Wednesday, March 02, 2011

6) Honey Bun.

These stories, that have been available on Blogspot for 10 years for free, will now only be available on Amazon at the address above. They are contained in “Vagabon Freak”, the 1st volume of a trilogy titled “The 7 Lives of the Punk Poofy Cats”. I have been the archetypal starving artist in his garret, painting, drawing and writing, writing, writing as if I were some waif crying out in the wilderness. Now I need you, dear reader, to hear my cries and go to Amazon and buy a copy of my book and keep me alive. There you will find my complete tale, from beginning to end, in one place, for you to hold in your hot little hands. When you read it straight through, I assure you, it will blow your mind.

Below are introductory paragraphs to the story and some pictures that I still retain to illustrate those stories hopefully to give you a come-on to get my book. Thanks for giving me a go, TZ.

Since the introduction of television in 1956 Arthur had been mesmerized by the amazing visions it projected, conjured as if from thin air; it was all his dreams come true in a box, a wondrous techno-toy that God must have especially designed for him, the budding narcissist. Glued to the machine, he was transported to other times and other lives, to a greater world that promised experiences of cosmic proportions.
He was somewhat flummoxed at having to decipher all the shows that reinforced the glory of marriage, “The Honeymooners”, “I Love Lucy” and “Father Knows Best”, puzzling over the attempt to bring about a blissful union of warring opposites in all the sit-coms and “days of our lives” dramas; to make a placid one out of a rambunctious two seemed the job of TV to his mystified young mind.
He not only chose Annette Funicello as his favorite Mouseketeer, he was also in love with the tall, dark and pretty Lieutenant in “Rin Tin Tin.” And his temperature sky-rocketed whenever Little Joe strode onto “Bonanza”, a show about a dysfunctional, all male family with a mysteriously missing mother which Frank had made compulsory family viewing.
Frank was a Western romanticist and adhered to the ‘Fifties “Cult of the Cowboy”, reading stacks of Louis L’Amour and Zane Grey, watching every Western movie faithfully and inadvertently encouraging Arthur’s homo-eroticism, for Michael Landon’s “Little Joe”, in tight white pants, had a phenomenal bulge in his crotch. Frank probably saw himself as Audie Murphy, World War 2 hero turned cowboy star roaming the range at will, keeping at bay the invading savages while the little woman remained corralled down on the farm rearing the kids.
Arthur lived a lot of his life in the fantasyland of movies, like a young acolyte zealous for a powerful, new religion, often wagging school to watch “The Golden Years of Hollywood” on midday TV, or sneaking into the city to see the latest on the big screen. For awhile his favorite movie was “South Pacific”, musicals eliciting in him the Utopian ideal of a life filled with the ecstasy of song, dance and love in Bali Hai.
At the Saturday matinee in the funky village of Ivanhoe’s picture-house he thrilled over films like “Earth Versus the Flying Saucers” and “Jungle Jim and the Abominable She-Devil”; science-fiction drove him and the rest of the children into such paroxysms of excitement they would try to tear the theater apart, throwing lollies at the screen, attempting to swing on the red-velvet curtains, grabbing the girls’ bums between the crack in the seats to make them scream louder, until the ushers would have to rush down the aisles in a furor and beat the ebullient, rioting kids into submission with their flash-lights.
Of all films there was one that truly influenced his life-path, the Korda Brothers’ 1941 “The Thief of Baghdad”. It was late at night and his parents, flailing away at their usual kitchen-sink argument, didn’t notice him go into the lounge-room and turn on the television set. He came in on the scene beside the Arabian Sea when the boy first opens the bottle and sets free the Genie, and then flies upon the giant’s back, hanging on to his Hindu hair-lock, to the roof of the Himalayan Mountains to steal an omniscient jewel from the forehead of an unknown God.

(If you want to read the rest of this story plus more, please go to the WEB address above and buy "Vagabond Freak.")