In Life i’ve found myself many ah times surrounded by people i had no desire to be around and i knew that some day if i was crazy enough i would find a way in this here little life of mine to escape and maybe find myself around a few people who spoke my true language.  i would leave behind the wheat-field cracker cops bent on bending me into the court’s cycle racket or maybe even shut me down through a deathly cover-up.  No, i would leave behind the arrested developmental broken worshippers of the past and its grimy bag of worn thin nostalgia, i would leave behind the bosses whose lives were strychnine messes and the co-workers that lived to cram the ham and only longed to live to again sink their black tar sugar sales shark teeth into the hides, pockets and minds of the vulnerable for the quick kill dull scam, no, there would come a time where i would leave them all behind and find my kind from time to shining time…

My kind of people were out there in places far away, they are the few but never Proud and one of the things they all seemed to have in common was the gift of compassion, that rare cursed ability to feel the hurt inside of others as if it were their own.  While the clean cut masses raced into the world self assured in a mad frenzy to accumulate as much as they could for themselves at all cost, no matter how much damage they left in their broken bone strewn tracks, the few of my kind i found were accommodating, charming and sometimes quite devilish in a dark humor winking way.  These few whom i’ve sussed out through the years were often found in the spotlight because that is the one place where messages can be relayed and dreams that were once only scribbled on paper, can come to life and reach others who are back in those fields or other places far worse for wear and even savage, maybe without a friend in the world and that can be a very dangerous place to be for the kind hearted and creative.
Help arrives sometimes in many different forms…
A SLAYER cd,
a SMITHS cassette,
a Bill Hicks DVD,
the paintings of Salvador Dali,
a LIVE Concert of BRMC or a Velvet Underground MP3…

These days are damned hungry times for those who long for Heroes.  The death of David Bowie was a Major Tom blow, one we are likely never to recover from and who would want to during these new days of hyper reality bollocks…  but last night i must confess, i made a new friend and her name is
Melanie Gaydos.  Since September of last year unto the present, aside from a few rare smile nice times, i’ve pretty much spent the time being submerged and half beaten into stupidity, again by those who i’ve no desire to be around or form a lasting relationship with.  People so sickly self centered, bent and arcane that just a mild description of their mission is enough to pop an eyeball out like a pinball busting through a reflective top glass.
Melanie is a world renowned fashion model, an object of many an artistic eye and an Artist in her own rights.  She travels a lot, does photo-shoots, stars in videos and models exotic but to me she is a person of the nice-nice.  Her voice is addictive to me like the song of the nightingale, her down to earth, take no shit, golden hearted spirit speaks to me like a kitten drinking a beer at the 1956 World Series baseball game Olympics.  She is somebody who could make grocery shopping at Target on a Tuesday morning in the city center of bum’fucked Egypt a fun thing to do.  I love that she moves in the fashion world, but what really attracts me to her is her warmth and humanity, she is one of the better angels of Our nature.  The strange and exciting thing about finally meeting her was the otherworldly sense that i got from her as i walked off into the night.  It felt like what i imagined it felt like to those few who met or knew James Dean.  People have said so many things about James Dean through the years and many people knew him in different ways or have a certain way in which they perceive him in their mind’s eye which is hardly ever the way in which i see him.  I’ve never seen the rebel in the J.C. Penny red weather jacket, or the crazy leather motorcycle homo tree climber or the race car king or the king of cool…  i always saw that otherworldly sometimes lonesome and generous beautiful mutant who longed to fill his heart with all the colors of the world just to give back something of himself and his one time mold to as many kind, loving and creative people as he could find.  This also happens to be the way in which i similarly see Melanie Gaydos…  a Genuine Icon in these starving for a Hero hazy days.  Like Dean, she is beautiful on the outside as well as on the inside.  She could have just remained in front of the cameras all night, but no, before doing anything, she walked straight up and shook hands and introduced herself and said we could hang out very soon after all the meeting and greeting and then there she was talking with me in a corner like we were a couple of old friends catching up on last weeks wonderful madness.  Her magic was so gloss that it ended up rubbing off on me for when a camera man came to get her on film, he insisted that i remain in the shot thinking i was surely somebody…  and he was mostly right…  i am somebody…  who ran from a little place called nowhere out into the unknown world who was lucky enough to meet such an otherworldly and beautiful girl and be able to call her my friend, even if
for only one night or just for 1 day… 

https://youtu.be/jBuwC4VJi50

Those that tell you that you can’t / Know, that They Are A Lie