Featured Book – Goofin’ Pt. 7

CHAPTER 2

            Hat taught me to drive in my multicoloured Ford Pop. It came natural to me. I’d been riding my Honda for a year and just seemed able to transfer the skills over. There was nothing much too it. I got in, twice round the block and we were off.

One advantage of it was that old Ford was that it was a lot warmer in winter than the old bike. Another advantage was that you could fit eight people in – with a bit of a squeeze. Then lastly it was always good for a bit of pastoral shagging – variety being the spice of life.

Hat sat there like a maniacal driving instructor dishing out instructions.

            “Left here! Straight on! It’s always straight on!”

            We took the bend at the library at fifty. Easy to do on a bike where you could lean into it but quite different in a sit-up-and-beg Ford Pop which promptly rolled on to two wheels, leaned over threatening to go into a roll and squealed like mad.

            Hat sank down into his seat.

            Somehow it stayed up and we made it round.

            “Whooooooooooeeeeeeeeey – Haaaaaaaaaa!” I yelled.

            “Pretty hairy,” Hat observed. “Perhaps a little less floorboard if you don’t want to fuck up the paint-work.” He nodded to himself. “Or soil the upholstery in the passenger seat.”

            We headed out for the open road and picked up two hitchhikers. That was mandatory. You always stopped for hitchers. It was the rule. If you had something you shared whether that was a joint or a ride.

            I was really getting into it. The car roamed around the lanes a little because the steering was basically shot but it had a bit of poke and cruised nicely at 60 – 65 M.P.H… We were going out of our way to drop off our guests. It made for a good run.

            Hat amused himself by rolling jays and passing them round as we hurtled down these narrow country roads. Everyone seemed quite mellow.

            “Not doing bad, is he?” Hat enquired, leaning over the seat to converse with the hirsute couple in the back.

            The hitchers looked a bit bemused. They hadn’t cottoned on to what he was talking about.

            “Considering it’s his first time out in a car,” Hat casually slipped in.

            I swung it round another corner and noted that the atmosphere had got a tad more tense.

            Everyone loved my multicoloured car. I nicknamed it Herbert. It was a name that seemed to suit. One particular speed-cop seemed to especially take to it. At every opportunity he pulled me over to have a closer look.

“Mornin’” I’d say breezily.

He scowled at me.

“Lovely day for it.”

He would get his book out and write me up without a word and hand me the ticket. Then he’d get back on his bike, kick-start it and glide off into the traffic.

I’d have to go in with all my details – insurance, log book and shit. A right fucking nuisance though I was determined not to let them see it was buggin’ me.

I’m sure the guy used to lie in wait for me. Sometimes he’d do me twice in a day and he averaged three times a week.

            “Mornin’,” I’d say breezily as I arrived at the cop-shop.

            The desk-cop would fix me with a scowl.

            I’d shake my hair out, stroke my beard and pull at the white scarf I wore under my flying jacket.

            “Hey, you guys go to scowl school?” I’d enquire. I’d hand him my documents. “Same again.”

            He’d start copying the details in without a word.

            “Hey man,” I’d say conspiratorially. He’d stop writing and look up at me. “Just put ditto. Save you a lot of trouble.” I nodded and winked. “There, look, see, I’m on every page. Details haven’t changed.”

            He went back to writing with a stony expression. I think I was getting to him.

            Allie knitted me a big thick jumper to go with the car. It was multicoloured. I loved it and wore it every time I went into the cop-shop. For some reason I don’t think they were anywhere near as keen on that jumper as me. They seemed to take it as a personal affront.

            Jack used to particularly love my Herbert-mobile. He often took over from Hat as co-pilot. Some nights he’d rap on the window and drag me off into the night.

            “Hey, man, let’s get off to Brighton! You up for it?” We’d drive there and run up and down the shingle beach then get back in and drive back.

            I’d drive and all the while he’d be yattering in my ear.

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This Week’s Featured Novel: Goofin’ – Pt. 1

I wrote this many back many circles of the sun when everything seemed young and fresh, full of wonder and possibility. I wanted to capture something of the Jack Kerouac Beat ‘On The Road’ vibe, but also the sixties vibe too. Of course, you never get close.

Those vibes have dissipated like a spray of perfume in a gale.

Goofin’

With the Cosmic Freaks

By

Opher Goodwin


Dedication

This book is dedicated to Pete Smith, Jules, Praub, Pete Ayley, Janet, John, Bag, Tony, Maria, John, Nick, Lou, Rich, Carl, Tim, Billy, Ro, Erica, John Smith, Hat, Oz, Ginny, Bob, Ken, Glenys, Mutt, Booker, Lanky, Chalky, Snitch, Snatch, Wanky, Pussy, Jeff Evans, Gary Turp, John Lindsey, Jack, Dave, Roy Harper, Carol, Dan, Janet, John, Kathy, Tobes, Dave, Vicky, Rich, Lou, Eduardo, Bali, Liz, and all those other heroes of my youth who rocked my world!!

Where are you now? Those days live forever!

Preface

This is the ultimate sixties book – an ‘On the Road’ for the British Underground with all its sex, drugs, dreams and music; those times of crazy people high on life and mad for experience – when anything was possible.

It captures that idealistic naïve impossibility permeated with vitality and careering love and dreams, the wild rush for adventure without a thought for the future because it was going to last forever.

– Seemingly forever changes!

It spans continents as it trips its way through time, space and mind in a mad rush to discover life and experience or die trying.

Now was all there was and it had to burn, burn, burn or it was dead.

In the days of dope and poetry, where the world was ripe for changing, there was a mystical buzz of unity. In the shadow of an establishment that stood for war, prejudice, work, isolation and the rat-race with all it’s status seeking power games, racism and slow death signified by getting the lines straight on your lawn, Jack’s cackling laughter and bright eyes, death-defying madness and care-free attitude showed there was an alternative.

Maybe dope was never enough and when we grow up it is time to put aside childish things where they are confined to our dreams and memories. But somewhere out there Jack still lives where it is real.

We did change the world!Opher 16.8.2014

Fake Memories

Fake Memories

Fake memories

Fake fears

Fake News

Fake tears

Rousing the faithful

Feeding the lies

Inflaming the emotions

Deaf to the cries

False truth

False fed

False economy

Falsely led

Deliberately stoked

For selfish gain

Cynically oblivious

To the generated pain

Fake news feeding real crimes

Fake smiles for our times

Fake sincerity for personal gain

Fake compassion masking real pain

Real people hypnotised

Following blindly

The veiled disguise.

Ignoring all the shouts

Of the truly wise.

Led up the garden path

That’s built of where’s and why’s.

Opher 23.6.2018

Fake Memories

How to pick your way through the exaggerations and lies that are trotted out to frighten us?

I think we are being manipulated for political reasons! Even our memories are fake!

We no longer believe experts and are instructed to ignore them. Now we believe the headlines of the tabloid press.

Strange things happen

Strange things happen

Strange things happen in a universe

Where the laws of physics conform

To the perverse.

Nothing can be more peculiar

That the laws that pertain

To nuclear.

Anything is possible

                In infinity.

Creating worlds

                Of possibility.

Where carbon’s

                Strange agility

Combines with Oxygen

                And hydrogen’s ability

To create a woven web

                Of life’s history.

Spelt in bases helical

Consciousness is chemical.

Strange things happen in a universe

Where the laws of physics conform

To the perverse.

Opher – 29.8.2022

Many things are beyond our understanding – such as how a bunch of chemicals have come to think and speak, to wonder and emote.

Many things are beyond our comprehension such as the infinite nature of the universe, the vastness of space, the enormity of matter and the unending nature of time.

My chemicals ponder.

Life is perverse.

The Journey – Pt. 21 – Let’s Hang at Penang – Photos

The Journey

Penang was another example of a city of decaying colonial buildings and amazing temples. It would appear that the only things that are properly maintained and painted are the odd colonial building (kept for tourist potential) and the religious temples, mosques and churches. Everything is left to slowly rot in the humid heat.

The first choice we had was how to get around. We opted for the hop on hop off bus, which took us past the clock tower and other well-kept colonial buildings.   It is incredible to look back at the amazing reach of the British Empire and to appreciate the scale. All of these Asian/Indonesian sites had an array of buildings to house the ruling British Governors and associated military, bureaucratic and business people. They were all there in their little enclaves, ruling, exploiting and systematically stripping assets with their mansions, servants, polo clubs and cricket grounds. One can imagine the public schools, in the 18th century, churning out a stream of these people destined to live the life of Riley. Now the remains of their hegemony are preserved as part of the tourist attraction.

We hopped on and hopped off at the first temple.                                                                                             

The Burmese temple was probably the most garish yet, and the sister temple was a near match. We saw huge reclining Buddhas, gold Buddhas, standing Buddhas, white Buddhas, black Buddhas, blue and green Buddhas, fierce warriors, dragons, golden stupas and fair dancing maidens. All with gold, blue, red, yellow, orange and scaley glitter, bunting and adornment. All with sparkly splendour. All intended to create an impression.

Back on the bus to the next stop and off up the steepest funicular railway in the world to the incredible views and coconut ice-cream. The restaurant at the top was exorbitantly priced so it was back to the bottom and lunch with the locals. We observed where the taxi drivers and locals ate and jumped in. As we could not speak the language we are not quite sure what it was but it was spicy chicken with rice, with a mug of sweet coffee, and tasted excellent, and all for thirty pence.

Back on the bus we were dropped off at the biggest temple complex ever. Temples are great aren’t they? So much human energy, endeavour, creativity and hope poured into proving that there is a foundation to choosing this one over all the others. The drive to bigger, brighter and more elaborate (coupled with various attire, rituals and prayers) is like an arms race! If only they put as much energy into the city infrastructure!

We climbed up through covered markets with the sweat dripping down our backs. We inspected temples, Buddha’s, fountains, chanting, retail opportunities (what religious site is without them) and new building sites before making the final ascent through a lift in a shop to the biggest Buddha of all on top of the hill.

Back waiting for the bus we tasted the local pastry delicacies – both savoury and sweet – and both delicious, before hopping back to the boat.

Still – many stops to make –     

Much to see and wonder at. Thailand next!

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The Journey – Pt. 20 – A Lump of Kuala Lumpur – photos

The Journey

Kuala Lumpur was rather a halfway house between moped madness and car craziness. My main lingering thoughts are of pot-holes, huge gold statues and the Petronas Towers. We (four of us) procured a taxi. The driver used carriageway, road signs and traffic lights as only a passing guide and enthusiastically illustrated what he was talking about with both hands coupled with turning around to grin at us while travelling at high speed. His taxi was the grimiest we had encountered and appeared to have no suspension and little left of the silencer so the cab filled with noxious fumes. He was very cheap though! We hurtled along, dodging around pot-holes, ducking in and out of traffic and driving, seeming suicidially straight at trucks. Somehow we managed to negotiate the twenty miles without separating our spirits from our body.

We visited the Batu Caves and marvelled at the massive gold statue that loomed above us as we drew near. We trudged up the thousands of steep steps past the massive carved figure and into the caves. Some devotees carried bricks or buckets of sand up the steps to demonstrate their sincere devotion (the ancient shrine was still being constructed).

The caves were an ancient site of worship. It was an impressive huge cavern with a collapsed roof allowing light to flood in. We fed the monkeys and photo’d the hundreds of shrines.

We climbed back down to check out the many temples around the base. Then I went in this cave that was like a Hindu version of Disneyland – very strange.

People and babies were painted up with yellow paint and were all in their best duds. It was a hive of activity! Throngs of people were milling about with women in bright coloured saris and the men with bright clothes and robes.

Clambering back in the death-mobile we headed off for Kuala Pumpur and parked up right by the central square.

The Petronas Towers were remarkable and very picturesque but we couldn’t go up because there was too long a queue – you have to book in advance. So we contented ourselves with staring up at it.

Diving in and out of traffic we somehow arrived at Independence Square, where we jigged about, stood in the middle of the large grass area and wondered at the array of different architecture then visited a museum which featured a model of the city.    

Time was running out so our manic driver thundered off to the war memorial. We then had a brief glimpse of the Palace before thundering back to the ship.

For some reason we had sore backs, sore throats, stinging eyes, were pumped with adrenaline, had developed a cough and were deaf. But it had been another great day.

More Futile Gestures – Now available in kindle version

My latest book of ‘poems’ is available in Kindle version.

Introduction

It’s the beginning of 2023 and things are looking dire. The country has been ravaged by twelve years of heartless Tory rule, robbing the poor to give to the rich. The Ukraine war is rumbling on without an end in sight. The destruction and attrition are appalling.

China, Iran and South Korea are becoming belligerent and threatening.

Global warming is already making itself felt. The future is looking grim. The destruction of habitats and extinction rates are rising fast. Nature is being destroyed.

The buffoons, sex-pests and idle, over-privileged conmenTrump and Johnson are threatening come-backs.

We haven’t gotten over our thirst for populist fools with non-existent solutions. We seem to like the lies and bluster. We vote for over-privileged millionaires despite knowing they are conmen of the nastiest type who are in it for themselves – psychotic narcissists.

The damage done by Brexit is reducing the country to a state of ruin. The people who engineered it are making millions at the expense of the rest of us.

We have widespread strikes across the country because of the Cost of Living Crisis and Energy Crisis leading on from the cuts and austerity.

Baroness Mone goes on a luxury £6,000 a day holiday while hard-working people can’t afford to turn on the heating or put food on the table for their kids.

Nobody from the government is listening. The only answer they can think of is to bring in hard anti-strike legislation and go on with their union bashing.

The Tory propaganda machine is in full throttle.

The country is in a terrible mess.

The world is in a terrible mess.

In the midst of war, poverty and political nastiness a lone voice is heard calling above the clamour.

‘I know exactly what the world needs – It’s a book of futile gestures!’

This is my book of futile gestures.

Opher Goodwin 5.1.2023

PS – I did include some other types of poems towards the end to celebrate our voyage on this wondrous planet as we journey through infinity.

Life is good.

What the world needs now are more futile gestures!!

The Disaster of Brexit portrayed as a Triumph

The Disaster of Brexit portrayed as a Triumph

The true costs are staggering!! Johnson negotiated an appalling deal!!

Posted in UncategorizedTagged BREXITPoliticssatireThe Disaster of Brexit portrayed as a TriumphTory liesLeave a commentEdit

Captain Beefheart On Track: Every Album, Every Song

5* Review

5

Superb Companion Guide For Every Beefheart Nerd

Submitted 4 months ago

By The Inconsistent Jukebox

From UK

Firstly, reader, I’ll tell you what this book is like: You know when you go into an art gallery or museum and have an accompanying guide book explaining a little about the art or artefacts? Well, this is very much like that. A companion piece for every track. The author has lovingly reviewed and described every song and it is also full of little facts and interesting information. If, like me, you are a Beefheart and The Magic Band aficionado (and I’m guessing that you are) then you’ll appreciate this book. We’ve all read John French’s definitive horse’s-mouth and meticulous account, Bill Harkleroad’s equally valid (but not so obsessively detailed) story and we’ve also read Mike Barnes’s fantastic and accurate outsider view. There are a couple of other tomes too but those three are the glorious triumvirate of Beefheartian history. This book isn’t trying to be that. What it does is makes you revisit the albums. Not with a different perspective – we all have our own, as does this, but with another incentive; to listen to the most original, influential, unique music in rock history. It’s a book for Beefheart lovers, nerds and obsessives. If you don’t agree with some of the author’s viewpoints on the music it really doesn’t matter. The purpose of the book is as a companion to this vast and broad decade of sheer creativity, originality and music-as-art from a genius/tyrant/eccentric and the supremely dedicated and unique musicians who helped to realise the vision, even taking a backseat to his ego for the sake of the art. I love it and so will you.

In the UK

In the USA

Poetry – The Death of Democracy

The Death of Democracy

It whimpered.

                It’s tiny cry

                                A beacon of hope.

Strangled at birth

                By greed,

                                Power,

Arrogance,

                And disdain.

Buried

                Under a mound

                                Of lies.

Its ashes

                Spin

                                Spin

                                                Spin

In the machine

                Of power

                                Where the big dogs play.

All that’s left

                Is a game,

                                A hollow farce.

Spin,

                Lie,

                                Spin.

Play up! Play up!

                As the red meat

                                Of unlucky scapegoats

Is fed to the timid runts.

                Only the powerful

                                Count.

We are controlled

                Like mindless

                                Counters

                                                In a game

Of tiddly-winks.

Opher 18.1.2022

They play us for fools.

They think we will believe anything.

Our short attention spans are so limited.

Our forgetfulness makes us easy to manipulate.

We are being played.

They are good at it.

Only occasionally does their arrogance create a misstep.

The trouble is that they are right.

Too many of us are taken in by these smarmy conmen.

The game of power was never going to allow democracy to live.

Power lies in the hands of consummate liars.