Inner Fires

The inner fires were hot then. It meant not sleeping at night and doing things that we would later try to block out of our memories. That doesn’t work, by the way. We pulled some capers that I still don’t like to talk about, most of which had something to do with getting naked and exploring the Dark Side. It felt good at the time — not truly relief, but a respite from conscious identity. We read Blake, tantric yoga, Kerouac, Hunter Thompson, William Burroughs and every other wild-ass we could get our hands on.  It was a hell of a party. I’m sorry you missed it...

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