Home > Uncategorized > Entry for March 21, 2009

Entry for March 21, 2009

I also hate a “friend” named Mark.


(for the women)

He “loved” me. I wrote POETRY.

He LOVED POETRY and David Bowie, Lou Reed and Mott the Hoople

all at the same time.

I often wonder if it was his art student girl friend who brought all that

FAG ROCK to the apartment, but I think no. I think maybe he felt like a fag sharing a room with his friend from High School. Soon the friend was moved to his big brother’s room and an attractive Jewish art student was moved in. In order for this to happen, my friend, Rolan the Doobie Roller, had to go. Back to TAMPA with Rolan the Doobie Roller.

I LOVED Rolan. He liked Jethro Tull, Mountain, Uriah Heap and Black Sabbath. He suggested we listen to Black Sabbath with earphones while tripping. OUT with the big dark haired groups, in with the blondes.

Mark, sometimes known as Markie by his best friend, was a tall blonde guitar player. He didn’t care for sports whatsoever. That was in 1972. In 1977 he was bitching about how Reggie Jackson cheated on the baselines against the Dodgers in the World Series. Another changing feature was the scared shit of prison 18 year old to the Karate user with nung chukas. You can’t take nungchukas to prison though. He never did go to prison.

He used the nungchukas on me though. I was available. He was breaking up with his Jewish art student girl friend (boy, did she love sucking cock, he would say today) with whom he had a relationship based on an oral contract made in 1972. Of course it was their own thing and if she didn’t want the decision to end their “loving” relationship after 4 years I think that was up to her. Of course I liked her as did many other fellows.

Mark was like a peripheral in our group but then fellows started moving away. First Rolan, then Craig who was the the one that my friend Jack met in his community college class. Craig and Rolan, I think, had the same class and invited Jack to smoke pot with them. Later Jack invited me to meet them. Craig, who was 6′ 5″ tall and weighed 300 lbs., was a bearded, long haired man who was destined to become a male nurse. He was very interested in the heart. My thinking these days is his daddy died of a heart attack. Nobody told me back in the day. Did somebody say a car accident? Many people say car accidents. I had another friend without a father. He said his doctor died in a car accident. His mother died of heart diseased about 20 years ago. Mark too, had a dead daddy, but Mark’s daddy was a fighter pilot. Something, huh? Yet, I never heard much about him except that he gave Markie the Simon and Garfunkel album, Scarborough Fair, when Markie was 14 or so. I think Markie would have been 12 when that record came out, but NEVER MIND. These guys, Craig, his little brother whose name was Scot and Markie got social security checks. They lived in a townhouse apartment and they liked drugs. Drugs were big back then. I had taken acid. Although there was a lot of energy to it I didn’t see anything. I had no hallucinations. It was just one small pill I took. Scot was famous as being the coolest tripper. Craig though was lots of fun when he was on a trip. Rolan liked to trip too, but to me the King of Trippers was Markie. He bragged how he took 4 HITS OF CLEARLIGHT on night. That was Markie’s first year at school, when he moved his Jewish art student in, although she continued to keep a dorm room. She had to tell her momma who was a small minded woman that she was not lving with any boy. She went so far as to say that she was still a virgin and of course, like so many at the University of Florida, she didn’t take drugs.

Markie had “partied” with us before. When he and Scot were still in high school they visited Craigs apartment. I had moved in with my friend Jack for the summer. My father protested the high rent of 1/4 of an apartment. I didn’t know fancy terms like “Townhouse” in those days. It wouldn’t have made any difference to my father. If it had been half of what it was it would have been too much. He was always in the way of true success. He liked the image of success, like “he sent me to college,” but he didn’t like, “Eddie graduated college and is making a good living now.” Of course dad never felt that he stopped me from succeeding at all. That was just my opinion, although to be honest I was only dimly aware I had that opinion. I reall y thought I was responsible for my own failure. He had persuaded me I guess and there were few who were going to defend me, unless it was Jack or Craig or Rolan and yes, of course the two new boys.

Next to us at the townhouse apartment in Gainesville were 2 fellows from North Carolina who were dealers. They had a constant supply of pot and it was good. They let us smoke at their place quite often. They were good fellows to me. I hate to use the terms good old boys that often refers to southern men or good fellas which suggests a criminal syndicate. I liked them but I couldn’t afford to live the life they were living. I did try to sell a pound of pot I bought from them. It scared the hell out of me having the thing in my car. It became a hot potato but that’s another story. Some reds had come into town. In those days reds were a down called seconal. I was happy that in that year when George McGovern was running for President the radio station announces the drugs that were known to be in town. There was also a place where drugs could be tested for their purity, to see if you had something that was too strong to take or maybe just poisoned. Markie just had a ball in those days, at 17. He shot up the seconal. He took a shot in each arm and then slept all day. Oh, it was WILD! Another time that summer he bonded with the guys from Carolina, at least one of them, the one that wasn’t so pretty as the other, doing MDA. That needed to be shot up, too.

I didn’t shoot drugs.

So, you see the differences beginning.

I lost a guitar that summer. It wasn’t the stealing of the guitar that got me ultimately but the fact that I thought I had to learn the instrument. I was conforming. I was becoming what the crowd wanted. The guitar cost my mom $90. I felt like that was how much all the dope the Carolina boys had let me smoke. It was rumored that one of them who was pleasuring himself with heroin had stolen. Obviously, my fear of drug addiction had been picked up and was quickly being used.

That was ’72. The end came in ’77. In between was Zeppelin,the Allman Brothers, Bowie, etc, lies about the girlfriend, cheating, Yes, Dylan (my age it means less) and Billy Joel. He was a record collector with great ambitions. Denied I’m sure, somehow he wanted to call the shots. What music was played, how good it was, who was In, who was out, who was a homo and who wasn’t a cool dude. And sometimes a weapon here and there for his self-defense.

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