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At any rate about nine months later this guy moves in with Pat. Jackie told me he was one of the guys that had shot at the Hell's Angels. And right across the street from me. Jackie told me that Pat and a friend had picked this guy up from jail and she had balled him all the way back to her house in the back of the van. I used to see him around but never met him. Apparently shooting at Hell's Angels did not merit much jail time.
Pat gave me three weed plants. I had just started smoking that year. Started when I was trying to be an artist. I had the pottery shop in the garage, and took part-time art classes at the Art Institute, when I had been living in North Beach. We had a drawing class in my living room, about eight people taking turns being the model. Someone passed around a joint and I tried smoking weed for the second time. I tried hash once when in Israel and tried weed once when I lived in Haight Ashbury, but neither time did it take and I did not notice any difference.
But this time I got stoned for the first time and while drawing. It was a revelation. Instead of the tight scrawny scribble I had been doing all winter trying to render with exactitude, I was suddenly transformed to great broad strokes and started drawing an archetype angel right out of my head. I said wow this is the way to go.
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