PECULIAR HAPPENSTANCE AT
THE MEXICAN HAT DANCE
One day after the other, they're pretty much
all alike, brother. My pinata of new adventures
has not yet broken over : Rover, let someone
else take over? That was Hendrix, when he lived
on Eighth Street. The Marlton Hotel was a haven -
or a reprieve - from that sort of Hell.
-
Ming the Merciless was there, and everybody took
their turn. Fair enough. I had never seen anyone
dressed solely in black leather before : Hendrix
again, right outside the door. I let it go, but I dug
his hat as well. A nod and a 'how you doin?, Swell'
thing - like normal guys who operate on another
mental level. 'You going to the revel, man?'. No,
brother, I already am there.'
-
'Those hippy chicks sure make my day!' Kind of
like everybody said that. Stuff was easier then, like
in that movie 'Four Friends.' You maybe should see
it if you wish to know those days, how it plays, play
it as it lays. Joan Didion days. Always.
-
It's never fair to reminisce, because the bias tends
always to the now, and all the past if left behind.
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