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August 11, 2012
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Keep up, we'll gallop through this introduction, written directly in my true journal, just as I see it open in front of me now.
It's in faded cursive handwriting, in a black leather-bound book.
This is the 'Cast of Characters' who form a commune at Red Rocks Canyon:

:bulletred: Vicki - Peter's sister: A dark-haired, dark-eyed Hungarian beauty, who thinks her hair's too thin (it is, but who cares?). It took her weeks of country living to realize she did not need to wear false eyelashes daily. Funny! Such a gorgeous woman. An artist.

:bulletred: Mary - Initially with Terry: Lots of thick, wavy brown hair (short, unusual for the anyone then) with a smile that's a (de)light, who often thinks about Vicki's appearance and hers as a competition (no way!). A writer and [later] a teacher.

:bulletred: Winnie - Peter's brother: His name is a nickname for "Winston." Like they all were, he's a good-looking man, shorter than the others, with a stiff neck from a bout of childhood polio, dark hair and eyes - a very creative "idea"-man. He arrived later.

:bulletred: Larry - Peter's brother: Dark hair and eyes, the youngest sibling and the tallest. Looks a lot like Frank Zappa, the sweetest of those Beverly Hills siblings, a fantastic cook and photographer.

:bulletred: Pat - Larry's girlfriend: A heart-shaped face and beautiful skin, big gray eyes, long wavy brown hair...she's so funny, 'specially when she falls back to New Jersey humor, great at art, loves loud rock and roll (I do, too). An artist.

:bulletred: David - An open and pleasant face, wire-rimmed glasses, longish wiry brown hair, very smart and ready to SEE. Also from Beverly Hills. A movie-buff and writer.

:bulletred: John - Younger, initially alone: Intense yet attractive features, dark blue eyes, long light brown hair kept in a ponytail, doesn't laugh much, but when he does, it's great. A busy guy, who also studied photography before this took place.

:bulletred: Terry - Initially with Mary: Curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, also good-looking and smart, a true mechanic, musician and country boy, ready for fun. A natural leader, and a musician and writer.

:bulletred: LJ - By far the youngest of the group, usually alone: Long straight blonde-ish-from-the-sun brown hair, green eyes and prob'ly the most insecure of the group, a kinda quiet girl (except for occasionally "letting go"), feels too inexperienced. Kept a journal. XD

:bulletred: Ron - Initially with Vicki: Also very attractive in a happy-go-lucky way, dark brown hair, eyes with irises that look like the earth in daylight if seen from the moon; he's a "carnie," and likes to play cards and any game. Taught me how to never lose 'Rummy 500.'

In December of 1969, I met this group of people planning to move to the country, forming a commune. Since three involved were siblings of an ex-boyfriend, Peter, who asked me to their meeting in Beverly Hills, I was a hanger-on. But they wanted me to join them - just by being around and saying "Wow that's cool!" a lot. When they asked me (Peter, the ex-boyfriend, refused their invitation) it didn't take me long to decide to go. At the beginning of January 1970, I spent some time up the coast at Stewart's Point and Mendocino with a few members of that group - Winnie, Larry, Pat and David. In early February I went with David to meet the group of nine traveling from both East and West coasts to Colorado, where we rented a small house in a big valley (the Huerfano) and began a search for land to buy. The first place we looked at ended our search. It was called Red Rocks Canyon, high in the Rockies.

2/22/70
We all went up to Red Rocks Canyon and had a beautiful climb up to the top of a shelf of red rocks where we sat in the sun and looked at the land we wanted to buy and talked. We walked on a red dirt road, up and up through snowy ways and narrow canyons to a spring through groves of cottonwood, aspen and evergreens. It was stunning. We walked back down and played with a frisbee in the top meadow. We talked over the complications of buying the land, because we decided today to buy this land. It's surrounded on three sides by national forest, and the seven-mile dirt "driveway" is on the rancher's land who has this canyon up for sale. Such a safe place!

2/23/70
We were up as usual by eight in the morning, and shortly after that we all dropped sunshine and got high. There were so many trips and trips and trips and energies and far out trips, soaring and flowing and rolling around our house in the valley. It's incredible to get so high and together with so many people! We sat in the sun, walked up hills and through a dry arroyo, played, went dirt riding on the Jawa, listened to and made some music. We laughed and cried, drank and threw Coke all over, or sat alone facing the sun in a big golden field. We became "holy men" and "pigboy champions." People did everything from throwing their arms out to the world, saying - "Let all bad things come to me... grunting, fucking, farting in the dirt... all the bad things come!" - to walking off alone into the hills with a desire to be a hermit. We talked and touched and even in silence, we let us begin to know each other.

When the sun went down, we went back to the house filthy and shining; cleared away some of the mess we'd made in the kitchen and mostly Larry, Pat and David made "food soup." We sat down at the table banging spoons to a beat on glasses while Terry played his guitar and sang about soup. Then it became quiet and Terry said, "Thanks for having us all together and for this good food" and we ate. I was so hungry, hungry for more than food.
0.0 I deleted four pieces.

They were called Don't Forget When... but:
Since I got too tangled trying to change names, times and locations, I couldn't complete it.

I called a writer friend who still lives in that Colorado area.
*He said*
"I remember reading your journal when you were here.
Don't change anything about it. It's good just like it is.
Nobody will care. Don't change a word. Just use it like you wrote it."


That's what I'm doing.
This is a direct transcription from that journal.
You'll have to look at the "cast of characters" if you really can't recall who's who. By the way, my name then & now is "LJ" -also listed.

1) The True Journal of a Fake 'Communist' - You are here. ....

2) Next - fav.me/d5aszid ....

1) Can you visualize the people listed?
2) I was nineteen when I started this journal. The writing's not so good but is it good enough to continue?
3) Do you think I should edit the journal entries I'll continue or not?
4) How about "place description"? Does it work so far?


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:iconcrazythewaytobe:
Crazythewaytobe Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I've only read a few parts(up to part 3 and a bit) so far, I will read more when I can! So far I think it's really neat, it definitely makes you feel like you're in the loop so to speak, or rather like it is a part of your past, I didn't want to stop reading it but I had to go to work:( Believe it or not I do read all your stuff:p and am looking forward to finishing the journal entries:).
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Sep 30, 2012   Writer
This is how I feel about your statement: :iconclappingplz:
I've been gone a few days: out sick.
Hope you enjoy your job!
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:iconcrazythewaytobe:
Crazythewaytobe Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Oh yes, the joys of being a waitress:headache:
P.S. the painting is my second job, I do it a lot less unfortunately:shrug:
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Oct 2, 2012   Writer
I was never a waitress, but did a lot of "retail" and think I know what you mean.
The messiest job was as a janitor, but it so much was fun there, I stayed two years until wanderlust hit me.
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2012   Writer
Molly: You'll learn that I'm a typo queen in comments. I edit and leave entire words, or just misspell 'em. Hope you don't mind. :icondownarrowplz:
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2012   Writer
Molly,
I have no time to join either FB or vimeo, because I got myself too involved in too much club activity here. But I would be happy if you either buy a three-month membership (I think it's 5.99) or a year, like Clark did -- though you should only that if you want to leave comments. You don't have to otherwise.

I'm pretty amazed Clark shared this with you, and to get your note.

I can't even picture you past a very young age, I'm sorry to say. I haven't kept in touch with anyone from RR (exchanged a few cards with Nancy, but she's very interested [rightly so] in her grandchildren, which I'll never have, so it's not a frequent thing), and only recently called Clark, sorta out of blue. Maybe literally "out of blues." He's cheered me considerably. Sybilla W. called me too, and she was so surprised I'd just gotten off the phone with Clark. [!] I think she may go to San Fancisco someday soon(ish) and was planning possible intineries. I'd love to see her.

I was trying to write this twisted out of shape and couldn't. Clark told me to write it "as is."
It won't be all roses, that's for sure. So if you want to read what I transcribed so far, use the links.
Hit "Add Favorite" at upper right if you want it to stay here, or not...it's up to you.
It's very nice to hear from you again. What a surprise!
LJ
PS. I have a photo of you getting a bath in a canning pot. lol
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:iconclarkdimond:
clarkdimond Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2012
You are right, Xlnt.

This isn't my Journal or my story. These folks are adults with backstories already. Terry, Mary, and I were all doing magazine work in NYC and earning a living, being self-supporting, participating in the New York City Human Be-In, The first NYC Peace March, the march on Washington during the last days of the Magazine Era.

Then Peter Rabbit, Terry's mentor and teacher showed up with the Libroids on the Lower East Side. It was in the air, revolution was in the air, a cultural shift. Terry and Mary decided to join the Libre commune. Communal living was a way to break the chain of landlords and rent

John and Larry were both art students, both photographers studying at the School of Visual Arts, in NYC.

David was at Harvard. He was a friend of Mary's.

Interesting concept, though, a communal history of a commune.

I learned the backstory of the actual commune largely through the medium of this Journal. I think I need to sit back from the comments and let your story do its own talking. It's already defined and self-contained and sometimes uncomfortable to read, but very real.

Isn't the Zelda poem written in the Journal? Is it "Zelda" or is it "LJ"? I mean the actual words of the poem.
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2012   Writer
Aw no, don't stop commenting!
Few are reading this anyway.
Many here are teens or young adults with no "time" for longer pieces, even chopped into chapters.
A few here love it; most haven't even read a single part of it.

I only know the backstory re: where folks were originally from, and how they became friends with people like Vicki, a sort of glue that allowed the "invitation" to her older brother Peter to take place, thus for me to even meet the rest from East and West. (I still lived [part of the time] in Bev Hills -where I first saw Larry and Pat too- when Larry brought Pat home to present her to his mother = "Mumsie," a really nice woman terrified of her own eldest son, Peter.

That's why I still lived in Bev Hills then. Mumsie wanted someone around [I lived in the fancy [to me] "maid's quarters" by then and, in time, also saw Peter's vicious temper tantrums. He became a very ugly man.) Anyway, Vicki was there (in B.H.) when her brother Peter allowed "friends" to dose the unknowing-me with huge amounts of PCP, which made me literally psycho.

I have only a few memories of that, but recall that Peter (back his mum's house) gave me Thorazine to calm me down. And I snapped out of that horrible trip to give Peter no small dose of his own horrible time, e.g.: "You always lie! You backstab your supposed friends! You show respect no for anyone or anything! You're an idiot! I hate you!" -then realized Vicki sat in the same room, a smile on her face. I figured I was saying everything to her eldest brother [Peter] the rest were too scared [?] to say.

Yep, the poem about "Zelda" is in this journal. The actual words.
My name (and byline) is LJ ever since Terry said, "Nobody here will call you two first names. We'll call you LJ" -which was in early days. I'd told him the only time folks called me both was when they were mad at me. And I remain "LJ." "Zelda" was used with 'poetic license.'
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:iconclarkdimond:
clarkdimond Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2012
About so few, so young:
I've learned from playing music you never know who's watching. Sometimes people you didn't know were watching show up and you were a big influence in their lives.

You give the same show no matter the size of the crowd. You do your best and play from the heart

[link]
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2012   Writer
:heart: ... :love:
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