THE STORY OF JOHNNY WHOOPER SWAN We go to school trusting our parents. We meet a teacher there who stands up front with a big desk, and a pointer. She or he trains us in an authoritative manner. We attach mentally to a life long need for authority in order to live lives successfully. Right so far? In my case, at the age of 25 I was ready to enter the practice of law where I hoped for success and a happy life finally. Very shortly, very shortly, I became anxious. There was a foreboding. I was made more uncomfortable with each experience. Law work is nothing like what I was told it would be. The system is corrupt. But I still cling to my expectation that career success is necessary to my happiness as a man. Each day my grasp of what the fuck success amounts to after all becomes more clouded, murkier. I hear songs on the airwaves and at concerts which describe my life as the life of a fool. What am I becoming? I want to rip off my business suit to run naked in the street with my hair on fire! But I am too afraid. In strange, weird (weird comes from a word meaning wise), fragmented steps I go about a journey of my own believing myself to be the first man to have failed in such a total way which journey works so as to break up my career, end a marriage, and start an entirely new way of relating with my two children whom I love deeply. Almost magically I meet a woman who is a career counselor who asserts a beautiful message that I am made to be joyful in my work everyday and at all levels. This understanding sets me on a completely new course. It is no longer a world of systems to me but an undivided one of unlimited beauty. It reminds me of a painting. A true masterpiece. I am drawn from within to learn the truth about my identity and nobody else can teach me that. From this point onward I will use thinking capacity for mastering mechanical processes and follow my heart, which includes my whole nature, which includes your whole nature and that of every human being for all the rest. I’ll go by the name Johnny Whooper Swan who does not explain itself to anyone. By my fruits shall I be known. Watch me soar!

Wednesday, April 20, 2016



LANGUAGE OF THE LIVER+
the saga of Billy the Kid


Kid: Inspiration comes. Let it. Let's consider those airports, Alias.

Alias: How's that? Airports? What the fuck is an airport, Orphan?

Kid: Such places are one day in the future to be places of public convenience and 

necessity to be shared and enjoyed by all people, and their friends, and associates, 

and loved ones- where free people will one day gather to travel by air above the 

clouds. It is a human urge to travel and a fine endeavor of friendship to share in it. 

(Billy waves to nobody) 'Bon Voyage'! (Alias is bewildered)

Throughout the following exchange Alias will just barely keep under wraps her opinion that Billy is a lunatic and go along, instead, with his sparkling insight.

Alias: What is your p-p-point, Kid?


Kid: As a people, we will have given that place over to terrorists. It's time we take it 

back as our own, is m' point. Hell, what are we afraid of? Just announce that it is now 

an open, public place again where free people assemble peaceably for a quite normal 

purpose and no guns are wanted; nor are they required. Is a life absent risk a 

tolerable life? Is it not obvious that life insists upon it? Risk, that is? We need to be 

more afraid o' fear than o' terrorists, is m' point. Otherwise, we shrink. Shrink 

enough...and, well, you become a ghost of what was once a person.


Alias: Surely, Kid, you realize that people will not ask that kinda tough question?


What am I afraid of? And that kind of high standard, man, that shit's for all the 

masters of all the times, not for an ordinary man at all.


Kid: They said that of air travel, too, Alias, but it will happen and will be open to 

ordinary mortals, like you and me, before long, I bet.


Alias: (shaking her head) People will not understand.


Kid: I know your meaning and it is fake. (Alias is taken aback in a shudder) A master 

is a master only because ordinary people recognized them as such... by their speech. 

Takes one to know one. You must understand that the world remains what it is so 

you (pointing to Alias) will inspire yourself! 


Alias jumps, then pauses, and considers. She walks about, in a meditative state, under a spot light; the Kid continues.


Kid: In my own time, it has been the practice to turn over to the Army the task of 

dealing with the Red Man. The common settlers did that and look what happened? 

There was one policy: make the red man change and be like us. Period. When I assign 

my individual stance as a human being toward another human being to a trained and 

armed battery of soldiers, I smash the hope even of friendship. Love and tolerance fly 

out the window. I disgrace another, different from me, when I insist his way must be


replaced by my own. You may think me naïve or blind, or both; but, if so, I know you 

are. When are you going to decide to inspire yourself?


Alias: Uuhh. You did... ask that already... I recal...I do not know how...wher...to begin

Kid: It's a very important personal decision to assume full responsibility to inspire 

yourself. I am inspired now to love you as you are before it's too late; an' it's awkward


and tacky...dirty even...that's it! My name is to be Dirty Bill!...made from dirt...that's 

me... and finally, it's beautiful. Dirty Bill. (smiles)


Alias (winks her delight) Takes one to know one, Dirty Billy! (both laugh and poke 

fun before proceeding)

Dirty Billy: Alias, it troubles my heart that some fool politicians claim they represent 

the people, all the people of their district, and that they do what they do in the name 

of all the people. I say, then, if a man does choose politics as a career he is bound to do 

the right thing and represent every individual, leaving nobody out in the cold. Know 

what I mean?


Alias: Yes, I do, but, how can anybody represent everybody else?


Dirty Billy: The language it takes to serve everybody vibrates the liver; and, it is 

called the liver because it calls us to live. People forget...no, that is not so... the 

trouble is that people remember in some other language that was created to deceive.

Alias: Ha! That's a good one! The language o' the liver. Ha!


Tex S Jhonny