The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' - Interlude.................................................................Interlude........................................................................
-- This is a "laundry list" of memories not in the previous journal entries, nor to follow. --
a.) I didn't leave Red Rocks to return to UCLA or Santa Monica or Venice or to go to New Orleans with Gene because I wanted to leave Red Rocks. I was asked to leave when my unhappiness showed like a sagging slip on a woman in a dress. So I missed the greater part of building the sixty-foot dome. But I saw pictures when I returned and they were very entertaining.
a1.) The folks there (and during the time I was first there) loved blowing holes with dynamite, and used it for the many holes needed for the foundation of the big dome, and for huge logs holding up a mezzanine inside it. One hundred holes at least. Dynamite is fun, but you kids, don't use it at home. The only underground-treatment I
11. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' List and description of main people in Part One. I was young. Please look for storytelling over style.11. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Footnote -- introduces a new person. An interlude -- not at Red Rocks or that area.
This continues the "interlude" that included a stay at a crashpad in New Orleans. (It begins in Part Nine.)
Early-mid Jan., '71
When Gene and I got home, Steve began talking about making a thousand dollars by selling souvenirs at Mardi Gras -- we talked about it and decided to make candles and sell them on the streets. Gene will put up an investment, and we'll make maybe two thousand candles and have "Mardi Gras New Orleans 1971" written on them with permanent markers. I'm sure selling them on the street then will be a far out trip! I felt better and more involved after that talk.
Well, so late one night I talked to Gene about the trip between him and me -- how I felt annoye
2. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' If you just began reading this, part one tells you who's who.2. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I was a very young writer--don't expect good writing, but perhaps interesting storytelling.
John and Mary, me and Larry and Pat went to Libre today to pick up records and a drum. We had a very pleasant time talking to the people there. We were all quite happy, and it could be felt clearly all the way up there, because it seemed the people there saw it well, and showed it back to us through their own pleasure. There was a lot of interest, good will and affection. The visits to their various houses were very comfortable.
We did our thing with our usual style: jokes, spirit, talk, getting mud on their carpets and a car in their mud, and they with their style: talk, jokes, stories and questions about rumoured "orgies" we supposedly had. Mary answered most of those questions. Peter Rabbit asked how the sex was going and if we into Tantra yet, and Mary, laughing, said "Oh no. It's all the regular
3. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' If you're just beginning to read this, please refer to number one to know who's who.3. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I was a very young writer, so don't expect good writing--look for some interesting storytelling instead.
Pat is really nice to talk to because she's been very happy and has all sorts of interesting things to say and, more than that, she listens well to what you have to say. I really dig her enthusiasm for music too (it's the sort I like!). I would feel more out of touch with all the old hard-rock concert scenes if she wasn't here to play records and talk all the "latent groupie" rap! The others, especially Terry (and sometimes John) get tired of our record-playing, but it sure helps when you miss that stuff, and we've all gotten into good dancing from them.
Dean came over from Libre and there was a lot of talk about domes, that was fun.
Plans flew for our idea to build a sixty-fo
1. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'Keep up, we'll gallop through this introduction, written directly in my true journal, just as I see it open in front of me now.1. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It's in faded cursive handwriting, in a black leather-bound book.
This is the 'Cast of Characters' who form a commune at Red Rocks Canyon:
Vicki - Peter's sister: A dark-haired, dark-eyed Hungarian beauty, who thinks her hair's too thin (it is, but who cares?). It took her weeks of country living to realize she did not need to wear false eyelashes daily. Funny! Such a gorgeous woman. An artist.
Mary - Initially with Terry: Lots of thick, wavy brown hair (short, unusual for the anyone then) with a smile that's a (de)light, who often thinks about Vicki's appearance and hers as a competition (no way!). A writer and [later] a teacher.
Winnie - Peter's brother: His name is a nickname for "Winston." Like they all were, he's a good-looking man, shorter than the others, with a stiff neck from a bout
8. The True Diary of a Fake 'Communist' Most people have a short bio in Part One. I was a very young writer - please look for an interesting story rather than good writing.8. The True Diary of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Indicates footnotes needed to introduce someone. Shows an interlude.
Today we moved up to the land! We all packed things with little organization into the VW vans, the Volvo and pick-up and all went in a little caravan to the land, happy and excited. Soon everyone was together, home in Red Rocks Canyon!
We set up a tent and the vehicles in a kind of circle around a pit for a fireplace. We put food on the shelves of the kitchen shed and Winnie and Terry worked on tapping the water line. That night we sat around the fire, talking and feeling great, then went to bed -- the couples in their respective vans, and John, David and me in the tent.
We all happily worked at various things -- Winnie built an
4. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' To know who's who, see part one. Please realize the writing was done when I was very young (please?).4. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
3/4/70 Pat's Birthday
The beautiful thing about this country is the close presence of life and death. Things are so much more obviously young, old, sick or blooming into big life here than in the city. It all has a presence of power in the very air, the power of life and death itself, of energy, and it fills me up.
This isn't the place to be if I should want to keep a young, beautiful body. The country works on the skin, face and eyes, in some ways aging them more quickly than would happen elsewhere, and in other ways leaving smile lines where none might be. This is the place to be to have a strong and beautiful spirit, and that is young life. Young in that it isn't sealed away and caught in a narrow place -- the oldest man here can be full of that spirit and young life.
Out of the Ashes He burned down their house by the road. He built a fire in the middle of the living room floor and sat warming himself 'til he saw the fire was out of control. Then he staggered up and walked the path to his mother's house in the middle of the night.Out of the Ashes11 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
He told her, "Our house is on fire."
She didn't believe him because he was drunk and, drunk, he was a constant liar.
"Just go to sleep on that couch and leave your baby and wife alone here," she said. She went back to bed and slept, but also checked on him to be sure his little family wasn't bothered by his drunken lies and abuse. She could control him as his mother.
In the morning dawn, a farmer from down the road a piece knocked on her door.
She hurried to answer. People were still sleeping and the knock sounded urgent.
"Missus, that h
13. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' List and descriptions of main commune folks is in Part One. Excuse errors, I was a very young writer. Look for storytelling. Please?13. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
A footnote about someone/thing new. An interlude not at the Red Rockers.
Added later, who knows when? In the early seventies, though.
A short interlude at my former hometown in Southern California.
Around Feb., '71
Ontario was a bust, with me sitting around my sister's house daytimes watching TV, embroidering, calling people about jobs, while she went off to work. I smoked and played with her three pets and was quiet and thoughtful many days.
Played Rummy 500 with Margo and/or Don when they came over to Celia's, and won every game. Red Rocker Ron sure did teach me well! Took acid many nights and went to a little psychedelic dance/bar in Riverside with Celia, Bob ( no clue who
5. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' Please read the bullet list of 'who's who' in Part One. I was a very young writer here. Try to look for good storytelling (please?).5. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Yesterday was cloudy and gray, but today the snow evaporated into white puffy clouds off near the mountains, and the sun is so warm I feel it like at a southern California beach. Most everyone is outside just to feel the sun, reading or walking.
At Libre for dinner last night, we did a lot of talking about the revolution, all the bombings of ROTCs and banks and the Weathermen at the Washington moratorium and the confrontations at rallies and all about the Chicago Seven.
Dean said, "But I wonder, you know? All those people are fighting and doing my yelling for me while I sit on a mountain and do nothing." Terry had the correct answer for that -- "Some people have to do the tearing down and others have to
Always the Haunted House On Halloween, young people seem to flock to the dark, in search of either candy or a house to 'trick.' Matt and Sally were no different, except they were a bit older, nearly in their teens. Matt talked Sally into going to the house widely known as haunted.Always the Haunted House10 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sally said, "Are you sure we want to go there? It must be called haunted for a good reason."
Matt laughed. "Sure. Things go bump in the night there. It's just an old house."
"Then they won't have any candy."
"We got enough off Mr. Sterling to rot our teeth already. This'll prove we've got guts too. Wait 'til we get to school and tell everyone where we went! They'll envy us and know how brave we are. C'mon, Sally!"
Sally sighed. "I don't know how you always talk me into these dumb ideas."
"I'm smart. And I know you like to hang out with me anyway."
"You're not as smart as me, and this may be the last straw as far as h
6. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' The list of "who's who" is in Part One. I was a very young writer - I hope you find good storytelling anyway [!?].6. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
More will join "who's who" in this part. Blue bullets indicate footnotes.
One day we had a "council" called by John, who said he was sick of always either arguing with or being ignored by Terry -- it's the clash over Mary. So everyone talked, agreeing it's a drag to have bad feelings around all the time, that the unhappiness and bitterness and silences and fights were a drain on the whole group. There was a suggestion that Mary and Terry leave for a week or so to work it out, and either both come back, or one, or neither.
In the middle of the talk, I left for the bedroom, saying I didn't feel well, which was true, but also true of my feelings. Terry kept saying how miserable he was and how he didn't love anything or anyone, and that upset me more than I let on.
10. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' Red Rockers 'list of characters.' Please look for content over grammar. I was very young.10. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
An introduction to someone. An interlude from living at Red Rocks.
Travels with Gene.
We recently entered "the land of contrasts," having knocked off "the grand canyon state" and "the land of enchantment" in the past two days. This 'land of contrasts' is boring the hell out of us already -- Texas has a way of doing that on this long southern route. But we keep in truckin' and it's a very good time all in all.
It's almost an hour after sun-up and we're parked in an empty drive-in hamburger place in a little town between Austin and Houston. Gene is asleep. I just reread one of the best chapters of Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis -- the one about Eustace becoming a dragon. We've been on the road all night as well as all day yester
The Great Water Debate There was a war going on at the senior complex.The Great Water Debate5 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I visited the place to see how my Granny was doing, but she'd left a note on her door that said:
AT REC ROOM - COME SEE ME
That got me worried right there. Granny wasn't your ordinary person. I could think of a million reasons why she'd be evicted, and not one that would make her cheerfully go that close to the office. She had sort of a love/hate relationship with where she lived. As long as things went her way, she was happy. If they didn't, well, she was a force to be reckoned with.
I walked along the cement path between greenery and sent up a little prayer.
"No eviction, please," was all I asked.
I hated the sign beside the office because it said "Welcome Home," and it just didn't have a homey feeling anywhere. Except inside my Granny's apartment and garden. I walked through a mysteriously empty office to the rec room, where I heard
Tornado Talk She'd never heard wind like it. The girl, Lilah, was from a place where the only season meant Santana winds blew, and they blew hard, but not as hard as this wind. The man she was with didn't wake up. He slept on while the day began.Tornado Talk4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One of the six children they babysat, a little boy, came to their room.
He shook the man's foot to wake him.
Lilah was amazed to see the man she'd marry pull their blanket over his face to hide.
It was up to the Lilah to ask the little boy, "What's wrong, Jake?"
"The wind," Jake said. "Why Uncle hidin? I scared! Want Uncle ta save us!"
"Come here, Jake," said Lilah. "Are the other kids awake? Come here, I'll hold you."
"No, they sleepin 'n' I want Uncle! Willya wake him?"
"Sure, Jake," the girl said, pretending a calm she didn't feel.
"Wesley!" she said, nudging the man next to her. "Wes! What're you doing with the blanket over your head? Wake up! Jake's in our room. And the wind is--it's different than a
7. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' Part One has a list of the main folks here. Please recall I'm a young writer here--look for decent storytelling instead.7. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Footnotes are brief intoductions to new folks.
There have been some bad times for me lately. I'm really fucked up. It's about Terry and Mary and feeling caught in the middle. One morning I even woke up sleeping between them! She'd decided to stop sleeping with John (so John was kind of fucked up, too) and Mary slept in the next available spot, which was next to me. It was a drag because she was crying and Terry was lying there rigid and cold. I muttered "Fuck" and got the hell out of there.
Later I caught Terry outside and told him, "That was drag this morning, a bunch of shit. I didn't like it and I'm not sleeping with you anymore." He said he didn't blame me. I said he hadn't really been sleeping with me lately anyway, just lying there, and he said, "Yeah. I'
Caught in Battleby LJCaught in Battle5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Lately I've been doing a lot of not sleeping at night.
That is to say, I fall asleep fine, but about one in the morning the dreams turn to thoughts and I'm not asleep anymore.
I just lie there, thinking too much to even close my eyes.
My eyes feel bad in the red mornings, so tonight I light the oil lamp and sit up.
I might as well write what was requested by a friend a few days ago, at dinner together.
It doesn't kill dream memories, though.
At that dinner, my friend said, "They're nice stories and nice paintings you do, but they're not you, you know."
I protested. "They certainly are."
But she protested last.
"No, they aren't. They're other people's. You should write or paint yourself, for once."
I made a joke then, and said I'd do a self-portrait of me asleep. I'll write now instead.
The dream tonight was about the time I sketched a picture of him in the hospital. It was the last time I sketched him or was in a hospital wi
9. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' List of people at the Red Rocks commune. Please look for story content, not writing skill (I was too young).9. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Footnote to introduce someone. Interlude = An event that doesn't happen at or near Red Rocks.
From a journal written on the way to and in New Orleans:
So I seem to have wound up this first section of a trip to New Orleans, though actually it just started. I got here (Berkeley) from L.A. with friends of Gene's. He'll arrive in a couple of days. I had coffee and a cigarette at the friends' house here, and met a guy named Don who took me to 'his' place, which is a "crashpad" they said, where Gene would meet me.
The people here left, going somewhere, and I sat here, looking around, thinking, "Weird. I've never been at a crashpad before." Then two girls and a dog came in. They said "Hi" and put "Let It Bleed" on the record player and
About the Blues There were reasons I was going to write about a grand mal seizure. Heck, I still have the reasons: I feel like it and it's on my mind. I say "it" because I only had one and it was some time ago. But they say I did a bang-up job of it.About the Blues10 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My sister told me, "I woke you up to tell you it was time to go to the horse show, and you stood there and said you had a headache and wouldn't make it. Made me mad, actually. Then you keeled over and it's good my husband was there to catch you."
I remember the headache. Worst one I've ever had, truly crippling. I didn't want to disappoint my sister and her husband though. After all, my daughter and I were staying with them for an unspecified length of time. I'd even grown fond of the friggin horse shows.
The memory that's most embarrassing is a big sign the seizure isn't a small one -- loss of control of the bladder. Check. Tremors. Check. And I guess you stick out your tongue and your eyes go kinda
Action and Reaction Secrets are rarely kept between two people. If you have a secret, it's best to tell no one.Action and Reaction2 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I told someone, so mine was no longer a secret, it was just low-key information we tried to keep quiet.
I was easily embarrassed, and wished it hadn't happened in front of him, my new husband. Our bed was a futon, with walls on two sides and a dresser at the foot. I got up early and opened the drawer where my clothes were, and something leapt out at me. I ran for the door to the other room. My husband was laughing so hard when I returned, I wanted to pour cold water on him.
He said, "You and that mouse was both runnin neck and neck for the door. Funniest thing I ever seen!"
"It was awful. Please don't tell anyone. Keep it secret. Promise?"
"Okay, I promise. It's still the funniest thing I ever seen!"
"What's a mouse doing in the dresser anyway?"
"Makin a nest, probly," he said. "Look.
It Was The Burglar's Idea The worst people hired him because he was the best burglar around. No one knew his given name, not even him. As a child, he'd grown and fed himself by stealing what he needed on the streets. He had no name. But since many people called him- "That one!" -the growing and adept burglar decided to call himself "Thone." He knew he needed at least a name, if not food, home, clothes -- and why not some kind of fame and fortune? Yes, he decided, he'd have both infamy and fortune. He was certain he was a clever, quiet, sneaky, and nice young man, fully deserving of both. Soon he had both.It Was The Burglar's Idea5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Late one night, a very rich man hired Thone for a new job and asked him the usual questions. Thone was as silent with the rich as he was with the poor. For that matter, he was more silent with the rich. Thone never explained his work to anyone, and it was always the rich who hired him. Thone was the most expensive burglar ever known to o
Changing of the Guard I sat pouting and alone in the first meadow when I saw a deer run out of the woods on my right, cross the meadow at top speed, then go into the woods on my left. A moment later, I heard the dogs bark. It made me angry, but there wasn't a thing I could do to get those dogs away from the deer. So I was pouting, alone and mad when the first dog ran across the meadow.Changing of the Guard5 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
It was the Afghan, head up and silent. Afghans hunt by sight, I knew that much. The other dogs hunted by scent, and they appeared soon after, noses to the ground when they weren't barking. What a racket they made! And I thought I felt low before! I couldn't even sit quietly and feel sorry for myself. Now I had to worry about the deer.
I walked back to the dome and asked Diane if she'd seen her dog lately. She hadn't. Hers was the Afghan. She had a toy poodle as well, but it didn't count. That little bundle of neuroses rarely left her side. Neither the Afghan nor the poodle were well-t
16. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'11/10/7116. The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist'1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
This day was like one in June, clear and bright and 65o; a wonderful day to be outside in. I looked forward to putting in another window, but Ronnie said he wanted to work with Winnie and learn how to do it, and Mike and Laura were already a team. There're only enough ladders and tools for two teams. For a while I indulged in some blues and loss of temper. When Ronnie said he wanted Winnie specifically to show him how it's done, I said to him, "You're a pig" (implying male chauvinism) and he said in his usual laughing manner "Why? Winnie can explain it better" and I said I could show him just as well, and was he telling me I was bad at explaining things, and he said no, just that Winnie knew it better. I continued to throw a few bad vibes at him, convinced it had something to do with me being a woman and thus inferior. Also, I was upset at being out of a job and barely listened to Winnie suggesting a third team, which was unrealistic, and I said I'd find somethin
Of Course We DancedOf Course We Danced5 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The dome was sixty feet in diameter. That means it was thirty feet high. To put up a south-facing arc of windows to keep us warmer in winter, a person had to have a head for height. I had a head for it, a practically insane disregard for tension or personal safety up there. I liked looking out at the big valley below our canyon and at the high mountains across from our place. It made me a pretty slow worker, but I helped.
One cold winter, when the first two babies were born in the "largest private dome ever built," twenty-three people lived in there. I got tired of the scene. Too many people milled inside the place all day long. It was too cold to camp out, and I was often the "three" after the e