The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (46 page)

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Authors: Tom Wolfe

Tags: #United States, #Social Science, #General, #Popular Culture, #History, #20th Century

BOOK: The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test
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“When we were down in Mexico, we learned a lot about waves. We spent six months down there learning about waves. Even in the dark you can feel the waves …”
It's a wrench, that voice, what is it? up to now—a party, a frenzy. All of a sudden it's on a whole other level … of some sort … we can't figure it out. The TV crews are trying to edge up close and jockey for position. Is this where he tells the kids to turn off LSD? … Which is what—we came for …
Waves?
“I believe that man is changing … in a radical basic way … The waves are building, and every time they build, they're stronger. Our concept of reality is changing. It's been happening here in San Francisco … I believe there's a whole new generation of kids. They walk different … I can hear it in the music … It used to go … life—
death
, life
—death
… but now it's … death
—life …
death
—life …”
The TV crewmen are trying to hand their microphones to heads near Kesey. They want them to hold them near him to pick up the words better. They implore the heads, they half order them in stage whispers. The heads are disgusted. They just stare at them. Kesey shoots a few whammies their way … These bastards and their …
positioning
… they only want to use you for a little while … They're punctures in the dirigible, flatulent murmurs in the heart, they're—the TV crews are pissed, too. Snotty dope-head kids! … Coverage is a pain in the ass here in Edge City. Can't do with it, can't do without it—a grand hassle in the making—
“ … For a year we've been in the Garden of Eden. Acid opened the door to it. It was the Garden of Eden and Innocence and a ball. Acid opens that door and you enter and you stay awhile …”
At which precise point—mysteries of the synch! yes—four policemen great dark-blue figures come walking in through the door on the Sixth Street side. The word starts firing around the crowd in the dark: Cops! Cops! … One last monster raid to finish off the debacle! There is a hell of a scurrying in the darkness, bodies hitting the walls of the garage, like gigantic fancy-dress rats looking for holes … Get the hell out of here! … It's the Probation Generation, of course, all the kids who are out on probation
under firm admonition not to associate with known dope users … they're practically digging through the concrete floor … The four policemen keep walking in at a slow gait, looking this way and that. Cassady is on a microphone way behind Kesey now, up on the stage, in fact, beginning to rap about the cops coming in: “Four custom-tailored constables, you understand, looking for pearl heads among the swineherds …”
“The cops are here?” says Kesey. He sounds startled.
“The constabulary cops …”
“They come in waves, too,” says Kesey, “they're a pattern that repeats” … Yah! …
By now the cops have just stopped on the edge of the crowd in the darkness, just looking around.
“There's cops and there's policemen,” Kesey says. “The cop says, ‘Don't do that. That's forbidden and that's all there is to that.' The policeman says, ‘You can do that, but if you go too far, you're going to hurt yourself.' The policeman is the double line in the middle of the road. I'm talking about inside of us.”
A spot suddenly comes on, hitting Cassady in a little cone of light. “It's like Ken once said,” says Cassady. “If you ignore a cop for twenty years, then he's not there any more …”
“Haw!—Haw!—Haw!”—Hell's Angels in the corner—the four cops just survey the camp meeting, then start turning around to leave. Cassady keeps on rapping:
“Yes! Violence, you understand … There's not going to be any violence here. If we wanted some violence we have some fellows here who could furnish it …”
“Haw!—Haw!—Yah!—Yagggggh!—
A good cop is a dead cop!”
“A good cop is a dead cop!”
But the cops just walk on out, rocking at the same slow gait, brushing through a clump of Hell's Angels like they weren't there. The cops are gone, but they punctured the atmosphere again. Kesey tries to build it up, in the same soft tones, but it's tough going. He plunges in with the vision, the vision of Beyond
Acid, how he saw the lines of light across the bay in Manzanillo, the line of grass …
“ … and I'd smoked some grass, some Acapulco Gold, as a matter of fact …”
Cheers go up in the dark, Acapulco Gold! Oh shit we're esoteric heads and we know the creamiest of all the marijuana. But it's a freaking puncture. Kesey plunges through the whole vision: the line of acid, the circle demanding completion, the little lights across the bay … It's metaphorical, allegorical, brains are getting messed up left and right … The rock ‘n' roll, the frenzy, the TV cameras, the darkness, the cops, and now …
this
… It keeps ricocheting from level to level. Shit! what is Kesey …
doing
… Finally the line with the hook on it—completing the circle without going all the way. He's telling them the whole thing, but—what is …
“We've been going through that door and staying awhile and then going back out through that same door. But until we start going that far … and then going beyond … we're not going to get anywhere, we're not going to experience anything new …”
They're uncomfortable, they're stuffing their shirts in and pulling them out, too many rips in the balloon, and brains messed up … and the freaking TV jackals stabbing microphones around like tape-recording the hanging of Lenny Bruce—
“Let's find out where we are. Let's move it around. Let's dance on it.”
The lights come back on, the music starts back up, the color is back, everything starts spinning like a top again. Goldhill is zonked by now. The music flows through his neural ganglia like a flood of relief … Love! Bless, bless! bright lights! The Hell's Angels are stomping around again, everybody dancing. But that doesn't last long. Kesey is out in the middle of the crowd. People close in around him. The music stops. Kesey looks slightly glazed over but plunging on, like he is determined to seize the whole debacle by the shoulders and shake it into place. He has a chunk of ice. He kisses it, he puts a big chunk in his mouth, he breaks off
a chunk and gives it to Cassady. Cassady kisses a chunk and then rubs it all over his bare chest. An ice thing … The TV cameramen and radio reporters are trying to edge in. They're buffeted back. Everything is pitching and rolling. Kesey and Cassady are sitting on the floor communing over the ice. Pranksters and some other heads are getting into a circle on the floor with Kesey and Cassady … the lotus position … Gary Goldhill sits down with them. He's ready. The kid with the sizzling teeth sits down among them, zonked … the lotus position … His back is arched back stiff in the Nehru coat. He's rapt. The pot of pearls boils and boils. They all join hands and close their eyes—a communal circle … They close their eyes tighter and tighter, waiting for …
the energy
. It's coming! It's coming! A high-pitched keening noise rises up from the circle … Do you hear it! … It's weird … Half the people looking on are nonplused, they're
embarrassed
. What is this a Halloween party or a seance and the Holy Rollers? Christ … Albert Morch of
Women's Wear Daily
says to Caterine Millinaire: “Say! when I met you last night—I didn't know you were the Duke of Bedford's daughter!” … Got religion! The Angels are restless. They're standing around the edge of the circle. “Hey! Start the music!” … In the circle, Kesey, Cassady, and the rest—they're starting to rap back and forth. The kid with the boiling teeth hears the voice. His eyes are still tight shut. He grins and glistens. “A dead towhee,” he says, “a rumpled road and a dead towhee.” His voice is on the edge of delirium and tears … or else any moment he is going to break into an insane cackling laugh … “A dead towhee and a rumpled road and lying in the dust, a
mistake
… a
mistake
, but it's not
important
… Making a mistake is not
important
… it's the context in which the mistake is made … A rumpled road and a dead towhee and four gasoline stations, white and sterile, refueling tailfins in mid-air for fat men in sunglasses who do not see the rumpled road and the dead towhee …”
Goldhill sits rapt … Energy waves emanating from everywhere … Like … black spirits! … Kesey & Cassady—what are
they trying to do with his mind …
Got
me, trapped me into the Big Wait—for what? an idea? a revelation? love? feeling? breakthrough—into what? or
PUT-ON
They're putting him on! Sucking him in! But—the
idea
we're waiting for—he can
feel
it, physically, it's surging through … He looks deep down inside, to describe it.
PRESQUE VU!
Mass daemonic hallucination it is! He looks around … All pitches and rolls …
A CIRCUS OR HELL
The tortured and the damned are all around him, the dead-for-good souls … He gets up radiating Chinese firecrackers from his dragon pajamas and heads for the Sixth Street door but … the Dead and the Damned! Faces!
HELL'S ANGELS
Hell's Angels are packed into the corridor leading to the door ready for
MASSACRE
He turns back into the crowd, sinks into a time warp … Like his life is an endless tape loop … Black spirits keep bubbling up out of the most ancient pits of licorice detergent
TRAP
That! Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare and as he chants he becomes … Krishna! … Christ! … God … And he pops out of the time warp into the silver haze of … The Universal Mind …
“We almost had it,” says Kesey, opening his eyes for the first time. “We would have had it. There's too much noise …” But it's like the cloud has passed.
People are milling around, starting to leave. They're befuddled and embarrassed. What the hell kind of party … The Angels are beginning to leave, the TV crews, Herbert Gold has had enough … Albert Morch … It's getting toward three o'clock …
People stare at the stage, but there's no sign of music. Is it over? Are you on the bus? … in the pudding?
Kesey plunges on. The lights go out again. The wrench is total now. It's a whole other … thing … Kesey moves to the other side of the floor and sits down. The spot hits him. The Pranksters start gathering from all over the garage: Mountain Girl, The Hermit, Babbs, Gretch, Doris Delay, Page, The Hassler, Cassady, Black Maria, Zonker, Gut, George Walker, Ram Rod, Stewart Brand, Lois Jennings, all heading toward Kesey. Hassler has a hand mike and he starts saying in the dark:
“Everybody who's with us, everybody who's with us in this thing, move in close. If you're not part of this thing, if you're not with us, then it's time to leave. You can move in close and get into this thing or you can leave, because … that's what time it is …”
Shitfire! that's it—those who were a little spooked by the turn the night is taking are now totally spooked. People heading for the Sixth Street door, flapping and burbling. The Pranksters, meantime, draw in close to Kesey, stepping by people, over people, then settling down, nestling in a circle around Kesey. Others pulling in, through the darkness, toward the cone of light lighting up Kesey's head and back. Kesey looks distraught. He looks up into the light. He has a hand mike. He makes a gesture as if to say, Let them through—
“I know these people,” he says. “I've been with these people!”
The whole Allegory … A tableau of the Plains of … The tightest inner circle is packed in around him, then the Prankster outer circle. Then a few of the old Perry Lane crowd. Then various heads who are deep into the pudding, like Goldhill and the Kid with the Boiling Teeth, then rings and rings, the grades of faith … plus a few clumps up against the wall, of people with no faith at all, just too stroked out or curious to leave. Finally Cassady stepping over the hunkered-down, lotused, sitting bodies, heading toward the inner circle … Kesey looks up at him, then he seems to grow dizzy and sink … His head rolls …
“Goodbye, Neal!” he says. He looks like he might pass out. Cassady pulls closer. Kesey hunches over the microphone.
“They're saying, ‘Look at him—the promising novelist … once surrounded by thousands … and now only these few' … But I can—”
—he drops the thought, however. The whole place is quiet and dark, just one small spotlight on Kesey …
“Get Faye and the kids.” Silence. Then a rustle of Faye coming through the clump of people, leading the little girl, Shannon, and the oldest boy, Zane, and carrying the youngest, Jed. They've all been in the nursery section up by the Sixth Street door. One of them is crying, only it is like a scream. That's all you hear in here, it's eerie … Faye and the kids and Mountain Girl and Sunshine and all the Pranksters in a tight circle with Kesey. They all hold hands and close their eyes. Silence. Then the scream again

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