My Life With The Hippies
there was a trail I could walk down and at the end of it lived Darryl and Tea. A couple of hippies. And all around us on the ridges there were hippies living in bungalows of unpeeled tanoak and other such doomed construction. Driving up and down the road in beater pcikups, looking half-starved and stoned, stoppiing at the one gas pump store for a bottle of wine and some hot dogs.
You'd also see them at the swimming hole. Stark naked and brazenly smoking pot.
Being a smartass punk, I would try anything eventually. So I tried being a hippie.
I drank wine, smoked miserable paper-dry leaf tangled in stems, and drank carlo rossi from a tin cup. wrote poems on the portable typewriter, had no worries because I was getting unemployment at the time.
On the day the hippies played my local redneck buddies in a softball game I had to make up my mind.
the rednecks could hit, while most of the hippies were working out issues with their parents instead of focusing on the double-play. The decison was easy.
I went 4x4 with a couple of bloops that went for homers on the scorecard. Hippies in the outfield.
Do you want to know the moral of the story? The rednecks turn out to have out-hippied the hippies in the long run, while the hippies have either grown long roots and beards or entered corporate life.
there was a trail I could walk down and at the end of it lived Darryl and Tea. A couple of hippies. And all around us on the ridges there were hippies living in bungalows of unpeeled tanoak and other such doomed construction. Driving up and down the road in beater pcikups, looking half-starved and stoned, stoppiing at the one gas pump store for a bottle of wine and some hot dogs.
You'd also see them at the swimming hole. Stark naked and brazenly smoking pot.
Being a smartass punk, I would try anything eventually. So I tried being a hippie.
I drank wine, smoked miserable paper-dry leaf tangled in stems, and drank carlo rossi from a tin cup. wrote poems on the portable typewriter, had no worries because I was getting unemployment at the time.
On the day the hippies played my local redneck buddies in a softball game I had to make up my mind.
the rednecks could hit, while most of the hippies were working out issues with their parents instead of focusing on the double-play. The decison was easy.
I went 4x4 with a couple of bloops that went for homers on the scorecard. Hippies in the outfield.
Do you want to know the moral of the story? The rednecks turn out to have out-hippied the hippies in the long run, while the hippies have either grown long roots and beards or entered corporate life.
It reminds me of a road trip I was on. Me and 3 of my closest friends were driving over a bridge, smoking a bowl as we went along. There was a cop at the bottom of the bridge that we couldn't see until we passed him. Everyone in the car choked and bulged and sweated and feared for the next 5 years of their young lives.
But the cop didn't see us, so we laughed nervously, paused for a moment to make sure our hearts hadn't collectively combusted, and continued with the stoning process.
xip