SECRETS OF BEING QUICK

Chapters 3 - 7

Chapter 3

A DREAM OF VEGAS

Beatles, Come Together

Vegas floats by the window as we stealth-fully navigate through the old “Strip” with its waterfalls of neon excess, and the total homage paid to the Material Gods of Greed! Richard is driving as we watch the forbidden riches of Maya sparkle and dance for the play. I’m still too fresh from the farm (the Ashram) to be tempted by this make-up job for humanity. Not me, and not we, as we bypass it all—sort of like Ulysses passing the sirens. Just akeepin’ on we go. We travel up and over, into the mountains, through Utah and toward Denver. And it’s acoolin’ down...a travelin’ on. Sort of like a Staples Singers song…we’re rollin’ with that kinda smooth rhythm. The flashy hotels in the dust behind remind me a lot of where I grew up, Miami. In high school we’d cruise “The Beach” and see all the same flash and façade, ala “Tropical Paradise”—your splash of wonder into one of those old Esther Williams films and…ah yes…Miami.

Solo Harp arpeggio flourish out!

☯

THEE IMAGE

Remember the Fudge! They are playing here, tonight…where I’m standing right NOW! Black lights are making us look like blue fireflies, inside this gigantic bowling alley turned hippy-hive rock club, circa 67’ North Miami Beach. Drum roll… “Thee Image!”

Psychedelic Guitar Chords Slash and Shred!

In your mind, dig out some old vinyl memories of bands like The Animals, Jefferson Airplane, Cream, Jimi Hendrix Experience, The Doors, and Led Zeppelin. And, roll around inside some of their tunes—let the music create for you. If you’re too young for the actual memories, then create some new associations, Google ‘em or something. It’s atmosphere…yeah…and add some smoky incense wafting past your aviator sunglasses.

It’s two o’clock in the DAY, and Carl and I are psyched! We’ve come to weasel freebies, passes, whatever. WE…are in a band and WE “belong.” This is our tribe!

The house band is on stage rehearsing. They are Blues Image. They are very good and WOW! I’m feeling really inadequate as a musician, but my hippie identity is kicking in and in a naïve way I create myself, anew—Me…Rock Musician!

“Hey man!” chirps from my quivering lips. “I dug your set…what speakers are you runnin’ with your axe?” What a poser I was. It makes me shake my head and smile the way you do when you reflect on a piece of your personal timeline where you view yourself as uneducated by life. So, it just happens. I strike up a conversation with the organ player, Skip. Behind those cool red shades was a fellow Hammond lover, I was sure, since he was playing one. He’s got real long hair and a goatee. Me…barely a mustache and a little shelf (later to be known as a “mullet”). Hair was more than a Broadway musical back then. It was a badge and you wore it as your “ID,” stating that “I am a LONGHAIR. I am a REBEL. I use drugs and listen to weird Rock n’ Roll. I AM a HIPPIE!” So, yeah…it was cool! I met Skip and asked him a lot of questions about gear, and he gave me his phone number for future questions. But, no passes.

Miami surf sound…cars slicing through the salt breeze…

Vanilla Fudge, You Keep Me Hangin’ On

So, we bought tickets to the Fudge and here we are! What a mind blower! These guys are Kicking ASS! Awesome! This is a DEFINING MOMENT for me! Inspiration flows from the oil and water light show electrically dripping off the back wall of the stage, stone-filtered by some very special Columbian Gold. I SEE myself as one of them—a Psychedelic ROCK STAR! I’m going ALL THE WAY! I’m going to buy some bell-bottom jeans and tie-dyed shirts, sell the MG and buy a van. I AM ONE with the whole hippie gig! A moment later, swimming through the black lights, I see the same organ player guy, Skip, from Blues Image. We rap one more time and share a toke or two.