Blueberry Ocean and I'm Not Swimming

This is not a piece by which attention should be put on the obvious at this particular time.

Surely, before her desire to see an end to the war, Mrs. Sheehan forgot that by aligning herself with the Democratic party – which, has distanced itself from their position during the 2004 election ‘We need to be there,’ to the more recent ‘More damage if we leave now,’ and -all of which whose future has little concern for us…

Mrs. Sheehan who wrote ‘I would give everything I own, will own, or have owned to have one more glimpse of my son,’ has made the ‘Right’ indeed correct by carrying on too long now – as they have cried, ‘Leave your son rest!’

And this is not about Lance ‘guilt by association’ Armstrong, who has done a great job incriminating himself handsomely - - and -not- by entertaining the President in Thievery, but with the help of a few Frenchmen.

No, but I do say to you that this thing here is about a more concurring thought and that has most recently come upon me…

A few years ago I had an encounter with Suge Knight. Since then I have had no reason to utter his name…until recently.

Once upon a time in L.A. I met a beautiful caucasian girl from Mississipi. Tall as the sunrise to light up the day and a sadness as infinite as tomorrow could suggest.
And once upon such a time I travelled to her, high atop the canvas and lights -atop many floors she lay. High in a Penthouse looking out into the sky of night. The Penthouse itself was very pretty too and large. And there was a closet full of clothes that she would make apparent: Costumes and fur and feathers and gold…

Presumably, I noticed on my way in and out – that there were many wealthy other caucasians living below her in the building. But not with her. She was mysterious. And I do remember that she had a pit-bull whom I didn’t try to entertain -and that- her owner worked for Death Row Records. I do remember that the Pit-Bull was a male.

This particular thought though, that I wish to share, began with Tupac Shakur. He was still, yet turning in his grave- in my imagination. I do say that images in this case are quite what they are –imaginary, but there is a phrase that would follow to fit the imagery- - ‘Suge Knight: CIA’.

Yesterday I started to do some research about Suge Knight but all I found of interest was a college class being taught about Tupac and the affect he had upon American Culture. The class is called, 'The Textual Appeal of Tupac Shakur.'

I will add that I do not think Kurt Cobain was killed (by someone other than himself) , and likewise the idea ‘Suge Knight: CIA’ is merely just anecdotal and not something easily verifiable.

Not to be confused with the eighteenth century Tupac Amaru, who inspired the Peruvian Marxist-Leninist insurgent group of today- the 'Túpac Amaru Revolutionary Movement.' Tupac Amaru Shakur, the rap artist- was revolutionary as his mother named him well. And he was beautiful – although having fallen deep into quagmire himself – son of a revolutionary Black Panther and educated thusly… Tupac was, for many people - dangerous.

Even this thought can be dangerous if you allow it to spin…

I wanted to write this as we were driving to get Baba Ganush earlier in the day. Earlier in the day I associated thoughts that sang ‘Suge Knight: CIA - - ‘ and I tried to convince someone close to me with my eyes - - - who didn’t try to hurdle them- but tried in play to make me out to be the leader of an imagination cult - - - ‘science-fiction is but another oxymoron,’ is all I could suggest.

I decided against writing this to a Black Panther, or to Tupac’s mother - so for this moment I will indulge a lion, and that is you o loving heart: Why is ‘Suge Knight: CIA’-complicit in the death of at least Tupac Shakur -allowed to go free, unpunished?

Then, further the song came to me hours later as the news reeled its mast from waves across my ship, the bow entangled me in tow on a slippery ocean unknown and a tide yet about me unwitty:

‘Suge Knight shot at MTV party.’