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“Don't you know that heavy drinking is slow death?" Herb said to him.
"Yeah, But who's in a hurry?”
“We went into an instant art panic. It was getting dangerously late to be in the house, the roof was about to fall.
"THIS ARTIST IS MORE FAMOUS!" Howard yanked a painting go the wall.
"BUT THIS ONE'S WORTH MORE!" I grabbed another. We hadn't much time.
"NO TAKE THIS ONE! IT'S OLDER!" Howard pulled one down.
"BUT LOOK AT THESE BRUSHSTROKES."
"NO! THIS ONE."
"GIMME THEM ALL. I'LL CARRY THEM ALL!"
I realised it was completely ridiculous to be standing there fighting over art while the house was beginning to crumble in flames.”
"THIS ARTIST IS MORE FAMOUS!" Howard yanked a painting go the wall.
"BUT THIS ONE'S WORTH MORE!" I grabbed another. We hadn't much time.
"NO TAKE THIS ONE! IT'S OLDER!" Howard pulled one down.
"BUT LOOK AT THESE BRUSHSTROKES."
"NO! THIS ONE."
"GIMME THEM ALL. I'LL CARRY THEM ALL!"
I realised it was completely ridiculous to be standing there fighting over art while the house was beginning to crumble in flames.”
“Why does everybody think I'm so wild? I'm not wild. I happen to stumble onto wildness. It gets in my path.
“There was no moon. The sky was like black cotton batting that
enveloped us in a way that felt like walking through clear water in a
pool painted black. Very clear and cloudless was the night sky, so it
was thick with stars. We even saw clusters of the dust from exploded
supernovas deep in space, thousands of light years away.
“Each friend I've lost was an extraordinary person, not just to
me, but to hundreds of people who knew their work and their fight. These
were the kind of people who lifted the quality of all our lives, their
war was against ignorance, the bankruptcy of beauty, and the truancy of
culture. They were people who hated and scorned pettiness, intolerance,
bigotry, mediocrity, ugliness, and spiritual myopia; the blindness that
makes life hollow and insipid was unacceptable. They tried to make us
see. All of these friends were connected to the arts. Time and history
have proven that the sensitive souls among us have always been more
vulnerable.”
“All we really need is bread, water, love, and work that we enjoy
and are good at, and an undying faith in and love of ourselves, our
freedom and our dignity. All that stuff is practically free, so how come
it's so hard to get?”
“People who've never traveled on the ocean have no idea how scary
it is to be on a little boat out there with no land in sight, waves
towering over you while you do into the valley of a swell with nothing
to see except water... water and sky, no other boas anywhere, no
semblance of any kinds of firm reality at all. The main thing one
shouldn't do is imagine things. One shouldn't think about the boat
tipping over, just falling over and rolling under. Things like that
happen all of a sudden. A gigantic three story high wave could whollop
the boat broadside. Splash! Whoops! You're gone! No hint of a boat in
about three minutes! If you don't get sucked under with it, then where
are you?”
"I was high enough, and Haight Street was too crowded for me. So I
went back to Page Street and walked to the Catholic Church where I
could be alone.
Since I wasn't raised Catholic, the confessional booths had always fascinated me. The priest's box looked the best. It had a velvet armchair and gold and purple raiments hung over the backrest. On LSD it looked so comforting... a great spot to sit for a while, so holy. I went in and closed the door. I was tripping my brains out so even if I had been a Catholic I wouldn't have thought this was a weird thing to do at the time.
A minute later the door opened. I thought at first it must be the priest, but no, it was some jerk.
"Let me eat you," he whispered. "Please let me eat you."
Woah, was this guy a pervert! This was disgusting. Who could think about sex on LSD in a confessional booth? I was feeling like a flaccid fungus, totally unsexy.
I said something like, "No, my son, but you're forgiven. Go now in peace." I made the sign of the cross.”
Since I wasn't raised Catholic, the confessional booths had always fascinated me. The priest's box looked the best. It had a velvet armchair and gold and purple raiments hung over the backrest. On LSD it looked so comforting... a great spot to sit for a while, so holy. I went in and closed the door. I was tripping my brains out so even if I had been a Catholic I wouldn't have thought this was a weird thing to do at the time.
A minute later the door opened. I thought at first it must be the priest, but no, it was some jerk.
"Let me eat you," he whispered. "Please let me eat you."
Woah, was this guy a pervert! This was disgusting. Who could think about sex on LSD in a confessional booth? I was feeling like a flaccid fungus, totally unsexy.
I said something like, "No, my son, but you're forgiven. Go now in peace." I made the sign of the cross.”
-walking through clear water in a pool painted black
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