What happened to us?
Before the elite reared their ugly heads siphoning every last dollar along with all the natural resources and our freedoms there were hippies, sharing and caring.
Gone are the dreams we all once had. Now the dreams of the elite permeate the air. They are all that matters. The unwashed masses toil to clothe their children placated with the false gods of sport, television and beer. Americans are propagandized. They believe the official version of 9/11.
Friday, May 30, 2008
We hitchhiked and walked everywhere rarely paying attention to how long it took to get there or how long it might take to get back. From the rolling hills of Short Hills to Livingston, West Orange and Morristown, we played everywhere and anywhere, and then we all moved on. Like summer off from school, September came and we all disappeared into our individual worlds far from where we had once been and never to be revisited again.
1971 The winter days were getting warmer, the snow still piled on the ground making everything white. The air was crisp and cool and it felt as though it had been miraculously cleaned of all that ails us. We got to South Mountain early, six of us cutting school to do acid in the woods all day. And that's what we did. Pink Flats, these little flat round pink pills about the size of the "o" on your keyboard. Me, Ann, Tom and several others, with a few joints, some wine and acid. We spent the day playing in the woods like children, everything appearing so new, bright and sparkly. We left at sunset, ready for the warmth of home and a good meal.
at 6:15 PM Posted by Jeff Prager
From the 60s and early 70s, where existentialism abounded to a place we've all been on occasion, currently living life in these United States. Still a rebel, still a hippie, living life in the middle lane.
Growing up in Millburn-Shorthills was great. It meant wealthy friends with big houses that were party central when parents went to the beach or the mountains for the weekend. Pot, LSD, ups, downs and more pot kept everyone stoned. I blurred through adolescence with the rest of my friends, tripping in the woods at the South Mountain Reservation or tripping in the halls of Millburn Senior High School, it was all the same to me.
I remember when Steve robbed the local drug store and dropped 1000s of pharmaceutical ups and downs in my living room. I loved the Tuinals, the Seconals and Nembutals. Qualludes were popular too. All were in the three for a dollar range. Cheap and high quality. The pot came from everywhere, far away countries we only dreamed about and small towns in the middle of Ohio. The LSD was the best, with interesting names and great quality highs, no gritting your teeth from additives. Blue Cheer, Pink Flats, Purple Microdot, Blotter Acid, Orange Sunshine, it all passed through Millburn-Shorthills in the 60s and 70s. Rich kids always get the best dope.
MarySue McGlynn didn't put out, Julie Kaupp did. Carol Varder gave blow jobs for a joint and Beth Westman didn't. Ruth and Tom had been together for 3 years and Patty Bohr had been with the entire high school class in the same three years. Everyone kept track of who slept with whom but in the end it didn't really matter to anyone, we all slept with each other. This was 1970. AIDS hadn't reared its ugly head yet. Casual sex was safe, relatively safe anyway. That's what we did each summer through high school, drugs and girls, girls and drugs.
at 4:09 PM Posted by Jeff Prager