I used robe a pretty deep guy. I watched foreign films, read Nietzsche, and stayed up all night -contemplating jazz I was Jack Kerouac living in a fire but on top of Desolation Peak. I was Gary Snyder seeking enlightenment in a Buddhist monastery in Thailand. I was Ken Kesey. Juni Hendrix, and Timothy Leary all rolled up into one gigantic Incas of pseudo•intellectual adolescent, fancy boarding school beat poet wannabe. I was a moron. I blew off my homework, not because I was lazy, but because I thought that schoolwork was shallow, too insignificant for me, the vivacious intellectual, the dharma bum, the Zen lunatic wanderer. How could my teachers expect me to do homework when life around me was all so futile, so meaningless? I was sure that
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unhip public high school. Suburban Philadelphia is not the easiest place in the world to be sixties cool and stylish. There aren't many smoke-filled coffee houses or hippie wanderers. It's clean here, upper middle class—you know, the Ford Explorer. Saturday evening Mass, country club for dinner scene. I came back to Philadelphia because it isn't all that *hip: because there is nothing "profound' to do. I came home to get myself together. It was time to grow up. I'm not as cool as I used to be. I never do anything wry exciting or off the wall. at least not by my old standards. My friends from boarding school have for the most part become nothing more than distant memories. They're all off in New York City or Mexico pretending to work on their spirituality, but really just partying their lives away. I stay home a lot. I'm at the library a couple nights a week. I read, write letters, I do some painting. Last weekend, I watched The Cofer Purpk with my mom, collected some weather data for a chemistry project, and had a tea party with my little sister. C.* been spending time with the people I met in the high school production of
unhip public high school. Suburban Philadelphia is not the easiest place in the world to be sixties cool and stylish. There aren't many smoke-filled coffee houses or hippie wanderers. It's clean here, upper middle class—you know, the Ford Explorer. Saturday evening Mass, country club for dinner scene. I came back to Philadelphia because it isn't all that *hip: because there is nothing "profound' to do. I came home to get myself together. It was time to grow up. I'm not as cool as I used to be. I never do anything wry exciting or off the wall. at least not by my old standards. My friends from boarding school have for the most part become nothing more than distant memories. They're all off in New York City or Mexico pretending to work on their spirituality, but really just partying their lives away. I stay home a lot. I'm at the library a couple nights a week. I read, write letters, I do some painting. Last weekend, I watched The Cofer Purpk with my mom, collected some weather data for a chemistry project, and had a tea party with my little sister. C.* been spending time with the people I met in the high school production of