Krypsis wrote:
nurk_fred2000 wrote:
On Oct 7, 8:42 pm, Bill Baka wrote:
dave wrote:
Bob Dobbs wrote:
Bill Baka wrote:
I wonder where that country went???
Still looking for it myself.
“ Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years
later?
Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era — the kind of
peak
that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very
special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe
not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music
or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and
alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bull****, but even
without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think
that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a
head
in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the
time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened..
My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe
forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore
half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning
across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean
shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the
Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and
Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other
end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral
while
I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter
which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high
and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .
There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay,
then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You
could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense
that
whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .
And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over
the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we
didn’t
need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in
fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were
riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in
Las
Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see
the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and
rolled
back."
-HST
That pretty well describes it, except I had a 1968 Rambler so I could
carry a porta-party and it got 22 MPG at 120 MPH all the way down to
Tijuana. I had my 'Cougar' with me. It was kind of nice being her sex
toy since I never had to worry about getting laid. She was a major horn
dog and almost made me at 20 look 'not horny enough'.
Damn,
I miss the 60's.
Bill Baka- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

***How young was she Baka...16...?...*grin, sh%t eatin style"

Will someone please explain to Nurk what a cougar is! He is quite
obviously too stupid to know!

Krypsis

That much is obvious!
My 'Cougar' was about 38 and the horniest woman I have ever known.
I lived with her and her 18 year old daughter for about 6 months.
They supported me in fine style. Cougar worked nights as a bar maid and
daughter worked days in a head shop on Sunset Strip during the days. The
18 year old was my target but I wound up double-dipping, legally.
Be jealous Nurk, be *very* jealous.
1969, for me, was just about an all time peak year.
Viet Nam? Draft? College?
Nope. Took the year off to get laid, laid, and laid some more.

Poor Nurk must be a frustrated *Virgin*.

Bill Baka