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January 9, 2013
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.................................................................Interlude........................................................................

    :bulletpurple: -- This is a "laundry list" of memories not in the previous journal entries, nor to follow. -- :bulletpurple:

a.) I didn't leave Red Rocks to return to UCLA or Santa Monica or Venice or to go to New Orleans with Gene because I wanted to leave Red Rocks. I was asked to leave when my unhappiness showed like a sagging slip on a woman in a dress. So I missed the greater part of building the sixty-foot dome. But I saw pictures when I returned and they were very entertaining.

a1.) The folks there (and during the time I was first there) loved blowing holes with dynamite, and used it for the many holes needed for the foundation of the big dome, and for huge logs holding up a mezzanine inside it. One hundred holes at least. Dynamite is fun, but you kids, don't use it at home. The only underground-treatment I recall for the wood posts was a coating of creosote, which led to the early demise of a flat floor inside the dome or on the deck around it.

a2.) They also began putting asphalt shingles on the dome from the top down while I was gone, so when the first unexpected snowfall occurred, the struts at the bottom collapsed from poorly distributed weight. Domes are supposed to get their 'skins' or roofs from the bottom up. Everyone took it stride, though. It was very easy to laugh about together when I returned.

b.) When hitchhiking cross-country with the other girls, we saw a tipi in Vermont that was the strangest ever. The rope usually used to wrap around the tripod at the top (the three heaviest lodge pole pines) was there, but instead of being used to further stablize the tipi by being wrapped around the length of one of those poles, it was pegged straight down to the center of the tipi, where a fire pit would be. Never saw such a thing since.

c.) One other thing happened while hitchhiking in Canada. We were supposed to meet several members of a city commune and only one person was (very nervously) waiting for us there. The place was stripped bare, and this guy stayed only long enough to tell us to leave right away, and please take their brochures with us so we'd know what they did. We were happy to take brochures, not knowing they were members 'under fire' and 'escaping' because they'd been labeled "subversive." They called themselves members of the "FLQ," as I recall. We learned more at the U.S. border.

c1.) Those brochures almost kept the border patrol from letting us back into the U.S. They dumped everything out of our backpacks and questioned us until it was plain we didn't know anything about the brochures, nor see anyone besides a stranger on some street we didn't know. It was just some person who gave out brochures. "Honest. Really. Really."

d.) When we first bought Red Rocks, it was bought with the intention to make it "free land for everybody." That was until "everybody" showed up. I think it was the long-haired, dirty guy who appeared to only own one lace mini-dress and a nonsense rant when he showed up to claim his part in "free land." Then we became incorporated and thus-> Red Rockers, Inc.

d1.) Two marvelous people arrived came on horseback. The Chinese woman, Mae-wa [sp] rode in first, followed by her partner Paul. They wore plently of dirt, many leather clothes and had backpacks slung behind their saddles. We were cautious about them, but Mae-Wa ended out to be a medical doctor and indispensable for our "home remedies," and our women having babies, not the mention the babies themselves. She also helped begin a free clinic in Gardner, which lasted a long time. And I just hafta' say, both Mae and Paul were incredibly kind people. "Never let a first impression be the lasting one."  

d2.) After incorporating, those already "in" held votes to see whether new folks could stay. It had to be unamimous.

e.) At first we built a little shack to keep sixty pullets in. We bought pullets to ensure our money would go to sixty laying white leghorn hens and no roosters. I quickly became "The Chicken Lady," though I'm not sure how. I liked the little things, I guess. I liked eggs, too. And I liked having a morning chore (an all day chore) of my own, to work on something I knew.

f.) Later, with Binjo's help, I built a 'real' laying house for the full-grown hens. I made it with cull wood and built it 'two-walls-thick' with an insulation of tin cans and other things in between, to capture heat for the winters. Binjo definitely helped me put in a skylight, too. I also put adobe on the outside wall and covered the whole outer yard. I fed those chickens not just regular feed but also warm oatmeal in the winter. Seemed to work. We always had enough eggs.

g.) Once, Mary told me I'd soon meet a great guy. I asked who she meant and she said, "Come to Farisita with me and I'll show you." What I saw there was a wanted poster. Ended out the guy blew up a federal building somewhere. His name was Mike and we only had a single-night-affair. I felt bad because I couldn't think of anything to say to a mad bomber. Sheesh.

g1.) One morning I woke up early and Vicki told me I'd yelled in my sleep, "Do you remember?" I didn't, so she told me one very noisy love-making couple (noisy every night) were in the midst of their 'show' and I sat up and yelled "Shut the fuck up!" They were silent. Other Red Rockers started to laugh, so that couple took their sleeping bags outside in the snow for the night and hushed their activities from then on.

h.) You'll read more about the Red Rockers and our adventures [and misadventures] soon. I know I took a long break from this journal (and my attention for it will still be a bit spotty) but maybe this will hold you over for a bit.

............................................................................to be continued.....................................................................................
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:iconclarkdimond:
clarkdimond Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2013
I like the comment from now -- memories re-awakened- makes the story fed on itself. I fee a depth and a freedom -- fulcrum of a piece re-defining itself?
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Apr 24, 2013   Writer
Yeah. I think and dream about the commune so much, it's always "feeding on itself."
And as I grow older and the memories linger, so does "now" and thus new freedom grows from actualities.
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:iconcrazythewaytobe:
Crazythewaytobe Featured By Owner Jan 30, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Still love reading this:p I look forward to whatever adventures you choose to write about!:)
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Jan 30, 2013   Writer
It gets a bit grim at times :P but I'm glad you look foward to the next installment. ;)
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:iconcrazythewaytobe:
Crazythewaytobe Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I'm sure everyone's life takes a few turns down some bumpy bumpy roads but then how would anyone learn anything?:p I think if you tell a story no matter if it's romantic, funny, depressing or whatever you'll find some people who enjoy it or even if you tell it in a certain way many people will like it
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2013   Writer
:nod: There are those waiting for more on this. Not many, but a few.
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:iconcrazythewaytobe:
Crazythewaytobe Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
A few is a good number to start with though:)
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2013   Writer
Mhmm.
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:iconriparii:
riparii Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2013
I still thoroughly enjoy this.
Such a time.
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:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2013   Writer
Good. This part was fun to write, because I could use a "present, now" POV.
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