Incidental Acts of Spontaneous Cerebral Violence

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

In honor of Ben & Jerry's Free Cone Day

Hidden treasure at the Festival of Books---

After getting strong-armed into re-subscribing to The Paris Review and running into Karen Hughes and Eggers, I was ready to get my ass out of Westwood as fast as the convertible could take me.

That was, however, before I discovered the 50%-off sale at The Ten Speed Press and found this. Yep. For only $9, I now own a piece of the counter-culture:

As you can tell, my head was all jammed uptight with low-level, nervous making careerist issues around fame and status as we got dressed for the Trentfest. And when Dr. Tim emerged from his bedroom with a mint dish full of square white Ecstasy tablets for the taking, I rather wished that they were Valiums. Simone said yes to the doctor's kind offer to join him, but Scrappi, Yvonne, and I just said no.

However, being of sound mind but low income, the thought of turning down a free hit of Timothy Leary-quality Ecstasy irked me. I wandered over to the mint dish and pocketed one. Then, just before getting ready to head up the hill to the ol' Tate mansion (not far from Timmy's house), as we dawdled over our last beers, I impulsively wolfed down my Ecstasy hit.

I must have had an empty stomach that night, because it came on quick. There was a cherry red Ferarri tailgaiting us up the winding path, and when Leary pulled over to let it by, the long-haired fellow inside started gesticulating wildly. Eventually, he stuck his head out the window and shouted that he was following us up to Reznor's place. It was a familiar face, indeed a veritable poster-boy face for bad behavior. It was Gibby Haynes of the Butthole Surfers.

On arrival, the enthusiastic Haynes, excited to meet Leary, jumped out of his car, bragging that the Ferarri he was driving belonged to Johnny Depp. At that moment, with the Ecstasy really coming on, I entered a comfort zone with LA media culture. It's all the same fucking playground; Johnny Depp is just another kid. Even Madonna is just another kid, as within reach as Theresa Bonasia, the little girl I had a crush on in the first grade. The world was a friendly place.

[Excerpt: "Good Vibes from Sharon Tate and Charlie Manson" by R.U. Sirius]

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