Homework not-writing time

-After dinner lets hang out, says Ben.

-I dunno man, I gotta lot of homework, says I.

-Dude, you know you’re not gonna do it. Be real, we’ll go up to East Campus and burn one at the Gazebo.

-Really man, I got a Brit lit paper Friday and a Modern Europe quiz tomorrow. We’ll wait ’til Friday.

-A’ight man. Check you later. Ben drops me off for school and speeds away in the 1986 Silver Mitsubishi Colt.

I cruise on into the house and sit in my room and look through my tape box. There was one small case with 20-25 cassettes of other music. Then there were two large cases and one huge box of the real music, Grateful Dead music, live and the primary reason for me to spend waking hours. I wasn’t into the Dead, I was the Dead as much as my upbringing, location, and resources allowed me to be. I was still emotionally attached to my parents, so I’d not thought of skipping school for weeks at the time, not yet.

If they sang about loss, I lost. If they sang about a mystical trip, I went on one. If they sang about a dear one lost to the world, I felt the loss, a bird in my life that had flown away. My hair had grown out to shoulder length. I wore tie-dyes, some homemade, some got from street fairs. I’d seen the Dead only twice maybe so hadn’t a big shirt stash, not yet.

I selected a tape from 1971, the Felt Forum, 12-5-71. It had been recorded on a cassette tape that came from the 70’s, shard by my old school Dead Head friend Sunshine. She is beauty and power packed into a 5’2” 105-pound body. We still message from time to time.

The tape had been simulcast on radio and truly was a relic from the 70’s and had odd cuts in it. It was fine though, the out of tune singing was more than made up for in the burgeoning Playin’ in the Band and the Tennessee Jed solo. Masterful and original they are.

I smoked some pot and sat in my thinking chair. I had a big room, generously provided by my step-dad Art who came along when I was 15. He took good care of my mom and me. First time I ever felt secure. A small but lovely house. I wish I had it now.

I got toasted and really dug into the music, following the notes and rhythm the best my neophyte and undisciplined ears could. Well versed in Marijuana, I got pretty damned stoned and eventually lied down to rest my eyes. I woke up and noticed it had turned dark.

My mom called me for dinner.

-I’m comin’, 5 minutes OK? No answer. I was still dressed. It was early Spring. I slept on top of my covers and just doubled the quilt over myself when I got chilly.

-How was your day? Says mom and Art.

-It was fine. Eating and staring ahead, still groggy.

-Got much to do tonight? Says mom.

-Yeah, I got a paper and a quiz I’m gonna look at. Ben wanted me to go out. I said next time.

-Huh, OK. How was your day hunny? Mama talks to Art about his day.

I didn’t really have permission to go out, but I didn’t not have permission to go out either. That was a transition soon to come.

Later that night I sat in my room and read a book. It was for Lit class, maybe Shakespeare. There was a quiz but I couldn’t remember what on. After 15 minutes I threw the book on the modern pressboard desk.

I played guitar for awhile. I barely even knew the blues scales, but tries to pick a few things out, kla-ching, kla-ching, deow, doew, doew. I had a paper due in two days. I didn’t start yet. I thought about the paper. What should I right about?

I listened to some music, more Dead. Since it costs a lot to win, and even more to lose… You fuckin’ right ay know it brother I thought.

I spaced out for another hour and by then it was 10:30. Man, I’m tired, I really don’t think I can do this stuff tonight. I heard Art finish his shower by 10. He rose early.

Hell with it. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I lie in bed and hit my bowl. I blew the smoke under my covers. I still had an old Walkman. I listened to more tunes until I fell asleep. Don’t tell me this town ain’t got not heart…Just gotta poke around.