LSD

Acid is good.

Out of Jail

Honest,I thought it was Oregano!Damm drug sniffing dogs.It's been almost two months I see but my brain is rested and ready for new tales.Some of the new ones might deal with childhood pranks but I will be posting.

Previous Post

The last post was written by my old roomate Charlie.I asked him for the details of that night cause it was foggy in my mind.The first time I have ever cut and pasted also.I never had a need to.That event took place in 1984.I have some other good stories from when I lived with Charlie that I do recall and will put here sooner or later.

Guest Post about my Manhattan Beach days.

We were in the great red shark that night, the cougar, coming back from a mexican/ fresh fish restaurant/bar down by the beach in Hermosa. I was reasonably sober, cause I had to drive. Plus, I think we were all really hungover from the previous night, so I was taking it easy. But you're far tougher than us. You drank heavily before, during and after dinner. You have passed out in the passenger seat in our short ride back from the restaurant.

We come up that really steep side street near our house, with the long hood of the cougar seemingly pointed at the stars. We crest the top of the hill and the headlights freeze frame a strange little moment in time. There's a guy and a woman in the middle of the road. The woman is screaming and crawling on the ground and the guy is trying to gather her up, but she's like this limp squirming cat. "What the fuck is this?" Larry says from the back seat. We're all dumbfounded, our mouths hanging open. The guy moves fast over to the drivers side window, which is open, and begs for help. He wants us to give them a ride. Before I can tell him hell no, you snort and rise from your near coma in the passenger seat then open the passenger door. "Here ya go," you say and stagger outside into the street, leaving the door open wide. The guy proceeds to drag the screaming woman around to the passenger side and starts to manhandle her into the car. I'm like, "Get the fuck out of my car! You are not putting that woman in here." I have no idea what's going on with this woman, who looks like she's in the middle of a psychotic breakdown. But she's got victim written in her crazed eyes. Your brother and his friend from the back seat are telling him the same thing, to get the hell out of the car. There's shouting and arm waving. The guy gives me this look and then reluctantly drags the woman back out of the car. You're staggering around outside, laughing. I figure with all the screaming, the cops will be here any second. And since the Cougar doesn't have a valid registration (I shaved the stickers off of other people's license plates and glued them to my plates to maintain the semblance of legality), not to mention scores of parking tickets that I accumulated while living in Santa Monica, it's imperative I get this vehicle off the street immediately. Your brother reaches out and pulls the door close and we power around the corner and into the driveway of our little spanish style rental house. Not a second too soon. As we pile out of the car, the cops come roaring up, two patrol cars, full lights and sirens. The guy is still dragging the screaming woman around. The cops surround them. We want no part of this.

Larry, his friend and I all wisely beat cheeks up the stairs and into the house, where we watch the proceedings from our windows. We yell at you, telling you to get in the house. You don't listen. You're out there weaving around heckling the cops, "whaddya doin'? You don't know what you're doing!" Followed by wild laughter. The cops turn and ask you what is going on. You tell them in so many slurred words that we saw them in the middle of the street and were going to give them a ride. The cops turn back to the couple and start to separate them. You're still heckling them and we're shouting out the window for you to come back to the house. One of the cops has apparently had enough of you, he turns, shakes himself to settle his gun belt, and then tells you that if you don't leave he's going to arrest you. "I'm pre-med. I know what I'm doing," you say in response. You say this while staggering around in a circle in the middle of the street. We're horrified, thinking that you've probably got one of your ever present glass jars of coke in your pocket and things could get ugly real fast. But apparently the threat of arrest does filter into your spinal column, causing you to change your direction. You make unsteady steps back to the house, while we watch from the windows. In a few moments, they've arrested both the man and the woman and take them away. You come upstairs and we do a few lines and you go to bed, while sitting around drinking beer and shaking our heads at the weird turn of events and another close call you had with the law. JOHN ABEL wrote:
P.s. I want to put a post up in my blog on some of our appt. fun but you need to give me a rundown on the night that dude approached the car and whatever was going on

30 years on

It has been 30 years since I spent that first summer working in North Truro on Cape Cod.I never had a summer like it and never will again.There were several more summers in North Truro to follow but I was not prepared for what the Cape did to one.If you fell under the spell like I did the whole world consisted from the Truro Line to the tip of Provincetown.Sun,drink,drugs,girls who did not know you unlike your home town.It was all so much that by mid August that first summer my brain was fried and I had to go home to recover. Well Tanned into late Sept but with a hell of a lot less brain cells.One of the first episodes I had came just after I left the campground job but was still living in the room between the men's and ladies room my brother and I had.He was still working there.One of the guys we worked with Bruce was a summer resident whose parents had a house on the bay side of Truro.I went down there one afternoon with him in my Vega wagon for"a few beers" His parents wern't down but his younger sister who was I think 15 at the time was there.Blond with long legs she was a young goddess who as the beers went down became even more of a beauty.She thought my flirtations funny and Bruce always one to egg one on did just that.Soon I found myself driving my Vega up and down the dunes outside their cottage while screaming out the music to Bonanza.I would go tearing across the dunes come back have another beer and then drive off again.At this point the rest of the story was told to me the next day.I left Bruces and somehow drove the six or so miles up rt6 to North Truro around 5 in the afternoon.I pulled into the house on pond rd.where Jimmy Manning who I was now working at Babes Rest with was hanging out.He said I came screaming up ,the Vega making a loud noise and said"Let's go swimming!!"He did not realise how gone I was till he got in the car.We went flying down Pond Rd. up through the hilltop parking and down the sand road right onto the beach where Jimmy said I parked the car stripped down to nothing and went charging off into the water.This was around 5:30 and he said a few families were still on the beach.Luckily no one called the police about the naked drunk guy laughing in the water.Then he said I went to the car opened the back tailgate and passed out.Jimmy drove me back to the campground and they rolled me out.Next morning I wake up at 6:30 to go to work and stumbling out the door into the early morning quiet I find no car.I'm wondering where the hell my wagon is and my brother was in Boston so I start walking the 3/4 mile to Babes.I have a huge fuckin hangover and as I walk by the gas station in North Truro center there are two police cars filling up.It looks like they are pointing at me and laughing and at this point I see dried blood on my pants.I'm thinking great I wrecked my car someplace and these guys know it and are toying with me.I turn the corner to walk up that freakin hill on 6a to Babes and that is the morning it became known to us as Puke Hill.I chowed twice going up it and stumble into the kitchen at Babes where Jimmy and Tom are laughing at me and the owners Claudia and Pierre are amused that I actually showed up the way I look.I made it through work and Jimmy filled me in.Turns out he took the car back to his sisters house after dropping me off and the loud noise was the catylitic converter dragging on the ground as I had knocked it loose in the dunes.

Blog Block

No posts in awhile as I just haven't been inspired to post anything.I hope to change that soon.By the way I had a knock on the door tonight and when I answered it baseball bat in hand I found two folks from Peta at my door.They said a neighbor had complained I was beating my monkey in the window while she looked on from the sidewalk down below.I told them I don't own a monkey but if I did I would never beat it. I would just spank it if it was bad.

Last ride postscript

I forgot to mention that at the time Eastview Mall was owned by the extended family of a Pittsford Friend Bob Wilmot.Another friend Jeff L's dad insured the Mall and Jeff had to go blab about it to his father.So about a month later I get a letter and bill for the damage from L Insurance.When I told Jeff he was an idiot for telling his father he said his dad did it as a joke.I guess it was cause I never paid the bill.