Sunday, April 15, 2007

Don Ho dies. Dreams bubble on.

I spent the summer of 1967 travelling accross Canada, starting with Expo 67 in Montreal and drifting west. While visiting relatives in Regina, I had the following dream.

"University of Hawaii" I told my mother when she inquired where I was planning to go to school. She continued dusting the coffee table.
Waving to the white/yellow curtains that flopped over the kitchen window (open:hot). Fell clumsily into my green/gold Mustang with the white landau top and drove out of the garage.
L, a girl from my high school, zipped up Woodman (Red Light:Go) in her Chevy/Ford coup. Her scarf, of 1950 white flowers on a yellow paisely background, fluttered at the traffic.
Backed lime/gold into Woodman. "Good buy" I sped.
"Hawaii you" breezed L.
"U" I answered noddingly.
Time past. Woodman wasn't. KFWB still swung. KHJ still stung. Billy Joe ate his hominies quietly on the back speakers.
Seven o'clock. Dim dark sun hid behind the music. Dirty dusty mountainous overpopulated California thinned out. Tropical plants. Green.
L swerved her red comfortable Chevy/Ford friendily (top down) perpendicular to my lime/gold. Dull screech. The merrygoround moaned empirically.(well?)
"There ain't no Hawaii University" she mocked in a grinnish ferncovered smile.
"That's where I'm goin---can't turn back now, almost there" said I, flashing a lime/gold deterrent. I noticed her sootcase on the back seat purring. Little sticker:
HAWAII U.
She vanished mockingly. Shoved it into 3rd. Grabbed the thinning highway. Concrete asphalt dirt wet tropical dirt road. Dark tropical dark.

ZZZZ

Where was KRLA?
Dylan fizzed from the back speakers. Wasn't that a Hawaiian guitar?
..............6:00 Radio Hawaii from atop Diamond Head in lovely Honolulu. Time to get up........
whogetsupatsixoclockonsundaymorning WHAT?
..............downtown Honolulu looking bright as the morning star..........
HAWAII I DID IT I'M IN HAWAII
..............here's Don Ho to sing............
Familiar driveway. It's the H's white house/garage. Their's there old gold Ramblobile Coop. I pulled the sleepy lime/gold into there driveway. Abounding over ferns, I rubber the sleep from my I's. Breaking through the Door I seeked out T's room.
"I, baby, wusha doing here at sis a clock in the mornun!" drawled Mr. H.
"Well, sire, I've just discovered that I'm in Hawaii!"
"YOU'RE NUTS" he bellowed belicosely. The audacity of disturbing these nice people on Sunday morning.
T yawned into the room. "Hi I, watya doin hear?"
"I'm in Hawaii! I'm in Hawaii!" I smiled.
"Hello copper. Crazy kid here think's he's in Hawaii."
"No sir, I am. I am. The radio. Come listen to radio HONOLULU
They followed me wearily to the lime/gold. The sun peeked over the house.
............good morning to Los Angeles......6:00 Sunday morning with the Beatles.....
"Get outta hear ya crazy kid" they growled.
As I wept on the turning indicator the radio seemed to fade and fuzz with static. Very faintly in the background, I heard the melodic strumming of Hawaiian guitars.


transcribed as faithfully as possible from August, 1967

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