FRYING EGGS
Joe Dolce's 27th Acid Trip, followed by the song that came of it )
by Joe Dolce
Daisy came into my life while I was living in Athens, Ohio, sharing a house
with some friends I had met during the HEADSTONE CIRCUS days.
One of those people was. Don was sort of a beat poet, who loved
Jim Morrison. He used to get up on stage with us every now and
then and make up poetry with LSD imagery, strange stuff. I really
liked him and he liked me and he was one of the most sincere people
I knew.
Don had found a nice little house out in the country, just outside
of Athens, in Pomeroy County. About five of us lived there, fairly
quietly. We smoked pot and went for walks and took the occasional
acid trip.
Daisy and her friend Charlie had been friends of Don's from Philadelphia.
They came to visit us at our country house. That night, everybody
decided to do some acid except me. I was preparing some dinner
for everyone in the kitchen. Daisy came in and we talked for awhile.
I noticed that I was doing most of the talking, probably because
the acid was starting to take hold of Daisy. I think I was wisecracking
and making double-entendres, talking in metaphors and extreme
lateral references to things. I'm was making some kind of quip
about William Blake and frying eggs or something when I noticed
that Daisy just kept giggling with her mouth open. I thought,
she must be peaking on the acid. The next time I turned around
she had dropped her pants to the ground and was just staring at
me giggling. Later, she said that I was making a lot of sexual
references and speaking so creatively, and she felt so tongue-tied
that she wanted to do something creative for me so she thought
that dropping her pants would communicate what she had in mind
to me. It did - I picked her up and carried her up to my bedroom.
I asked if the guy that she came with, Charlie, was her boyfriend
and she said that he was just a friend. We had some joyous sex
and found out that we had a lot in common.
Trippin'
In the next couple of days,
the whole household decided to do an acid trip together. This
time, I said I would join them. We went for a long walk out into
the country. Daisy and I separated from the others and kept walking
until we were in a secluded spot and alone. But as the acid came
on, I started to feel very claustrophobic and enclosed. I was
afraid to really try to break through into something new and dangerous.
I looked at Daisy. I realised that I didn't really know her at
all and that I had no reason to stay clinging to her. She also
seemed to be shrinking down into some kind of dwarf and looked
all distorted and strange. I made a decision to take off - just
go running - not worrying where I was, or where I ended up - not
worrying if I got lost - just going! Just running free! I took
off up this hill before us, and although I could still see Daisy
behind me, I didn't stop. I was determined to lose her (and myself)
so I kept running until I was far from everyone and everything
familiar. I was totally lost. I couldn't have found my way back
with a map. The acid was now spelling itself out in capital letters
and I did not know where I was. As I looked around, the countryside
seemed gold plated, with a glorious wind sweeping through the
branches and golden grasses. It was so beautiful. Suddenly, I
was accompanied by about five dogs. It occurred to me that I was
really the leader of this pack of dogs and we were out on a hunting
mission looking for food. We came to a fence. On the other side,
was a herd of cows grazing. I knew that I had not been a good
provider. I wasn't earning any money and I felt that this was
now a test of my leadership. I had to bring one of these cows
down for food for the pack. I stared at the cows and, somehow,
they seem to know what I was thinking. They all silently watched
me and at the exact moment that I decided that I was going to
jump the fence and come after one of them, they seemed to sense
my thoughts, my sudden killer instinct, and together, as a herd,
they began to run. I jumped the fence and started after the closest
one. I grabbed it around the neck and attempted to drag it to
the ground. It threw me off and the entire herd thundered off
without me. I picked myself up and continued to walk but the other
dogs had dropped behind.
A Chat With God
Suddenly it began to get cold and I noticed that the golden
hue around me had changed to a dirty grey colour, as though everything
was drying up and dying. I looked into the clouds and saw an incredible
whirling symmetry in the sky, revolving patterns that I knew was
God. As I turned around, a huge organic liquid tree, branches
like the tentacles of an octopus, stretched out in every direction.
I spoke up to God saying,"I am my own creator'. A voice answered,
which I knew was God's: 'If you are your own creator, who made
that tree?"
Stumped by the first question! As I looked at the tree, I realized
that I couldn't have created it, it was so complex and wonderful.
I was now truly scared and I began to run in terror. The land
suddenly began to change and dissolve into another world, a foreign
bleak world, like another dimension, yet a place that I recall
as having seen before. I looked for something familiar or some
sign of other people. I saw nothing the first time I looked. But
the next time I looked up, I saw a small farmhouse, far in the
distance. I knew I could never reach it. But then, when I looked
again and I saw that it was really quite close, just over the
next hill.
I fell to the ground, really afraid now and decided to take all
my clothes off and masturbate. This always made me feel secure
and I knew that if I could just have an orgasm, I would be able
to relax. I threw all my clothes aside, down to just my shorts.
I was masturbating but I couldn't seem to keep it up. Something
was wrong- my cock was now limp and I couldn't come. It no longer
seemed important, anyway. It was starting to feel like death was
near. I staggered to my feet and fell into a small puddle of water
nearby. I thought that I must already be dead, that this must
be what death was like. I told myself that I'd just close my eyes
and go to sleep. I tried to sleep but I heard the big Voice again
saying, "Go to that house!" I got up and looked again
at the farmhouse in the near distance.
I jumped a fence and crossed the highway going up to the house.
The house was all grey and weathered and was the only structure
in sight for miles. An old farmer in overalls came to the screen
door. He was a redneck and so ugly - he looked to me like a mutant
after some nuclear war, or something. I thought to myself that
perhaps we had had a war and this is what the human race had become.
I forced myself to ask him for help. He told me to get the hell
back down to the road and get off his porch. He was absolutely
stubborn and unmovable, but also scared. (Later, I realized that
he had probably never seen a longhaired hippie, up close.)
Aching and desperate, I made my way back down to the road but
I was so afraid and so tired that I decided to go back up to the
farmer's house and try again. This time, when I knocked, the farmer
didn't answer so I just went in the front door and saw a couch
in the front room, and fell on it.
After a few minutes, I got up and went looking for a bed. I just
wanted to pass out and sleep. I found a small bedroom that was
empty and crawled into the single bed and drew the covers over
me.
The farmer suddenly came in the room. He had a long double-barrelled
shotgun and pointed it right at me and told me to get the hell
out! I was pleading with him that I just wanted to sleep - that
I just wanted some help. He said once again to get down to the
road, if I wanted help. He walked me past the kitchen and I saw
his wife and several small kids scuffling to the side of the kitchen.
She was hurrying them out of sight, like she didn't want them
to see this naked, dangerous man in their kitchen. The wife and
the kids all looked like they had the same radiation disease that
the farmer had.
The farmer marched me out the front door, all the while pointing
the rifle at me. I fell over myself trying to get back down to
the road. I just stood there, in the road, and tried to hitchhike.
Several cars passed. Then, a car passed me and stopped. This was
another incredibly ugly and diseased-looking family only this
time they were dressed up in nice clothes as though they were
on their way to church. I climbed in the back seat quickly and
I could see that they were shocked. They had thought that I was
a girl, with my long hair, and that I was in trouble.
Now they realized that I was a man with long hair and naked. But
they didn't ask me to get out. I think they knew that I was in
trouble and wanted to help. But there was no communication. There
was a lot of tension in the car. The wife on the passenger side
had a face that reminded me of a fish - big lips, like a carp.
I felt that these people meant well but they weren't coping with
this situation at all. I couldn't stand the tension I opened my
door and jumped out of the car. I saw a drainage ditch by the
side of the road and I tried to dive into it but the opening was
much too narrow.
I crawled back up to the road and decided to lie down in the centre
of it, hoping someone else would stop. I felt that I had to leave
some message, some word for others to tell them that I have been
here, so that they could learn from what was happening to me.
I began to lose awareness.
Things were becoming fragmented and I was jumping from one image
to another. I felt like any moment I could pass out. I tried to
write something on the surface of the road but I had no pen so
I just dipped my finger in some water in the gutter (it seemed
like blood, at the time) and I began to write on the road. As
I wrote, I could see faint warmth appearing on the far horizon.
Everything near me however was still cold and grey. I drew two
arrows pointing upward at 45 degrees and the word: CALIFORNIA.
I had the awareness now that it wasn't even necessary to write
anything - my footsteps would leave the record.
I was lying in the centre of the road and I heard a truck approaching.
I couldn't see anything now. My sight was gone - everything was
so fragmented and blurry. I heard a truck door opening and a few
voices talking. Somebody said, 'Run the bastard over!' I got up
and tried to run back to the house, to grab the farmer who was
standing there - just pieces of memory now- I think he hit me
with the shotgun and knocked me out. I felt myself being jostled
around and tied to a tree with some rope. There were several voices
talking now. 'Shall we call the sheriff?' They were asking me.
I was so out of it. I told them to go ahead and call the sheriff.
Anyone.
The Sheriff of Pomeroy County
The sheriff pulled up in his patrol car. I remember the red
flashing lights and I began to feel my focus returning. The sheriff
handcuffed me and guided me into the front passenger seat of the
car. I was straining on the cuffs now in some tough-guy kind of
way, thinking I could just break them. I started making conversation
with the sheriff now but everything we said seemed to have double
meanings. A young Gomer Pyle-kind of deputy was in the back seat.
Turning up the heater, the sheriff said, 'Is that hot enough for
you, now?" I thought he was actually alluding to warmth and
familiarity. The road seemed to stretch to infinity just rolling
by, in an endless panorama. I saw that faint comforting glow on
the horizon getting stronger. The road seemed elastic and we were
going so fast, it reminded me of a roller coaster.
I said to the sheriff, "It must be hard being a sheriff."
Duh. We arrived at the Pomeroy County police station and the sheriff
took me into the main office for fingerprinting. I was wearing
only my very wet and skimpy jockey shorts. The sheriff said that
wouldn't do and went and fetched me a pair of his huge oversize
boxer shorts to put on. I think he was trying to make me more
presentable.
My body was glowing - I felt like I was on fire and radiating
bright light. The sheriff's wife and kids came downstairs and
then he asked me if I would consent to a photo being taken of
me with them all! I said, "Sure, why not". They all
gathered around me and I posed with a grin on my face holding
up the handcuffs for all to see. I had a defiant attitude but
I was still playing around. There was an incredibly good feeling
in that police station as though everyone was savouring every
moment of this strange drama going down.
I was then ushered into the prosecutor's office. He was in a blue
suit and he told me that I may have committed a felony and could
go to prison for 10 years unless I co-operated. He wanted me to
tell him what sort of drugs I was on and the names of the people
that gave them to me. I was afraid of what he was threatening
but I didn't want to say anything about the acid or my friends,
so I invented a wild story and stuck to it.
I told him that I was climbing over an electric cattle fence when
I got caught in it and the electricity shocked me so much that
I lost my mind a bit and didn't know who I was or where I was.
It was in this state that I had gone looking for help. Well, he
looked at me like: what do you think I am? Some kind of fool,
or something? He said didn't believe me but I stuck to the story.
He told me then that those fences hardly have any charge and there's
no way that could have happened. Finally, the sheriff came and
handed me my red chequered flannel shirt that they had retrieved
from the field and grabbed me by the arm and escorted me to the
cellblock.
Not Kansas, (Not Ohio, either)
As that iron door slammed, I slowly turned around and I was
looking at five dirty and tough looking fellow prisoners looking
back at me. Checking me out. One of them asked me what I'd done.
I told them my 'story'. One especially tough looking guy said,
as he disappeared into his cell, "Better keep him away from me
before I fuck him". This made me a bit concerned. I guess
they weren't used to being in close proximity to longhaired hippies
either. (Soap, anyone?)
Although I was starting to communicate better now, I was still
tripping full strength, seeing patterns in everything and deeper
meanings everywhere. Then, two of the prisoners sat down at the
picnic table in the centre of the cellblock and start playing
a game of cards. I just stood there watching them, still seeing
God in the faces on the cards, in the tablecloth, the same swirling
patterns I saw in the sky. I went into my tiny dark cell and looked
around. The door didn't lock. There was a stripped down mattress
and no blanket. One of the other prisoners came in, and eyed my
red chequered shirt. Then he said that I'd need a pair of pants
to wear to the trial and he offered to trade an extra pair of
his for the chequered shirt I had. I thought about it for a while
and said yes, as much to establish some rapport with this guy
as for the pants. He also gave me one of his extra blankets saying,
"It gets cold in here at night, you're going to need a blanket.
"Afterwards, he told me that he didn't give his extra blankets
to just anyone. Implying that I owed him a favour. (Soap, anyone?)
The next morning, the sheriff took me out of the cell and brought
me into his office. He wanted me to give him permission to search
our communal house. Worried about protecting Don, Daisy and the
others, I lied and told him that I just rented a room there and
I had no authority to allow him to search the whole house but
he could search my room. I knew that there were no drugs in my
room.
When it got dark, the sheriff loaded me into his car and in a
convoy of three police cars; we drove to our house. I went up
to the front door, in handcuffs, and knocked. Don came to the
door and I explained that I'd given them permission to search
my room but they couldn't search the rest of the house. Don and
the others, however, had heard what had happened and, wisely,
had made a thorough clean up, just in the event something like
this might happen. The battalion went upstairs to my room and
began a polite search in the closets and drawers.
Daisy was just standing there, off to the side, watching, very
apprehensively. One of the deputies found her diaphragm in one
of the top drawers and turned to me and offhandedly said, "I
should pinch a hole in this." I think I laughed, half-heartedly.
Daisy was just staring at everyone, a bit shell-shocked. After
the search, I asked the sheriff if he would remove my handcuffs
so that Daisy and I could have a hug. He said ok, and we embraced
each other, finally releasing the anxiety we had both been feeling.
I said goodbye to everyone and got back in the police car and
we drove back to the station house, back to my cage.
The Crash (and I don't mean the acid)
I made a phone call the next day. Don told me that my good
friend, Larri, has agreed to put up her VW bus as guarantee for
a bail bond and they would come to bail me out in the morning.
I went back into the cell. The door slammed behind me.
I was getting a painful feeling in the centre of my stomach, like
an ulcer, just being inside there. The next day, on the way to
get me, Larri flips the van, and has a very bad car accident.
Daisy and Don are also in the car. They all are taken to the hospital
and the van is completely totalled. They were all almost killed
and also, there went the bail bond. I asked for permission to
leave jail and visit Daisy in the hospital. She's lying on a stretcher
in the hall, pretty banged up. Her lips are all swollen with big
bruises on her face and arms. She looks terrible.
I stay there with her for as long as I can and then have to go
back to the jail. The next day, my friends, Jay and Sherry, come
to the jail to see me. They've put their house up as security
on the bond and they bail me out. I can't believe that they would
do this for me. We're friends but not really that close for them
to trust me that much. Jay says they had to get me out of that
place. While out on bail, I go see a lawyer in Athens who tells
me I'll need $300 for his fee. I don't have any money so I call
my father in Painesville. He is remarkably understanding and sends
the money down to me. I hire a local lawyer in Athens to represent
me.
The Deal
The prosecutor and my lawyer meet in his office and begin
to strike a deal. The prosecutor doesn't believe the electric
fence story but has decided that I'm not a drug dealer or dangerous
and that I was probably on some kind o'pills'. I finally agree
to this story. The two lawyers come to an arrangement that I am
to leave Pomeroy County and not come back for at least one year.
I also have to pay some additional money for court costs, which
I don't have. The judge agrees that I can pay it off sometime
within the next year. I find a place to stay in Athens - part
of the time at Jay & Sherry's. However, at night, I boldly
sneak back over the border to sleep with Daisy even though I am
violating the conditions of my release. I don't care. I just want
to be with her. We decide to go to California. Like the two arrows
I painted on the road.
Daisy's Letter
Daisy wrote this letter/poem, while I was missing, about
her experience of this event:
" Squeaker is my love. The Band (is playing). It's three
o'clock in the morning . . (and Joe's not home). Tell me, wind,
whispering secrets of many ages, 'I gotta know, where did he go
. . ' you've touched his face tonight - you know whether he trembles
from your chill, caught somewhere in crevice, morass, dark strange
and lonely space where only the wind blows, and only you know,
where did he go? -'Oh Joe's fine, I don't worry none about him
- wherever he is, he's got it together' (Joe lives just like he
plays guitar)? - but I gotta know, where are you Joe?
" Searching, watching and writing - waiting is hard, sitting,
listening to country sounds - stillness, and Oh! welcome life
- the night feels friendly, helpful - maybe whispered prayers
will be lifted and borne to all the life - they will know then,
and also watch and wait - walking - the days are alert; calling
- try to find a spot with good echoes; climbing - maybe it seems
just, just over the next hill (hope rushing from somewhere within).
The roads - lights, sounds - maybe driving in a car is the way
- a chance - more speed that way, and lights, lights are good.
(He could be afraid to stop a stranger to ask.)
"From upstairs, Alison cries out - can she know something?
- Alison's been freaked out all day - she says she's scared. 'Can
you tell me what he's been doing but please don't say he's met
his ruin', Alison, do you know? Tell me, what do you feel, is
he near, or is he far, is he playing his guitar? ) No - that was
Paul's suggestion-but no. (The wind knows, but he won't tell,
is Joe lost in lonely dell?) Sitting near a hilltop, clear moonlit
view of deep rolling valleys, meadows, telegraph lines stretching
from hilltop to hilltop - they, too, sing a message - 'Take it
to Joe; I miss him oh' calling occasionally - echoes are good
here - still and watchful, waiting will fulfil all.
"Nobody knows, no, and nobody sees. Nobody knows but me.
She walks these hills is a long black veil, she visits my grave
when the night winds wail."
I'm so tired, tired of looking for you . . .The church - the songbirds
of God awaken a desire - prayer? Stained glass, hushed stillness,
an organ! The Lord is My Shepherd - clear and sweet in morning
sanctum. . .
(later)
"Oh lordy, lordy, listen to my wail, You know they got my
man in jail. Lordy. lordy, hear me moan! You know I can't lie
down till my man come home."
" They got Joe in jail! The motherfuckers got Joe in jail.
Mrs Howry told me - she thought he mighta robbed her too. Something
about a fight - Mr. Kennedy, holding him at his house. Joe ran
away and 'cold as that wind was blowin' last night, he ran down
the highway dropping all his clothes -(Mrs Howry) Somebody's secretary
noticed that he wasn't even wearing socks. Motherfuckers wouldn't
even let me talk to him. I left a message - why didn't I tell
him I love him, we're doing all we can for him, hold on, Joe -
anything. Paul wants to do dynamite, roof entry, get away car.
I'd do anything, but they say there's nothing, till tomorrow.
Don called some people. Larri is real freaked out. Alison feels
better now - so do I, I know where he is, alive and warm - but
probably paranoid as a rooster when he sees the fox coming.'The
wind knew but could not tell, Joe sat lonely in a prison cell.'"
March 15th
Daisy and I find a guy who 'loves to buy old
beat- up junker cars and fill them full of tools and drive until
they break down, then fix them and keep going'. Our sort of person.
We begin our journey together to California with her dog.
by Joe Dolce
Here's The Song that came from his experience!
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