Chapter One (December 28, 1968) (Draft)

Saturday, December 28, 1968

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(Los Angeles)

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Hair Songs Too Hot to Handle, Authors Claim

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Artists are shying away from recording songs from Hair, charged its two authors James Rado and Gerome Ragni, because the material is too explosive in its attacks on society.

"Music is the medium of today, the medium of the revolution," Rado said. "If any period should be put to music, this is it. Contemporary music is the language of the kids."

Ragni added: "Hair is the surface symbol of the rebellion of kids who want to show in a dramatic way they are rejecting the values of society all the way." (1)

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(Hollywood)

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Stoney’s back.

The minute he walks in the door, we drop some acid–yeah, I am going to put down for good, but just one more trip...

Stoney undresses; we try making love, but it just isn’t happening. Turns out he visited some dealer friends on the way home and shot up heroin. God, I hate that stuff. How can anyone enjoy shooting up a drug that makes you stupid?

Heroin addicts are the scum of the earth; they just lie around, drooling and slurring their words. No fun at all, human door stops, always passed out.

Once the acid kicks in, I no longer care about screwing Stoney–I’m off on my own trip, a bummer...

Enter the King of Schlock...

Slip, slip, slip into Bobby Goldsboro hell–"Honey," "The Straight Life," and a world of clowns:

See the funny little clown
See him laughing as you walk by,
Everybody thinks he’s happy
Cause you never see a tear in his eye.
No one knows he’s crying,
No one knows he’s dying on the inside...(2)

At the peak of my trip, five of Stoney’s drug dealing friends show up; everyone’s a clown, I’m in a roomful of clowns, red cheeks and noses, white pancaked faces, all in clown costumes, with ruffles around their necks, hands, and feet. Big curled up shoes and psychedelic wigs the color of rainbows, and they’re all singing "See the Funny Little Clown," some cartwheeling all over the place, others balling up bread bags, setting them on fire, and dropping the sizzling balls to the rug.

Smoke and burning plastic fill the air.

Even the naked clowns still wear their shoes, ruffles, and wigs, even as they make love with other clowns...

I’m just a spectator.

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(1) Billboard

(2) Lirama