My weird, surreal sixties book – Chapter 22 – Who?

This is raw. I’m typing/rewriting straight from the manuscript I completed in 1976. It took me six years to complete. I started it while I was at college in 1970.

I’m not sure if this collage makes sense to anyone but me. At the time I was looking to fuse ideas, cartoons, humour, poetry, philosophy and stories together in a unique way. It all gelled in my mind. I don’t know if it does in the reader?


‘Hey Messny, is that really us in that photograph?’

‘Did we really do all that?’

‘Did we really smoke and drink all night?’

‘Did we fuss and argue over impossible things, too tired to crawl to bed, too excited to go to sleep?’

‘Did we get so high we couldn’t talk anymore, but went on communicating in silence for hours, grinning like madmen, until we had thought enough to talk again, like a dam bursting, it all flooding out again?’

‘Is that a photo of us? Were we always so excited?’

‘Did we always run around – crazy – and live our lives in the dark?’

‘Was the music and poetry so much better then – when it was fresh?’

‘Did I really shout at people that they were dead and blind, without seeing that it didn’t matter that they were already dead?’

‘Were all those rambling discussions real?’

‘Surely it was other people acting out those dreams?’

‘Did we believe all those crazy ideas?’

‘Were we really going to save the world?’

‘Just you and I?

‘Maybe we should have – while we had the chance?’

‘Maybe if we’d have stopped all the talking and started to organise something?

‘Maybe we could have sorted everything out?’

‘Messny, you know, It seems so unfair that I should have changed so, that I should feel so empty and powerless now.’

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