Oh my, those were heady daze. I was 16 and soon to be 17. And I was growing up in San Francisco. Ahh, a smile comes to my face but I don't know why. I honestly don't remember that summer at all. I was 16, going on 17 (with my apologies to "The Sound Of Music") and was in the center of the universe for the best LSD on the face of the planet.
I used to take a 10 minute bus ride over to the Haight and score. I knew this burn-out over there that washed dishes in my parents restaurant. He was the most amazing crispy critter I have ever had the pleasure to encounter. He lived in a crash pad (i.e., 27 "roommates") in a miserable 3rd floor walk up. It smelled of goats. And brown rice.
Half an hour later, safely back at home and barricaded in my room I start chowing down on Mr. Natural. and a quarter of a piece of Windowpane. Thank god for X-acto knives. And I start giggling. For the next 16 hours. And that was only because I had enough sense to set the alarm on my Sears Signature clock radio to go off about 6 hours into this little vacation so I could pop another quarter of the Windowpane just about the time I was peaking. Now, trust me, this is a totally acceptable way to do this sort of thing. That way, about the time you're about to start crashing off of the first dose you start boosting up on the second one. I like to call them "floaters". Trust me, they're FUCKING FABULOUS!!!
I was doing this from pre-Memorial Day Weekend until some time late September. 3 to 5 times a week. Oh, good lord, I was mess. A train wreck. A puddle... But I always had a smile on my face. Conversationally I became very animated for the first time. Probably just so I could watch my hands "trail". (That is SO fucking cool!!!). I was liquid. My parents were clueless. Obviously, a much simpler time...
I do not remember moving across the country in October of 1970 when my father retired and went full blown bat shit crazy. I came to sometime around the end of November. I was in Jefferson, Wisconsin. I was sitting at a desk in a public school for the first time in my life. I was no longer in a uniform, I was in jeans. And there were girls in the class. And not a nun in sight... WTFIWWTS??? WTF is my briefcase???
Then I found out that dad had bought hobby farm. I live in the country??? I'm a "farm kid"??? I ride the FUCKING bus??? WTF!!! Please, god, just give me a sinkhole... NOW!!!
I have softened over the years. Not really. I have mellowed. Not really. I am no longer rude, crude, lewd and socially unacceptable. Not really. I am warm and fuzzy. Not really. Well, maybe fuzzy. In more ways than one. Trust me, you don't want to see my back...
No surprise to any of you, I have the short term memory of a gold fish. I do not know my home phone number. Or my cell phone number. Or my zip code. Or most of my PIN numbers. Thank god for masking tape and post-it notes. Has anyone seen my wallet? Car keys? What??? I own a car??? REALLY??? Is it anywhere close? What does it look like? Are you sure that it's mine? Can I have a pickle? You got change for a penny???
Yes, I am damaged. Oh hell, I have enough baggage to move to Mars with!!! Including the spice rack. And a bunch of shit I haven't even unpacked from IKEA yet. WHY DO YOU PEOPLE LET ME BABY-SIT YOUR CHILDREN???
No comments:
Post a Comment