my psychosomatic water god

The behavior of the rogue may fairly be described as individual, separation from its fellows appearing to increase both cunning and ferocity. These solitary beasts, exasperated by chronic pain or widower hood, are occasionally found among all the larger carnivores and graminivores, are generally male, though, in the case of the hippopotami, the wanton viciousness of old cows is not to be disregarded.



I’ve been reading grand dad’s books one by one almost obsessively and today I started to feel nostalgic and miss him. I wish I had the balls to ask him what he thought of No Orchids for Ms. Blandish and how he came to own a treasure trove of pulp. Also, for some strange reason, I’ve come to associate grand dad and Jarboe. So naturally I spent all day listening to J2 and Mahakali. Doubt if grand dad would have liked but I certainly do.

There’s something about the way chester himes writes that I really like. His books read like blaxploitation movies. Coffin Ed Johnson and Grave Digger Jones could have been superstars and badasses. Just look at their names. But Himes only kept the badass bit and never let their personalities take over the plot. They were honest good police who worked hard and kicked ass occasionally. Cotton Comes to Harlem was filmed and it was Ossie Davis’s first film as director. I had no idea till IMDB told me but he was on my mind after Bubba. Anyway, it’s pretty good and holds up well but imagine Fred Williamson as Coffin Ed and Richard Roundtree as Grave Digger. That would have been something else. The potential for badassery fries the brain but it was never meant to be. Instead we got a lame ass sequel based on The Heat’s On and it ended right there. Let’s not talk about a rage in harlem and that fake piece of shit.

Anyway, I’m just rambling here and I’ve forgotten what I came to do.