Dear , I'm glad I caught you on the phone, that was a nice chat. I hope you are finding your work interesting. I have spitballed ideas with Merle jR. ABOUT INTERNET BUSINESS. hE TOLD ME HE BUILT A HI-DEF WEB SITE USING JAVASCRIPT (FOR FREE) iN His spare time, about the World Wrestling Federation, WWF wrestlers, hE MARRIED bARBARA YOUNG, SHE HAD 2 KIDS ALREADY AND THEY HAVE bREE-ANN TOGETHER. i FIRST SEEN HER DOWN HERE. sHE'S 10. SO MUCH LIKE YOU, 4' or SO A 1ST GRADER; YOU COULD TELL HER "oH, YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY!", AND SHE WOULD SAY "i KNOW!" wE LIVED IN A TRAILER THEN, i HAD FLOOR MOUNTED HEAT REGISTERS;THE VENTS COME THROUGH THE FLOOR. bY ACCIDENT I learned that an empty Coke or some say Coca Cola 2 litre bottle was on one riught below where I sat at my bedroom door if I was on line, empty it would roll and float and the top and bottom would fighht WHEN THEY WERE OPEN FULL BLAST AND THE FURNACE BLOWER STARTED THAT IF YOU HAD AN EMPTY cOCA-cOLA 2 LITER BOOTLE SITTING RIGHT ON TOP OF IT; THE BOTTLE WOULD DANCE AROUND LIKE CRAZY, A DERVISH WHIRLING, VARIATION IN THE DRAFT; BUT IT WOULD NOT EVER GET BLOWN OFF THE REGISTER. nEEDLESS TO STAY I NEVER THREWW THE BOTTLE AWAY; I KEPT IT RIGHT THERE, THE a/c DID THE SAME ALL SUMMER LONG; bREE-aNN WAS TRULY FASCINATED BY THIS SIGHT, PROBABLY BECAUSE SHE ALWAYS LIVED IN A HOUSE WHERE POP BOTTLES GOT PICKED UP OFF THE FLOOR IMMEDIATELY, HELL SHE MAY HAVE NEVER SEEN AN EMPTY 2 LITER ON ANY FLOOR EVER. i WAS PLEASED-RELEIVED-SHE FOUND AMUSEMENT IN THE SIGHT, A CARNIVAL thing; THOUGH I LIVED WITH 2 ADULTS, DAD AND PEGGY WHO HAD COMPANY ON A REGULAR BASIS, i NEVER POINTED IT OUT TO ANYONE BECAUSE, i WASN'T SURE HOW PEOPLE DOWN HERE MIGHT REACT IF ONE SHOWED SUCH UNAMBIGUOUS APPROVAL AT SUCH A SIMPLE HOUSEHOLD MUNDANE SO wHAT? bUT SHE SAW IT RIGHT AWAY, THE FIRST 'OTHER HUMAN' TO SHARE MY IDIOTIC JOY THAT COOL THINGS DEVELOP IN THE HOME OF ANY FREE PERSON, EXCEPT THE ONES WHO HAVE PLASTIC COVERS TAILORED FOR THEIR LIVING ROOM SUITES (MORE COMMON IN THE 70'S). tHOSE PLACES 'OTHER PEOPLE'S HOUSES' WAS A CONSTANT PARADE GROWING UP IN sOUTHFIELD; gRANDMA AND gRANDPA NEVER LET ME HOST A HOUSE PARTY; i KNEW BETTER THAN ASK SUCH A FOOLISH QUESTION-CAN I INVITE SOME OF THE KIDS (HOUSEFUL) " SO WE CAN "GET hIGH"? "wHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" THE PERSONAL CHEF OF THE UNIFORMED POLICE SQUAD MIGHT ASK (DAD), MORE LIKELY- A DISMISSIVE GRUNT. THE PARENTS OF THE KIDS WHO ALLOWED "high" school parties IN THEir WEEKLY WINTER INSIDE KEGGERS WITH THE HAZE OF PLENTIFUL jAMACIAN WEED OR HASHish a cloud formation in finished basements, some walk-outs with in-grounD pools, with tile, not a PLASTIC LINER, PEOPLE WHO WERE TRULY CLASS CONSCIOUS: EXECUTIVES. pROFESSORS;DOCTORS,ACCOUNTANTS, LAWYERS, AND DENTISTS, in the 'of course' COOLEST POST WHITE-FLIGHT TRIBE IN ALL DETROIT; THE entire METRO AREA TRI-COUNTY; sOUTHFIELD hIGH sTUDENT body INCLUDED 2 BLACK KIDS IN 1978, MY FINAL YEAR AT SHS. 2 Brothers ,SONS OF rev. chARLES o. miles,tv pREACHER, Host of the "HOUR OF DeLIVERANCE" telecast OF TAPED Church service in . I watched it with Grandpa, we would both find amusement at how lively service was held, (Baptist Church one is SILENT ECOURSE UNTIL INSTRUCTED TO SING such and such number song ALOUD from NEVER MISPLACED hymnals; THE BUILT-IN HOLDERS ON THE BACK OF EVERY PEW PUT THEM BUT AN ARMS LENGTH FROM ANYONE IN THE HOUSE. sOME pEOPLE MIGHT SAY 'amen' IF THE PREACHER TURNED A CLEVER PHRASE, otherwise it's a rote lecture, which if one has any true talent atsmall-time celebrity is achieved, and your behavior outside of church will be constantly monitored by Christian Spies, when I lived down here 8th & 9th grade we had a PASTOR, Wade Trimmer, who gave up being a sought after EVANGELIST, WHO BOOKED ONE WEEK GIGS AT THE PLENTIFUL BAPTIST MEETING HALLS, for what is a bill AN ENGINEER'S SALARY TO PREACH, Isaw him first in randomfashion. He preached an event they advertise a a revival; a week of nightly services, with a 'SUPERSTAR PREACHER', and Wade Trimmer was that. Possessing a dynamic speaking voice, Wade trimmer was football big size man with coal-black hair,He officiated the funeral of Grandpa Tom's mother, Ma Coleman,the former Ella Mae Woods, daughter of a Methodist Church minister's; Born in Cullman AL; an immediate affinity With Rev. Trimmer was reached between them, their meeting was among the events in a chain reaction after his Leoma revival; he was bringing people into the church; without doubt his preaching was superior to any I have seen in person. Leoma Baptist Church issued a letter, an official proposal to be its Pastor (shepherd) ,he accepted. Robin, you are the namesake of Ma Coleman, a very respected lady, earned with flawless manners and hard work, Before 1948, cotton had to be picked by hand;Southern Lawrence County was an ocean of WHITE ALL AUGUST SEPTEMBER OCTOBER she outpicked most men. Her knowledge of the Bible was ency only a persistent, lifelong and serious disciple may attain. A great cook, homemade biscuits went on at 4 A.M. for Pa and which ones of their 12 offspring were home, automatic, reach a hand inside the flour sack, the lard can, obtaining amounts the hands remember, the body memory of the trained athlete, but a fun grandmother because she loved to see little faces smile and praised your actions so right on, say you colored a picture in a coloring book, or just followed her around all day because of a sigular magnetism; she was bigger than Pa Coleman, who was 5'9" and always very thin, like Merle Sr. & Jr.Thin as a rail moving with purpose or at rest, who took grandson Robert III (b. circa 1947) on a walk through the Bailey Holler; the tribal home among the many Bailey's; 'Chip', his handle similar to my JoeBear, which you can never shake one it sticks and people decide they like the sound of it, makes them grin. Forget ever being called Joseph among kinfolk, if I started now introducing myself as Joseph to every new acquaitance until I croak. That's my 'paperwork' name, which I now sign as Joseph Hughes Coleman, because it is a alright sounding trusty type 3 word name, recent Hollywood trend fondness, 1 of a kind. 'other kids'PARENTS WERE mARTIANS in MY EYES especially when they were present somewhere in the house with BECAUSE THEY WERE BEING COOL (permitting IT TO KEEP THE PACK OFF THE ROAD cuz they knew we got high when we went out, SNEAKING IN LATE WAS eventually DETECTED NO MATTER HOW QUIET QUIET AND IN THE DARK YOU COULD DO EVERYTHING; sometimes THEY WERE UP TO PEE-OR WORSE UP LATE SHOTGUNNING THEIR OWN 12 PACK; THEN THEY WERE APT TO BE SURLY, "look at the big man coming in from a night on THE TOWN!" LATER i WILL NOT FORGET GOING TO Eastern Michigan University, EMU,in Ypsi, making my first appearance on a college campus at 15 years of age; FREE BEER AND SMOKE; the weed was there waiting. GENUINE ACOPULCO GOLD-another first; in the dorm room of Bernie Moore's brother Mike, a grad student and his wife an RN; Little Merle's 2 older half sisters, my cousins Tina and Lisa (Tina's July, 1960 birth was just ahead of my arrival September, 1960 ) Lisa in September 1962 was the baby of our little extended family; the restaurant partners, brothers Tom and Merle Coleman, Tom's wife Faye and Merle's ex-wife Betty; we spent many days of childhood together, They lived just around the corner on the next block in Hazel Park a (Lisa's middle name IS GAY;)(;and rhymes with sister-!-Tina Kay). Unfamiliar THC potency is confronted; the buzz is another dimension of high altogether, Suppressed fears are revealed. Doom is my train of thought and giant paranoia emerges from its cacoon, completion of its metamorphosis dOne, the cannibinols flooding my brain possessed the awaited chemical message. The brain is teeming with alarm. I obtain a jolting observation of myself. The sense one's mind is disordered dawns. A forboding registers, my emotional seismograph blows its lid, redlined.The parade of unfriendly images marching quick time, random files of unhappy memory open; past pain throbs anew, complete with genuine dispair. My discomfort had no relevence to my thought life as I walked in; now cramped, the living quarters were a mousehole a feral cat peering in waiting. Though the memory of my childhood trauma was not yet ripe; it was a powerful mental block. Introversion descends on me, my class clown days cease. The hidden mental coils and springs are altered, the instrument of consciousness itself stirs in uneasy dread, a shifting beast. My hand of dogeared cards have no answer; gingerly dealt, a raggedy prison commissary deck is recognized, each card worn as pliable as chamois from years of daily sorting by countless dirty fingers and sweaty palms, each available play is a bad gamble, all options appear dicey. The incident is hidden, I see the backs, a faded red diamond pattern, and my losing hand; desiring my wasted ante back; a most uncomfortable, pointless urge. I fold and wait. Finally they reshuffled and dealt...and cold hands of betrayal that so pierced my heart--awareness of it can't be chanced. Age 27 would arrive when the facts unfolded. The pain settled like the muck of gutters. I would carry it. I was a running who feels the certainty of ball possession, after a faultless handoff is executed , The inner verbalizing is reduced to RUN,I got the ball I'm going to use every trick I can to move forward and hold on to the ball, and treat big parts of my identidy as an object I must only feel pressure in the crook of my arm I got the ball, my eyes percieving the programme of my life as a series of obstacles, I must accept the certain collision or take it to the house, take the hits, let my legs work by themselves, sheer reflex causing every juke, fake, and cut they have in them; while the focus is the ball in my arm, a physical pain, held so tight. The clock wouldn't allow to see the ball, its oval and laces the analog to the workings of my hand. Many years of therapy were ahead, conversatiion elicited in talk therapy,'The Joseph Hughes Coleman Talk Show', live and unedited, my hurt was indicated by unconscious gestures, deep embarrassment,laughter, exchanges of information, a to and fro data exchange like a tennis game , crafted turns of phrase,,a vocabulary exercise, a spoken run-on sentence,who-what-when-where and how; list of causes whose effects and whys must be inferred. The old Wound might tell a story we can trace back; A scrutiny of the the nerveless pale scar formed in total darkness under copious covers and bindings. The will to live, survival instinct, applies during states of shock, the ego's senseless buffer zone I entered when annihilation looked for keeps.
Dear , I'm glad I caught you on the phone, that was a nice chat. I hope you are finding your work interesting. I have spitballed ideas with Merle jR. ABOUT INTERNET BUSINESS. hE TOLD ME HE BUILT A HI-DEF WEB SITE USING JAVASCRIPT (FOR FREE) iN His spare time, about the World Wrestling Federation, WWF wrestlers, hE MARRIED bARBARA YOUNG, SHE HAD 2 KIDS ALREADY AND THEY HAVE bREE-ANN TOGETHER. i FIRST SEEN HER DOWN HERE. sHE'S 10. SO MUCH LIKE YOU, 4' or SO A 1ST GRADER; YOU COULD TELL HER "oH, YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY!", AND SHE WOULD SAY "i KNOW!" wE LIVED IN A TRAILER THEN, i HAD FLOOR MOUNTED HEAT REGISTERS;THE VENTS COME THROUGH THE FLOOR. bY ACCIDENT I learned that an empty Coke or some say Coca Cola 2 litre bottle was on one riught below where I sat at my bedroom door if I was on line, empty it would roll and float and the top and bottom would fighht WHEN THEY WERE OPEN FULL BLAST AND THE FURNACE BLOWER STARTED THAT IF YOU HAD AN EMPTY cOCA-cOLA 2 LITER BOOTLE SITTING RIGHT ON TOP OF IT; THE BOTTLE WOULD DANCE AROUND LIKE CRAZY, A DERVISH WHIRLING, VARIATION IN THE DRAFT; BUT IT WOULD NOT EVER GET BLOWN OFF THE REGISTER. nEEDLESS TO STAY I NEVER THREWW THE BOTTLE AWAY; I KEPT IT RIGHT THERE, THE a/c DID THE SAME ALL SUMMER LONG; bREE-aNN WAS TRULY FASCINATED BY THIS SIGHT, PROBABLY BECAUSE SHE ALWAYS LIVED IN A HOUSE WHERE POP BOTTLES GOT PICKED UP OFF THE FLOOR IMMEDIATELY, HELL SHE MAY HAVE NEVER SEEN AN EMPTY 2 LITER ON ANY FLOOR EVER. i WAS PLEASED-RELEIVED-SHE FOUND AMUSEMENT IN THE SIGHT, A CARNIVAL thing; THOUGH I LIVED WITH 2 ADULTS, DAD AND PEGGY WHO HAD COMPANY ON A REGULAR BASIS, i NEVER POINTED IT OUT TO ANYONE BECAUSE, i WASN'T SURE HOW PEOPLE DOWN HERE MIGHT REACT IF ONE SHOWED SUCH UNAMBIGUOUS APPROVAL AT SUCH A SIMPLE HOUSEHOLD MUNDANE SO wHAT? bUT SHE SAW IT RIGHT AWAY, THE FIRST 'OTHER HUMAN' TO SHARE MY IDIOTIC JOY THAT COOL THINGS DEVELOP IN THE HOME OF ANY FREE PERSON, EXCEPT THE ONES WHO HAVE PLASTIC COVERS TAILORED FOR THEIR LIVING ROOM SUITES (MORE COMMON IN THE 70'S). tHOSE PLACES 'OTHER PEOPLE'S HOUSES' WAS A CONSTANT PARADE GROWING UP IN sOUTHFIELD; gRANDMA AND gRANDPA NEVER LET ME HOST A HOUSE PARTY; i KNEW BETTER THAN ASK SUCH A FOOLISH QUESTION-CAN I INVITE SOME OF THE KIDS (HOUSEFUL) " SO WE CAN "GET hIGH"? "wHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" THE PERSONAL CHEF OF THE UNIFORMED POLICE SQUAD MIGHT ASK (DAD), MORE LIKELY- A DISMISSIVE GRUNT. THE PARENTS OF THE KIDS WHO ALLOWED "high" school parties IN THEir WEEKLY WINTER INSIDE KEGGERS WITH THE HAZE OF PLENTIFUL jAMACIAN WEED OR HASHish a cloud formation in finished basements, some walk-outs with in-grounD pools, with tile, not a PLASTIC LINER, PEOPLE WHO WERE TRULY CLASS CONSCIOUS: EXECUTIVES. pROFESSORS;DOCTORS,ACCOUNTANTS, LAWYERS, AND DENTISTS, in the 'of course' COOLEST POST WHITE-FLIGHT TRIBE IN ALL DETROIT; THE entire METRO AREA TRI-COUNTY; sOUTHFIELD hIGH sTUDENT body INCLUDED 2 BLACK KIDS IN 1978, MY FINAL YEAR AT SHS. 2 Brothers ,SONS OF rev. chARLES o. miles,tv pREACHER, Host of the "HOUR OF DeLIVERANCE" telecast OF TAPED Church service in . I watched it with Grandpa, we would both find amusement at how lively service was held, (Baptist Church one is SILENT ECOURSE UNTIL INSTRUCTED TO SING such and such number song ALOUD from NEVER MISPLACED hymnals; THE BUILT-IN HOLDERS ON THE BACK OF EVERY PEW PUT THEM BUT AN ARMS LENGTH FROM ANYONE IN THE HOUSE. sOME pEOPLE MIGHT SAY 'amen' IF THE PREACHER TURNED A CLEVER PHRASE, otherwise it's a rote lecture, which if one has any true talent atsmall-time celebrity is achieved, and your behavior outside of church will be constantly monitored by Christian Spies, when I lived down here 8th & 9th grade we had a PASTOR, Wade Trimmer, who gave up being a sought after EVANGELIST, WHO BOOKED ONE WEEK GIGS AT THE PLENTIFUL BAPTIST MEETING HALLS, for what is a bill AN ENGINEER'S SALARY TO PREACH, Isaw him first in randomfashion. He preached an event they advertise a a revival; a week of nightly services, with a 'SUPERSTAR PREACHER', and Wade Trimmer was that. Possessing a dynamic speaking voice, Wade trimmer was football big size man with coal-black hair,He officiated the funeral of Grandpa Tom's mother, Ma Coleman,the former Ella Mae Woods, daughter of a Methodist Church minister's; Born in Cullman AL; an immediate affinity With Rev. Trimmer was reached between them, their meeting was among the events in a chain reaction after his Leoma revival; he was bringing people into the church; without doubt his preaching was superior to any I have seen in person. Leoma Baptist Church issued a letter, an official proposal to be its Pastor (shepherd) ,he accepted. Robin, you are the namesake of Ma Coleman, a very respected lady, earned with flawless manners and hard work, Before 1948, cotton had to be picked by hand;Southern Lawrence County was an ocean of WHITE ALL AUGUST SEPTEMBER OCTOBER she outpicked most men. Her knowledge of the Bible was ency only a persistent, lifelong and serious disciple may attain. A great cook, homemade biscuits went on at 4 A.M. for Pa and which ones of their 12 offspring were home, automatic, reach a hand inside the flour sack, the lard can, obtaining amounts the hands remember, the body memory of the trained athlete, but a fun grandmother because she loved to see little faces smile and praised your actions so right on, say you colored a picture in a coloring book, or just followed her around all day because of a sigular magnetism; she was bigger than Pa Coleman, who was 5'9" and always very thin, like Merle Sr. & Jr.Thin as a rail moving with purpose or at rest, who took grandson Robert III (b. circa 1947) on a walk through the Bailey Holler; the tribal home among the many Bailey's; 'Chip', his handle similar to my JoeBear, which you can never shake one it sticks and people decide they like the sound of it, makes them grin. Forget ever being called Joseph among kinfolk, if I started now introducing myself as Joseph to every new acquaitance until I croak. That's my 'paperwork' name, which I now sign as Joseph Hughes Coleman, because it is a alright sounding trusty type 3 word name, recent Hollywood trend fondness, 1 of a kind. 'other kids'PARENTS WERE mARTIANS in MY EYES especially when they were present somewhere in the house with BECAUSE THEY WERE BEING COOL (permitting IT TO KEEP THE PACK OFF THE ROAD cuz they knew we got high when we went out, SNEAKING IN LATE WAS eventually DETECTED NO MATTER HOW QUIET QUIET AND IN THE DARK YOU COULD DO EVERYTHING; sometimes THEY WERE UP TO PEE-OR WORSE UP LATE SHOTGUNNING THEIR OWN 12 PACK; THEN THEY WERE APT TO BE SURLY, "look at the big man coming in from a night on THE TOWN!" LATER i WILL NOT FORGET GOING TO Eastern Michigan University, EMU,in Ypsi, making my first appearance on a college campus at 15 years of age; FREE BEER AND SMOKE; the weed was there waiting. GENUINE ACOPULCO GOLD-another first; in the dorm room of Bernie Moore's brother Mike, a grad student and his wife an RN; Little Merle's 2 older half sisters, my cousins Tina and Lisa (Tina's July, 1960 birth was just ahead of my arrival September, 1960 ) Lisa in September 1962 was the baby of our little extended family; the restaurant partners, brothers Tom and Merle Coleman, Tom's wife Faye and Merle's ex-wife Betty; we spent many days of childhood together, They lived just around the corner on the next block in Hazel Park a (Lisa's middle name IS GAY;)(;and rhymes with sister-!-Tina Kay). Unfamiliar THC potency is confronted; the buzz is another dimension of high altogether, Suppressed fears are revealed. Doom is my train of thought and giant paranoia emerges from its cacoon, completion of its metamorphosis dOne, the cannibinols flooding my brain possessed the awaited chemical message. The brain is teeming with alarm. I obtain a jolting observation of myself. The sense one's mind is disordered dawns. A forboding registers, my emotional seismograph blows its lid, redlined.The parade of unfriendly images marching quick time, random files of unhappy memory open; past pain throbs anew, complete with genuine dispair. My discomfort had no relevence to my thought life as I walked in; now cramped, the living quarters were a mousehole a feral cat peering in waiting. Though the memory of my childhood trauma was not yet ripe; it was a powerful mental block. Introversion descends on me, my class clown days cease. The hidden mental coils and springs are altered, the instrument of consciousness itself stirs in uneasy dread, a shifting beast. My hand of dogeared cards have no answer; gingerly dealt, a raggedy prison commissary deck is recognized, each card worn as pliable as chamois from years of daily sorting by countless dirty fingers and sweaty palms, each available play is a bad gamble, all options appear dicey. The incident is hidden, I see the backs, a faded red diamond pattern, and my losing hand; desiring my wasted ante back; a most uncomfortable, pointless urge. I fold and wait. Finally they reshuffled and dealt...and cold hands of betrayal that so pierced my heart--awareness of it can't be chanced. Age 27 would arrive when the facts unfolded. The pain settled like the muck of gutters. I would carry it. I was a running who feels the certainty of ball possession, after a faultless handoff is executed , The inner verbalizing is reduced to RUN,I got the ball I'm going to use every trick I can to move forward and hold on to the ball, and treat big parts of my identidy as an object I must only feel pressure in the crook of my arm I got the ball, my eyes percieving the programme of my life as a series of obstacles, I must accept the certain collision or take it to the house, take the hits, let my legs work by themselves, sheer reflex causing every juke, fake, and cut they have in them; while the focus is the ball in my arm, a physical pain, held so tight. The clock wouldn't allow to see the ball, its oval and laces the analog to the workings of my hand. Many years of therapy were ahead, conversatiion elicited in talk therapy,'The Joseph Hughes Coleman Talk Show', live and unedited, my hurt was indicated by unconscious gestures, deep embarrassment,laughter, exchanges of information, a to and fro data exchange like a tennis game , crafted turns of phrase,,a vocabulary exercise, a spoken run-on sentence,who-what-when-where and how; list of causes whose effects and whys must be inferred. The old Wound might tell a story we can trace back; A scrutiny of the the nerveless pale scar formed in total darkness under copious covers and bindings. The will to live, survival instinct, applies during states of shock, the ego's senseless buffer zone I entered when annihilation looked for keeps.
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