18. 1969

Christmas 1968 Glen Ellen, California

1969 the year that keeps on going even now in 2025

* January, met Randy
* January, car accident in Utah; transit Pluto square my Uranus and transit Neptune opposite my Moon
* April met Carol Ann when transit Saturn entered my 7th house transit. Neptune still opposite my Moon
* December to Hawaii; transit Jupiter conjunct my natal ascendant and transit Saturn in my 7th house square my
M.C. Transit Uranus conj my Neptune and Transit Pluto square my Mars

The mansion was huge, with ten-bedrooms and six baths. I never did know who owned it. I doubt anyone knew. We surely did not pay any rent. We each laid claim to a bedroom. I ended up alone and I know there were at least three couples and several singles in the rooms. I gradually accumulated furniture, a bed, and a dresser. From the first day there, we all started to inject Methamphetamine (speed). I had never injected anything before and did not find anything wrong with shooting up speed. I loved the stuff and would go on two and three day runs without sleeping. I would sit on my bed and write long poems, novels, and stories, though I could never read what I wrote when I was straight.

However, whilst on speed, and writing, I thought I was writing brilliant, world-shattering poetry, prose, and philosophical treatises. I believed I had tapped into the mind of God.

Our house was across from a beautiful beach, on the corner of Hermosa Avenue and Ocean Boulevard. There must have been some major drug dealers in our house as we had bags of psilocybin and masculine as well as LSD and speed. I liked psilocybin the most as it was milder than the other drugs. Often we would get quite high just capping up the drugs, as it would go through our fingers. I did not go anywhere else in Los Angeles outside of our immediate neighbourhood except for Laguna Beach.

I was enjoying one of those every-day-is- the-same days in Southern California and looking at the shops in Laguna Beach. It had been an insignificant day thus far but then again, every day is insignificant until something happens that we will remember for the rest of our life.

In astrology, one of the most significant charts one can have is their first meeting chart. I have many first meeting charts and they tell very clearly what sort of an impact will be made because of meeting someone at a particular time. Meeting someone takes on a life of its own – there is the entry into human consciousness of a composite us – the composite them. The composite chart of two or more – for example the composite chart of my two children and I have been quite accurate for events that have transpired in our combined life, shows how two or more are one and the impact they have together. It is quite fascinating to look at couples, see how they are as individuals, and then look at the impact they have together.

The first meeting chart will describe what will happen in the life cycle of those two. I used to keep a record of charts of women I met and from them try and to predict what would happen between us. I could never really be objective though and if the chart did not give an indication of the level of interaction, I thought should happen then I would forget about the chart and go for the moves that I would hope would produce the results I had hoped for.

Relationships are quite involved, and I have read that sex should not be the actual goal of meeting someone we find attractive – after all there is their mind, their personality, their wealth, their sexy sister or mother or daughter – depending at what age I am and I suppose their soul. However, at the end of the day desire and the meshing of bodies overrides all the other stuff. Nevertheless, one should have a first meeting chart drawn up for when they meet someone (sure mate – just send me your email address and I will do one for you tomorrow for seventy-five bucks). I have tried to create the right conditions by going to a pub when, for instance, transiting Mars is square my Venus. Bad astrologers have problems with squares and oppositions because they say those aspects cause friction – but if I am going to meet a woman at the pub a little friction will go further than some sloppy easy aspect to my Mars. Of course, a normal ‘person’ would proclaim that this is all nonsense and what is really happening is nothing to do with astrology but just an evolutionary gelling of millions of years ago when amoeba met amoeba in the salty salty sea. The single question that keeps me awake at night is centred on the sexual wellbeing of amoeba. Like some priests all Amoeba are celibate. Though there are indications that some amoeba does in fact take part in sexual or at least slightly naughty parasexual activities. Does amoeba have worldviews? Do they live in fear of spending eternity in hell for a nanosecond of heaven in an unorthodox sexual acting out?

I have no exact date for when I met Randy and therefore, I do not have a first meeting chart.

Of course, if we want to be metaphysically tactical about this first-meeting crap we would need a chart of when that first amoeba met the other amoeba and evolved and mutated over the millions of eons of time to become the fuckup we are now.

Over a thirty-five-year period, Randy and I have bounced in and out of one another’s lives at some geometrical division of time. When I first met Randy he was wandering along the main boulevard in Laguna Beach. He had the typical look for the era; long blond hair, the LSD twinkling eye and the clothing. However, there was more to him and not just his gold caped tooth with a star in the middle of it. In an age when everyone was a bit weird, he was just that much stranger. He walked straight toward me – sort of picking me out of the crowd of people walking along the street and he put something in my mouth, laughed, and walked on. I thought it would be acid as that is what must people were doing in the 1960s.
Times have changed so, or maybe it is just me. If someone came up to me in the street and tried sticking something into my mouth I would spit it out. I am one of those types of people that are leery of even trying a handout in the supermarket.

You know, those free samples that some loser is being paid pennies to give to people in the hopes the person will buy the product. No Not moi. If something is going into my mouth these days I want to know heaps about it, whether it is a GM food - being a vegetarian I want to know whether my vegetables have been crossed with a pig’s penis or whatever they do with genetically engineered food or a stir-fry chemical created in Jersey City. But in the 1960s, a total stranger putting something in my mouth seemed normal. Going to bed with a stranger seemed normal though it does not now. Not having a home or money or job or an education seemed normal at one time. I feel quite normal now owning two homes in Upstate New York, one in Jersey City and two in Australia and being called Doctor Neuage, even though my name before changing – see book 2 if reading e-books, was Adsit until 1981.

LSD takes about an hour to have an effect on one’s perceptions. I had no idea of how I would get back home as I did not have a car and I had become separated from the people I had been with. Laguna Beach is several miles from Long Beach.

However, I had learnt to live in the moment, and it was very much a part of the belief system at that time that whatever we needed would appear. I have lived my life as this being one of my main belief system tenants and for the most part it has proven to be a good way to live and move about on this planet. I began feeling the effects when I was in the local occult bookstore or new-age bookstore – whatever it was called, I believe it was run by Timothy Leary’s daughter and there was a lot of dope moving in and out of the place.
What Randy put in my mouth seemed different from the other hundreds of trips I had been on. (I want to say at this point that I do not advocate taking drugs. I am not glorifying them but instead I will, throughout my story, discuss what I experienced, as if I am talking about someone else, which is what it seems like I am doing. I have not taken or smoked anything for decades – well I took a couple of hits of LSD in the early 1980s when I was a single parent in South Australia – and a few times when I was married, the first time –but the person I was married to never knew it.

I started wandering the streets of Laguna until the streets developed a certain boring melody against my steps. I crossed the street, avoiding rushing traffic of surfers, hippies, tourists, and various stoned life forms. At the beach, I walked out to a rock formation, sat in the middle of it, and watched the waves crash around me in increasingly noisier and frantic sensual rhythms. I have no idea how long I was there but there was a point, because the tide was coming in, that the rock formation was no longer on the shore but was becoming more of an island all the time. I had to wade through the water and it was already well over my socks then to my knees by the time I got to the land. There was a Taco Bell Restaurant in front of me, this particular one had a pile of rocks with a flame coming out of it, I was cold and wet, and the fire felt warm, so I took my socks and shoes off and put them by the flame. I am sure it was some earlier caveman memory that was activated. Flame = Warmth. No thinking deductive bullshit needed. Logical cavemen would have eaten berries and plants. Some eatables would make them hallucinate (at which time they would begin seeing and creating messiahs and gods who would care about their individuality). Other berries and mushrooms and leaves would kill the sorry fucker, and some would nourish and be hawked by our contemporary herbal hustlers on television as products that the pharmacy companies do not want us to know about because these healing herbs (known thousands of years ago) can fix everything from cancer to AIDS to a flat tyre and a broken relationship. Life is really all trial and error. NO God – spokesperson said what was correct. We now have tens of thousands of years of information. If our “one” lifetime was then – thousands of years ago, caveman style – then would we be in heaven or hell now for eternity? Ask your next Bible bashing Christian that next time you are Bible bashed.

When I heard the laughing behind me, I turned and saw it was Randy. He asked if I wanted to go look for spaceships in the canyon outside of Laguna Beach. Being an adventuresome type of bloke, I put on my dried socks, and we went off looking for spaceships. We were walking along the beach when a stray dog joined us, and we went back up to the street where there were many people walking about in the early evening mist.

When one is tripping on LSD, everything is difficult to sort out. People’s faces change and it is easy to base thoughts on nothing sensible at all. I
was at a restaurant with a girl one time when everyone’s face looked like a dog’s face. I remarked to my friend who also was tripping, that the Chinese server looked like a Pekingese a friend of ours had. We could not stop laughing and had to leave the restaurant because we were laughing so hard. When Randy and I were walking in Laguna Beach a well- dressed woman getting out of a car told me she was a Taurus. I have no idea why and she said she would need to meet us later. We never saw here again but we speculated for most of the night that maybe she would meet us and take us to a spaceship. I was not used to interacting with other humans when I was tripping and when I did it always became a strange ordeal. For whatever reason I have always remembered this well-dressed woman telling us that she was a Taurus.

When I was living in New York City, I use to enjoy walking along the city canyons – along Wall Street – to Battery Park late at night and just tripping away listening to my boots echoing through the streets of New York. I never had any fear of any harm coming to me. Looking back, it terrifies me now – in my relived thoughts - that I would not only be walking along the streets of New York City after mid-night alone but that I was still a teenager and that I had no idea what effect the LSD would have on me.

Along the way, I realized how high I was when a police car stopped us. A police officer wanted to see identification, and he shined his flashlight into our eyes. He said he was looking for a cat burglar and one of us said how could we be a cat burglar when we had a dog with us? We could not stop laughing – and the terrible thing about being really stoned is that once you begin laughing it is impossible to stop. Then again, I get into laughing fits now and I haven’t gotten stoned for decades – I don’t even drink any alcohol but laughing is one of those activates that is difficult to stop once it is in full flight of. It was quite mean of the police officer as he was having a lend of us. He would make little sounds like a cat hissing or a dog growling, Randy and I would look at each other, and say “did you hear that” – it was obvious the police officer knew we were off the planet and was enjoying watching us behave the way we did. We eventually got away from him and the city streets and onto some road that went into Laguna Canyon.

Randy has been a part of my life for the past thirty-five years and will pop up from time to time in this little story about Australia and all points before and after that particular level of consciousness. Now in 2015 we wave to one another often via Facebook. And we all stay on the planet doing what would kill most people in a lot less time than it has/will us. It is not what we do that will kill us but the fact that it is the time for us to check out of this life that will kill us. We can have many near misses but only one not a miss. I have had many near misses. Before going off to California in 1967, I had already had two near misses. The first one gave me a result that I would never have expected and had not planned; the taking a bottle of sleeping pills saga.

Our home in Long Beach was becoming stranger all the time. I had moved several times though always in the same house. With ten- bedrooms there was opportunity to find a new space without losing one’s original street address. I started out with a small room in the front of the house on the second floor and moved in and out of several other rooms. There was a lot of coming and going of people I had never seen before. There are always moments in life when we do not know what to do. One morning I came downstairs and went to the kitchen only to see three Hells Angels, huge fellows, dressed in their colours, beating some guy in our kitchen. They were hitting and kicking him and finally dragged him out the kitchen door and they drove off with the person yelling. I had never seen the person they were beating up and no one in the house knew who the person was or why he was beaten up. There were many things going on that not only I, but also no one in the house knew was going on.

For some reason, the actual one, I cannot recall; there were four of us hitchhiking out of Los Angeles late January. I think the four us were headed north, probably to San Francisco as that is where the hippie life was at its finest at that point in time.

Outside of Santa Barbara we got a ride with a fellow going to Texas. I decided I wanted to go to New Orleans and the others, a couple, and a female said they would go with me. Why we headed north then east instead of straight east toward Texas, I am not sure. We went to Salt Lake City.

We were driving around Salt Lake City and we asked someone where we could spend the night. We somehow ended up spending a night with some Mormon hippies. The next day we headed south toward Texas. We were taking turns driving. The person who owned the car said he was a doctor or a doctor student I am not sure which. The car was new, big, and powerful. We were in Utah with me driving. It was dark and for the first couple of hours the road had been straight, but it seemed suddenly that the road became curvy and we were going into a mountain range. I swerved on a curve and the car flipped onto its top and skidded across the road then stopped. The people in the back seat, two females, and a male were asleep, and the owner of the car was asleep in the passenger seat. It was a much different accident than when I was driving Eileen’s Volkswagen when it came to grief. I was momentarily in shock thinking I had killed everyone. I frantically checked the backseat to see whether everyone was OK, and they were without even a bruise. We climbed out of the upside-down car through a side window. No one had even gotten a cut. We all stood looking at the car stopped from going over a cliff by a large boulder. Because we were all in a bit of shock the magnitude of the situation barely registered. A car soon stopped, and we piled in. At the first motel we came to, we got a room. The doctor, owner of the mangled car, gave us sleeping pills.

There was a banging on our door the next morning. Outside of our room was the car, hitched to a tow truck. It was difficult to comprehend that we had survived the accident. Not only was the roof caved in but also the doors on one side were badly damaged and the front window was shattered. The owner of the car went off with the police and the rest of us hitched hiked back toward Salt Lake City. We found the Mormon hippie couple we had stayed with just a night earlier and they told us we were supposed to stay in Utah and become Mormons and that was the reason for our accident.

We stayed with them for about three days because we could not get back to California. I had given up the idea of going to New Orleans and all I had was my sleeping bag and one change of clothes and no money. Due to blizzard conditions in the mountains going to California through Donner Pass, we were told we could not get a ride through to California. The Mormon hippies that we were staying with were filthy. They had a dog, a baby, and both the dog and the baby shit everywhere. The house smelt so bad that I felt ill the whole time I was there. Besides the smell, these people kept saying that the reason we could not leave was that we were to stay and become Mormons. I rang my parents and asked for money so that I could take a bus to LA. The others that were traveling with me flew back to San Francisco; obviously, they had richer parents than I did.

I do not know what happened with the owner of the car, or whether in fact he was the real owner. He had gone off with the police, we got a ride, and there was never any contact between us so I never knew what happened. No one questioned me, as the driver. I believe he said he was the driver for some reason to do with insurance, so I just walked away and for years thought how I had escaped death or injury not only then but a few times earlier. Of course, as the decades would pass, I would have more escapes. There is always this question, “why do some of us survive, seemingly through incredible experiences and others die so easily?”

(The Donner Party was the most famous tragedy in the history of the westward migration. See, Rosen, Daniel. The Donner Party. http://www.donnerpartydiary.com/ Viewed 2/10/2006.) This is here - because we drove through here or thought we did or wished we had not - forget which now 55+years later.

I got back to Los Angeles three weeks after I had left. I seriously entertained the thought that LA was the place to stay. I still did not have any work and lived on/in the moment. There was always food in the fridge, though not much. Very little furniture ever was brought into the house. I know I never had anything more than my mattress and a couple of pieces of clothing. Several females entered then exited my life or maybe I entered their lives. I do not remember any names or anything more than a couple of incidences. I met one girl at the University of California. I think I went there to see if I could take courses. I went to a few courses with one particular person, and she moved in with me for a few days but she moved into some other person’s room and that was the end of our relationship. A girl from Minnesota enmeshed me within her beingness for a while but that ended when I came home with a girl I had met on the beach and the only place that seemed private was my bed. I had not realized at the time that the Minnesota girl was in the shower only a door a way. She thought, as so did I for a few days that we were together, but I had temporarily forgotten, and Minnesota girl was non-forgiving.

Sex in the 1960s was very difficult because everyone seemed to have their own rules and they assumed that everyone else was following the same protocol as them. You would be with one person who had no qualms about having sex whether there were other people around or not. For example, I was with someone for a few days and one afternoon I walked into the lounge and she was fucking a guy in the midst of the room and she looked up at me and said “hi” and continued with her noisy orgasm. An hour later, she wanted to have sex with me, because she ‘loved me’. In addition, there were women who were open sexually but only in a relationship format and they did not want anyone else involved. Of course, there were the people who wanted threesomes and orgies and whatever was in front of them. As for me I really wanted a relationship, but I settled with whatever was before me – maybe that was the way with most people.

Drugs were the main part of my life and secondarily were females and maybe thirdly there was a search for something meaningful, sort of a God theme. I had no thought about the future. I had no ambition to become anything except maybe a writer of some sort. Life was both confusing and sensible at the same time.

19. Escaping Los Angeles

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