Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Charles Manson - A Letter to William Dakota


Have you ever sat around and just wondered what life must have been like living at Dennis Wilson's Sunset Boulevard beach house in the Summer of 1968? Well you're never going to find that one out, sucka!

However-- the following letter from Charles Manson to gossip columnist William Dakota, written while Manson was serving time at the Vacaville State Prison, might shed a little light onto what was going down in L.A.'s most notorious party house (possible exception: Peter Tork's crib on Willow Glen Road).

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The following is simply a re-print of the Manson's own words. Clearly I cannot verify the authenticity of his claims, and the following is provided merely for entertainment purposes only. Please visit Bill Dakota's fabulous
wiki site for more true tales of Hollywood glory.

"B. columnist,
Yes, I like your letters when I have time & I've time. I don't write like you write and you don't need to run none of that bullshit on me. Don't talk (write) around the corner on me. Straight-away, just the truth, no more..less-I don't understand you trying to run fear or B.S. at me. Yes, I know what you mean-my words were when I was out-my souls still in prison. Peace of mind. All Polanski can say, is what the D.A. said or what he read somewhere. It would take 44 years for me to explain my 31 years in hallways-cages-it's home. No one can know what I mean. They would need for them to be me. All he will do is judge himself in me & see reflections of his own fears. I seen Sharon and she never impresed me as being anything but $. He bought her mind to get her body.

Man don't get fat on me. NO B.S. don't get fat. Lookit, I can't put myself out front. You can get your paper back & don't need to say I said nothing. I never sued no one else. The D.A. & all got away with saying anything. Marcus can tell you things he may have thought he heard, I didn't say Elvis was Bi or not.

Loook it. If I sleep with all the girls you sleep with & we go to bed with 3 or 4 girls at a time & I check you out & the way and things you do & you check out my strokes & pick up on some of the motions don't mean I'm BI or your Bi. If I'm in the same dream but I got a good heart, I can hold that heart in bed. Elvis couldn't fuck over me but I could-over any little fat girl in his dream bed because I earned them when I lived at Tom Mix's old beach house on Sunset out by the beach. We had a pool of naked beauties and strobe lights in the living room & sex in 5 bedrooms & all closets had secret doors that go from bedroom to bedroom plus the guest house, big beds & pool shacks-bedrooms, little ones and mattresses in the living room, a tree house, sex all over the grounds, in the rose garden, under the trees everywhere.

B.D, I'm, forgeful, who's Mark? I'm one of the dumb people-aware but not smart in human ways. I think more like an animal. Yes, I read the story B.D. Im not easily impressed one way or the other. I don't like people enough to care what they think. Not you because you suffered my suffering & been through a lot to see and understand me. I know what you do is & will be good because I know when you are alone & in a cell and see the good of you when no one else is looking.

Neil Diamond used to come over, Mike Love of the Beachboys, Doris Day's son, Angela Lansbury's daughter, DeeDee, Nancy Sinatra's daughter used to be at the beach pad. Dennis Wilson of (the Beach Boys) & I lived with 15 or 20 of the best. We kicked Jane Fonda out of that dream because her jewish boyfriend wanted to bring a black guy to play ping-pong with her & I said I don't play mixing blood for phony christians that work for their money selling children. She had a big dog and a crummy camera & I said no no, I do what I do for love, not money.

They had a key to Red Skelton's beach pad. I had been there before, so I went and fixed the window so I could look in and they found my peek place. I just wanted to see what they did with the dog & guy they picked up over at UCLA, I don't think she was playing stop the war. She was (I think) making some kind of video tapes like Peter Sellers & Yul Brynner (bald headed guy) were making. Dennis gave me a $5,000 video tape, TV thing for tapes that fit only an elite bunch (porno ring) that was world wide.

I heard Polanski got money from dog and children movies to make movies with. I was offered record contracts, movie parts, etc, when I got out (prison.) I went to Universal Studios-saw a producer named Stromberg, a phony guy. He wanted me to cut a record with a South African black, Hugh Maskella & big black trumpet & drummer for a movie. He told me Jews control & I'd never get any music over, unless I did it his way. He was making a movie, he said, about the second coming of J.C. & he was to be a black & police were to off him and the system would get the blame & they would control the movie minds and take power. I said no. They did it anyway. Jackson was killed in San Quentin & Abby Hoffman and Jerry Rubin got big power controls. I was a dumb ass.

I went to Cary Grant's parking lot & this homosexual came and told me to move my car. I knew Grant was in England so I told him & I've had a little experience with homosexuals. So I took him back to Cary Grant's office, that had an apartment (bar) & such. I don't want to say all of the things that happened at Universal Lot because I liked that gay guy & don't want him to lose his job.

That ass Peter Falk & guy that played James West, in WILD WILD WEST, propositioned me. James West also came to the car. I don't fuck with closet queens. There is more but I can't spell. Like one night a girl took me to Elvis' pad...with big iron gates & she was begging to suck on my ice cream. Elvis's wife came home that night and when Dennis Wilson came around he had so many broads. Elvis got afraid, cause that little girl had his heart. I could have eaten it there in front of them but was playing a front & I was having sex in the back. I could have fucked him. He had a car I wanted but Terry Melcher gave one of my buddies a new XKZ Jaguar, for me because he didn't want anyone to know about me & his mom, & when D Wilson gave me the Ferrari my other buddy wrecked it & we went off to shoot a game of pool & someone ripped it off.

And Dennis is (a wonderful person no bullshit) he got mad at me. He had a phony French bitch running after him only because she was a star fucker & was fucking Jimi Hendrix. When she asked me to fuck her I rammed it up her ass & wiped it in her face & throwed her out of the pad because all she wanted was money money money and producer Stromberg destroyed my music. When I seen the conspiracy to do in Jackson, I ran and put a "1" up over that bed of fools and clowns.

B.D. I do more on a weekend than most do all of their lives. I'm not into sex porno or selling distorted sex. All sex I do is human, clean and natural. No make-up. No ego fuck but the God fuck. Everyone I fucked wanted to pray to God. I can't say that to toot a horn that everyone will hate me for. Sex paranoia is a heavy trip but what I do is open without guilt or hang-ups. It's not human. I can put a woman on like a robe. That's the only stick I had with people I was with. If the women did right I would favor them with attention. Most men get mad at me because even if theirs is bigger and stronger, my stiff stays up until I tell it to go down & the motions I reflect is from movies as a kid-YMCAs, Hollywood Boulevard, Wilshire, Beverly Hills, Malibu, off the top of reach 200 or more people in the bed that went through all the stars, Elvis and a bit more.

Elvis had a reputation like Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin had in the 50's, when I had sex on Orchid Avenue, Orange street, and the Hollywood Roosevelt hotel across from the Chinese Theatre.

B.D.-other don't have the mind to do what I can. All the hang ups related to sex--I don't have & few are free to be in a bed like mine. I can build the passions in 30 people & fuck it all to death & past that. I can put my motion in them and watch them dance, put my song into them & listen to them sing, put myself into them, like looking through their sexual passions like holes in blankets.

Anyway the guy I shot in Hollywood with a 33 that Tex used later..there was white girl in bed begging me not to let him kill her over money. I told him I don't give a fuck for money & he yelled & I shot him and his Mexican dope dealers froze in fear & I took the shirt from the guy, so I was on top of the money bed & sex bed. Luckily, I didn't kill him. I missed his heart because I use dick and don't know much about guns.

Oh yeh, I feel the women with me has witnessed and been with me all the way. They, as a whole, have not let me down & did what a woman can. They've been under it also. Red and Blue have stood against a lot of women-for what they can see Green and Red have been right. When someone is right with me, I must be right right back. Red put her life up trying to get me out & a trip. Most people in the know, use fear over women. I didn't do that. I tried to show them their fears & how to keep love over fear. Gotta end this I'll call if and when I can.

Send some pictures (Unsigned).

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Nirvana - Unit Shifters/ Live at the Paramount Theatre 10.31.91 (3 CD)

Compilation (single artist)

It's been awhile since I've had anything worthwhile to say about Nirvana, but during one stretch of my life they were my favorite band; you know, during that ancient pre CD-R era when you actually had to make mix tapes if you wanted to go the DIY route. The funny thing is, I can't really speak now as to why their music had such a profound effect on me back then. I mean, I'm certain it had something to do with the collective angst my generation was experiencing at the time, but saying something like that just sounds so hollow and cliched nowadays. I'm still currently experiencing my fair share of angst and torment (who isn't?) but more often than not I find myself turning to stuff that's catchy and soothing in order to alleviate it, rather than screaming along with some guy who's clearly experiencing more pain than I am.

But that's just it. I can lose myself in sweet harmonies and inventive chord changes, but whatever happened to Losing My Shit? The actual, honest to goodness catharsis? The smashing of guitars or the punching holes in walls? The screaming and crying? The cutting and cigarette burns?

Well somewhere along the line I clearly lost the plot. I mean, I'm listening to fucking Fountains of Wayne as I type this, so draw your own conclusions, right?

Nirvana is no longer a band that represents who I am or what I am about, but like many of you I still carry on fond (if largely mixed) memories of the era that they defined.

SCENE: 1992. A large record store in Brownsville, Texas. Mark and Jason, two teenage boys, are studiously examining a row of cassette tapes under a section marked "Rock".

MARK: ...Ahh, Eugenius! These guys are fucking great!


MARK: Well you've heard of the Vaselines, right? The head guy Eugene Kelly started this band called Captain America, and Kurt was going to take them out on the road but Marvel Comics sued Captain America, so they had to change their name to Eugenius.

JASON: Yeah, Catherine and I were supposed to get tickets to go see Nirvana this summer when they come through Houston, but now that we broke up I seriously doubt I'm going to go... Hey do you think the Pixies are ever going to get back together?

MARK: (Clearly ignoring what Jason just told him.) ...And he's going to get the Raincoats out on the road with him, and probably Tad or Flipper. It's fucking amazing, man! He's getting all these bands he likes that nobody's heard of and he's dragging them right into the mainstream with him!

JASON: (Cautiously looks around store before stealthfully sliding the Eugenius cassette underneath his flannel.) Hey, whatever you say, man.

So what's this all about then? Well clearly the memories have been recurring for me as of late, and rather than dwell on them for much longer, the thought occurred to me that I might just re-experience a bit of the old catharsis by reexamining Nirvana with the benefit of 15 years of hindsight. Now I could lay it all on you-- the rush of raw emotion that kicked in upon hearing the opening chords of "Aneurysm"; the sudden, mad urge to pogo to "Been a Son"; the beautiful-as-a-rock-in-a-cop's-face pop perfection of "Sliver"-- but maybe it's better that you just listen to it with fresh ears so that you can draw your own conclusions.

Rather than compile my own thing here, which would have distracted me from the major task at hand of getting L.A. Gemstones 2.0 out to you on time, I'm going to cheat and hook you up with a comp my man Beckner aka HeftySums hooked me up with awhile back. Honestly, he's definitely the guy you want in charge of a Nirvana comp anyway, because he's got all the hard-to-find non-LP b-sides, compilation tracks and sundry live cuts available on a brilliant set he put together called Unit Shifters. Also from my personal collection, a soundboard of the legendary 1991 Halloween show they put on at the Paramount Theatre in Seattle.

Well, I'm off to search for more memories in the bottom of a bottle of Glenlivet. Enjoy the 'choons.