Stephanie Online

Stone Deaf

The other thing is how I got to see the Stones in Hartford. I tried to get tickets but couldn't - first they said there would be no tickets sold that day, then I heard they had gone on sale 1/2 an hour ago. ...

So when we drove home we stopped by Harvest to see if their machine was working again, which it was, and we waited in line. Right then they sold out. So I was depressed. The radio station WHCN was giving away tickets and this pissed me off - how did they get hundreds + thousands of free tickets when fans waited hours in line and then didn't get any? A D.J. from WHCN got on TV with a suitcase of tickets and said the station was giving all these away, all you had to do was be the right caller and you would win a pair. I tried but of course those contests are almost impossible to win. So out of desperation comes inspiration.

Fear and Loathing at the U of Hartford

When Hunter Thompson came to speak at the U. of Hartford, I went to see him. First I called the U. to find out if the public was allowed in - no, you had to enroll in the jounalizm course, for several hundred dollars. I couldn't do that.

Buffalo

From her journals. Undated; probably summer of 1981.

When we got to Buffalo we headed for the War Memorial Colesium, where I thought the show was. Buffalo is a dirty, run-down place on the whole. The War Mem. was in a bad section, like Hartford going toward the North End.

The Collesium itself was a beat-up wooden place, open air like a baseball stadium. No ded heds or hairy people or lines of cars. The gravelly parking lots were practically empty (except for rusting car wrecks). We couldn't believe our eyes, after driving all that way, to arrive at a place like this. Was the concert cancelled? As soon as we came to a more decent neighborhood, we pulled in at a college and Keith and Leonard went in to call a radio station. Hank and I got out and stretched. We took out the tickets. On them it listed the collesium as the Buffalo Memorial.

Ah ha! We whipped out the map of Buffalo + sure enough, on the other side of town was a Buffalo Mem. Collesium. I painted WE FOUND IT on the car + Hank went to find L + Keith. He couldn't - came back and we waited.

A Message for the Undertaker

I don't wanna die. I was thinking the other day that I should have that tattooed someplace on my person, somewhere in small letters, like

I dont

wanna

die

maybe in the middle of my chest or inside my arm or my ankle, inconspicuous and small. I was thinking about the undertaker who with my cold and white body laying stiff on his stainless steel table would find the small tattoo and read it. I don't wanna die. A message for the undertaker, for my lover, for God, for my aging skin. I would like to see his face, the undertaker's.

Actually I'd like ot be buried w/out an undertaker sucking out my insides, filling me w/ formaldahyde, putting color on my dead face - I wish I could be put in a deep hole in the brown earth and covered over, thats all, Indian like. Animal like.

Neal Cassidy was cremated. (T-shirt: God bless the ashes of Neal's bones.) Ashes aren't very useful, though, whereas a body in the ground is good for the soil.

- September 1981

Home

Home is where there's a cat who knows you / sounds of drug abuse - a chart for mothers to tape to the fridge along w/ emergency #s and poison antidotes / what's wrong w/ this picture?/

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