It was 1969 and I was just out of the service. Back in Los Angeles from Hawaii and an acid trip at a Jimi Hendrix concert inside Diamond Head Crater; this place made me feel like a stranger in an even stranger land. The first place I found to live was in the hotel next to The Lighthouse (a world famous jazz club in Hermosa Beach)...it was gross. The room faced the ocean (million dollar view) and there was a Taco Bell one building down (ate there everyday). The bathroom was down the hall and so gross that I wore tennis shoes into the shower. I was looking for work at the time, and was eventually hired by Western Airlines at LAX. The "beatniks" were always loud and drunk, but the music rocked. Moved from there to a single car garage "apartment" and started growing my beard and hair to officially become a hippie.
No comments:
Post a Comment