My... my... my... the level of crazy is off-the-charts. I am astounded... astounded I tell you... by what people can convince themselves of. I will, of course, proceed onward and pay it all no mind. There's bound to be intense collateral damage in times like these. One can't set up a roadside hospital round every corner they turn. The Walking Wounded are out in droves... following after Viggo Mortensen on The Road.

I remember the concert at Altamont. I was near the front on that day. Fortunately, we had brought our own comestibles. One heard the cries of “Don't take the brown acid!” from the crowd and the stage announcer all through the day. It's too bad they did not tumble to the other delivery systems. Certain twisted souls put loads of The CIA's worst into jugs of Red Mountain wine that were passed through the crowd.

I wound up running a field hospital there in the aftermath. My friend Richard wanted to kill himself. He was really invested in a more positive outcome. I could tell early on that it was going to go bad. From the first notes out of Carlos Santana's guitar... to the constant screaming from people in the crowd; “Sit down! Sit the fuck down!!!” It was a menacing atmosphere. People were too close together, and it was a bad crowd. I did not much like The Rolling Stones; too Satanic for my tastes. Well... they proved themselves that day.

(I do not multitask well these days.)