people are surprised when other generally peaceful people defend themselves when attacked. It is especially bizarre when it is a young fascist doing the attacking and an old hippie defending himself.

Now I do admit I have struggled in my life with a vow I took to proceed in a life of resistance to fascism, bigotry, racism, tyranny, and oppression while trying to use only non-violent actions. It has been a struggle that started from a violent early childhood and was dramatically altered when as a teenager I was lucky enough to have an epiphany while witnessing a brutal beating where I realize I had to step in to stop it. I have spoken many times about the indelible sound of the fists hitting the head of that kid from our rival town across the river.

From the time I refused to kill Vietnamese just because some part of my country's government to told me that I had to damn my soul because of some millionaire industrialist's greed I knew applying non-violence in America was going to be a life-long difficult task. And when I lived in the jungle we call our cities the predators and violent ones could smell the righteous struggle within others and me.

What the fuck are you talking about Cove?

I am talking about what none of you should be surprise about. That good people sometimes fight back. That if you choose to be an aggressor, or a bully, or a racist bigot or a hateful provocateur and worse you might end up with a broken jaw or maybe even a comparable equivalent to your evil. Sometimes justice comes when you least expect it.


Michael was on Oahu filming a commercial so he let me use his Cadillac. It was the "picture car" from Cagney and Lacey. The exact copy "stunt car" also set in his garage but he had sold it to his roommate.

It got a lot of looks when I drove it to the Pukalani Superette ("Puk Soup" for short).
At over $4.00 a gallon for gas; about 10 miles to the gallon mileage; almost 19 feet long; with small parking place and curvy island road ... Michael knew I was going to drive it around that much.

I did drive it to Mamma's Fish House just for a laugh. Being invited to lunch there by the owner's right hand man was quite an honor as well as one incredible three-hour meal.