981 South Arapahoe Street
                                                Los Angeles, California 90006
                                                                    28 Jun 81

Dear James Taylor:

You sang, "It's just your point of view.  How does it feel to you?"  It's 
like the Children of Israel, who came out of Egypt, refused to enter and 
occupy the land of Canaan, wandered in the desert for 40 years...till they 
died off...and the next generation went in to take the land.  In my case, the 
beatniks, of the 50's, didn't understand me; the hippies, of the 60's and 
70's (also rebelling against society) didn't want anything to do with me; and 
now, the punk rockers (rebelling against their parents, the hippies) still 
don't want to follow me.  So, perhaps the next generation...rebelling against 
their parents, the punk rockers...will accept me as the center of their 
reality, and then we can get somewhere in changing the world.

Your walkin' man,


                    Charles Heinlen
                    (alias Shiloh, as per Genesis 49:10)

P.S.:     A song says, "You gotta plead, Baby."  Okay, as I seek to be your 
servant, I will to do anything you ask.  I plead with you to help the worst 
member of the lowest class of society...a filthy, sex-crazed tramp who 
wouldn't work if you gave him a job...a hobo-drifter who enjoys being free, 
and loves to roam around distributing the love of God in the best way possi-
ble at the moment, to those who will accept it in the spirit it is given.  I 
plead with you to give me your strength, that this "Eagle In The Eye Of The 
Storm" may hold what he has flown through the storm to get.  I can't carry my 
spaceship upon my back for very long, and I plead with you to help me hold it 
together in the sight of mankind...that they might stand back, in awe, in-
stead of causing so much trouble about it.  I plead for a female chauffeur, 
and for something she can drive.  I plead for a female band, and singers.  I 
plead with you to help whip my act into shape for those who like to watch me 
play.  I plead with you to cause The 144,000 Eagles to gather round this dead 
body, that when our number is complete we will fly away to the next town on 
the Everlasting Tour, as The Knights In White Linen.  I plead with you to let 
me do the same thing the Hell's Angels do, and I promise to show you how to 
escape the trap which they will undoubtedly fall into.  I plead with you to 
understand that Satan won't touch me, hurt me, or stop me...because he likes 
me this way...because that's how enemies should be loved.  I plead with you 
to ask me to help you with your problems, that I may give you the answers you 
need.  A song pleads, "...because my best isn't good enough."  Your best is 
good enough to God, and you must have patience enough to put up with yourself 
the way you are...until you use that displeasure to improve your act, and 
make it better for yourself and your fans.  You're good enough to play in a 
band on the radio.  That's a lot better than myself...at the moment...and I 
find sufficient reward to make it worth my while to continue on my present 
course, until I choose to change it; that's how I'm captain of my own ship, 
and I plead with you to act like crewmembers on my ship.  A song asks, where 
are you going to?  I'm going to the Land of Bible Promises Fulfilled, and the 
gate is in THE PYRAMID in Egypt.  I plead with you to make it known to those 
who can't dig this trip that we will see them on the other side, so they'd 
better act nice on this side...or it will be worse for them later on.  I 
plead with you to help me bring the reproach of women to the Christians in 
their churches, as prophesied in Isaiah 3:16 to 26, and chapter 4.  I plead 
with you that we should get stoned, get naked, jump into a pile, and live 
that way, in the spaceship...packed full of human, living flesh...that every-
one should touch everyone else somehow or other, sooner or later...that the 
love, joy, and glory of God might be expressed more fully than has heretofore 
been possible, like all of us in the fire of the "burning bush," and the 
smoke fills the temple, as I blow the final blast on the trumpet...during the 
Festival Of The Temple.  I plead with you to bear with my disease, until I 
find 144,000 who want something better...like, anybody can be nice when 
things are good...but it takes a whole lot of love, patience, forbearance, 
and longsuffering to be nice when things are rough...until, as each judgment 
is rendered upon the earth, I begin to feel better, and better, and better.  
I plead with you to help me make it better and better, by saying, "Aye, aye, 
Sir," and, "I'm sorry, Sir."  A song says, "I don't understand that you meant 
it that way.  It don't work."  That's how miracles are performed, when it 
works against all laws of nature.  All things are possible with God, because 
God made the natural laws, and he can bend them, or break them whenever he 
wants to; all we have to do is, agree on what we ask him to do for us.  A 
song says, "Don't relax!  You're not home yet."  Sometimes I relax, just 
because I can't hold on to the body any longer by myself, and I leave to go 
do something else (take my rest in God) for awhile.  I plead with you to push 
me, and give me no rest (like as to a servant) until "it" is accomplished.  I 
plead for proper tools to work with, and for you to realize that a servant is 
worthy of his wages, and for you to treat me accordingly...with 10% of all 
personal income from everyone who enters my house, and wishes to avail them-
selves of my umbrella of protection...like you are the usher taking up the 
offering during my worship service, and I'm both the priest and the sacrifice 
placed upon the altar, and I give you the food of the gods...which is my body 
and blood shed for you unto the forgiveness of sins...which is my effort to 
be Christ-like, by walking in his shoes, carrying his cross, and being treat-
ed the same way he was, except that I survive the anger of the populace... 
which has the same effect, to the overcoming of the world.

I plead with you to help me enforce the decrees made by King Shiloh, to the 
end that when I give the wedding feast for my son the guest without a wedding 
garment will be bound, gagged, and cast into outer darkness where there shall 
be weeping and knashing of teeth...which will purify the experience we share 
together, within the ship.  I plead with you to help me gain control of the 
airwaves, that what we say and do on TV and radio will cause heaven or hell 
for those watching or listening, as this is America, and we can say anything 
we wish, because God will damn anyone who doesn't like it.  Cast out the 
scorners, and quarreling will cease; arrest those who violently make fun of, 
or try to stop what I do...like in the parking lot...make them know that they 
aren't welcome at any public event which we sponsor, that they'll be remem-
bered if they try to crash any future party, so they'd better not come back 
again, unless they are willing to get down on their knees, before the Lord, 
and say they're sorry.  They'll be homeless, friendless...down and out...on 
skid-row...until they see the light, and stop acting that way.  I plead with 
you to help me take the treasures which the unrighteous have laid up for the 
righteous.  I plead with you to help me open the prisons...by taking me where 
the boys are, putting me in the light, and letting people know that I live 
the same way on the outside as I did on the inside, which I didn't know 
anything about, until they sent me up the river.  I won't give them any 
reason to bust me anymore, as I'm sufficiently satisfied that my one talent 
has been properly invested with the investors, hidden away inside the bank, 
and I don't need to play with it anymore, until we get away and there'll be 
no one to complain about anything...which will allow us to surge ahead at our 
own speed, without their interference.  This is the best I've been able to do 
in relating to the reality of earth.  I'm flying blindly, in a fog, and I 
can't read my instruments.  I plead with you to talk me in for a landing at 
your port, that I might assist you in preparing your personal ships ready for 
action.  A king needs his subjects; a captain needs his crew, and a shepherd 
needs his flock.  I plead with you to let me lead you to the fold which has 
been prepared for you; I plead with you to let me guide you along the way 
which has been built by the life I live that is not suitable for earth be-
cause of the heaviness of the materialistic, warmongering attitudes in the 
world...which are here because the unbelievers refuse to accept the will of 
God, and God's with you:  Come out of her, my people, that you be not partak-
ers of her sins, and that you receive not of her plagues, and for you to 
continue reading these words in Revelation 18: 5 to 24.  I can't stop, until 
I do it again...the same way I did on the streets of San Francisco in the 
summer of 1969.