I forgot to explain the whole grape juice thing. The famous poet guy swears that this quit smoking remedy was given to
him by a prominent lawyer, who swears legal reasons prevent this from being formally published. It has something to do with
the tiny amount of grape seeds that get crushed in with the juice. Apparently the ancient Egyptians also used this remedy:
Drink three and a half gallons of red grape juice each day for two days. The juice takes all the nicotine and toxic stuff
out of your blood.
This stops the cravings and makes the cigs taste gross(er).
I don't smoke, so somebody out there who does and wants to quit should try this and let me know. But I don't assume any
responsibility for the outcome. Just in case your like allergic to grape juice and didn't know it, and think it's all my fault.
B
So, we're in Monterey CA after passing through Arcata, Sebastopol, some ocean town isolated
off hwy 1 that wreaked of ruling class priviledge and excess that I can't remember the name of (oh-wait. . . which
one was that?), Bolinas- the town famous for tearing down all the road signs that lead to it, we found it. For some reason
the people weren't that friendly, he he; Berkely, Fairfax, and San Francisco.
I met a Poet Laureate this morning. The official Poet Laureate of the state of Nevada. I met him, appropriately, on Cannery
Row of John Steinbeck fame. I met him in a cafe that had Billie Holiday playing piano upstairs at one point. The cafe is a
whole 'nother story though.
He recited a nineteen stanza poem outside about Cannery Row. You had to be there. But it really was lovely.
Other exciting news:
We hid from an aggresive police officer in Fairfax, CA. It looked like a nice town. He actually tried to come
in the bus. After running our plates he walked around the bus shining his flashlight through every concieveable crack in the
curtains. We were asleep when he started banging on the front door with the end of his flashlight. Bang bang bang! Bang bang
bang bang! Then he walked around the bus again- At this point we didn't know he was an officer because he never said anything-
just started banging on the door!
We didn't even breathe. His flashlight shone around the whole bus. Then he yanked on the doorknob!
Twice! I don't know what he was thinking. I heard his radio holler the make and model of the bus:"Schh. . blah blah blah school
bus blah blah Schh" Then he got in his car- I saw the red and blue lights whir around- off he went.
So Fairfax, CA; you're ice cream shop rocks but you are an awfully righteous city to think you can just send representatives
to harass people like that.
We now have a sign on the front door that reads:
Premises under survailance. Private Property.
We'll see how that goes over, I dunno.
B
