Stories
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I knew it was all superficial. I could feel it, and so wasn't going to invest any time on them anyway even if I knew how.
I went to San Francisco probably because of the beatniks and people who had influenced me like Alan Watts, Jack Kerouac, Ginsberg and certain of the other beat writers. I had saved all my money while in the Army. I travelled around Europe on the cheap. I had money left to do nothing for awhile. Plus I got a small inheritance from my grandfather, after both my paternal grandparents died, while I was in Greece. What I determined at some point; maybe it was while in Europe a park bench somewhere, watching the world passing by; that I wanted to learn how to use my hands. Paris comes to mind that afternoon bench near that store of frenzied activity.
The key event that was a life transition, was someone I met in a cafe on Haight Street one evening probably in June or July. He was a young German tourist exploring the Haight and had no place to sleep. I told him he could sleep on my floor and he did for one night. He gave me the address of a place where I could go and learn pottery for free. It was in Bernal Heights. I went there not long after. Got off the bus at the wrong place and wound up at Precita Park on the hillside there, a very European feeling. I liked it. Found my way over to Winfield Street a few blocks away, and signed up for pottery.
(8 of 10)
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