Sunday, August 30, 2009
Back in New York, one night I went to a friend’s party, a perfectly fine get-together but nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until Jimi Hendrix walked in. I’d heard he had a place in the Village not far from the Albert Hotel. Of course, I was very interested to meet him. When I overheard him mention Tim Leary to someone, it created an opportunity to join the conversation. He was warmly receptive and easy to talk to. I couldn’t help but share how I followed Tim to Montreal and just missed being a part of possibly the greatest music video of all time. I soon found myself in Jimi’s company again—it seemed we had a few friends in common. On more than one occasion we’d pass each other a joint or hash pipe, which led to in-depth conversations, or at least we thought so in our stoned state. I was, in those days, a musician, a guitar player, and Jimi enjoyed my stories about jam sessions in the basement of the Albert.
Many musicians hung out at a cellar club up at 46th Street and Eighth Avenue called “Steve Paul’s Scene.” Speaking of jams, how about this legendary combo: Hendrix and BB King on guitars, with Mitch Mitchell (The Jimi Hendrix Experience) on drums, and John Lennon singing! Was I there? Of course not! It was a night I decided to crash and stay home.
One night at the “Scene”, I was in the men’s room checking myself out in the mirror. Along with my wigged-out, layered, Sergeant Pepper haircut and my blue velvet, Edwardian, double-breasted jacket with crepe ruffle shirt, bell-bottoms, and sneakers, I wore a rather funny look on my face. Why do I say that? And why do I so vividly recall in such detail? I was just getting off on some acid and zoning in the mirror. Hell, I remember what the air smelled like, even its texture.
Another patron stepped in. He took one look at me and knew.
“Hey, man. You’re trippin’!” It was Jimi. “I want some!”
“Let me see if my friend is still carrying. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
I checked with my friend back at the bar. He had one more hit and gave it to me. I happily reported back to Jimi, handing him the tab. It brought a smile to his face. He popped it into his mouth and invited me to join his party, which consisted of this DDG (Drop Dead Gorgeous) blonde he’d been going around with and a male friend.
At Jimi’s table, they ordered drinks, except for Jimi and me. We were “on the wagon.” Before long, I started feeling the acid in a very big way. I thought my body was melting. I could see Jimi wasn’t far behind.
He leaned over and confided, “I gotta get out of here.”
He put some money on the table and, to the bewilderment of his friends, hurried out the exit. He hit the street before me, as I held back to wait for the others. By the time I got outside, Jimi was speeding off in a cab, leaving even Ms. DDG behind.
I managed an awkward “Nice meeting you” to her and her friend and went back in. I could tell there was something different about this acid, and asked my friend about it. It was called STP, a rare, stronger form of LSD that boasted an extended peak time.
I decided to go home, back to the comfort of the knowing individuals at the Albert. Thank God for the Albert, I thought. I went up on the roof, as the song goes, to try to catch my breath. I ended up spending much of the night up there, tripping my brains out, with the moonlit sky above and the lamp-lit Manhattan streets below.
THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY BOOK CALLED "I JUST HAPPENED TO BE THERE," WHICH MY AGENT IS ABOUT TO SHOP. THE REST OF THIS STORY ABOUT JIMI WILL BE POSTED THIS WEDNESDAY SEPT 2nd
Friday, August 21, 2009
Growing up I was a Star trek fan but in today’s world I find little need to read or view anything Sci-Fi. What for? All one needs to do today is merely look out their windows to find strange phenomena. We seem to have advanced so far with technology and regressed spiritually. All this technology can work for us or against us and might even eventually be the cause of our demise, if we don’t strengthen our spiritual muscles.
The level of stuff that we now accept would have previously been beyond the most vivid of imaginations. We enable a Wall Street full of criminal parasites that suck the blood of society for their own personal and immediate gains. Wall Street a place where humorless robots that look and dress alike walk around clinging to their lust with overactive libidos of greed. They dress like their stylist was an undertaker from the 50’S and they all wear baseball caps even in the gym, what’s that all about? I guess with pursuit of collective greed one loses all individuality
We live on a planet where conservatives demand that a woman has the child even if it came from a rape or incest. Once it’s born they don’t want to inoculate it, give it an education, or healthcare and God Forbid it should grow up and receive social security or medicare, on top of all that they want to put you down for being a single mom.
Our streets are lined with fertility clinics where whore doctors will take any request for anything, like a bad DJ on life’s highway. Just look at the Octo-Moron Mom. In my view one should examine the reason they want children. Is it for ego extension? Given the state of the world today what will their futures be like? With so many being born will any of them ever find a job 20 years from now? Can you provide for them for their entire life? If one truly feels the need to have children they should not come from labs, children should be considered as a gift, born out of love, not a material possession you have and then turn over to a nanny.
In this space in time, we are the ones occupying this plane called earth, and we seem to be witnessing a transformation, to a “New Species.” A new breed that pumps out children like a cat does a litter. Instructing their local Frankenstein lab doctor to create a minimum of twins. No one has a single child anymore. I guess they want their moneys worth from the clinic. Well, if you have that kind of love in your heart and you cannot have kids, ADOPT!
We live in a time where we want to legislate love. Love is love whether it is between a man and a women, a man and a man or a women and a women, and no government or religion should stand in between nor get in the way of love. It’s simply not our business. If you feel threatened by this kind of marriage I suggest you spend your time strengthening your own relationship.
Men speak so softly today and are such “high talkers” there seems to be a homogenization of sexes going down. Are we on our way to a one sex society, where men and women fall in line, dress alike, think alike? Soon they will be selling the space on their shaved heads to advertisers, to get us to buy more so their stocks can go up. Can you deny that it’s a Sci-Fi world after all?
Monday, August 17, 2009
Coming Of Age, Or When Coming Is No Longer Enough
I just happened to be there. Or did I? I just happened to be born into and live through times that were no less than a scintillating, creative, imaginative renaissance, pure and simple. The Sixties were a period of exciting unrest, the result of pushing boundaries. It was all part of a social experiment; a constant state of struggle between the society we lived in and the one we were trying to create. It was the perfect era for me to come of age in, for both my Spiritual Compass and the Bad Boy. Both found a solid footing in what was taking root in this new and evolving dissident culture, so open to spiritual curiosity and chock full of all kinds of trouble you could get yourself into, and I characteristically and comfortably positioned myself on the front lines. Maybe I happened to be there, but like everything else in my life, I came with body, mind, and soul. Excerpt from my book that my agent is about to shop
Monday, August 10, 2009
There has been a series of music events trying to relive the spirit of Woodstock but Woodstock was just that, a spirit, not a mere event, it cannot be relived only reborn in our hearts, minds and souls.
That special feeling we called "Woodstock Nation," is today more like A Wooden Stock Market Nation. Taking LSD today will not recreate the vibe that existed then, it would only enhance the vibe of today and that would be a nightmare. Looking at the greed and lack of compassion in the world today, I personally need more antacid. Our only hope is for us to go against the traffic and cross over to the other side, just like that famous album cover of 1969.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
I love Obama as I feel he is the right person for the job at the very moment that we needed someone like him, but I must admit I miss the humor of having a Colin, Dick, and Bush in the White House at the same time. I'm not saying Bush was dumb but I can imagine him thinking Roe verses Wade was a decision that one made at the lake. "Sir what is your position on a women's right to choose," one can easily imagine him saying something like "I'm for a women's right to shoes." Or, when asked about the NRA'S position on bearing arms him saying "I think everyone has the right to bare arms, hell I wear tank tops all the time at the ranch."
It's hard to understand how a group of people so obviously in need of healthcare, mental healthcare, could be so against it.