"STRAIGHT LIFE" GOES UP IN SMOKE
A friend had disappeared into Kings Cross, then Sydney's 'Bohemian Centre', and was whispered to be smoking marijuana!
A couple of us decided to look for him, and found him, decked out in fringes, tie-dyed and Indian clothing looking like one of those ‘Hippies’ starting to show up on American rock clips. He invited us back to his 'pad' which looked like a middle-eastern restaurant, in pride of place, was a massive ‘Hooka’ with arms coming off it like an octopus with tips like cigarette holders.
Sitting in a circle, listening to strange Indian music, I watched as he packed the 'Hooka' with crumbling brown hashish, made from the pollen of the marijuana flower.
Wondering what I was about to experience, we all ritually took a puff. Then another. Then another.
And another, and waited expectantly. After a fit of coughing and spluttering slowly everything slid into slow motion, the music was starting to separate itself into individual instruments and notes could clearly be differentiated.
Everything became so funny from the faces of my friends to the way they were now starting to talk or try to talk, in fact, every thing became incredibly, hilarously funny, and I was soon rolling on the floor laughing hysterically.
After that introduction to an ''alternate state of consciousness', I found I had quite an affinity with it!
Fortunately, I had not been attracted to alcohol and have never been a 'drinker'.
It was bliss being the first to buy the latest record, rush home, slide the album from its cover, be intoxicated by the smell of fresh vinyl, have a quick smoke, turn up the volume to 11, lay on the carpet and be 'swept away' by incredible music which became soundtracks
to my own "inner movies"
The Beatles taking us on a Magical Mystery Tour across the Universe, all we needed was love! Hurdy Gurdy men singing songs of love. Almost every day a new experience, Hendrix, Led Zepplin, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, Cream, Paul Butterfield’s Blues Band, BB King, Love, Donovan etc.
The Vietnam War raged with full fury, I joined protests but was essentially untouched by it, while in the back of my mind was the knowledge I was eligible for National Military Service by conscription, a ‘Government lottery’, if my birthdate was pulled out of a barrel I would have to enter into the army for compulsory service, and usually sent to Vietnam.
American soldiers on R&R (Rest and Recreation leave) who surfed often came to Bondi to borrow a board.
Instant friendships were created and they usually invited us back to their hotel room, take out a tin of talcum powder, pop the top off, and a wonderful cascade of the best Vietnamese ‘heads’ would explode into the air. Liberated from the confined space, the heads would expand and fill the room with a wonderful fragrance before we quickly sent it up in smoke!
Visualizing being in the middle of ‘firefights’ totally off their face 'blew my mind' as I sat, listening to their war experiences, and even imagining what it was like to break your friends' legs with your helmets so they could be repatriated home.
The concept of consciousness, love and community was starting to stir and 'self' questions began to 'surface'.