Too many nights with people out of their minds. Things inside me crashing around like a mad man tearing up a room. Friends kept me sane. I made it. When I left long hair for meditation and stuff for a mantra, things softened. Whoever was sitting in my captain’s chair for those years moved out and a new captain moved in. I drifted south from Kabul to the Himalayas. During that journey I had to accept that I was a shit-faced kid who didn’t know anything and couldn’t get out of being that kid. I had to bide my time until the big light came on, when the ancient masters from the mountains decided I was ready. Friends gone, including girl friend. Back to the east coast, on to the French Alps, the guru, hours and hours a day of meditation, lectures on end, a coat and tie, and short hair. David Crosby, I still love you, but it was time to move on.
