it’s a long long road…


Originally uploaded by jayfherron

I was coerced this past weekend to visit Main Street ,Daytona Beach-the event was extremely out of the ordinary for me…I was a first time visitor to the 67th year of bike week. I confess-there was some of it I liked….there was some that pressed against me after it got dark and the crowds really seemed to build.

I was so impressed by the motorcycles-by the thousands,there were so many various styles and shines and chrome and sounds. The people were unique as well.
I began to think it would have been fun. I had only a brief experience with a motorcycle when I was still a teen…it tossed me into a clump of ‘spanish bayonet’ (a horrid plant here in Florida) and my life as a biker ended. Of course-it hardly had begun,my final ride was very close to my initial ride about a week before.

I guess my interest in the machines are a spin off from my love of the big truck-keeping my rig washed and shined is in comparison to the many motorcycles I saw that had such originality and effort-and polish. I think if I had another chance-I would find being a biker a choice I would have made. It just looked that fun.

There are things we come to know about ourselves-things which are of instinct and that good old gut feeling. Speaking of ‘gut feelings’….I am having one that began about seven years ago-and is now in a place where it talks to me every moment.
I believe changes are going on inside of me. Actually-I wish I could find a doctor that would just be plain and open with me…honest,if they can-and tell me! I’m fairly certain…that gut feeling-the answer is something I’m beginning to figure out myself (doctor or not) that I’m not well.

The parade of motorcycles going steady down Main Street Daytona carried riders of such assortment of faces and dress and costume-the leather which is prominant,all seemed more like a uniform. Some of the leathers adorned with patches and badges-which all seemed close to military to me…..and the different faces of each man and woman that rode by had an expression of freedom and peace which seemed seperate from all those on foot.
I thought of it as I looked at them and listened to the fantastic roar of these fine machines….I thought if I was given advance notice to get my ‘paperwork ready’ I’d buy a carton of cigerettes (I’ve been wanting a cigerette ever since I quit ten years ago) and a full leather jacket…and good highway machine,and hit that long long road.

I don’t want much out of anything. There is’nt very much anyway….except for those things that old wise monk told me once upon a time ago-those stars and sky belong to you! Those have always been my jewels-as they are yours as well….those are the things we can never lose.

I can vision myself leaning back on a Harley-that grand noise they make as the fire of exhaust powers out the tail end…one of those cool moustaches and a patch over my blind eye and a grin with a Winston clamped in it,riding along and looking at all that is mine to see. One final glance…if I could be so rich.

The focus of my previous writings are on a topic of taboo in many minds. I’ve made people mad with me-my family is upset at my openess…in some ways they have not seen what it is I’m trying to say….or why.
The events in barracks D killed the real Jay Herron,so coming to a place of death from this land and life are going to be a peice of cake-the one I want to eat (that old saying-you have your cake and eat it too)…I was there once-so close-back in the days when I was hauling cattle. It was beautiful and such peace…why I turned around is a question I often ask.

It’s been a long long road-with many a winding turn. And while I steal a section of and old old song I think of Joe Cocker singing ‘Living in the Promised Land’…and hope to have his song be the eulogy in place of a preacher at my grave in Micanopy.

I’m going to continue what I am trying to do here-there is an awareness that needs to be nutured and raised up to say to the many…rape is a violent violent infliction on a persons spirit. There is so much afterward to try to live with-in secret-as if we did something wrong….and with men who have lived this way as I have lived-it is worse,almost,because we have been kept hidden and have kept hidden that we have been victims too. Society has done that to us.
I would have kept on living it by myself…but then the VA became aware…stupidly I wrote a letter saying their drugs were an insult-and as I had tried to hide and mask my life with drugs,this was the course of action the Veterans Administration Hospital took for me….here is some medicine that’ll make you feel better.???
That letter opened up the past four or five years of case study and also exposed me to the veterans advocate that said it seemed so hard to believe homosexuals needed to rape each other…what a ding dong thing to say!
It also introduced me to Charlotte,my thherapist at the VA-who is the only living person who knows the fullest account of the life I have walked on this long long road. I have long ago asked Charlotte to close this journal for me…I hope that will be someday soon.
I guess the letter did some good…but then,it has done nothing as well.

It is these writings that has done something for me-they give me another place with out faces to purge myself of the garbage that remained….left over from…the things I had no one else to say them to-to tell the truth.
Men are victims too…..and life on earth eats shit!

“Living in the Promised Land our dreams are made of steel…It is the prayer of every man just to know how Freedom feels…”   Joe Cocker

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