Chapter 3: If You Go Chasing Rabbits
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"Hey Izabella
Girl, I'm holding you in my dreams every night
Yeah, but you know good well baby
You know we got this war to fight
Well, I'm calling you under fire
Well, I hope you're receiving me all right"
~Jimi Hendrix~
By the time we get to Woodstock, we are starting to peak on the orange sunshine. A far-out head named Zonker laid the tabs on Janlis, Timi, and me and we dropped the acid just before boarding the 'copter.
Noisy beads of rain are tapping against the window as I look down at the crowd below - man they must be half a million strong. Timi mumbles that they look like some hip, wet, mud-drenched psychedelic ants doing the Woodstock boogie. Fuck that makes us laugh.
We land at this cool be-in festival at Max Yasgur's farm to groove with the likes of The Hoo, The Fish, The Dead, Two Years After, The Airplane, and Cosby, Sills, Hash, and Lung. . Janlis looks very concerned all of a sudden that she looks decent when we exit the 'copter. She starts messing with her hair, straightening her droopy shades, and fiddling with this trippy boa thing she's been wearing lately.
Her breath is reeking of her beloved Southern Comfort as she sprawls at me, "Izabella, baby, do I look wasted to you?"
This really gets Timi and me laughing 'cause I can tell you for sure that we don't give a rat's ass about any of that.
Timi is looking like a tall cool glass of dark ale, dressed in this outta site white suede shirt dripping with long fringes and blue beads. A bright red bandana is wrapped around his wild Afro and he is smiling and laughing at nothing as we all stumble out.
People are flashing peace signs in our faces and shouting and passing out what sort of look like misshaped oranges as we walk by. Their gestures leave echoing traces of orange lights in the rain.
Did I say walking? I'm not sure if you could call it walking, I guess, because at this point it's getting pretty difficult for me to get my legs to stop behaving like stretchy rubber bands - like Gumby I think.
I turn to tell Timi about the tracing lights - I want to know if he sees them too. That's when I notice in how horny he is. Timi loves to fuck Janlis and me when we are tripping high like this.
It was the same thing at Monterey Pop. As soon as we got there, Timi's cock got so fucking hard. He joked to us that he could hammer a nail into a piece of plywood with it. Well, instead he decided to pound that rigid black cock into Janlis and me before we even had time to take our jackets off!
I came prepared this time; I decided to wear fuckable hippy chic.
I have on a purple tie-dye mini dress, which barely covers my crotch, and no underwear at all underneath.
My suede fringed boots stretch way up to my thighs and purple glass love beads cascade loosely around my neck. Yellow daisies are woven through strands of my long blonde hair.
Janlis loves it when I wear my hair like this and I would wear anything to please that woman. She always teases that the tattoo on her left wrist was inspired by the flowers in my hair.
It's so fucking hard to Gumby-walk through this damn mud and jump all these gigantic puddles in the rain and I am really freaking out that I am going to wreck my boots and frizz my hair.
We finally make our way backstage, which ends up being this enormous tent behind the stage sectioned off by ropes and security guards. It is dry, there is a wooden floor, and everything is right with the world.
I'm walking on sunshine with Timi and Janlis as we greet The Hoo's Rager and Keif with hugs and kisses - 'scuse me while I kiss this guy - and then more hugs and lots of giggles. They look even more stoned than we do!
It's getting difficult to hear anybody though because The Airplane are trippin' out on stage ….
"Don't you want somebody to love, don't you need somebody to love, wouldn't you love somebody to love, you better find somebody to love…."
Rager is pleased to see me. We fucked in England last time I crossed the Big Pond and he told me then he thought I was the best cock-sucking groupie he ever had.
"How's my horny little acid queen?" he whispers in my ear.
I melt every time I hear his Cockney accent and my darling Rager is looking good indeed. His loose "Tommy" curls surround his strikingly angular face, just brushing past the shoulders of his black leather vest. To tell you the truth, though, it was those piercing blue eyes that first made me fall for him.
He asks Timi if I've been taking good care of his cock.
Timi just smiles. "Yea, yea man," he mutters, "and she's been keepin' Janlis's sugary pussy nice an' creamy too. You don't have to ask if our little hippy slut Izzy is experienced."
He turns to me with a wicked grin, "But first, are you experienced? Uh-have you ever been experienced-uh?"
"Well, I have," I answer him with a laugh.
Now everything is starting to blur together and all these really really cool musicians and stuff and yea and the entourage people and the stagehands and the bouncers - their heads all look so big.
Swirls of purple haze …. crushed orange … orange twirls …. whirlybird rainbows spinning mindlessly … here there and everywhere … like an oversized transparent pinwheel … it's all too beautiful …
