I have told a couple of people this story, none of them believe me. I'm not sure when I'll write up part two, but the tale does continue...
It was Saint Patrick’s Day and my road-dog and I had just gotten into San Fran. We got separated somewhere around market district, but we agreed to meet on the Haight if that happened so I wasn’t worried. A few hours later I was at the horseshoe, spending $7 on what I hoped was a hit of acid on an altoid. It took its time so when my road-dog showed up(I’ll call him RD I guess, I’m really bad at making up names) I was wondering about the wisdom of my decision. Luckily as soon as I was starting to tell him of my folly it hit me, and it’s off to an adventure I went.
My “adventure” consisted of bee lining it to Haight and Ashbury with all the speed of a frying idiot. There were plenty of dirty kids walking around so I blended in really well. After many distractions and general lollygagging we made it, and proceed to spend most of the night on the ben and jerry’s stoop, playing music and drinking whiskey.
Until the whiskey came out RD had been sober as f*ck, but I wasn’t the only one tripping balls. We had met this random at the horseshoe, found out I was tripping too so he joined our ranks. This kid (I’ll call him SD) was a natural musician, he knew how it was done. So we played on, watching drunk people pass by, having a grand time.
At this point two others joined us. These kids were on a sick one. They couldn’t stop laughing and smiling. It was infectious at first, everything was funny and I was having a blast. But soon after it became clear they had taken waaaay more acid then I had ever taken in my life. They kept trying to express thoughts and emotions that only a lunatic could understand. The colors man…don’t you see? It’s hard to describe but it was a total buzz kill.
They asked for my guitar and proceeded to play acid-soaked cover songs into the night. A street magician passed by, dressed most upper-crust indeed in his vest and crisp white collared shirt. He showed us some magic tricks and we were all amazed. In hindsight they weren’t that impressive but magic while tripping is very entertaining, I have found.
But the party had to end sometime, and eventually we left.
There’s a small gap in my memory here, but this is what I remember next. I was playing guitar when some traveler kid in a pea coat asked me if I had a can opener. I handed over my p-38 and chatted it up with him for a few. He thanked me and offered me some of his canned corn. He looked like he needed it more than I did so I graciously refused. He had just walked away when a nerdy looking guy rolled up to me and said “hey man, have you fried today?”
I was speechless at first, since I’ve never been freely offered drugs like that before. Finally I get out a “no? I haven’t…” I was skeptical and suspicious, wondering if this was some sort of trick. Yet lo and behold into my hand he puts a gummy bear and a single smartie candy then walks away, never to be seen again.
Post-haste I consume my treat and a few hours later I’m busking my soul out, really ripping into it. I’m Jimi, I’m Clapton, I am one with the sidewalk gum of Haight and Masonic. I make my beer/food money, then walk to the hill.
I smoke many a bowl with the dirty kids, swapping stories and sipping fine malt beverages in moderation. I had a cool shiny with an interesting story, and as I recount the tale this one kid is amazed. For some reason he was really impressed, and asked me what I wanted for the shiny. I told him to make me an offer. He says “wait here”, then after a few minutes he comes back with a small bag full of shroom dust.
I’m still kind of frying at this point, and cool as a cucumber I make the trade. For some reason my nonchalance makes me feel good, real good. I feel like anything is possible. I feel like I have stepped into a reality where my desires manifest themselves before my eyes. The thought excites and terrifies me.
Later that night I’m in front of a bar, playing guitar for money. Another traveler kid I had seen around posts up, and plays harmonica on top of my guitar. I ask him if he wants to split a beer and we do. While we’re taking our break a young woman walks up to us and starts talking to me. She’s petite, wearing black tights and a sweatshirt. It looks like she just got out of a yoga class.
She’s obviously wasted, slurring her words and staring at me with unfocused, half-open eyes. “Oh my god, I love you” She tells me. I don’t even remember my response, but it must have worked because then she said “I want to suck your d*ck”, right into my ear. Homeboy with the harmonica was awestruck, as was I. This never happens to anyone, unless you’re in a bad porno.
She gave me a kiss then told me she was gonna grab a drink at the bar and be right out. I wanted to run in after her, but the bouncer took one look at my pack and told me to kick rocks. I’m not into scandalous chicks but I hadn't been laid in a while, and could no longer ignore the stirring in my loins.
While I was waiting SD showed up. He had been sharing our campsite the last few days and he had gotten into the habit of leaving his gear there. Only now he couldn't find the campsite, and started getting in my face, wondering where his stuff was. He was clearly very upset, and I could see a smiley just within hands reach sticking out of his pocket. So my options were a sloppy blowjob by some skank I’d never met before, or help a fellow traveler gain some piece of mind and get his gear back.
It was the hardest decision of my life, but in the end I decided to help a brother out. We walked back to the site, and I tell him of my woes. He assures me I’m a good looking guy (no homo) and that I didn’t need that ho-bag anyways. I felt sort of better, knowing I was the master of my will, but I kept questioning what could have been. Maybe she really meant it, maybe she had been the one who would have loved me, taken care of me... a fools dream to be sure. I shook the thought away and went to sleep.
It was Saint Patrick’s Day and my road-dog and I had just gotten into San Fran. We got separated somewhere around market district, but we agreed to meet on the Haight if that happened so I wasn’t worried. A few hours later I was at the horseshoe, spending $7 on what I hoped was a hit of acid on an altoid. It took its time so when my road-dog showed up(I’ll call him RD I guess, I’m really bad at making up names) I was wondering about the wisdom of my decision. Luckily as soon as I was starting to tell him of my folly it hit me, and it’s off to an adventure I went.
My “adventure” consisted of bee lining it to Haight and Ashbury with all the speed of a frying idiot. There were plenty of dirty kids walking around so I blended in really well. After many distractions and general lollygagging we made it, and proceed to spend most of the night on the ben and jerry’s stoop, playing music and drinking whiskey.
Until the whiskey came out RD had been sober as f*ck, but I wasn’t the only one tripping balls. We had met this random at the horseshoe, found out I was tripping too so he joined our ranks. This kid (I’ll call him SD) was a natural musician, he knew how it was done. So we played on, watching drunk people pass by, having a grand time.
At this point two others joined us. These kids were on a sick one. They couldn’t stop laughing and smiling. It was infectious at first, everything was funny and I was having a blast. But soon after it became clear they had taken waaaay more acid then I had ever taken in my life. They kept trying to express thoughts and emotions that only a lunatic could understand. The colors man…don’t you see? It’s hard to describe but it was a total buzz kill.
They asked for my guitar and proceeded to play acid-soaked cover songs into the night. A street magician passed by, dressed most upper-crust indeed in his vest and crisp white collared shirt. He showed us some magic tricks and we were all amazed. In hindsight they weren’t that impressive but magic while tripping is very entertaining, I have found.
But the party had to end sometime, and eventually we left.
There’s a small gap in my memory here, but this is what I remember next. I was playing guitar when some traveler kid in a pea coat asked me if I had a can opener. I handed over my p-38 and chatted it up with him for a few. He thanked me and offered me some of his canned corn. He looked like he needed it more than I did so I graciously refused. He had just walked away when a nerdy looking guy rolled up to me and said “hey man, have you fried today?”
I was speechless at first, since I’ve never been freely offered drugs like that before. Finally I get out a “no? I haven’t…” I was skeptical and suspicious, wondering if this was some sort of trick. Yet lo and behold into my hand he puts a gummy bear and a single smartie candy then walks away, never to be seen again.
Post-haste I consume my treat and a few hours later I’m busking my soul out, really ripping into it. I’m Jimi, I’m Clapton, I am one with the sidewalk gum of Haight and Masonic. I make my beer/food money, then walk to the hill.
I smoke many a bowl with the dirty kids, swapping stories and sipping fine malt beverages in moderation. I had a cool shiny with an interesting story, and as I recount the tale this one kid is amazed. For some reason he was really impressed, and asked me what I wanted for the shiny. I told him to make me an offer. He says “wait here”, then after a few minutes he comes back with a small bag full of shroom dust.
I’m still kind of frying at this point, and cool as a cucumber I make the trade. For some reason my nonchalance makes me feel good, real good. I feel like anything is possible. I feel like I have stepped into a reality where my desires manifest themselves before my eyes. The thought excites and terrifies me.
Later that night I’m in front of a bar, playing guitar for money. Another traveler kid I had seen around posts up, and plays harmonica on top of my guitar. I ask him if he wants to split a beer and we do. While we’re taking our break a young woman walks up to us and starts talking to me. She’s petite, wearing black tights and a sweatshirt. It looks like she just got out of a yoga class.
She’s obviously wasted, slurring her words and staring at me with unfocused, half-open eyes. “Oh my god, I love you” She tells me. I don’t even remember my response, but it must have worked because then she said “I want to suck your d*ck”, right into my ear. Homeboy with the harmonica was awestruck, as was I. This never happens to anyone, unless you’re in a bad porno.
She gave me a kiss then told me she was gonna grab a drink at the bar and be right out. I wanted to run in after her, but the bouncer took one look at my pack and told me to kick rocks. I’m not into scandalous chicks but I hadn't been laid in a while, and could no longer ignore the stirring in my loins.
While I was waiting SD showed up. He had been sharing our campsite the last few days and he had gotten into the habit of leaving his gear there. Only now he couldn't find the campsite, and started getting in my face, wondering where his stuff was. He was clearly very upset, and I could see a smiley just within hands reach sticking out of his pocket. So my options were a sloppy blowjob by some skank I’d never met before, or help a fellow traveler gain some piece of mind and get his gear back.
It was the hardest decision of my life, but in the end I decided to help a brother out. We walked back to the site, and I tell him of my woes. He assures me I’m a good looking guy (no homo) and that I didn’t need that ho-bag anyways. I felt sort of better, knowing I was the master of my will, but I kept questioning what could have been. Maybe she really meant it, maybe she had been the one who would have loved me, taken care of me... a fools dream to be sure. I shook the thought away and went to sleep.
