i dealt psychedelics for a while 1969 - 1970 on Winthrop Beach, a great night scene of all sorts. Some folks would hang out and drop with me and it was like a tour where we would walk away from any ugly vibes and head for more beautiful spaces. Funny as hell how some of the simplest, every-day experiences blow your mind. The jetties on the beach would 'breath' with each wave coming in and forcing water and air up through the boulders. :) "WOW" lmao
Once we were tripping and retired to a quiet place by the sandbar under the water tower. We had found discarded lawn chairs along the way so we had a nice set up. One goof was busy crushing caterpillars with delight. I got tired of that and asked the dude to "smell you fingers now, they smell like caterpillar blood, yes?" He ran away. We ran into him hours later, the typical hysterical, wild-eye freak-out. He was 'happy?' to see us, I guess. "I dunno about you all but with me nothing is real." Well, he'd been walking the shore drive, which was a zoo of bikers, stoners, drinking kids and barbiturate addicts (Nodders). So we went down to the jetty and the guy chilled out.
Tripping is great. I found as I had a family and legit full time occupation tripping was only done on Fridays to give time to recover before the next work week. Even so, many, many more memorable times with psychedelics.
Wife and kid, we took a trip from Boston to Montgomery Center, Vt in the summer of 1975. The area was a hippy haven at the time, communes all over. Well, I was holding a stash of purple microdot acid for a pal, 100-150 tabs. I could take or sell some but he expected to get some back. Well, the town was dry as a bone. No weed for weeks up there. And there had been bad vibes between some straight locals, and the freaks and it involved the Vt State Troopers. Well, I broke out the acid and everybody wanted some. And the village went fucking nuts. The bar never closed and no one was working the bar. But no issues there. Due to the animosity of the factions, a bunch of freaks stole a mailbox of one of the local cop-tattling ass-aches and they burned it in the middle of the road. Yut, State Police investigation. :) I went back to Boston with no acid but given the nickname of Dr. Carl, "Doctor of Social Medicine". And those still living remember a time of their lives. I moved to the area to stay in 1978.
