Denver
Oct. 7, 1970
At the main highway, Tom got out and started hitching to California.
I felt a big empty space in the car after that. I went with John all
the way back to Cheyenne before I got out and headed south to
Denver. My first ride took me all the way to Denver and before I
knew it, I found myself standing in a downtown city park. I
immediately called Denny, but he wasn't home. I kept calling and
when I finally reached him, he told me to get a room and he would
pay for it because his brother didn't let strangers stay at his
place. All of this disappointment put me in a bad mood, so I checked
into the YMCA. I needed a shower anyway.
The next day I spent hanging with the "groupie city hippie." I am so
tired of these people. To the hippie I say this, "Ideally you are
fine, but in reality you are degrading." The only possible exception
is the scholastic hippie, but he is only an idol, and easily
shattered, as for my friend, Denny, fuck him. I'm through waiting,
and I don't want his money. My intentions on this trip were to stay
away from cities, and that is exactly what I plan on doing; that is,
once I get out of Denver.
One of the street people I met told me about St. Andrews, a
fraternity of Christian humanists. They were a bunch of nice guys
dressed in robes who helped people while helping themselves at the
same time. Their organization was supported by charity and, it
seemed, any other way they could get their hands on money. For the
next couple of days I stayed at St. Andrews. Some migrant workers
were also staying there, and they prepared dinner one night. It was
the best Mexican food I ever tasted, the spiciest too.
Across the street, at the bar, I met a couple of Denver
freaks. We exchanged a few cordial words and then they moved to a
booth. After their friend Sally arrived, they invited me to join
them. From the conversation, I gathered that these freaks were among
the first to start the hippie movement in Denver. They were old
enough, so I had no reason to doubt them. We got blitzed together
and talked about the way things used to be. When it came time for me
to go back to St. Andrews, they wouldn't let me go. All the time I
was in Denver I couldn't find a place to crash, now I was offered
three different places. I should have gone home with the guys, but
being an opportunist, I went home with the chick.
At Sally's apartment, I was introduced to her brother and
his friend. Both had been smoking hashish and opium before we
arrived and we were quick to join in. Since I was already drunk, all
I really wanted to do was crash, but as two more people showed up, I
realized sleep was a long way off. It wasn't until Sally's female
roommate came home that the party atmosphere slowed a bit. She
wasn't in a very good mood, which, I am sure, prompted the partiers
to pack it in. I was pretty much out of touch with reality by then,
but things were about to change.
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