Dus, yay! :D
*Moet meer rare foto's maken...*
[...] It never occurred to me that anybody was going to be worried about whether I had a girlfriend or a boyfriend. I mean, everybody had long hair, and with clothes on, you couldn't even always tell which sex was which. Dennie looked kind of feminine anyway. Everyone was so stoned in those days I figured they wouldn't even notice the difference.Interessant.
But strangely enough, people I'd known for years stopped talking to me. Even the ones who would still talk didn't like to do it in in public places. Nobody would tell me what it was I'd done, well no one until finally this one guy who'd never liked me too much anyway blurted out, "So, we hear you're gay now."
That was news to me. I didn't think I even knew any gay people and now I was one? I didn't feel any different. I wasn't wearing makeup or dresses. I didn't talk funny or hang around in bars. As far as I could tell, I was the same dope-smoking, acid-dropping, rabble-housing, hairy, ragged and lazy hippie I'd been for years. Except now I had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend.
Larry Livermore: "Why all hippies and queers should go fuck themselves", HOMOCORE #1, pp. 10--13
[...] Well, I didn't want anything to do with being middle class, so I tended to indulge whatever whims came along. In December of 1969, in the process of a 10 day-or-so LSD marathon, I'd decided not only to quit my shit job as a janitor, but to permanently retire from working for a living. After all, I was 22 years old, and I figured I'd given enough of my life to the system.Ik ben te laat geboren... *zucht*
Things were rough for a while -- even a dutiful hippie gets sick of brown rice and soy sauce -- but I began to gain some insight into the art of the scam. A year later I was living rent-free in a big house across the street from the UC-Berkeley campus, collecting three sets of food stamps which I then exchanged for money, since I got most of my food free, too, and picking up another hundred bucks a month (about three hundred in 1988 dollars) selling mescaline caps to the sailors on Treasure Island who were waiting to be shipped out to Vietnam.
[...] I celebrated New Year's Eve by drinking a bunch of beer and smoking some killer pot just in from Vietnam, and wound up dancing around with the Hare Krishnas in the middle of Broadway in San Francisco. It was a happy, very sloshed crowd, taking up the whole street and lit up like Las Vegas by the neon lights of all the strip joints. Hippies and businessmen and drag queens stumbles around in the warm night, and my head was spinning faster than the Hare Krishna circle. I looked up into the soft gray sky thinking with a big smile on my face what a great year this was going to be.
Larry Livermore: "Nickel and diming it through junkie summer", HOMOCORE #2, pp. 12, 18--21