NGC4594, sent me a photo of he and Bliss some place in England via Facepoop. They both looked as old as I felt. Bear had a blue tee shirt with a white one word sentence... 'Write.'
I had just returned from Milford, Connecticut, where I visited with my life long friend Wayne 'Wheathead' Davis on his deathbed. Wayne had only days left and he was pissed about it. The only thing that relieved the pain wasn't morphine but was writing. He was angry as hell about dying and all he could feel good about was sharing the life and fun times on a page, hand written.
When Lao Tzu of Tao Te Ching fame wanted to split, actually check out, the fucking 'Gatekepper' told him "get back there and write down what you know." Now writing it down made this guy, maybe, the second or third most popular author in the whole history of the world but all it got him was a ticket to leave.
The first time I left the crazy world of the Berkeley underground I returned to Milford to make a re-entry back into ... what ...real life?
Coming back in the middle of winter wearing California style Chinese slippers Wayne thought I was nuts. He gave me a bunch of firewood and a little bound journal that was exactly the same kind as he had on his deathbed some 47 years later. He not only told me to write about it he titled the journal"The Re-Entry" and inscribed it.