You Are What You Eat… What About What You Wear?
I was around 21 or 22 years old, wandering around Afghanistan, when I stopped in this little village where I saw a market on the side of the road where someone selling fur jackets. The jackets, it turned out, were made of wolves. I can’t imagine wearing a wolf’s skin now. But it was a different time. I haggled, literally, for days to get the price down nowhere I could afford to buy it, and I wore it for the next few years. I left it in my van one New Year’s Eve near the Paradiso in Amsterdam, where I went to see a concert, and someone broke into the van and stole it. This ratty looking photo (above) of me wearing it, probably was taken Holland just before it was stolen. I don’t think I have another photo of the jacket.
But this (below) is tonight’s more meaningful photo of me. That’s painter and close friend Evelyn Pommier on the left. I’m the other one. It’s Halloween. I was better at making hash brownies than coming up with a costume. I wrapped myself in a long cloth towel roll from a bathroom holder and I was soon higher than I had been in 5 years. (I had stopped using drugs and these hash brownies were as strong as an acid trip... and I took a "taste.")
Instead of a normal groovey trip, I started to feel very paranoid. I thought everyone I came into contact with could read my mind and that they were aware of everything I was thinking. As the party continued, however, I realized that people didn’t even know who I was, let alone what I was thinking. The thought seemed profound at the moment.
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