September 26th, 1971

Sitting on the toilet, rain washing, gently washing the whole outside. This old building pattering hushed in the quiet of the soft, soft-cold dreary rain.

After having tripped all night–

About 10:30 last night Karen H. and Vickie came into town and we all did half a tab of the dope I bought– not knowing for sure whether it was orange sunshine or mescaline. When we all got off and realized that it was mescaline we all did another half tab– then I did another half yet– and we all settled down to a night of serious tripping. Margie came over and she did a tab also.

Very gentle, good, easy stoned tripping.

Now I’m lying diagonal across my water bed, listening to the rain, beginning to wind out and feel tired and trying to reestablish some measure of coherency to my perception of life.

I have always wanted to trip with Karen and now I’m very glad I did. Even though my relationship with Karen has been jagged at times and even though some of her routines (behavior patterns, let us say) irk the hell out of me– I still really admire Karen H.’s head. Karen is very much in touch with reality, she isn’t into any major roles– she is simply very tight, very real, and very constant. I really enjoyed a rap that we had tripping.

Now I’m beginning to feel very down and crashy and I think I’ll write later– and that’s cool–

now I’m going to lie here and gently ease off in a small quiet sunburst of breathing and sensuality– 

me–

my body–

blue–

and the rain–

September Sunday Morning