Album: Sunshine SupermanAvg rating:
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Many sights to see
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
That it's strange
So strange
You got to pick up every stitch
You got to pick up every stitch
You got to pick up every stitch
Mmmm, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
When I look over my shoulder
What do you think I see?
Some other cat lookin' over
His shoulder at me
And he's strange
Sure is strange
You got to pick up every stitch
You got to pick up every stitch, yeah
Beatniks are out to make it rich
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
You got to pick up every stitch
Two rabbits runnin' in the ditch
Beatniks out to make it rich
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch
When I go
When I look out my window
What do you think I see?
And when I look in my window
So many different people to be
It's strange
Sure is strange
You got to pick up every stitch
You got to pick up every stitch
Two rabbits runnin' in the ditch
Oh no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
When I go
When I go
For me, this song will always take me back to a New Year's Eve 1983-84 Boulder House Party that me and Kevin and Kurt and Jeff threw; some people we worked with and a bunch of people who knew people who knew people showed up and Ace grabbed the big mirror from the wall in the hallway and took it downstairs and laid it on the Ping-Pong table and started putting lines on it and someone brought in two cases of booze and I started mixing up blenders and pitchers of drinks that were color-coded; pink was rum-based, yellow was whiskey, green was vodka...the kitchen looked like a Picasso in progress...We were all baked on some very potent sinsemilla skunk, and Kevin and I were already shrooming pretty good, and Season of the Witch was on the turntable downstairs and everyone could hear it, even the next door neighbors; then Ace came and persuaded us to go and look into the mirror and things were pretty groovy and UP there for a bit and then Kevin convinced me that maybe we should eat another shroom or two so we did, and SOMEONE PUT THAT SONG ON AGAIN, and then Syd, my Siamese cat, looked me in the eye, took me into my room and made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that this time I had really gone too far; there was maybe no coming down at all this time, and I admit, I was beginning to think that he was right, and I felt almost about to call my mom or something — you know how shrooms can be at the peak of the scary rushy sneak right up and unravel your mind kinda thing they do — and then it sounded like there was an incredible car crash somewhere outside; some terrible thud and skid and wildly racing engine and then — nothing, and not long after, there were gunshots, and they seemed to be right outside — HOLY SHIT! and when I looked out the window there were flashing red lights and cops running around — HOLY SHIT! and a knock on the door called me to be The Dad and certainly no one else wanted to and everyone ran downstairs so I opened it and this guy I had once worked with and who I hadn't seen in a year said he'd totaled his truck against a huge 6-point buck and was asking me if he could use my phone to call a tow truck and I said, "Hey man, we're having a party, come on in," and then the two cops who'd shot the dang thing came over and I was TOTALLY DOWN, you know — the adrenaline was presently keeping everything totally at bay — and so I was talking with them and they said a crew would be along soon to pick up the road kill and I was like, Whoah, what do they DO with it? and they said it goes to prisons, schools, hospitals and such, and I said, Whoah, and then I noticed that elements of The Trip were bleeding back into my bloodstream and synapses, and Season of the Witch was blasting away on Jeff's massive stereo and the cops never said a word about it; it seemed perfectly apropos and as Natural as could be, and then I stared and saw the blood-stains begin to undulate upon the snow, and the sad glassy eyes of the huge deer in the yard were going cloudy and dull, and wow, the crumpled bloody metal and shattered glass of the dented and totaled truck seemed to be screaming and groaning something at me, and the flashing red lights of the cop car were bathing it all in the most disturbing Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tones and I was thinking again that I was in all probability actually about to really freaking lose it, for sure! but just then a squawk comes over the radio of the cop car and they go running over and sit and squawk back for a minute or two and then come running back and say there was an accident up on The Hill so they have to go but the road kill people would be along shortly and they jumped in their car and took off as fast as the snow and ice allowed and then this guy, who said he was Alan Fogelberg — cousin to Dan, the famous singer, he said — who was wearing a hippie-cowboy hat and a buck knife said, "Hell, let's tree it, bleed it, skin it, 'n' cut it up into bite-sized pieces!" and I said, "Let's get some help," so we went downstairs and told everyone they could come out of hiding and it took quite a team of us to drag that beast around to the apple tree in the backyard, but we did it, and, feeling impervious to the cold, I dug out and put on the scrubs I’d worn for the previous Halloween Mall Crawl, grabbed my best Henckels Chef's Knife, and joined Alan out back and when all was said and done one leg was jelly so we tossed it but the rest became steaks, kabobs, and stews for weeks, and I tanned the skin with rock salt and kept the antlers and put them on the Native American Wall by the fireplace of every place I lived in after that until I moved to Japan in summer of '88 and that was when I tried to give them to Kevin but he didn't want them because by then he was getting divorced from the gal he met THAT NIGHT AT THAT PARTY and married and made a baby with, and to this day whenever I hear this infinitely trippy song from The Original Sunshine Superman, who I saw at the Rainbow Theater a year after his song framed my party, my mind goes back in all directions to that wild and crazy night...
…! … ! …! oh the heady days of Kevin, Kurt, Jeff and indefatigable Colorado John! ts eliot got no thing on u, cj. “-)
How'd that go?
For me, this song will always take me back to a New Year's Eve 1983-84 Boulder House Party that me and Kevin and Kurt and Jeff threw; some people we worked with and a bunch of people who knew people who knew people showed up and Ace grabbed the big mirror from the wall in the hallway and took it downstairs and laid it on the Ping-Pong table and started putting lines on it and someone brought in two cases of booze and I started mixing up blenders and pitchers of drinks that were color-coded; pink was rum-based, yellow was whiskey, green was vodka...the kitchen looked like a Picasso in progress...We were all baked on some very potent sinsemilla skunk, and Kevin and I were already shrooming pretty good, and Season of the Witch was on the turntable downstairs and everyone could hear it, even the next door neighbors; then Ace came and persuaded us to go and look into the mirror and things were pretty groovy and UP there for a bit and then Kevin convinced me that maybe we should eat another shroom or two so we did, and SOMEONE PUT THAT SONG ON AGAIN, and then Syd, my Siamese cat, looked me in the eye, took me into my room and made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that this time I had really gone too far; there was maybe no coming down at all this time, and I admit, I was beginning to think that he was right, and I felt almost about to call my mom or something — you know how shrooms can be at the peak of the scary rushy sneak right up and unravel your mind kinda thing they do — and then it sounded like there was an incredible car crash somewhere outside; some terrible thud and skid and wildly racing engine and then — nothing, and not long after, there were gunshots, and they seemed to be right outside — HOLY SHIT! and when I looked out the window there were flashing red lights and cops running around — HOLY SHIT! and a knock on the door called me to be The Dad and certainly no one else wanted to and everyone ran downstairs so I opened it and this guy I had once worked with and who I hadn't seen in a year said he'd totaled his truck against a huge 6-point buck and was asking me if he could use my phone to call a tow truck and I said, "Hey man, we're having a party, come on in," and then the two cops who'd shot the dang thing came over and I was TOTALLY DOWN, you know — the adrenaline was presently keeping everything totally at bay — and so I was talking with them and they said a crew would be along soon to pick up the road kill and I was like, Whoah, what do they DO with it? and they said it goes to prisons, schools, hospitals and such, and I said, Whoah, and then I noticed that elements of The Trip were bleeding back into my bloodstream and synapses, and Season of the Witch was blasting away on Jeff's massive stereo and the cops never said a word about it; it seemed perfectly apropos and as Natural as could be, and then I stared and saw the blood-stains begin to undulate upon the snow, and the sad glassy eyes of the huge deer in the yard were going cloudy and dull, and wow, the crumpled bloody metal and shattered glass of the dented and totaled truck seemed to be screaming and groaning something at me, and the flashing red lights of the cop car were bathing it all in the most disturbing Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tones and I was thinking again that I was in all probability actually about to really freaking lose it, for sure! but just then a squawk comes over the radio of the cop car and they go running over and sit and squawk back for a minute or two and then come running back and say there was an accident up on The Hill so they have to go but the road kill people would be along shortly and they jumped in their car and took off as fast as the snow and ice allowed and then this guy, who said he was Alan Fogelberg — cousin to Dan, the famous singer, he said — who was wearing a hippie-cowboy hat and a buck knife said, "Hell, let's tree it, bleed it, skin it, 'n' cut it up into bite-sized pieces!" and I said, "Let's get some help," so we went downstairs and told everyone they could come out of hiding and it took quite a team of us to drag that beast around to the apple tree in the backyard, but we did it, and, feeling impervious to the cold, I dug out and put on the scrubs I’d worn for the previous Halloween Mall Crawl, grabbed my best Henckels Chef's Knife, and joined Alan out back and when all was said and done one leg was jelly so we tossed it but the rest became steaks, kabobs, and stews for weeks, and I tanned the skin with rock salt and kept the antlers and put them on the Native American Wall by the fireplace of every place I lived in after that until I moved to Japan in summer of '88 and that was when I tried to give them to Kevin but he didn't want them because by then he was getting divorced from the gal he met THAT NIGHT AT THAT PARTY and married and made a baby with, and to this day whenever I hear this infinitely trippy song from The Original Sunshine Superman, who I saw at the Rainbow Theater a year after his song framed my party, my mind goes back in all directions to that wild and crazy night...
Whenever this track comes on I always look for this comment and smile to myself all over again. Brilliant story and possibly the longest sentence in the history of sentences
How'd that go?
For me, this song will always take me back to a New Year's Eve 1983-84 Boulder House Party that me and Kevin and Kurt and Jeff threw; some people we worked with and a bunch of people who knew people who knew people showed up and Ace grabbed the big mirror from the wall in the hallway and took it downstairs and laid it on the Ping-Pong table and started putting lines on it and someone brought in two cases of booze and I started mixing up blenders and pitchers of drinks that were color-coded; pink was rum-based, yellow was whiskey, green was vodka...the kitchen looked like a Picasso in progress...We were all baked on some very potent sinsemilla skunk, and Kevin and I were already shrooming pretty good, and Season of the Witch was on the turntable downstairs and everyone could hear it, even the next door neighbors; then Ace came and persuaded us to go and look into the mirror and things were pretty groovy and UP there for a bit and then Kevin convinced me that maybe we should eat another shroom or two so we did, and SOMEONE PUT THAT SONG ON AGAIN, and then Syd, my Siamese cat, looked me in the eye, took me into my room and made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that this time I had really gone too far; there was maybe no coming down at all this time, and I admit, I was beginning to think that he was right, and I felt almost about to call my mom or something — you know how shrooms can be at the peak of the scary rushy sneak right up and unravel your mind kinda thing they do — and then it sounded like there was an incredible car crash somewhere outside; some terrible thud and skid and wildly racing engine and then — nothing, and not long after, there were gunshots, and they seemed to be right outside — HOLY SHIT! and when I looked out the window there were flashing red lights and cops running around — HOLY SHIT! and a knock on the door called me to be The Dad and certainly no one else wanted to and everyone ran downstairs so I opened it and this guy I had once worked with and who I hadn't seen in a year said he'd totaled his truck against a huge 6-point buck and was asking me if he could use my phone to call a tow truck and I said, "Hey man, we're having a party, come on in," and then the two cops who'd shot the dang thing came over and I was TOTALLY DOWN, you know — the adrenaline was presently keeping everything totally at bay — and so I was talking with them and they said a crew would be along soon to pick up the road kill and I was like, Whoah, what do they DO with it? and they said it goes to prisons, schools, hospitals and such, and I said, Whoah, and then I noticed that elements of The Trip were bleeding back into my bloodstream and synapses, and Season of the Witch was blasting away on Jeff's massive stereo and the cops never said a word about it; it seemed perfectly apropos and as Natural as could be, and then I stared and saw the blood-stains begin to undulate upon the snow, and the sad glassy eyes of the huge deer in the yard were going cloudy and dull, and wow, the crumpled bloody metal and shattered glass of the dented and totaled truck seemed to be screaming and groaning something at me, and the flashing red lights of the cop car were bathing it all in the most disturbing Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tones and I was thinking again that I was in all probability actually about to really freaking lose it, for sure! but just then a squawk comes over the radio of the cop car and they go running over and sit and squawk back for a minute or two and then come running back and say there was an accident up on The Hill so they have to go but the road kill people would be along shortly and they jumped in their car and took off as fast as the snow and ice allowed and then this guy, who said he was Alan Fogelberg — cousin to Dan, the famous singer, he said — who was wearing a hippie-cowboy hat and a buck knife said, "Hell, let's tree it, bleed it, skin it, 'n' cut it up into bite-sized pieces!" and I said, "Let's get some help," so we went downstairs and told everyone they could come out of hiding and it took quite a team of us to drag that beast around to the apple tree in the backyard, but we did it, and, feeling impervious to the cold, I dug out and put on the scrubs I’d worn for the previous Halloween Mall Crawl, grabbed my best Henckels Chef's Knife, and joined Alan out back and when all was said and done one leg was jelly so we tossed it but the rest became steaks, kabobs, and stews for weeks, and I tanned the skin with rock salt and kept the antlers and put them on the Native American Wall by the fireplace of every place I lived in after that until I moved to Japan in summer of '88 and that was when I tried to give them to Kevin but he didn't want them because by then he was getting divorced from the gal he met THAT NIGHT AT THAT PARTY and married and made a baby with, and to this day whenever I hear this infinitely trippy song from The Original Sunshine Superman, who I saw at the Rainbow Theater a year after his song framed my party, my mind goes back in all directions to that wild and crazy night...
I loved your whole wonderful story and how beautifully you wrote it until the moment when you all decided to hang the buck, cut it apart, cook it and eat it! I became a vegan once I dropped acid and took shrooms, as they made me realize that there is no difference between killing and eating a dear, cow, sheep, dog, cat, giraffe, horse, or your mother-in-law! It is all so barbaric and sick in my view. We are all animals and deserve to live a full life, except of course small annoying insects like mosquitos and flies. That is where I draw the line, but they are a far far cry from cutting open another sentient being with legs and eyes and a face and a heart! The story would have been much cooler if you finished by saying that everyone in the party became vegans/vegetarians at the same time!
The one thing left unanswered about this song is whether or not I need to pick up every stitch. I really wish this matter had been addressed in the lyrics.
It is a bit vague on the whole stitch picking up issue. A slight clue would be good.
Have always loved the way he says those first 6 words, "When. I. Look. Out. My. Window". Something so British Empire about it (for a kid from Glasgow). Not sure what I mean, but, yeah. He probably would have been considered more like Dylan if he didn't look like Micky Dolenz, lol.
me too!
a lot
10/10, am worried I am tripping after reading that
Supersession - 1968... Season of the Witch was without Bloomfield, was with Stills.
QuestionMark wrote:When did Kooper, Bloomfield, Stills release this?
That version deserves to be played here. The whole album is outstanding. Yes, Bloomfield could did not make the second session and Al Kooper only had that day for the session. He called in Steven Stills and the second side was recorded.
For me, this song will always take me back to a New Year's Eve 1983-84 Boulder House Party that me and Kevin and Kurt and Jeff threw; some people we worked with and a bunch of people who knew people who knew people showed up and Ace grabbed the big mirror from the wall in the hallway and took it downstairs and laid it on the Ping-Pong table and started putting lines on it and someone brought in two cases of booze and I started mixing up blenders and pitchers of drinks that were color-coded; pink was rum-based, yellow was whiskey, green was vodka...the kitchen looked like a Picasso in progress...We were all baked on some very potent sinsemilla skunk, and Kevin and I were already shrooming pretty good, and Season of the Witch was on the turntable downstairs and everyone could hear it, even the next door neighbors, then Ace came and persuaded us to go and look into the mirror and things were pretty groovy and UP there for a bit and then Kevin convinced me that maybe we should eat another shroom or two so we did, and SOMEONE PUT THAT SONG ON AGAIN, and then Syd, my Siamese cat, looked me in the eye, took me into my room and made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that this time I had really gone too far; there was maybe no coming down at all this time, and I admit, I was beginning to think that he was right, and I felt almost about to call my mom or something — you know how shrooms can be at the peak of the scary rushy sneak right up and unravel your mind kinda thing they do — and then it sounded like there was an incredible car crash somewhere outside; some terrible thud and skid and wildly racing engine and then — nothing, and not long after, there were gunshots, and they seemed to be right outside — HOLY SHIT! and when I looked out the window there were flashing red lights and cops running around — HOLY SHIT! and a knock on the door called me to be The Dad and certainly no one else wanted to and everyone ran downstairs so I opened it and this guy I had once worked with and who I hadn't seen in a year said he'd totaled his truck against a huge 6-point buck and was asking me if he could use my phone to call a tow truck and I said, "Hey man, we're having a party, come on in," and then the two cops who'd shot the dang thing came over and I was TOTALLY DOWN, you know — the adrenaline was presently keeping everything totally at bay — and so I was talking with them and they said a crew would be along soon to pick up the road kill and I was like, Whoah, what do they DO with it? and they said it goes to prisons, schools, hospitals and such, and I said, Whoah, and then I noticed that elements of The Trip were bleeding back into my bloodstream and synapses, and Season of the Witch was blasting away on Jeff's massive stereo and the cops never said a word about it; it seemed perfectly apropos and as Natural as could be, and then I stared and saw the blood-stains begin to undulate upon the snow, and the sad glassy eyes of the huge deer in the yard were going cloudy and dull, and wow, the crumpled bloody metal and shattered glass of the dented and totaled truck seemed to be screaming and groaning something at me, and the flashing red lights of the cop car were bathing it all in the most disturbing Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tones and I was thinking again that I was in all probability actually about to really freaking lose it, for sure! but just then a squawk comes over the radio of the cop car and they go running over and sit and squawk back for a minute or two and then come running back and say there was an accident up on The Hill so they have to go but the road kill people would be along shortly and they jumped in their car and took off as fast as the snow and ice allowed and then this guy, who said he was Alan Fogelberg — cousin to Dan, the famous singer, he said — who was wearing a hippie-cowboy hat and a buck knife said, "Hell, let's tree it, bleed it, skin it, 'n' cut it up into bite-sized pieces!" and I said, "Let's get some help," so we went downstairs and told everyone they could come out of hiding and it took quite a team of us to drag that beast around to the apple tree in the backyard, but we did it, and, feeling impervious to the cold, I dug out and put on the scrubs I’d worn for the previous Halloween Mall Crawl, grabbed my best Henckels Chef's Knife, and joined Alan out back and when all was said and done one leg was jelly so we tossed it but the rest became steaks, kabobs, and stews for weeks, and I tanned the skin with rock salt and kept the antlers and put them on the Native American Wall by the fireplace of every place I lived in after that until I moved to Japan in summer of '88 and that was when I tried to give them to Kevin but he didn't want them because by then he was getting divorced from the gal he met THAT NIGHT AT THAT PARTY and married and made a baby with, and to this day whenever I hear this infinitely trippy song from The Original Sunshine Superman, who I saw at the Rainbow Theater a year after his song framed my party, my mind goes back in all directions to that wild and crazy night...
Epic nights of youth.
Twenty minutes later I'm listen to this song and I don't think I'll watch TV.
melzabutch wrote:
For me, this song will always take me back to a New Year's Eve 1983-84 Boulder House Party that me and Kevin and Kurt and Jeff threw; some people we worked with and a bunch of people who knew people who knew people showed up and Ace grabbed the big mirror from the wall in the hallway and took it downstairs and laid it on the Ping-Pong table and started putting lines on it and someone brought in two cases of booze and I started mixing up blenders and pitchers of drinks that were color-coded; pink was rum-based, yellow was whiskey, green was vodka...the kitchen looked like a Picasso in progress...We were all baked on some very potent sinsemilla skunk, and Kevin and I were already shrooming pretty good, and Season of the Witch was on the turntable downstairs and everyone could hear it, even the next door neighbors, then Ace came and persuaded us to go and look into the mirror and things were pretty groovy and UP there for a bit and then Kevin convinced me that maybe we should eat another shroom or two so we did, and SOMEONE PUT THAT SONG ON AGAIN, and then Syd, my Siamese cat, looked me in the eye, took me into my room and made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that this time I had really gone too far; there was maybe no coming down at all this time, and I admit, I was beginning to think that he was right, and I felt almost about to call my mom or something — you know how shrooms can be at the peak of the scary rushy sneak right up and unravel your mind kinda thing they do — and then it sounded like there was an incredible car crash somewhere outside; some terrible thud and skid and wildly racing engine and then — nothing, and not long after, there were gunshots, and they seemed to be right outside — HOLY SHIT! and when I looked out the window there were flashing red lights and cops running around — HOLY SHIT! and a knock on the door called me to be The Dad and certainly no one else wanted to and everyone ran downstairs so I opened it and this guy I had once worked with and who I hadn't seen in a year said he'd totaled his truck against a huge 6-point buck and was asking me if he could use my phone to call a tow truck and I said, "Hey man, we're having a party, come on in," and then the two cops who'd shot the dang thing came over and I was TOTALLY DOWN, you know — the adrenaline was presently keeping everything totally at bay — and so I was talking with them and they said a crew would be along soon to pick up the road kill and I was like, Whoah, what do they DO with it? and they said it goes to prisons, schools, hospitals and such, and I said, Whoah, and then I noticed that elements of The Trip were bleeding back into my bloodstream and synapses, and Season of the Witch was blasting away on Jeff's massive stereo and the cops never said a word about it; it seemed perfectly apropos and as Natural as could be, and then I stared and saw the blood-stains begin to undulate upon the snow, and the sad glassy eyes of the huge deer in the yard were going cloudy and dull, and wow, the crumpled bloody metal and shattered glass of the dented and totaled truck seemed to be screaming and groaning something at me, and the flashing red lights of the cop car were bathing it all in the most disturbing Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tones and I was thinking again that I was in all probability actually about to really freaking lose it, for sure! but just then a squawk comes over the radio of the cop car and they go running over and sit and squawk back for a minute or two and then come running back and say there was an accident up on The Hill so they have to go but the road kill people would be along shortly and they jumped in their car and took off as fast as the snow and ice allowed and then this guy, who said he was Alan Fogelberg — cousin to Dan, the famous singer, he said — who was wearing a hippie-cowboy hat and a buck knife said, "Hell, let's tree it, bleed it, skin it, 'n' cut it up into bite-sized pieces!" and I said, "Let's get some help," so we went downstairs and told everyone they could come out of hiding and it took quite a team of us to drag that beast around to the apple tree in the backyard, but we did it, and, feeling impervious to the cold, I dug out and put on the scrubs I’d worn for the previous Halloween Mall Crawl, grabbed my best Henckels Chef's Knife, and joined Alan out back and when all was said and done one leg was jelly so we tossed it but the rest became steaks, kabobs, and stews for weeks, and I tanned the skin with rock salt and kept the antlers and put them on the Native American Wall by the fireplace of every place I lived in after that until I moved to Japan in summer of '88 and that was when I tried to give them to Kevin but he didn't want them because by then he was getting divorced from the gal he met THAT NIGHT AT THAT PARTY and married and made a baby with, and to this day whenever I hear this infinitely trippy song from The Original Sunshine Superman, who I saw at the Rainbow Theater a year after his song framed my party, my mind goes back in all directions to that wild and crazy night...
I think you might have have taken another trip to remember all those details. Thanks for the memories
Weren't CSN&Y highly inspired by this song? Not saying they ripped it, but Stills covered it, and Crosby's album If I could only remember my Name (which I really like) seams to me like an extended version of Season of the Witch all over.
They may have been influenced by it, but the chords in this song are a basic I - IV - V progression - far from unique.
"i'm sorry, what was that you said?" (a/k/a why I stopped doing acid after one bad long night and never purchased a Donovan album)
Was the the boulder house in Joshua Tree?
Or maybe the Alabama Hills?
For me, this song will always take me back to a New Year's Eve 1983-84 Boulder House Party that me and Kevin and Kurt and Jeff threw; some people we worked with and a bunch of people who knew people who knew people showed up and Ace grabbed the big mirror from the wall in the hallway and took it downstairs and laid it on the Ping-Pong table and started putting lines on it and someone brought in two cases of booze and I started mixing up blenders and pitchers of drinks that were color-coded; pink was rum-based, yellow was whiskey, green was vodka...the kitchen looked like a Picasso in progress...We were all baked on some very potent sinsemilla skunk, and Kevin and I were already shrooming pretty good, and Season of the Witch was on the turntable downstairs and everyone could hear it, even the next door neighbors, then Ace came and persuaded us to go and look into the mirror and things were pretty groovy and UP there for a bit and then Kevin convinced me that maybe we should eat another shroom or two so we did, and SOMEONE PUT THAT SONG ON AGAIN, and then Syd, my Siamese cat, looked me in the eye, took me into my room and made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that this time I had really gone too far; there was maybe no coming down at all this time, and I admit, I was beginning to think that he was right, and I felt almost about to call my mom or something — you know how shrooms can be at the peak of the scary rushy sneak right up and unravel your mind kinda thing they do — and then it sounded like there was an incredible car crash somewhere outside; some terrible thud and skid and wildly racing engine and then — nothing, and not long after, there were gunshots, and they seemed to be right outside — HOLY SHIT! and when I looked out the window there were flashing red lights and cops running around — HOLY SHIT! and a knock on the door called me to be The Dad and certainly no one else wanted to and everyone ran downstairs so I opened it and this guy I had once worked with and who I hadn't seen in a year said he'd totaled his truck against a huge 6-point buck and was asking me if he could use my phone to call a tow truck and I said, "Hey man, we're having a party, come on in," and then the two cops who'd shot the dang thing came over and I was TOTALLY DOWN, you know — the adrenaline was presently keeping everything totally at bay — and so I was talking with them and they said a crew would be along soon to pick up the road kill and I was like, Whoah, what do they DO with it? and they said it goes to prisons, schools, hospitals and such, and I said, Whoah, and then I noticed that elements of The Trip were bleeding back into my bloodstream and synapses, and Season of the Witch was blasting away on Jeff's massive stereo and the cops never said a word about it; it seemed perfectly apropos and as Natural as could be, and then I stared and saw the blood-stains begin to undulate upon the snow, and the sad glassy eyes of the huge deer in the yard were going cloudy and dull, and wow, the crumpled bloody metal and shattered glass of the dented and totaled truck seemed to be screaming and groaning something at me, and the flashing red lights of the cop car were bathing it all in the most disturbing Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tones and I was thinking again that I was in all probability actually about to really freaking lose it, for sure! but just then a squawk comes over the radio of the cop car and they go running over and sit and squawk back for a minute or two and then come running back and say there was an accident up on The Hill so they have to go but the road kill people would be along shortly and they jumped in their car and took off as fast as the snow and ice allowed and then this guy, who said he was Alan Fogelberg — cousin to Dan, the famous singer, he said — who was wearing a hippie-cowboy hat and a buck knife said, "Hell, let's tree it, bleed it, skin it, 'n' cut it up into bite-sized pieces!" and I said, "Let's get some help," so we went downstairs and told everyone they could come out of hiding and it took quite a team of us to drag that beast around to the apple tree in the backyard, but we did it, and, feeling impervious to the cold, I dug out and put on the scrubs I’d worn for the previous Halloween Mall Crawl, grabbed my best Henckels Chef's Knife, and joined Alan out back and when all was said and done one leg was jelly so we tossed it but the rest became steaks, kabobs, and stews for weeks, and I tanned the skin with rock salt and kept the antlers and put them on the Native American Wall by the fireplace of every place I lived in after that until I moved to Japan in summer of '88 and that was when I tried to give them to Kevin but he didn't want them because by then he was getting divorced from the gal he met THAT NIGHT AT THAT PARTY and married and made a baby with, and to this day whenever I hear this infinitely trippy song from The Original Sunshine Superman, who I saw at the Rainbow Theater a year after his song framed my party, my mind goes back in all directions to that wild and crazy night...
See original (very long) post.
Was the the boulder house in Joshua Tree?
Agreed. Colorado John’s post has to be nominated for the RP Song Comment Hall of Fame!
Good call!
After Donald the Russian Asset, Hilary looks like the better option - how's it going in the the racist sewer that is contemporary America?
BTW - love coloradojohn 
See original (very long) post.
Well THAT'S the best story I've read today! Bravo!
Art Nouveau really...The "DONOVAN" lettering across the top is right out of an
Alphonse Mucha style book...
Tony in NJ
W.A.S.T.E.
Yep, you're absolutely right. That's what I meant. Got confused there.
40 years ago? Another 3 years and it'll be 50 years out in the world!!!
53 now..still good.
It would seem, Colorado, that 31 some years after The Party, you were still a-trip on the same fungus when you wrote this. That's one of the greatest run-on sentences in the history of run-on tales.
Not really. She doesn't accelerate throughout the song. When compared with Donovan's it's a... it's a monotonic ... pose.
IMNSVHO
They do if they're drinkin' Mad Dog 20-20, Ripple, or any of the other "bum wines"...
Tony in NJ
W.A.S.T.E.
Google "Maynard G. Krebbs." That should do it for you.
"You rang?"
Tony in NJ
W.A.S.T.E.
Cool tune, wish I weren't working tomorrow and could take a leaf out of CoJo's book.
Art Nouveau really...The "DONOVAN" lettering across the top is right out of an
Alphonse Mucha style book...
Tony in NJ
W.A.S.T.E.
coloradojohn wrote:
Whoah, indeed! That's some stream-of-conciousness story! I've been to parties like that!
I was going to ask folks here if I'd remembered that scene-music combo right...That was perfect.
One of Donovan's very best...but yes the album cover pic is atrocious.
Weren't CSN&Y highly inspired by this song? Not saying they ripped it, but Stills covered it, and Crosby's album If I could only remember my Name (which I really like) seams to me like an extended version of Season of the Witch all over.
Great story...especially poignant to me as I sit in my office in Downtown Boulder listening away and reminiscing about good days gone by.
Oh gosh, no thank you.
Cool tune, wish I weren't working tomorrow and could take a leaf out of CoJo's book.
Edit, meant Nouveau and Nouveaudelic!
yes, you're right, me too
and me three!
Thank you coloradojohn, Hilarious. But aren't you glad that you stick to/stuck to stuff that adreline would over-ride?
Way back in the day, I used to impress myself and occasionally be of use to others 'cause I could keep it together for the police and other situations while everybody was trippin' hard.
Sounds like you handled the situation well. LOL!
BTW, was that road-kill deer a mule deer? Just curious.
By this stage of his career any comparisons were a long time gone. Donovan had moved on.
Can't believe I missed this. Bummer. Must be the season of the witch!
Good call!
Google "Maynard G. Krebbs." That should do it for you.
See original (very long) post.
Your story has bumped the song up to "8" from 7 for me. Can't wait to get back to CO!
For a minute there it sounded like a typical night starting out at the Hunter S. Thompson compound...
R.I.P. Gonzo!
I second that emotion!
Well... he certainly is better than you at it.
You need to get out more. Never heard of the Cabernet Sauvignon 'buzz'?
That aside, the really cool thing about alcohol is that it is the sexual assault and rape drug of choice. I am always impressed by how 'understanding' American women are.
(For the record, I have conversed with many, many American women victims of sexual assault.)
I enjoy a glass or two of wine in the evening, mostly for the pleasant effect it has on my mind, especially after an intense session with my computer. It feels almost like the kush of water on hot embers. I don't care much about the taste; I select the wine mainly for its cost (not the lowest, because that usually tastes downright awful, but not the expensive varieties either, because I can't justify spending a lot just for a better flavor).
Edit, July 10, 2015: A few days ago I was listening to the Youngbloods' "The wine song" (1967, the same year as this Donovan song), and I remembered this conversation. Of course, things have changed a bit since then, I must admit. Here are the lyrics, from LyricWikia (https://lyrics.wikia.com/The_Youngbloods:The_Wine_Song):
Some folks like whiskey, whiskey's mighty fine
Some folks like moonshine, Lord, they drink it all the time
My daddy taught me, he said, "Son, only way to keep your head in line
Drinkin' that wine wine, wine
Keep your head stoned all the time"
(That's what he said)
Look at them luscious little bottles, sittin' up on the shelf
Red green and yellow, Lord, they are somethin' else, hmmm
They mesmerize me, the way they sparkle and shine
Drinkin' that wine wine, wine
Keep your head stoned all the time
One snort of Ruby Port really ring the bell
Then a glass of Muscatel sets my head up well
Then this sweetest bottle of cheapest sherry wine
I say goodbye to my mind
While folks around me insist on startin' wars (baloney!)
Fightin' and a-hollerin', gettin' awful sore
Politics and business, I don't pay them no mind
Drinkin' that wine wine, wine
keep your, head stoned all the time
(Tell the truth)
One snort of Ruby Port really ring the bell
Then a glass of Muscatel sets my head up well
Then this sweetest bottle of cheapest sherry wine
I say goodbye to my mind
While folks around me insist on startin' wars
Fightin' and a-hollerin', gettin' awful sore
Politics and business, I don't pay them no mind
Drinkin' that wine wine, wine
Keep your head stoned all the time
(Spoken) Get out the bathtub, grandma, and take off your socks!
For me, this song will always take me back to a New Year's Eve 1983-84 Boulder House Party that me and Kevin and Kurt and Jeff threw; some people we worked with and a bunch of people who knew people who knew people showed up and Ace grabbed the big mirror from the wall in the hallway and took it downstairs and laid it on the Ping-Pong table and started putting lines on it and someone brought in two cases of booze and I started mixing up blenders and pitchers of drinks that were color-coded; pink was rum-based, yellow was whiskey, green was vodka...the kitchen looked like a Picasso in progress...We were all baked on some very potent sinsemilla skunk, and Kevin and I were already shrooming pretty good, and Season of the Witch was on the turntable downstairs and everyone could hear it, even the next door neighbors; then Ace came and persuaded us to go and look into the mirror and things were pretty groovy and UP there for a bit and then Kevin convinced me that maybe we should eat another shroom or two so we did, and SOMEONE PUT THAT SONG ON AGAIN, and then Syd, my Siamese cat, looked me in the eye, took me into my room and made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that this time I had really gone too far; there was maybe no coming down at all this time, and I admit, I was beginning to think that he was right, and I felt almost about to call my mom or something — you know how shrooms can be at the peak of the scary rushy sneak right up and unravel your mind kinda thing they do — and then it sounded like there was an incredible car crash somewhere outside; some terrible thud and skid and wildly racing engine and then — nothing, and not long after, there were gunshots, and they seemed to be right outside — HOLY SHIT! and when I looked out the window there were flashing red lights and cops running around — HOLY SHIT! and a knock on the door called me to be The Dad and certainly no one else wanted to and everyone ran downstairs so I opened it and this guy I had once worked with and who I hadn't seen in a year said he'd totaled his truck against a huge 6-point buck and was asking me if he could use my phone to call a tow truck and I said, "Hey man, we're having a party, come on in," and then the two cops who'd shot the dang thing came over and I was TOTALLY DOWN, you know — the adrenaline was presently keeping everything totally at bay — and so I was talking with them and they said a crew would be along soon to pick up the road kill and I was like, Whoah, what do they DO with it? and they said it goes to prisons, schools, hospitals and such, and I said, Whoah, and then I noticed that elements of The Trip were bleeding back into my bloodstream and synapses, and Season of the Witch was blasting away on Jeff's massive stereo and the cops never said a word about it; it seemed perfectly apropos and as Natural as could be, and then I stared and saw the blood-stains begin to undulate upon the snow, and the sad glassy eyes of the huge deer in the yard were going cloudy and dull, and wow, the crumpled bloody metal and shattered glass of the dented and totaled truck seemed to be screaming and groaning something at me, and the flashing red lights of the cop car were bathing it all in the most disturbing Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tones and I was thinking again that I was in all probability actually about to really freaking lose it, for sure! but just then a squawk comes over the radio of the cop car and they go running over and sit and squawk back for a minute or two and then come running back and say there was an accident up on The Hill so they have to go but the road kill people would be along shortly and they jumped in their car and took off as fast as the snow and ice allowed and then this guy, who said he was Alan Fogelberg — cousin to Dan, the famous singer, he said — who was wearing a hippie-cowboy hat and a buck knife said, "Hell, let's tree it, bleed it, skin it, 'n' cut it up into bite-sized pieces!" and I said, "Let's get some help," so we went downstairs and told everyone they could come out of hiding and it took quite a team of us to drag that beast around to the apple tree in the backyard, but we did it, and, feeling impervious to the cold, I dug out and put on the scrubs I’d worn for the previous Halloween Mall Crawl, grabbed my best Henckels Chef's Knife, and joined Alan out back and when all was said and done one leg was jelly so we tossed it but the rest became steaks, kabobs, and stews for weeks, and I tanned the skin with rock salt and kept the antlers and put them on the Native American Wall by the fireplace of every place I lived in after that until I moved to Japan in summer of '88 and that was when I tried to give them to Kevin but he didn't want them because by then he was getting divorced from the gal he met THAT NIGHT AT THAT PARTY and married and made a baby with, and to this day whenever I hear this infinitely trippy song from The Original Sunshine Superman, who I saw at the Rainbow Theater a year after his song framed my party, my mind goes back in all directions to that wild and crazy night...
Groooooooooooooooovvvvvvvy!
Groovy
um, whose balls?
That's why people who love wine/beer for the "taste" always choose non-alcoholic wine/beer.... to avoid that pesky high.
There are many different breeds of pot, that give different tastes or smells or effects. Legalizing pot is the smart way to go, hopefully it won't be long before the rest of the civilized country/world follows suit.
I was going to ask folks here if I'd remembered that scene-music combo right...That was perfect.
One of Donovan's very best...but yes the album cover pic is atrocious.
Ahhh....whata you want for "groovy" 60's. However, good classic Donovan!
That's why people who love wine/beer for the "taste" always choose non-alcoholic wine/beer.... to avoid that pesky high.
There are many different breeds of pot, that give different tastes or smells or effects. Legalizing pot is the smart way to go, hopefully it won't be long before the rest of the civilized country/world follows suit.
There are people who like the taste of good buds, and the smell too...
Right. And the two states where it's legal have their NFL teams playing in the Superbowl! Don't know what that means other than possibly many more football crazed cities and states jumping on the legalization of pot. :-)
