THE GREAT RIP OFF: My Tribute to Ken Kesey
ourselves out in 'Prankster apparel' with my face painted like Page Browning's, Josh in a god-awful ugly shirt, and other people as cross-dressers, and all other manner of odd decoration.
The evening did not go off at all the way we planned it. Not many people showed up, the people who did had missed the point completely and the readings were convoluted and nonsensical, not at all moving in the 'profound' and meaningful way we had intended.
There was, however, one moment that played out perfectly. In the midst of everything going wrong, Josh and I slipped over to a hillside, away from the rest of the group. We sat there, both in half lotus position on top of a small brick wall and read to each other, finding poems that complemented each other perfectly with out intending to do so. There was for a brief moment, an absolute moment of sincerity that was present, and made the evening worthwhile, before the rain started.
Now, looking back on what has become almost a silly memory for me, and the few people of the group that I am still in contact with, I smile. It remains one of my definitive memories of those years, when I was still an embryo in the world of literature and such. I think of everything that has happened since then, and I think of Ken, and smile, a little wearily, and a little sadly. Perhaps I should drink a beer for him too.
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