It was the worst white female impersonation of the James Brown cape-over-the- shoulder routine ever performed in the Western Hemisphere. The other fantasy is that I once 'took a shit on stage. Our New Home had a bedroom, a living room-kitchenette and a bathroom -- with a view of a brick wall out the window.
In the mornings, to get warm, we stood by the coal stove in the kitchen. Rockett Studios in Hollywood. It was truly horrible. He gave me a verbal list of all the different sex acts he wished to have included on the tape.
So, how does one engage in "conspiracy to commit pornography? I complained so much they didn't stitch it up -- just stuck a bunch of Band-Aids on it and I wound up with a scar.
Carl has testicles which are bigger than a breadbox. I watched you decay, watched you waste away. I noticed that whole chunks of songs were missing.
Somewhere along the line, Jerry discovered that he loved -- maybe was even addicted to -- electricity. We played all our own basic tracks on Freak Out! During the show I saw, he stood by a blackboard and drew diagrams as part of the 'answer' to a letter he claimed to have received from a deeply troubled viewer.
Eventually, the beer took effect, and everybody started reaching for the jars. I grew up with poison gas and explosives -- with the children of people who built these things for a living.
Vene qua! From it, I gathered an assortment of random objects and built a set.
He didn't die -- instead, he ran off, with the fork sticking out the top of his head like an antenna. My fault that I never dreamed that scum like Willis existed, or that somebody in the government set aside tax dollars to provide guys like him with a salary and a 'research budget'?
The blues was acceptable in San Francisco, but didn't go over in Hollywood at all. He liked to drink wine, and started off every day with two glasses of Bromo Seltzer. To me it was all good music.
Eventually they became joint managers of our band, with a contract negotiated 'on behalf of the group' by Herb's brother, an attorney named Martin Mutt Cohen. Beatle clone groups were all over the place. IE browser version less than 9 not supported. Instead of drums, he had us practicing on wooden planks. The guy who figured out the one I had to memorize should have his license revoked -- or do those guys ever get a license?