I am all alone in my pad, man, my piled-up-to-the-ceiling-with-junk pad. Piled with sheet music, piled with. garbage bags bursting with rubbish, piled with unnameable flecks of putrified wretchedness in grease. My pad, my own little Lower East Side Horse Badorties pad.

I just woke up, man. Horse Badorties just woke up and is crawling around in the sea of abominated filth, man, which he calls home. Walking through the rooms of my pad. man, from which. I shall select my wardrobe for the day. Here, stuffed in a trash basket, is a pair of incredibly wrinkled-up muck-pants. And here, man, beneath a pile of wet newspapers is a shirt, man, with one sleeve. All I need now, man, is a tie, and here is a perfectly good rubber Japanese toy snake, man, which I can easily form into an acceptable knot.

SPAGHETTI! MAN! Now I remember. That is why I have arisen from my cesspool bed, man, because of the growlings of my stomach. It is time for breakfast, man. But first I rnust make a telephone call to Alaska,

Must find telephone. Important deal in the making. Looking around for telephone, man. And here is án electric extension cord, man, which will serve perfectly as a belt to hold up my falling-down Horse Badorties pants, simply by running the cord through the belt loops and plugging it together.

Locking through the shambles wreckage busted chair old sar­dine can with a roach in it, empty pina-colada bottle, gummy some­thing on the wall, broken egg on the floor, sonic kind of coffee grounds sprinkled around. What’s this under here, man?

It’s the sink, man. I have found the sink. Wait a second, man. . .it is not the sink but my Horse Badorties easy chair piled with dirty dishes. I must sit down here and rest, man, I’m so tired from getting out of bed. Throw dishes onto the floor, crash break shatter. Sink down into the damp cushions, some kind of fungus on the armrest, possibility of smoking it.

I’m in my little Horse Badorties pad, man, looking around. It’s the nicest pad lever had, man, and I’m getting another one just like it down the hall. Two pads, man. The rent will be high but it’s not so bad if you don’t pay it. And with two pads, man, I will have room to rehearse the Love Chorus, man, and we will sing our holy music and record it on my battery-powered portable falling-apart Japanese tape recorder with the corroded worn-out batteries, man. How wonder­ful, man.

Sitting in chair, staring at wall, where paint is peeling off and jelly is dripping and hundreds of telephone numbers are written. I must make a telephone call immediately, man, that is a MUST.

Sitting in chair, staring at wall. Unable to move, man, feeling the dark heavy curtain of impassable numbness settling on me, man.

Falling back to sleep, head nodding down to chest, arm falling offside of chair. I’ve found the phone, man. It was right beside me all the time, man, and I am holding it up, man, and there is margarine in the dial holes. This, man, is definitely my telephone.

". . . hello?. . .hello, man, this is Horse Badorties . . . right, man, I'm putting together a little deal, man. Acapulco artichoke hearts, man, lovely stuff. , . came across the Colorado River on a raft, man, it’s a. little damp, but other than that. . .can you hold on a second, man, I think I hear somebody trying to break through the win­dow. . . .’’

I cannot speak a moment longer, man, without something to eat. I am weak from hunger, man, and must hunt for my refrigerator through sucked oranges, dead wood, old iron, scum-peel.Here it is, man, with the garbage table wedged against it. Tip the table, man, Horse Badorties is starving.

Some kind of mysterious vegetable, man, is sitting in the refrig­erator, shriveled, filthy, covered with fungus, a rotten something, man, and it is my breakfast.

Rather than eat it, man, I will return to my bed of pain. I will go back to my bed, man, if I can locate my bed. It’s through this door and back in here somewhere, man. I must get some more sleep, I real­ize that now. I cannot function, cannot move forward, man, until I have retreated into sleep.

Crawling, man, over the bureau drawers which are bursting with old rags and my used-sock collection, and slipping down, man, catching a piece of the bed, man, where I can relax upon a pile of books old pail some rocks floating around. Slipping onto my yellow smeared still mortified ripped wax-paper scummy sheets, man. And the last thing I do, man, before I sleep, is turn on my battery-powered hand-held Japanese fan. The humming note it makes, man, the sweet and constant melodic droning lulls me to sleep, man, where I will dream symphonies, man, and wake up with a stiff neck.

Horse Badorties waking up again, man. Man, what planet am I on? I seem to be contained in some weird primeval grease. Wait a second, man, this is my Horse Badorties pillowcase. I am alive and well in y own Horse Badorties abominable life.

Time get up. to get out. Get up, man, you’ve got to get up and go out in the day and bring fifteen-year-old chicks into your life.

I’m moving my Horse Badorties feet, man, getting my stuff to­gether, collecting the various precious contents of my pad, man, which I must take along with me. I have the Japanese fan in my hand, man, and I am marching forward through my rubbish-heap. Cooling myself, man, on a hot summer morning or afternoon, one of the two.

Over to the window, man, which looks far out over the rooftops to a distant tower, where the rime is showing four o’clock. in the af­ternoon. Late, man. I’ve got to get out of the pad or I will circle around in it again, uncovering lost treasures and I will get hung up and stuck here all day.

Here is my satchel, man. Now I must stuff it with essential items for survival on the street: sheet music, fan, alarm clock, tape recorder. The only final and further object which must be packed in my sur­vival satchel is the Korean ear-flap cap in case I happen to hear Puerto Rican music along the way.

There are countless thousands of other things in these rooms, man, I should take along with me, in case of emergency, and since it is summertime, I must take my overcoat. I have a powerful intuition it will come in handy.

Many other things, man, would I like to jam in my satchel, All of it, man, I want to take it all with me, and that is why I must, after getting a last drink of water, get out of here.

Roaches scurrying over the gigantic pile of caked and stuck-together greasy dishes in my Horse Badorties sink. The water is not yet cold enough.I’m going to let the water run here, man, for a sec­ond, while it gets cold. Don’t let me forget to turn it off.

I’ve got everything I need, man. Everything I could possibly want for a few hours on the street is already in my satchel. If it gets much heavier, man, I won’t be able to carry it.

“I’m turning on the tape-recorder, man, to record the sound of the door closing as I go out of my pad. It is the sound of liberation, man, from my compulsion to delay over and over again my departure. . .wait just a second. man, I forgot to make sure if’ there’s one last thing I wanted to take."

Back into pad-once more, man. Did I forget to do anything, take anything? There is just one thing and that is to change my shoes, man, removing these plastic Japanese shoes which kill my feet, because here, man, is a Chinese gum rubber canvas shoe for easy Horse Badorties walking. Where is the other one, man? Here it is, man, with some kind of soggy wet beans, man, sprouting inside it. I can’t disturb nature’s harmony, man, I’ll have to wear two different shoes, man, one yellow plastic Japanese, the other red canvas Chinese, and my walking, man, will be hopelessly unbalanced. I’d better not go out at all, man.

Look, man, you have to go out. Once you go outside, man, you can always buy a fresh pair of Lower East Side Ukrainian cardboard bedroom slippers. Let’s go, man, out the door, everything is cool.

Out the door again, man, and down the steps, down the steps, down. . .one . .. two . . . three flights of stairs....

Jesus, man, 1 forgot my walkie-talkies. I’ve gone down three flights of steps, man. And I am turning around and going back up them again.

I am climbing back up the stairs because, though I am tired and falling apart, I cannot be without my walkie-talkies, man. Common sense, man.

“It is miraculous, man. I am making a special tape-recorded announcement of this miracle, man, so that I will never forget this mo­ment of superb unconscious intuition. Ostensibly, man, I returned for my walkie-talkies, but actually it was my unconscious mind luring me back, man, because I left the door to my pad wide open. Anyone might have stepped in and carried away the valuable precious con­tents of my pad. man. And so I am, back in the scrap heap, man, the wretched tumbled-down strewn-about everything of my pad, man, and I am seeing a further miracle, man. It is the miracle of the water in the sink, man, which I left running. Man, do you realize that if I had not returned here for my walkie-talkies, I would have flooded the pad, creating tidal waves among my roaches, and also on the roaches who live downstairs with the twenty-six Puerto Rican chickens? A catastrophe has been averted, man. And what is more, now the water is almost cold, man. It just needs to run a few more minutes, man,and I can have my drink of water."

But first. man. I see that I forgot to take my moon-lute, man, hanging here inside the stove. The moon-lute, man, the weirdest instrument on earth, man. Looks like a Chinese frying pan, man, and I am the only one in the Occidental world who would dare to play it, man, as it sounds like a Chinaman falling down a flight of stairs. Which reminds me, man, I’d better get out of this pad, man, and down the stairs. I’m going. man, I’m on the way, out of the door. I am closing up the pad, man, without further notice.

No, man, on second thought, I am not closing up my pad.I am returning to it once again for the last time, man, to make a single telephone call to my junkman, man, who is going to sell me a perfectly good used diving hell with a crack in it, man. It will only take the smallest part of a moment, man, for me to handle this important piece of business.

My telephone, man, how wonderful to get back to my telephone again, linking myself once more to the outer world.

“Hello, man . . . there’s a shipment of organic carrots on the way, man, are you interested in a few bunches. . . .”

“Hello, man, will you get out your I Ching, man, and look up this hexagram I just, threw, number 51, nine in the fourth place, what is it ... shock is mired? Right, man. I’m hip, I lost my school bus in a swamp...."

“Hello, baby, this is Horse Badorties ... sing this note for me will you, baby, I need to have my tympanic cavity blown out:  Boooooooooooooooooooop!"

"Hello, Mother, this is Horse. Did I, by any chance, on my last visit, leave a small container of vitamin C tablets, little white tablets in an unmarked bottle . . . yes, I did? Good, I’ll be up to get them soon, man, but don’t under any circumstances take one of them.”

“Hello, man, Horse Badorties here. . .listen, man. I’m sorry I didn’t get over to your pad with the Swiss chard, man, but I was un­avoidably derailed for three days, man. I was walking along, man, and I saw these kids, man; in the street, playing with a dead rat, man. I had to go back to my pad to get a shovel and bury it, man. You understand, man, kids must not be imprinted with such things. Look, man, I’ll be over soon, I’ll be there at... hold on a second, man, just a second. . . ."

“Hello, man ... this is Horse Badorties. I’ve got a deal cooking, man . . Stop shouting, man . . . right, man, now I remember I already have your bread, that is, man, I had your bread until today, man, when a strange thing happened, man, which you will find hard to believe. . . don’t go away, man, I’ll call you back in five minutes.”

". . .hello?. . . hello, man, Horse Badorties here, man. Man, I’m sorry I didn’t get over to you with the tomato surprise, man, but dig, a very strange thing happened, man. I was walking in Van Cortlandt Park, man, and suddenly I saw this airplane overhead, man, running out of gas. The cat was circling low, man, looking for a place to land. I had to guide him in, man, for a forced landing, man, and it took quite a long time, which is why I’ll be late getting to your pad, man...."

". . .hello, man, listen, man, I’ve been having fantastically pre­cognitive dreams lately, man, I am digging the future every night. acid last night I had a definite signal, man, that the flying saucers are about to land. That’s right; man, I wouldn’t kid you, and dig, man, I am getting everyone I know to come up to the roof of my pad, man, to watch the saucers land, as there is a possibility I’ll be carried away, man, into the sky and taken to another planet . . ."

Tired, man, I am getting so tired telephoning. I will just close my eyes for a brief nap, man. I have trained myself through the years, man, to close my eyes and sleep for exactly ten minutes, man, no more no less, and wake up perfectly refreshed.

It is morning, Horse Badorties, what a wonderful sunshining morning, wait a second, man, it is afternoon, I overslept. I must hurry, man, Horse Badorties must go out!

No, no, it’s dorky day again!

"Dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

(Dorky day again, man, and I am stumbling around my pad, repeating over and over):

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

(Constant repetition of the word dorky cleans out my consciousness, man, gets rid of all the rubble and cobwebs piled tip there. It is absolutely necessary for me to do this once a month and today is dorky day):

"...dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

(There is a knock at the door, man, go answer it.)

"...dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky . . ."

(It is a knapsack blonde chick, man! I wave her in but I cannot stop my dorky now.)

". . . dorky dorky dorky dorky ddrky dorky dorky dorky . . ."

“1 got a VD shot."

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“I tried hitchhiking out through the Lincoln Tunnel and the cops stopped me."

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dcrky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“I figured maybe I should stay in the city a while longer. I thought it must be a sign.”

".. dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky.dorky dorky. . ."

"What’s going on, man, what’s all this dorky?"

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. dorky dorky. . ."

“I brought some breakfast. . .some bread and jelly.”

"...dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

"Christ, man, knock it off, will you?”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky.dorky . . ."

“You’re driving me up the wall, man.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

(Another knock at the. door, man. It always happens on dorky day. It is a saxophone player, man.)

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky ..."

“How’s it going, Horse?”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky.dorky dorky. . ."

“What’s up with Horse, baby?”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“I don't know. He was like this when I. got here.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“Hey, Horse, what’s all this dorky, man?”

“ ... dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“I have some bread and jelly in my knapsack. Do you want some?”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky.dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“What is it, raspberry?”

“... dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“Strawberry.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“Hey, Horse, man, knock it off, man, and we’ll play some music.”

“. . . dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“He won’t answer you.  I know he won’t answer you.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“I think maybe he’s composin’ some kind of song, baby.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“I thought I might stay here for a while, but I can’t stay here, not with all this dorky.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

"Dig, baby, you can stay with me if you want. My pad’s just around the corner.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

"Can we go there tight now? I can’t take any more of this dorky.”

". . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“Sure, baby, let’s go.”

" . . . dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorkyt dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“Do you think . .. he’ll be all right?”

" . . . dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

“Yeah, he just has to work it on out. Come on, baby, let’s go. So long, man, take it easy with your dorky.”

“. . .dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky dorky. . ."

Dorky day, man, has changed my life. I see that now. Because now that it is the day after dorky day, I have a clear picture of what I must do with my life, I must, man, and this is absolute necessity, Horse Badorties must go out!  The time, man, has come to get out of the pad.   Now, man, right now!

Okay, man, I am going straight out the door, without breakfast, without looking around, without further ado.  I will be in actual sun­light, man, walking along. Man, I must be straightening out my life, I must he shaping up, man.

Have I forgotten something?

Sunglasses, tape recorder, fan, umbrella, satchel, used tea bag, disgusting blobular something, my tire pump, man, and this medici­nal herb from the Himalayas. the leaves of which bloom only once in a thousand years and I have a shipment of it waiting for me in a sub­way tunnel, go Horse, go man, out into the real world.

Wait a second, man, I’ve got to smoke a few of these dandelion stalks to accelerate my brain waves. However, before I make that important step, I must use the stopped-up toilet, man, down which someone flushed a Turkish bath mat by mistake. How wonderful, man, to attend to vital bodily needs before anything else. I should be out buying a dogsled, man, but first I must rearrange my piles of completely disordered everything imaginable, so I can find the toilet. That is a must man.

And then I’ll go out.

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