The TEENAGE Head

mt. tam man or: the cool summer story

he had come to california in search of tenor. in search of fulfillment. in search of a woman. he hadn’t met a girl in his adolescence like his father had his mother. someone pure and beautiful. someone to dote on forever. he was still alone. alone and searching for a woman to build a home with. to cook him lamb and flip the records from a to b. and love him. love him in spite of his dirty hands and bad table manners. love him even when he kissed her legs and his whiskers would scratch her milky skin.

he was still seeking the essence of darling be home soon. still seeking the exuberance of astral weeks and hardin 2. women could do that to a man. women had inspired men to write their best music. he wanted to know that impulse too. he wanted to paint and burn candles and smoke dope in a house you’d see featured in a 60’s playboy. lots of windows. lots of greenery. earthly decor. perhaps he’d build it in the forest somewhere high on mount tamalpais. he’d build it with the money he earned from his good vibes. he only wanted enough money to be free.

he wanted to raise a flock of weirdos in that house. weirdos he and his woman would construct into kind, thoughtful, sensitive, successful people. weirdos he’s brainwash with old movies and records. brainwash with the rare, invaluable sight of two parents in total, complete fondness of one another. what a powerful thing. there was more to life than getting ahead of the other guy. he would instill that in his little weirdos. in fact all the true, transcendent moments he had ever felt in life were unrelated and unconnected to the ceaseless march of ambition. why do we value initiative so much in america? you work hard and then you die. he wanted to be happy in the limited time the cosmos had afforded him here. he would not relent.

he would keep searching.