It was the Autmn of 1979. We talked of magik. We talked of Carlos Castaneda. We talked of rock and roll. We sat in the living room of his cottage. He was on the sofa. I was on the floor. I leaned my back against the wall. My legs were crossed at the ankles. My arms were crossed against my chest. I laughed. I don’t know what I was laughing at. I was overcome by the spirit. It was the laugh of insanity. I was deeply in its grip. One night we shared a bottle of white wine. Alcohol was forbidden in that place. We were used to living on the wrong side of the law. We had both been in the habit of using hallucinogens. So, we had both found ourselves in long term treatment after release from mental hospitals. When the wine was gone, he pissed into the bottle, put the cork back and hid it behind the sofa. A few days later I was there with him as he did the weekly housekeeping. He “found” the bottle and announced that there was still wine in the bottle. I had already forgotten the time we spent with that bottle just a few days previously. I gestured for him to give me the bottle, which he did. I took a sip, and in the realization, I shouted angrily “That’s piss!!” He gestured for me to give him the bottle back. As we stood with locked eyes, he tipped the bottle back and took a sip. The anger instantly turned into reverence. I knew that he was teaching me something of magik. I loved that man. I actually named one of my cars after him.
It was the Autmn of 1979. We talked of magik. We talked of Carlos Castaneda. We talked of rock and roll. We sat in the living room of his cottage. He was on the sofa. I was on the floor. I leaned my back against the wall. My legs were crossed at the ankles. My arms were crossed against my chest. I laughed. I don’t know what I was laughing at. I was overcome by the spirit. It was the laugh of insanity. I was deeply in its grip. One night we shared a bottle of white wine. Alcohol was forbidden in that place. We were used to living on the wrong side of the law. We had both been in the habit of using hallucinogens. So, we had both found ourselves in long term treatment after release from mental hospitals. When the wine was gone, he pissed into the bottle, put the cork back and hid it behind the sofa. A few days later I was there with him as he did the weekly housekeeping. He “found” the bottle and announced that there was still wine in the bottle. I had already forgotten the time we spent with that bottle just a few days previously. I gestured for him to give me the bottle, which he did. I took a sip, and in the realization, I shouted angrily “That’s piss!!” He gestured for me to give him the bottle back. As we stood with locked eyes, he tipped the bottle back and took a sip. The anger instantly turned into reverence. I knew that he was teaching me something of magik. I loved that man. I actually named one of my cars after him.