The dude from the Diggers took me inside. I had rolled right off the edge of the wall into the alley. Next thing I knew, I felt a blow to the head and the cans were flying. The yard was a small one, being in the city, and at the edge of the yard, it dropped off into a back alley with the trash cans. I did and popped another red and conked out again.
Anyway, I got to the Diggers and this dude called around and said that there was nothing available in the way of a crash pad, but I was welcome to lay my sleeping bag out in the back yard. Those were the days! Lots of sex, great drugs, GREAT music and no hassles. The diggers were a bunch of freaks who did free things for the hip community, such as lining up crash pads for hitchhikers passing thru, or feeding people at the many free concerts in Golden Gate Park or the massive 'Love-In's' at the park every Sunday. I hitched a ride to Haight Ashbury and tried to find a crash pad. I was hoping I could get her to bed, and I might very well have done so, but I downed a couple of reds after I got the ride and I really conked out. I got a ride in Santa Barbara from this chick.
I had some pot and some reds and I headed out to SF. I had hair halfway down to my ass and was deeply involved in hippiedom.
