Jason at College

   Jason went off to Bucknell University in 1964. He enrolled as a music major with the hope, I suppose of performing in an orchestry or behind chickenwire in a barband. I'll let him tell the somewhat disjointed story through letters he wrote to me and his longtime buddy Rod who was kind enough to loan them to me.

I didn't always buy jars of peanut butter at garage sales. In fact I don't generally buy them unlessthey've been unopened and the expiration date on the container isn't more than a few months old. On only one occasion can I remember purchasing a jar that had been opened, and that was full except for perhaps a tablespoon missing. Once I opened a jar at an upscale "Estate" sale only to find a piece of rotted tooth inside.

Another thing I might mention is that I didn’t grow up planning  to steal large motorized farm equipment. I grew up boosting small stuff like pipes, cigars, Playboy magazines, zippo lighters, cans of smoked fish, and basically whatever myself and my pals could stuff into our pockets.On one occasion my good buddy Rod boosted a regulation basketball by hiding it in a neighbor’s baby carriage that was also stolen.

Beginning with my days as a college freshman I wanted to be a "writer", and even at my first college I've written f pages but I seem to lack this driving force, or what Carlos Castenada calls "unbending intent", to follow through with any of it. I must have some kind of fatal flaw or damaged gene, a loose strand of DNA flapping in the breeze

My French teacher at Bucknell University said I was fundamentally lazy and would amount to nothing. (I would never learn to speak French either). This was in Lewisburg, where I began to write incomprehensible nonsense fueled by Jim Beam and a passionate desire to write my way into women's pants. I was devouring expensive volumes of beat poetry which came out as a kind of bop prosedy from my horn in impromptu jam sessions on the roof of the old brick building above Market Street in Lewisburg. (I also set up a rifle range on the roof and shot up the empty beer bottles and cans that I drank, thereby endangering residents of the community for miles around.



          I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I was only acting on my constitutional right to the enjoyment of my (rented) property, 

                                                  

This is all true, not just some country song out of Nashville.I lived with a kid named. "Henras" or "The Sage" as became known, although he was anything but wise. His expertise was at shooting pool and once played against Willie Mosconi when the master came to town for an exhibition to promote the "Shamu Pool Hall" in Lewisburg. The Sage and I wasted many precious hours of our youth perfecting bank shots and three-ball combinations. When not playing pool we were had at work boosting things and supporting local liquor retailers (and yes, sometimes boosting product from the as well)      

                                      

This was in Lewisburg Pennsylvania. I lived there for two years while attending Bucknell University. I lived up above the Market Street Drug Store. How appropriate. My apartment which I painted boxcar red was on the third floor of a brick building. The time was 1964 or 65. I was a music major at Bucknell University before I flunked out. Such a funny word, "flunked", like having someone push your head under the surface of the Susquahanna River (in Lewisburg), and you were "dunked". BeforeI flunked out I sat in the corner of classrooms and was a "dunce". On my head rested the hat of a dunce. I didn't take life very seriously then, having heard from Bob Dylan and my philosophy professor that it might just be a joke, albeit a bad joke at times. My girlfriend, carol, at that timewas two years older and had enormous hooters                    

"Although Carol was a nice girl, my parents had difficulty accepting her as one of the family."

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      Jason was subsequently thrown out of Bucknell for lewd and drunken behavior.  The following year he enrolled at Parsons College in Iowa.