July 31, 2004

• Chapter 6 – Metamorphosis (cont.) By Christmas I was back in Berkeley, sharing a house with a young woman met through someone I had known in my “double life” before I left the previous spring. I took an office job at the University, but by spring there was no holding me to a rational, responsible 8-5 life any longer. In April I packed my few belongings and hopped a bus to Pacific Grove and Emerson College. The friend I had met in Indiana was already gone but there were a dozen or so “pre-hippies” there doing various forms of intellectual and artistic endeavor. We all lived in a big old three-story house surrounded by a high hedge like the secret garden. For me it was an epiphany, a mini-renaissance. I wrote poetry fiendishly, read voraciously, made metal sculpture and drawings, learned to play the guitar and sang folk songs, and tried marijuana. During this time, we all heard Dylan’s first recording. I lived in an attic room and had lovers, finally meeting one who was romantic enough to take the next leap with me on my journey. That July when I turned 24, despite much begging and pulling out of hair by my parents, I left with him to hitchhike from Portland, Oregon across the middle of the country, down a bit south into Louisville, and then on up to New York City. It was hot, dangerous, exhilarating, and successful. (to be continued)

  Deep Thought: Life is a constant battle between the heart and the brain. But guess who wins. The skeleton.
  Today I am grateful for: Dictionaries
  End of Day – 8:49 pm
  + = Get to go see The Manchurian Candidate tomorrow.
  - = Trying to do anything mental while dripping sweat is a real bust.

  • 8:01 am
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