Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Bum Wines and the Peyote Coyote by Mike Marino (books to read in your 20s female TXT) 📖
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- Author: Mike Marino
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we were young and innocent.
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
In retrospect the Eisenhower '50s and the madcap '60s do seem innocent to a point until we strip away the veneer and look below it...in the 1950's for example The Cold War was bearing down on not a few continents like a political and possibly, nuclear Ice Age and the south was still a cauldron of hatred and lynchings and segregation was still alive. Then in the 1960's Vietnam was sharing the psyche with V-8's, two Kennedy's were gunned down and Martin Luther King, Jr in Memphis, and folks were getting their heads beat in on the streets of Mayor Daleys Chicago. Then their was The Bay of Pigs invasion and the Warren Commission, and in the 1970's winding down in Vietnam and of course, the debacle of Watergate, and the resignation of a US President for the first time in History
But...living as we all did one day at a time, the big picture wouldn't be clear until much later..in mental re-runs that we humans are famous for. It was too large of a picture to comprehend at once at the time of it's happening and we all suffered from a "can't see the social forest for the tree's" visibilty. Today, in retrospect, they were innocent, at least we were as to the full impact of the times and managed to grow and be influenced by them as few generations have before, excepting of course, the generation prior to ours.
Were they the good old days? Only time will tell, but I can tell you this, sitting in a small apartment in the Haight, it's two in the morning, the wee smalls, a fog in the room and Surrealistic Pillow on the record player..yeah, they were the good old days and wouldn't have wanted to live at any other time..except maybe in the 1600 or 1700's..always wanted to be a pirate!
Question: (Jeri Maier)
I noticed that you talked about living in San Francisco in one of your articles. Tell me about The Beat and of living there
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
North Beach is a very interesting neighborhood. In the mid-1960s the bongos and the beats were still jazzin' it up on Columbus Avenue and when I got there in 1965 it wouldn't be long until the counter culture court jester, Lenny Bruce would die in 1966, and Jack Kerouac would cash in his chips in 1969. So the Beat scene was on the edge of the darkside of the moon. Kerouac had already told the up and coming generation "to leave him alone and find their own heroes" and would begin hangin' out with folks like William Buckley, Jr, and Lenny was talking only about his drug busts and wasn't funny anymore and stopped holding up the societal mirror in our faces.
I had arrived in North Beach after a couple of years living on the beach in Hawaii, so the beachbum years were behind me, see, there's that pirate thing again, and after returning to the mainland to LA decided that the Sunset Strip was a bit too glitzy for my Midwestern, plaid and proud tastes, so took a 'Hound north to North Beach.
The most striking thing about the area were the smells of foods. Good Italian foods of course, and the bars, but was too young to get in or get served, but when your 17 in North Beach the sounds are intoxicating enough. At night, the Beach was at it's tawdry best. Neon and strip clubs with jazz and other forms of music coming from darkened doorways, street barkers hawking away the peep shows and of course, Carol Doda launching the age of topless dancing and testing the moral fiber of America with her lethal weapons!
Apartments were cheap at the time and temporary to say the least. Just crash pads really and if you got to know people, you could have a place most nights. Food was easy and even underage, you could get a cheap bottle.
Found out later that Jack Kerouac was living at 23 Russell Street just north of the Beach when he wrote "On The Road" and in later years made the pilgrimage to the alley street just one block long and there it was, is to this day. Also next door to City Lights Bookstore is an alley with Vesuvio's on the other side and it's appropriately called Jack Kerouac Lane..and the Beat Goes On!
In 1966 the Haight was beginning to sprout into full blown psychedelia within a year and living in North Beach used to go up there "on vacation" as we called it and in 1966 made the move to land of peace, love and spare change. It was colorful even then and had more of a sense of community unlike the circus atmosphere that would take over with a flood and influx the following year. I do remember the first day on the street I walked straight into one of my writing idols, Richard Brautigan! That cinched it for me and made plans to dig in deep. After sleeping in crashpads and the like, I got it together and with someothers got a place right on Haight Street over the Jukebox Bar. Shared kitchen, bathroom and all that, not a loft apartment by any stretch of the imagination!
A group called the Diggers had a paper called the Digger Papers and also ran the Free Store where literally everything was free. Cigarettes, books and magazines on the mezzanine level and clothing, mainly jeans in the basement along with some field jackets that came in handy on foggy Ess Eff nights.
At night you could hang out at Tracy's Donut Shop listening Bob Dylan songs and in the daytime you could crash in the back room of the Psychedelic Shop for a few hours amongst, the music, the sitars, the incense and the blacklights. Sometimes at night the Park Station cops would sweep the streets looking for runaways and enlarged pupils, no not big students, but chemical reactions in the eyes and bust people left and right, I guess politically mostly those of us on the Left! Whenever they started heading down for a sweep the word went out and evrybody scattered like birds on the wing.
It was a neighborhood of Grateful Deads, Hells Angels, and yep, even Charles Manson lived on Cole Street for awhile so there is the dark side of tie-dyed! Bands would get up on the flatbed trucks in the Panhandle and entertain and the Diggers would feed the masses beans and hamburger around 4pm most days.
The Filmore was a cheap date and for pennies you could see some of the greatest amalgams of acts on the planet and get a free apple on the way in too!
'67 saw the largest assemblage yet and things were getting crowded. Bus tours, wannabe's and junkies started moving in and soon Hip Was Dead and actually buried that year. The Summer of Love was about to fade into memory and was at that point I moved out of the Haight and into North Beach again. Soon I made my way back east and like anyone without any discernable skills, went into Radio!
Years later in 1996 went down to the Haight with my kids to show them the neighborhood and started taking a picture of the GAP, old apartment now gone, up in smoke I suppose. Anyway, a street guy comes up to me and says "Man, why you takin' a picture of the GAP for"? I looked at him and said, "30 years ago that was my apartment" He looked, eyes got wide and he said, "Damn, let me take your picture with it in the background" He did, I have it today, and he got 5 bucks! The cost of spare change has gone up but well worth the price of that picture with me and my kids!
Question: (Jeri Maier)
That is fascinating! How about Route 66 - can you relate about the experiences you had and if you have done some travelling on it?"
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
I was lucky in a way to actually travel on Route 66 when it actually was Highway 66 and not dotted with brown "historic" route signs..nope, it was the real deal then and as ornery a two lane as anyone could build. I did travel to and fro to the Midwest on occasion to visit my family and always on the way back either hitched the southern route (easier to get rides on it in those days than the closer Highway 50, plus it eliminated nights sleeping in the mountains in the cold fall and early spring). Once got a ride where you share the expenses out of Detroit so drove the whole length (from Joliet anyway in Illinois) with two others.
Food was cheap along the way and the desert always comfortable at the right time of the year. The cacti in bloom and the Panamint Mountains kind of purple like in the distance. Hitching was a recognized mode of travel in those days, however, wouldn't recommend it today. Steinbeck called it the "river of immigrants" as the Okies trudged to California, and in the '60s the floodtide of new immigrants also hit the road to paraphrase Kerouac here, "leave your youth behind in the east and seek your future in the west"..something like that.
Route 66 was the Mother of Roads to many and the roadheads and dharmabums of the 1960's were also her beloved children. Today it's all memorialized by many who decry her demise, and it's not the two lanes that are missed but the times themselves. Two lanes are wonderful, but Interstates also Kick Asphalt!
Question: (Jeri Maier)
Who are the DhamaBums and Roadies?
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
Dharmabums of course comes from the Jack Kerouac novel of the same name.
Matter of fact I have a ratty old copy I travel with all the time that my son got for me for .50 cents at a flea market. I usually buy him books and sign the flyleaf, this time he signed it, wise beyond his years and it's now a treasure.
Roadheads began when a group of were talking about Deadheads and Parrotheads and other Heads of all stripes. Because of my penchant for travel, insatiable and incurable they started calling me "a roadhead" and it stuck. Roadhead is a state of mind, not just to denote travels, but also inner travails. The constant search for whats around us and what lies deep inside of us, all. So I just put the two together and thats what came out of the oven. Hence the title of my book THE ROADHEAD CHRONICLES. Part history, part humour, part pop culture, part roadhead, part dharmabum, part Marino.
Question: (Jeri Maier)
In 1969, I saw a lot of backpackers travelling through Europe and there were many that were selling the silverwire jewelries, beads and paintings at the open air markets when I was in Dusseldorf, Germany. When I was in Athens, Greece in 1971 there was a place where all the young Americans hung out.
I imagine you doing similar kind of journey. Did you connect with any of them at that time?
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
The Haight had it's fair share of "disenchanted" young people, along with some not so young people but the influx of visitors for other countries was prevelant and educational. Different cultures, different societal influences based on those cultures, but one thing was a common thread. A unity of thought. Met many from France and
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
In retrospect the Eisenhower '50s and the madcap '60s do seem innocent to a point until we strip away the veneer and look below it...in the 1950's for example The Cold War was bearing down on not a few continents like a political and possibly, nuclear Ice Age and the south was still a cauldron of hatred and lynchings and segregation was still alive. Then in the 1960's Vietnam was sharing the psyche with V-8's, two Kennedy's were gunned down and Martin Luther King, Jr in Memphis, and folks were getting their heads beat in on the streets of Mayor Daleys Chicago. Then their was The Bay of Pigs invasion and the Warren Commission, and in the 1970's winding down in Vietnam and of course, the debacle of Watergate, and the resignation of a US President for the first time in History
But...living as we all did one day at a time, the big picture wouldn't be clear until much later..in mental re-runs that we humans are famous for. It was too large of a picture to comprehend at once at the time of it's happening and we all suffered from a "can't see the social forest for the tree's" visibilty. Today, in retrospect, they were innocent, at least we were as to the full impact of the times and managed to grow and be influenced by them as few generations have before, excepting of course, the generation prior to ours.
Were they the good old days? Only time will tell, but I can tell you this, sitting in a small apartment in the Haight, it's two in the morning, the wee smalls, a fog in the room and Surrealistic Pillow on the record player..yeah, they were the good old days and wouldn't have wanted to live at any other time..except maybe in the 1600 or 1700's..always wanted to be a pirate!
Question: (Jeri Maier)
I noticed that you talked about living in San Francisco in one of your articles. Tell me about The Beat and of living there
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
North Beach is a very interesting neighborhood. In the mid-1960s the bongos and the beats were still jazzin' it up on Columbus Avenue and when I got there in 1965 it wouldn't be long until the counter culture court jester, Lenny Bruce would die in 1966, and Jack Kerouac would cash in his chips in 1969. So the Beat scene was on the edge of the darkside of the moon. Kerouac had already told the up and coming generation "to leave him alone and find their own heroes" and would begin hangin' out with folks like William Buckley, Jr, and Lenny was talking only about his drug busts and wasn't funny anymore and stopped holding up the societal mirror in our faces.
I had arrived in North Beach after a couple of years living on the beach in Hawaii, so the beachbum years were behind me, see, there's that pirate thing again, and after returning to the mainland to LA decided that the Sunset Strip was a bit too glitzy for my Midwestern, plaid and proud tastes, so took a 'Hound north to North Beach.
The most striking thing about the area were the smells of foods. Good Italian foods of course, and the bars, but was too young to get in or get served, but when your 17 in North Beach the sounds are intoxicating enough. At night, the Beach was at it's tawdry best. Neon and strip clubs with jazz and other forms of music coming from darkened doorways, street barkers hawking away the peep shows and of course, Carol Doda launching the age of topless dancing and testing the moral fiber of America with her lethal weapons!
Apartments were cheap at the time and temporary to say the least. Just crash pads really and if you got to know people, you could have a place most nights. Food was easy and even underage, you could get a cheap bottle.
Found out later that Jack Kerouac was living at 23 Russell Street just north of the Beach when he wrote "On The Road" and in later years made the pilgrimage to the alley street just one block long and there it was, is to this day. Also next door to City Lights Bookstore is an alley with Vesuvio's on the other side and it's appropriately called Jack Kerouac Lane..and the Beat Goes On!
In 1966 the Haight was beginning to sprout into full blown psychedelia within a year and living in North Beach used to go up there "on vacation" as we called it and in 1966 made the move to land of peace, love and spare change. It was colorful even then and had more of a sense of community unlike the circus atmosphere that would take over with a flood and influx the following year. I do remember the first day on the street I walked straight into one of my writing idols, Richard Brautigan! That cinched it for me and made plans to dig in deep. After sleeping in crashpads and the like, I got it together and with someothers got a place right on Haight Street over the Jukebox Bar. Shared kitchen, bathroom and all that, not a loft apartment by any stretch of the imagination!
A group called the Diggers had a paper called the Digger Papers and also ran the Free Store where literally everything was free. Cigarettes, books and magazines on the mezzanine level and clothing, mainly jeans in the basement along with some field jackets that came in handy on foggy Ess Eff nights.
At night you could hang out at Tracy's Donut Shop listening Bob Dylan songs and in the daytime you could crash in the back room of the Psychedelic Shop for a few hours amongst, the music, the sitars, the incense and the blacklights. Sometimes at night the Park Station cops would sweep the streets looking for runaways and enlarged pupils, no not big students, but chemical reactions in the eyes and bust people left and right, I guess politically mostly those of us on the Left! Whenever they started heading down for a sweep the word went out and evrybody scattered like birds on the wing.
It was a neighborhood of Grateful Deads, Hells Angels, and yep, even Charles Manson lived on Cole Street for awhile so there is the dark side of tie-dyed! Bands would get up on the flatbed trucks in the Panhandle and entertain and the Diggers would feed the masses beans and hamburger around 4pm most days.
The Filmore was a cheap date and for pennies you could see some of the greatest amalgams of acts on the planet and get a free apple on the way in too!
'67 saw the largest assemblage yet and things were getting crowded. Bus tours, wannabe's and junkies started moving in and soon Hip Was Dead and actually buried that year. The Summer of Love was about to fade into memory and was at that point I moved out of the Haight and into North Beach again. Soon I made my way back east and like anyone without any discernable skills, went into Radio!
Years later in 1996 went down to the Haight with my kids to show them the neighborhood and started taking a picture of the GAP, old apartment now gone, up in smoke I suppose. Anyway, a street guy comes up to me and says "Man, why you takin' a picture of the GAP for"? I looked at him and said, "30 years ago that was my apartment" He looked, eyes got wide and he said, "Damn, let me take your picture with it in the background" He did, I have it today, and he got 5 bucks! The cost of spare change has gone up but well worth the price of that picture with me and my kids!
Question: (Jeri Maier)
That is fascinating! How about Route 66 - can you relate about the experiences you had and if you have done some travelling on it?"
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
I was lucky in a way to actually travel on Route 66 when it actually was Highway 66 and not dotted with brown "historic" route signs..nope, it was the real deal then and as ornery a two lane as anyone could build. I did travel to and fro to the Midwest on occasion to visit my family and always on the way back either hitched the southern route (easier to get rides on it in those days than the closer Highway 50, plus it eliminated nights sleeping in the mountains in the cold fall and early spring). Once got a ride where you share the expenses out of Detroit so drove the whole length (from Joliet anyway in Illinois) with two others.
Food was cheap along the way and the desert always comfortable at the right time of the year. The cacti in bloom and the Panamint Mountains kind of purple like in the distance. Hitching was a recognized mode of travel in those days, however, wouldn't recommend it today. Steinbeck called it the "river of immigrants" as the Okies trudged to California, and in the '60s the floodtide of new immigrants also hit the road to paraphrase Kerouac here, "leave your youth behind in the east and seek your future in the west"..something like that.
Route 66 was the Mother of Roads to many and the roadheads and dharmabums of the 1960's were also her beloved children. Today it's all memorialized by many who decry her demise, and it's not the two lanes that are missed but the times themselves. Two lanes are wonderful, but Interstates also Kick Asphalt!
Question: (Jeri Maier)
Who are the DhamaBums and Roadies?
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
Dharmabums of course comes from the Jack Kerouac novel of the same name.
Matter of fact I have a ratty old copy I travel with all the time that my son got for me for .50 cents at a flea market. I usually buy him books and sign the flyleaf, this time he signed it, wise beyond his years and it's now a treasure.
Roadheads began when a group of were talking about Deadheads and Parrotheads and other Heads of all stripes. Because of my penchant for travel, insatiable and incurable they started calling me "a roadhead" and it stuck. Roadhead is a state of mind, not just to denote travels, but also inner travails. The constant search for whats around us and what lies deep inside of us, all. So I just put the two together and thats what came out of the oven. Hence the title of my book THE ROADHEAD CHRONICLES. Part history, part humour, part pop culture, part roadhead, part dharmabum, part Marino.
Question: (Jeri Maier)
In 1969, I saw a lot of backpackers travelling through Europe and there were many that were selling the silverwire jewelries, beads and paintings at the open air markets when I was in Dusseldorf, Germany. When I was in Athens, Greece in 1971 there was a place where all the young Americans hung out.
I imagine you doing similar kind of journey. Did you connect with any of them at that time?
ANSWER: (Mike Marino)
The Haight had it's fair share of "disenchanted" young people, along with some not so young people but the influx of visitors for other countries was prevelant and educational. Different cultures, different societal influences based on those cultures, but one thing was a common thread. A unity of thought. Met many from France and
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