I've been working on my autobiography.


Joined
Oct 9, 2017
Messages
690
Reaction score
610
Here's an unedited section that I wrote last night. Complete with typos and grammatical errors. It's about me, how I felt, and life in the middle late 60's. Remember I was born in 1955 in Toronto Canada. I've got a lot more than just the bit here. I've been working on it for a few years now. I do need to go through all of it eventually to organize the time line but since what I have right now is all stream of thought, the time lines are a bit of a mess. Have a read anyway and get into the mind of a thirteen year old in 1968.


Why I Wanted to be a Rock Musician



Part 1



I think in some way one of the things that fascinated me about the whole world of rock was drugs.

Yes. I said it. DRUGS! And parties! Hot horny girls! Total hedonism on a level so far beyond what mere mortals lived that you had to be a rock star to achieve. When I was 13, in school we were handed these little magazines that I think came from the school mental health people. I can't right now remember the exact name of these people but it'll come to me. These little magazines were designed to help use through the tumultuous teenage years and hopefully guide us into mature adulthood.



Now you have to remember that this was the late 60s. Grown ups like my parents were about as uncool and clueless as, well, I can't really think of anything that compares. These people didn't like anything that had any sense of craziness in it. ****! The Beatles were what most of today's parents would consider Norwegian Death Metal to be. Any sense of “letting go” was so frowned on that if a young person didn't practically wear a tie, well, they were hooligans! Hooligans I say!



So back to this little magazine. It unwittingly was very subversive. It talked about drugs! And sex! Although it was so obviously written by people like my parents, what the writers didn't know was that they were making these sins very intriguing to young impressionable people like me. Now at 13 I was defiantly noticing girls. I noticed them a lot and I knew that I really wanted to see them without their clothes on. Yeah, I was gonna be a pervert. So sue me! The other thing I really wanted to try was drugs. I used to go to this drop in centre at my old school and I did know that there were people who smoked marijuana but I wasn't quite ready to try it yet. I think about a year later when I was 14, one of the guys from one of my classes one night there kept giggling about purple double domes. There was this absolutely gorgeous blonde girl with a tight purple sweater that clung to her like a second skin. She was also well endowed, hence the purple double domes. What I didn't know was the guy was high as a kite on LSD and the tiny little pill he took was called a, you guessed it! A purple double dome. I tried them a few years later and wow! I really liked them. The acid, not the tits. But if I had a chance I'm quite sure I would have like them too.



The magazine really had an affect on me. Every issue had a story about how someone had screwed up their lives because of drugs. But they also said how freaking amazing it felt to be high. How everything just seemed so much better. How colours seemed to jump out at you. How the world sparkled. How, well, it just seemed to go on and on and on. So much so that the screwed up part seemed to be not all that bad. It also seemed that this only applied to heroin. Since you had to inject it there was no way I was ever going to do that and I never did. It's the needle thing. Don't like them and don't see the point.



Well to cut to the chase, a couple of years later I with a couple of friends decided to try smoking pot. One of my friends had an older brother who occasionally sold small quantities. Between the three of us we bought a nickle bag. Five bucks! A fifth of an ounce. People freak now when they hear the old prices. I quit smoking it many years ago and I can't believe what it costs now. You've got to be kidding me. I used to put most of a gram in a joint. Mind you, the pot of the old days was no where anywhere near as strong as today's crippling shit is. Back to the past. After having very nervously bought some cigarette rolling papers we some how managed to roll something not closely resembling joints. It was out first time,okay? What the **** did your first one look like? Another thing to remember was that back then a bot of pot came with all the stems and seeds that you don't need. That was part of a song in fact. Not like today's pot where you just get the buds and have to chop them up first. We had to dig out the seeds and stems first. Of course we didn't know that so our joints burnt unevenly. Didn't matter. We didn't know that you're supposed to pass them around too. We just smoke one each and suddenly. There we were. Stoned! Okay. Now I know I've gone over this before but it bears repeating. I absolutely loved the feeling. I wanted to feel like this 24 hours a day. I felt more alive that I ever had. From that first joint where after a few tokes and coughing a lot, suddenly it all made sense. I felt like I fit in. I now felt like I was really one of the cool kids instead of one of the outside looking in. Which was how I generally felt most of the time. Sure I could play piano and almost play violin. I was small, buck toothed, scrawny, and uncoordinated. I wasn't allowed to have the long hair that the cool guys had. I had a poor excuse for a stereo. My friends weren't allowed over and I pretty much sucked at anything a girl would be impressed by. Not to mention my parents totally ****ing controlled my wardrobe so I completely fit the picture of GEEK! That's exactly what my parents wanted though. So on that fatful day I silently screamed **** YOU! I WILLL be part of the counter culture! I WILL be my own person! You WILL not dictate to me any ****ing longer! Silently. But silently screamingit at the top of my lungs!



Not too long after this I learned that I can actually stay out late. Please forgive me if my time frame seems a bit frazzled. I spent a lot of my mid teenage years very very stoned. I loved being high. I also very quickly learned that if you want to be high a lot, you need good suppliers. And money. Since a lot of my friends also liked to get high I found that buying larger quantities meant I could sell a bit here and there and always have enough for me. I'm not talking pounds or even quarter pounds but I'd buy and ounce or two and sell nickle bags now and then. Since an ounce was 25 bucks and you could actually get 6 nickle bags out of one, well, it's not rocket science here. Sell three and you've got have an ounce for ten bucks.



Another thing that I really loved to do was read and the thing I liked to read a lot was anything to do with rock bands. And drugs. Bands like the Who and Led Zeppelin fit the bill perfectly. Here were my idols, out rocking the world and getting really ****ing high at the same time. Not to mention they were also ****ing the hottest girls on the planet. Not too mention they were also getting rich beyond anybodies wildest dreams. Led Zeppelin had their own jet! How cool is that!The Who even had lasers at their show! Lasers! I wasn't even sure if NASA had lasers yet but I knew the Who did.



About this time things were percolating in my brain. I just had to become a musician. I wasn't naive to ever say that I had to be a rock star, at least not out loud, but that thought was never far from my consciousness. It's funny now looking back. I never once gave a thought about what it would be like to be the age I am now as of the writing of this book. Today being my my mother's birthday. April 27 2018. I'm 62. Holy ****! 62! I really never thought I'd get here. But here I am. Yes, here I am trying to recount my history and yes, I do know that this isn't a concise story and it meanders all over the place like a lost little puppy on acid but I frankly don't give a shit. I'm writing it the way that I fell at the time and right now, this is how I feel like writing it. With a glass of Grants Scotch beside me.



Back to the story. One day I discovered LSD. If I thought my first time getting high was the height, I was very very wrong. This was on a whole 'nother level. I'd heard about hallucinations but to actually experience them and know at the time that you are hallucinating was fantastic. I and 2 very other close friends found that this was a incredibly spiritual thing. Magical even. Now we knew people who took acid as a party drug but we tended to frown on this. We would do it that we but I really think that the three of us truly believed; and I do know that to this day one of my friends still believes LSD does open doors to a higher level of consciousness. Myself I'm not so sure anymore but that doesn't matter really. I quit doing it decades ago and have no desire to ever try it again. We used to read nemerous books on the subject. Books by Timothy Leary and Carlos Castaneda. Books by other writers who like us were also trying to find the secrets of a higher consciousness. Doors to greater thoughts. To this day I'm sure if we were deluded or not but when I actually think about it, it doesn't matter one whit. What matters is what was happening at the time and at the time what we were experiencing was incredible.

I can't tell you how many times I took acid but I do know it was a lot. I fell in love with the way it made me fell and how it made the world look to me. It was effeminately much better in the dark at night than in the light of day but that could have been because it really dilate ones pupils. Your eyes were huge. Every streetlight had a magnificent halo around it and it seemed as if even in pitch black darkness we could see. I remember vividly sitting late one night on a park bench in Chalkfarm Park with my friend Gary and we were both enthralled by the vivid part terns in the grass. I did a lot of acid with Gary. We both had a penchant for hallucinogens. After LSD we discovered Mescaline, then Magic Mushrooms. Friday night were for exploring. Getting really really high and just peacefully wandering around. Not getting into trouble but just being very stoned and peacefully exploring time and space. We believed that once unleashed, the mind could do incredible things. We weren't however naive enough to bevel that we could jump off the top of a tall building and fly. For some reason it seemed that for the two of us anyway, no matter how high we got, we still had a modicum of common sense. We never ever took really stupid risks. You dear reader might beg to differ by saying that we were taking stupid risks be getting very stoned on acid but I disagree. Not that it matters though. They also say that you'll go blind if you stare into the face of God. Well, I did. And I'm not ****ing blind! Need glasses but I always have. I just don't like them and I can see well enough to see my computer screen and type this silliness.



One of the odd things about the drug culture was that everything had a name. I'm specifically talking about the various kinds of pot and acid here. I suppose not much has changed that way today but I'm so far removed from it now that it doesn't even matter. However way back then you had basically two kinds of pot. Mexican and Jamaican, mon. We liked them both and we were pretty to get whatever we could. We hear about this mystery weed called Acapulco Gold but we never saw it. One day though Colombian Gold arrived and wow! It was good! There was Kona Gold from Hawaii but we also never saw it. These were things that us as young pot heads would just dream about. Hashish or just hash as we called up showed up from time to time. I think that I might have been the first out of our group to actually score some. It had a nice sweet smell and we all loved smoking it. The thing we learned quickly on was that it was powerful and you could get very very stoned if you weren't careful. That and when you smoked it in a pipe, it seemed even stronger. Which at the time was not necessarily a bad thing. It just meant you had to smoke less.



The first hsh I found was probably Moroccan Black. If that's where it came from. Who really knows? I do know that I ran into various colours but even to this day my favourite was Lebanese Blonde. It was a light brown golden colour with a light sweet scent and the high was perfect. Back in High School I bough a nice chuck of it and to this day I'm sure the fellow that sold it to me had smoked way too much of it. I got too much to fit into a film container and sold some for more than I paid for. Sad to say but that was the last time I ever saw any until about 15 years ago. And no, I didn't say no to a toke.



So by now you're probably wondering just what the **** does any of this have to do with wanting to be a rock musician? And right you would be to ask. Too bad but you're just going to have to wait for Part 2. It's late and I really should be going to bed now.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Ad

Advertisements

Joined
Oct 9, 2017
Messages
690
Reaction score
610
Hmmm. Having re-read it, wow. There are a lot of typos. I chalk that up to typing very fast and auto correct rearing its ugly head. Oh well. I did say there were typos and grammatical errors. One thing I try not to do is lie.
 
Joined
Aug 16, 2011
Messages
1,224
Reaction score
841
I've put spoiler tags around the chapter as it talks about many things that you wouldn't usually expect to read on a keyboard forum, therefore I thought it might be a good idea for it to be marked NSFW. Hope you don't mind!
 
Joined
Oct 9, 2017
Messages
690
Reaction score
610
Nope. I don't mind at all. In fact, if you feel it is too inappropriate, feel free to remove it. I'm certainly not here to upset or offend anybody.
All is good! Thumb is heeling too!
 
Ad

Advertisements


Ask a Question

Want to reply to this thread or ask your own question?

You'll need to choose a username for the site, which only take a couple of moments. After that, you can post your question and our members will help you out.

Ask a Question

Top