Hi Sunshine...
We met in '68
Los Angeles Melrose...right?
I also was in Haight & Berkeley...
Say...any web pages dedicated to Pink or Blue Cheer?
What a trip..finding this place....Looking
for good 'ole hippie girls from '68 - Ya!
E-Mail: Vishanti_i@hotmail.com
Looking for Wife
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by Robert J. BamburyI am listening to the music of queen and a gorgeous young man enters the room with a huge bulge in his pants. I can't go on!!!!
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by Sabeen phat
She looks and looks and looks...
by Teraissa Murraymy sad story is that of may highschool student's. i am working on a research paper for one of my classes my topic being the experimental drugs and how they were accepted in the sixties. If any one can help i'd be much abliged and thankfull. by teraissa
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G Gordon Liddy , an employee of Orange County
by richWarm night with Santa ana winds keeping it shirtless at 11:00 PM. The intersection is crowded. In front of the Mystic Arts World there are people streched out on the side walk and a crowded tangle of people weaving thru and over and around them . It is inscense and pot mixed with whispers and giggles. Across the street is a fast food place and diagionaly at the farthest corner is a young buckskin jacketed girl and her friend , an also very young , guy. They are sitting on a hydrant - - - -sorta kicked back but in reality they are selling mini barrels. Very tiny , pin head sized hits of L that you can hold 10 or 12 between your thumb and finger and it has the effect of Sandoz , like came in those glass vials. We strole over to their corner of the innersection and ask "how much"? "$2.50 a hit" the girl says and we hand the dude a $20 and say "got change , we want 4 hits"? He reaches down into a pocket with our $20 in his hand and the chicky hands us 4 hits when from the corner of my eye I see movement , running figures ! A van comes thru the signal really fast up on the curb with one wheel and people are grabbing the chick ! I'm across the street and into the McDonalds and my old lady is in front of the Mystic Arts . The mini barrels are disolving already and soon I will be wishing I was aiding that disolution. The dude and his lady got cuffed and we drove home bummed out at that but my old lady was just beginning to begin a very intense evening. I went to bed ,oh well !
Boardwalk SC
by Proxy for a FriendThe last time the proxied one did LSD (or what they called LSD) was on JULY 4 1969 (year of this site; birthday of USA) and it was PATRIOTIC trip to the famous boardwalk at Santa Cruz CA, soon to become murder capital of the world with several emulators of Manson all operating at once. Bummer.
The companion on this trip, a cross between Elton John and a Hell's Angel, years later was so gone he could not remember his friend. Still living in Santa Cruz incidentally, where work is optional.
Marijuana
by Chasity M. JonesI use to smoke a lot a weed!!!!!!!! I still do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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by Crystal Lancenot filled
hey
by r and ai don't have a story, real or imagined for that matter. we're hot, sexy chicks and we are avaliable get on us now. have a nice day
1969 : A year in the life. At least what I can remember.
by Hippie Don The year started out where 68 left off. With me being a red freak. I liked mixing reds (secinol) with whites (benzidrine or later methadrine. I was able to keep from passing out with the right combo.
If you know anything about this you'll know that after doing this for months on end it makes you a pretty rowdy mother fucker. I'm a peaceful person by nature and a head buster on reds. I would have probably done major dammage or even killed a friend of mine if not for the intervention of some other friends. This ended my being a red freak.
I tried smoking weed but couldn't get anything but a raspy throat so i became a juicer. This has some pretty big drawbacks: barfing everywhere, pissin alot, wakeing up in weird places just to name a few. The only thing good that came out of this was that I took this chick to a bikers pad and was invited to stay. I had already downed 2 bottles of ripple before I got there so I was feeling pretty good. They passed out some reds, there wasn't an even number so everyone got 3 except me. I only had 2 then they brought out some hash. I had never smoked hash before so I was pretty inept at the process. I did manage to get a couple of good hits though. This brought on my first and only blackout in my life. I woke home the next day not knowing how I'd gotten there.
I had now become able to get stoned. This was a hell of alot better than drinking.
I was getting stoned in a park one day when I met some hippies. I had been to monterey and big sur but that's when i was still a straight. Now I was meeting these people on common ground and it was FAR OUT!. These were now my kind of people. They were friendly sharing passive stoners and I fit right in.
The rest of the year was spent enjoying, helping, meeting, and sharing with others. I had come a long way in a short year.
I was not aware of what 1970 would bring. With being drafted at the start of the year and ending it in NAM. But thats a story for another page dealing with 1970.
This has been a condensed version of me in 1969. I hope it was as good a year for you as it was for me.
DON W. a.k.a.Hippie Don
PEACE (pass it on)
how to spic spanish
by robertoSpell "socks"!
breeching out, straight edge and carbonated semen
by xcigarxFeeling my Guam, gopher me up on your 2600.
Q-bert side project metaease.
Double dare you to Pong after 4 hour marathon of War Games.
get a life
by ClarenceI was once walking down the street, whistling to myself, minding my own business, when a homeless man with an abnormally large head walked up to me and spit in my ear. I pretended not to notice at first, and be nonchalant, but his was to no good effect, because he proceeded to poke me very aggresively in the back with a stick. So, naturally, i turned around and smacked the fool. He was on the ground in the dirty snow whimpering and holding his bleeding face. He looked up at me and began to make growling and barking noises, and he tried to bite my ankles, so I kicked him in the face. Again he was whimpering and pawing at the air, so I took the rubbish can, smashed his face with it, dumped its contents onto the wretch, and put the can over his head. I then proceeded to stroll down the road into a cafe and grabbed a cup of tea.
Es-O!
by testynot filled
Greetings, Grandma, Other Relatives, Interference
by Toby McFuckYouHe has a friend at www.brown.edu. His friend is
not in a band. His friend, when he is listening
to music and writing typing on his keyboard at the
same time, is affected by the music and the words
change. But not in any way that if you were
reading it you would be able to tell what kind of
music he was listening to. You have two options:
1.) apostrophes make vernacular seem academic.
Example: "I ta'nt shittin' you, fuck'r!" Leave
the apostrophe out, and let the cheap letters work
for themselves.
2.) I am not my friend who goes to brown. I am
not Will Oldham, and have never played guitar in a
band, though I taught myself the drums.
If you chose option nummer one, turn to page 3.
If you chose the second option, turn to page 17.
Can you tell I'm listening to techno ON THE
RADIO????
Then, Toby forgot HTML. He looked at his hands.
The dj's black baseball cap went to Wesleyan and
learned shit, not even limited to facts and ideas,
I mean it learned DISCIPLINE! Then he subscribed
to some literary quarterlies. As a child, he
bought high-grade marijuana and smoked it. How
hot it smelled!
They cooked a tuna melt and learned JAVA, which is
a computer type thing.
Muc
i've ruined the weekend.
by kurt sorensenthe walls are cold here. i would like to go to the toilet now.
i've ruined the weekend, have'nt i?
breakfast? oh, i don't like breakfast. my home parents say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. they say if you want to be active you must eat breakfast. they say you must eat fruit, you must eat cereal, you must drink milk!
i like fruit.
i've ruined the weekend, have'nt i?
sorry?...oh yes, i eat dinner. i like dinner. i think dinner is the most important meal of the day. i say that if you have a good dinner, you have a good day. i say that if eat well then you will sleep well.
yes, dinner is good. the best for a good day.
i've ruined the weekend, have'nt i?
the walls are cold here. i'd like to go to the toilet now. do you like renault cars? i hate santa claus. i like lime flavouring more than i like santa claus!
i don't need to go to the toilet....
whatever
by cherylnot filled
Three Penguins in a Dust-colored Saucer
by Olimpia & Valeria Gheorghiu The vines did nothing to hide the soldier's grimy crying face.
He fell on the ground in a jungle mine puddle. For a moment the coolness made him think of a respite in the Antarctic.
" Ay AY AY ay! How many bananas can one man eat???" He dreamed of a big burger and clutched his weapon in agony.
Oversized jungle ants marched by and he wondered if ant burgers were any good.
Lost, he began to wonder about his family again. In the orange haze of a blaze that never left the inside of his eyelids, he saw three little figures. His mother, his father, his brother.
Three Penguins in a Dust-colored Saucer
by Olimpia & Valeria Gheorghiu The vines did nothing to hide the soldier's grimy crying face.
He fell on the ground in a jungle mine puddle. For a moment the coolness made him think of a respite in the Antarctic.
" Ay AY AY ay! How many bananas can one man eat???" He dreamed of a big burger and clutched his weapon in agony.
Oversized jungle ants marched by and he wondered if ant burgers were any good.
Lost, he thought of his family again. In the orange haze of a blaze that never left the inside of his eyelids, he saw three little figures. His mother, his father, his brother. His wedding. He toasted the swelterng heat. Tuxedoes and gossimer. He wanted to be at his brother's wedding one day, so he forced himself up and walked- determined to get out alive.
Bomb sounds erased all traces of identity. Fight, fight to get out!!! Where was the exit???
Nothing but vines and birds screaming.
As if he knew the way, he flung his clothes into the river and floated away.
Three Penguins in a Dust-colored Saucer
by Olimpia & Valeria Gheorghiu The vines did nothing to hide the soldier's grimy crying face.
He fell on the ground in a jungle mine puddle. For a moment the coolness made him think of a respite in the Antarctic.
" Ay AY AY ay! How many bananas can one man eat???" He dreamed of a big burger and clutched his weapon in agony.
Oversized jungle ants marched by and he wondered if ant burgers were any good.
Lost, he thought of his family again. In the orange haze of a blaze that never left the inside of his eyelids, he saw three little figures. His mother, his father, his brother. His wedding. He toasted the swelterng heat. Tuxedoes and gossimer. He wanted to be at his brother's wedding one day, so he forced himself up and walked- determined to get out alive.
Bomb sounds erased all traces of identity. Fight, fight to get out!!! Where was the exit???
Nothing but vines and birds screaming.
As if he knew the way, he flung his clothes into the river and floated away.
Who's got the herb?
by Mandy Kay
why can't we all just get along and smoke a bong?
Who's got the herb?
by Mandy
why can't we all just get along and smoke a bong?
email me at morrisonsgoddess@hotmail.com
I love black people!
by Joe MillerI LOVE BLACK PEOPLE!!!
Alan Passaro
by Dennis CooperAlan Passaro-the killer!!
I don't belive it: He is not in prison!!!
....Dirty Hell's
Never again!
Dennis
who am i
by robin hoodonce i knew a man named chuck scott, ex NAVY SEAL, ENTREPUTNER, FOUNDER AND ORIGINATOR OF HEAD SHOP CALLED THE PSYCHEDELICATESSON ANY ONE REMEMBER HIM???? HE WAS KILLED BY DEA
Yo Quiero Taco Bob
by Ana Maria Ramirez de ArellanoQ. Tell us your first memory of The Taco.
A. I was at the Cape with my Jr. High Friend Moya McLaughlin and her family. It is the only time I've been to the Cape. Papa McLaughlin arrived and said, "your mother has just given birth."
Q. And was it Taco, or Enchilada?
A. It was another Taco. They were to name him Bob, in honor of his literary Uncle Bob I.
Q. So, that makes him part of a lineage?
A. Yes. Due to his accomplishments and Intellect, he is now Uncle Bob II, or the Taco Supreme.
Q. What was your reaction?
A. Well, of course, I had to be driven back to New Jersey, to see the new Taco for myself.
Q. What was that like?
A. He was in a little warming pan. They were a bit concerned that he might cool, and thus lose some of his excellent taste. This proved to be a wonderful idea, since he has retained his taste to this day.
Q. What is your evidence for that?
A. Gook. In a jar. With body parts. He is also a Godfather, which gives him divine qualities.
Q. Such as?
A. The ability to transport himself to countries to which our own is hostile. The ability to subsist on nuts, grains, honey, locusts, and the ocasional bivalve. To play in a travelling band. To write in hiperscript, an ethereal medium which travels through the cyber.
Q. Will you be gracing us with more of these tales of Taco Bob in the future?
A. Maybe.
Saltwater & Stone
by The Wedge WhomperFullmoon nights,surfing naked,building forts in the sanddunes,off shore winds,dawn patrol,Da kind herb.................beautiful girls,Killer Dana Point south swell,Tresels,the Rendevous Ballroom,The Prison of Socrates,Easter Week(Bal-Week)woodies(both kinds)Baja,Husongs Cantina,K-39,Todos,The City(S.F.)Mendo,Honey Mountain,Sunset Strip,Venice Canal Festival,Love Ins @ Griffith Park,Golden Gate Fields.making lots of love,mok'in lotsa herb,Big Sur,Carmel,the Cruz,getting kicked outa Newport Harbor High School class of 61',Soooooooooo if any of this mumbo jumbo sparks a vision in the old memory bank,drop a line on me..............A.M.F............................
8 tracks
by gfddoli'm 13 and i have a 8 track collection, over 100.
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by michael thompsonwe have a pub in hull dedicated to world war two do you have any detailed pictures of doodlebug bomb thanks
Mr M J Thompson
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by Margie Luesebrinkwait, I thought this was the guest book!
Hi Bobby! Diana Slattery and I are here hanging out in the Haight, just like the old days!
mb
by morgan lebusa kid cursed a squirrel. he blocked our view of the crippled chevy van driving on a flat tire. some pale guy with long hair shook the steering wheel leaking tears, while a short dyke beast hollered from the cabin "fuck you, cujo!! we're never gonna get the money now!!"
FBI were everywhere. or at least i think they were. the kid had a rock and was trying to break open a nut in his palm.
the papers said Patty was in on it. we disagreed, really pissing our parents off.
a frisbee flew by, and for a brief moment it consumed everyones attention even acorn boy. it was impossible to tell who had thrown it so late in flight. the intended reciever was unclear.
before it landed i was alreay studying a leaf and the tiny stems running through it. i believed it to be very symbolic.
I'm still alive
by Ronald Hadley StarkDid you think I was dead? Sorry, I'm still alive, and I'm planning a great return, to unmask all the traitors of the Brotherhood of Eternal Love. If you want to contact me, feel yourself free to e-mail me at ronstark@libero.it
I Am Only 7 years Old
by Stacey RichterMy name is Stacey Sara Richter. I like to write! I am seven years old and tall for my age. My teacher is Ms. Vicksburg she says I am a snot. Ha ha ha. I am not allowed to do a zillion things: play with the collies next door that I love, because they are going to be in a dog show and I will spoil them. Pick my nose and eat it because it is sooo gross and spreads cooties that lead to vomit. Here's a joke what did the dog say when he sat on the sandpaper? Rough rough. I like a boy named Bobby. I told him I would be his girlfriend if he would stop smelling his fingers all the time but he didn't stop.
Comments, In the convenient form of a blotter
by Distorted RealityAs the pile sit in the box the story refolds. A plink of a plat droped in. Such a fable of the sort mushed my mellon on the outside of my inside and out poureth my reality through the crack in the ceiling. Im grasping to let loose.
Feareth not, of the
wisdom of experience
That's Some Eats!
by Dale CollinsJason Blaney told me in no uncertain terms that God put us on this land to surf New Straitsville. He told me this after he and I had made our way to his house in Perry County, Ohio, and where we saw Ginger the dog (or was it a cat?)and the old camper, a.k.a. The Titanic. Johnny (also known as Pat), Jason's paw, said in the kitchen ---where football-shaped mouse droppings graced the sink rim--that the electric drill next to the pile of junk on the table was for "workin' on the Titanic." Damn, we missed out on some good home cooking at the VFW post, but Matthew's Bar had a good cavernous New Year's Eve stumbling drunk revelry going that night. The lady in the gold lame dress said of Jason and me,while tooting paper horn, quote,
I"M GONNA WAKE "ESE FUCKERS UP!!!
The stars were cold, high, bright that night.
who would have guessed
by christyi can remember laying on the beach, getting high, writing poetry and listening to whoever was there playing music. there was really no such thing as a stranger. we were all friends, all lovers and it was a beautiful thing. nowadays if you say hi to someone you don't know, they get all paranoid like your going to ask them for a favor like directions or something and the younger generation no longer seems to think it's cool to get high. they are more interested in sports or other after school activities that back in good ole '69 were thought to be "square". who would have ever guessed in 20 short years it would become "hip" to be "square"?
Clyde Bradshaw
by Dale CollinsClyde Bradshaw walked and talked, walked and talked, walked and talked all around the small town of Corryton, Tennessee with many cares but no piercing stares but kind smiles all the while for he was a good man if ever there was one, and he was a son of fine parents, a momma and daddy of the best, east or west.
Lake Amador
by JRLI'm looking for people that were at the Lake Amador, CA Rock Festival in the fall of'69. It was an awesome festival, with Santana, the Sons, and Bo Diddley headlining. Email me if you were there.
I ate the brown acid
by Thomas PynchonThis is not a lie. This is what actually
happened. I told the man with the hairy chest
that I was a novelist, or not that I was a
novelist, but that I was working on a novel, a
novel that I thought would become very
important. Some day.
He told where the portapotties were, and
offered me a dazzling array of chocolates.
I told him that I was very interested in rocket
science. He transformed into a woman with
the beak of a bird, surrounded by rats, some
of whom were friendly, some of whom were
not. Her legs fused and became that of a
mermaid, that is, changed from legs to tail. I
drooled and confessed that I was always fond
of Melville. Her voice was that of Bob Dylan.
Young Bob Dylan. She nursed me while
singing Subterranean Homesick Blues.
There was a blurry cut, suffused with pinks
and oranges, I thought of Benjamin Franklin
flying a kite, I thought of sportscars with
sharpened fins, I thought of Mamma Cass.
Then I was in the toilet. My head was in the
toilet. Then I was falling down.
Portapotties lead to caverns in my mind's eye.
I wept for hours and hours which seemed like
days and weeks.
Then I needed to find her again.
Then we were in a balloon, throwing pies at
each other.
There was marijuana, briefly.
I remember blood.
Her name was.
Her name.
Her.
It was not Ophelia.
Washington was rolling a joint the size of the
Potomac.
A spy was watching me. I was not sure if he
was CIA, or German, or Italian, or British.
Perhaps he was from Madagascar.
I suddenly felt that my finger was stuck up the
ass of the world, like a little Dutch boy.
Then I was falling again, around me the walls
were covered in sluice.
Richard Nixon was speaking to me on the
stereo of the Rosenbergs. From the left. From
the right, Ronald Reagan was speaking to me
of decent Americans.
There were monkeys.
My youth was thus spent.
Would that I could have it back now.
No.
Not with the fire in me now.
phat sac
by sarah and amandawell this one day dude, like me and my friend amanda were smokin a dubie dude, and we were laffin and were totally gone and tumbled across this web-site, and was like sunshine 69 what the fuck.....ya so what exactly is this?
Postcard From the Other Side
by Raps "The Loose Spell" RapoportFell out of Marin in my grandma's borrowed Ford. Never had to decided: Intuition is a distant friend at 80 mph, still I see the word everywhere: `decide'. Later, John Muir passed me on a bicycle wearing a young girls pink dress. Somewhere the surprise was lost. Everything made sense.
love without deadlines, Raps
Confessions of a Childhood Fucked
by Stanley PainNo, we don't need drugs, man. We don't drugs, we don't need love, we don't need peace. Shit, man. That's the problem with this world, man, everybody's so plugged in. You got to be able unplug yourself, you know, and take a look a the fucking machine your jacked into, man. Yeah, my daddy whooped me. Shit, man, one time, when I was like ten or something, I sneaked out late at night, right, and when I got home, you know, all fucked up and high and shit, my old man just laid into me, man. He didn't even say a word. He knew he didn't have to. But you see, that's all apart of the way things are, and I say fuck that shit man. No, I didn't get it any worse than the next kid got it, but shit, man, I didn't feel like I needed that shit either, you know? It's just everything, man. Everything. No, we don't need drugs.
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we put the bop in the shooby do wop
by cia doserDosed a bunch of innocents, sent political dissidents to the streets incoherent and created the future of drug control. we watch and we wait for you all-signed-stanly kliphamer III
dose me dose me dose me dose me dose me dose me
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watermelons
by peg the amazingi thought i had it all planned out-but it all got screwed up as soon as i hit the speedway. i bought 150 seeded watermelon hoping trade 'em for smoke or money or sex. whatever-somethin' good. i figured it was somethin' worth trading-whenever i get fucked up i crave watermelon-seeded watermelon, its that little bit sweeter than seedless, and that sugar bites into the burn in your throat. so anyways, i drive all the way out there hauling all the damn watermelon in the back seat of my car and arrive to find that i gotta park and walk for fucking miles to get to the damn stage area. no fucking way. i cant do that alone. so i sat by my car a while and tried to trade with the half-sober punters on their way into the show. no trade, man, i was there for hours and managed to trade a tiny tab of acid and a couple of smokes for three of my melons. so i took the acid and smoked the smokes, and tried to trade some more.
all i can remember after that was laying in the middle of the road next to my beat up car with watermelons rolling, crashing and smashing all around me. guys in leather riding roaring metallic demon bikes were screeching about me and my melons as i tried to figure out which direction the sound was coming from.
all i wanted was to see the stones and get fucked up. how did it become a sticky, pulpy mess so soon??
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Family
by Nityananda Ram DasThere we were, three kids from southern Indiana in a tripped out VW van parked in front of the Mystic Arts World in Laguna. The tabs are melting in our mouths when the Man comes up to the window and sticks his head in. We all go silent. He says "What's going on in here gentlemen?" and Stevie just gushes out "Were from Indiana man and we just dropped acid and now were going night swimming in the ocean!!" The cop grins ear to ear and says "You boys enjoy your summer in California and be careful" and then just walks away. I never had one bad time the summer of '68 or '69. It was all good.
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sun of a whore
by ricky shay"Where's utopia?"
"Yeah, exactly."
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"The Acid Test" - and - "An Elysian Field"
by Hammond GuthrieHello Everyone - To FURTHUR yourselves
along, please vist my Material World by
visiting: intrepidtrips.com = Ken Kesey's
domain - where, if you scroll to the bottom of
the opening page you will find a click under my
name. I hope you enjoy the trip! - And for a hit
of honest to goodness - Orange Sunshine -
please visit:
http://www.hollywoodhangover.com/
where you will find: "Hammond's Historic
Habitat," and, which features my more than 30
years ago yesterday look back upon: "An
Elysian Field." This is a brief excerpt from my
book of memoirs: "AsEverWas," and if this
vignette interests you - please visit the August
2001 issue of jackmagazine.com where,
among other adventures, an explanation of
my early association with the group of
angel-headed who came to be known as "The
Brotherhood" will be printed in full. Thanks
ever so much for taking the time, and cheers
to all who enter! Hammond Guthrie
"The Acid Test" - and - "An Elysian Field"
by Hammond GuthrieHello Everyone - To FURTHUR yourselves
along, please visit a piece of my Material
World by visiting: intrepidtrips.com = Ken
Kesey's domain - where, if you scroll to the
bottom of the opening page you will find a click
under my name. I hope you enjoy the trip! -
And for a hit of honest to goodness - Orange
Sunshine - please visit:
http://www.hollywoodhangover.com/
where you will find: "Hammond's Historic
Habitat," and, which features my more than 30
years ago yesterday look back upon: "An
Elysian Field." This is a brief excerpt from my
book of memoirs: "AsEverWas," and if this
vignette interests you - please visit the August
2001 issue of jackmagazine.com where,
among other adventures, an explanation of
my early association with the group of
angel-headed surfers who came to be known
as "The Brotherhood" will be printed in full.
Thanks ever so much for taking the time, and
cheers to all who enter! Hammond Guthrie
Journal Entry July 11, 1969 - two weeks before what changed us all
by RickKing Lear looks over to me and says the rapid pace of technological change is redefining art. The U.N. arrived here in 1969; I cannot but agree with him acknowledge the start of another adventure. Indiana, Korea, Moscow, where to today my authoritative friend? Today we visit Sectors South and North where the BiH seemed to be on the offensive and doing quite well for themselves. So off it was to another escape, another contrast of flowers and postmodern writers – SUNY Buffalo A/G would roll over in her grave. The economies and appearances of the towns and villages provide a striking contrast to the efforts of the NSK who have aquired more non-lethal weapons. Are you writing this? No I am running this. I thought this leg of the journey would be relaxing, but no, grad school and all its allure could not outweigh old addicitions, still haunting me, still in the back of my mind.
O! to be passing with Maggie and Karen through Winrock through Farmington and Angelfire. There is a picnic table near a stream on Route 63 fifteen miles south of Angelfire. I never stopped there but the memory lingers. We could have been lovers that picnic table and me for all that I have thought about her. I dream of that table like Bridget Gibbons or Tasha Reid (i.e. ex-lovers) and wonder what would have happened? Had I stopped there for a respite from driving all damned day? Sat on the table and wrote a few lines in my journal, maybe threw some of my BK Broiler to a squirrel? How different would my life be?
Not much, but then why think about that picnic table?
Discipline is on the wane
We always bravely say what is right on this side and what is not
Magasinet, Orebro, Sweden
69 cm (20” x 26”)
Retro Principle
Emphatic Eclecticism
Assertation of nationality and National Culture
The foot that was made to walk over human corpses
Observation of Holy Matrimony
Decision
Sense of Loss
The horizon must be built
devilish
by smile_d_MaStErB|T
the more i do this thing, the more i see him the more i acknowledge his existence,his patience and his courage to do harm. what the heck, as long as im happy with what i do and its my life anyway.........but this doesn't mean anything, its only for us to enjoy and use our hands for enjoyment...cyah and happy jerkin! hahahaah
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straw flowers
by deneThey were everywhere. Orange ones. Red
ones. Yellow. And the boys and girls growing
atop the grassy patches in front of the shops
passing them out were strange, frightening to
an even younger girl like me. Incense.
Guitars. These were scenes out of context.
They belonged on the evening news
broadcasted out of California, not Houston,
Texas at the outdoor mall on Post Oak Drive. I
wasn't supposed to leave the house without
permission with Lynn but here I was anchored
on concrete staring at girls in flimsy halter
tops, boys with bandana headbands, and the
straw flowers they were passing out. No, not
passing out, really, but forcing on people with
the sign of Peace. "Peace, sister," two of them
said to me as they handed me a blue one.
And I looked at the flower and wondered how it
got so free.
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HempFest 2001 Meeting
by Hammond Guthrie While performing at the 2001 HempFest in
Harrisburg, Or. I wandered around looking for
something to eat, and stopped at a garlic
booth. As I ate my garlic sandwich I began
chatting with another garlic eater who was
also a writer/performer, and our conversation
led into the memoric past. To cut to the chase
here, my new found comrade blushed a bit
when I described a recent piece I wrote for
http://www.hollywoodhangover.com (see:
"Hammond's Habitat), which concerned my
"acquaintances" The Brotherhood of Eternal
Love. It turns out my garlic friend knew the
"acquaintances" well from those daze, and we
were able to have a marvelous conversation
catch-up on old friends over garlic. This
conversation will remain vague - and this note
is just to express my amazed state at having
bumped into each other after all the years.
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one time when i was flyin thru a supermarket
by duckfoolone time when i was flyin thru a supermarket i saw this kid and he was 3 maybe sittin inna shoppin cart..and i wuz agittin orange jyoose cuz dayum i was high but he dint know cuz i wuz wearin sunglasses but he said AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW real loud when i walked past and i cood feel him lookin at my retreatin back but that was cool cuz i was smilin and the KID HAD READ MY MIND..............GET IT?
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I THINK HUNTER WAS TRYING TO SHOOT MICK!
by THE ROLLING CLONESAFTER REVIEWING THE NEWLY RESTORD DVD..ITS VERY
CLEAR THAT HE WAS GOING TO SHOOT HIMSELF A ROLLING
STONE! http://www.rollingclones.com
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a passage..
by evil empirewhere was MANTUP KCODRUM through this all? And who will catch him if he falls?
From the forest gate
to the streets of gold
waiting to be told
his eternal fate
across an endless sea
upon waves of blue
will you ever find out
who beckonsyou
from city on the bay
to where the Red Sox play
to follow your plan
goodspeed, my man
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by Robert J. BamburyFrom: Robert J. Bambury
To: The person who signed this guest book using my name. YOU will be hunted down and terminated!
Robert J. Bambury
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