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easy. He walks up the great mountain of trash one two three, man. Horse Badorties’ own backyard, that’s all this Mountain of Trash is, man. Simplest thing in the world to climb climbing up up up
    Horse Badorties dreaming: Old medieval village, tell by thatched-roof cottages. Horse Badorties goes into sunlit meadow where old-type people in capes weird gowns cloaks stand together, holding precious valuable sheet music, and Horse Badorties is conducting them. Making perfect chords, Maestro Badorties is at the center of the golden meadow light with golden birds flying up in the sky
    Dream Horse Badorties: Dreaming he is in a bathtub or toilet or some kind of water-basin. A dark figure above him, pushes a screen down over him, pushing him into the water. Where’s my fan, man. Horse Badorties will knock off all ugly mothers of imagination!
    Horse Badorties waking up. Horse Badorties in fucking bed of pain. I’m sleeping all night in a bed of rocks, man, some kind of plastic sword in my back. What time is it, man, what universe am I in?
    Horse Badorties waking up oh no not another day Horse Badorties, not another day of running around buying school bus, selling fans, going crazy. You don’t want another day. Go back to sleep in your junk pile, man, catch a few more
zzzzzz’s
. Snuggle back down into empty milk carton, valuable treasures, sink back down into. Remove wax from eardrums hear better, make small figures, start ear-wax museum. To sleep again Horse Badorties to sleep.
    Horse Badorties dream he walking along and a flying saucer man is coming after him.

Chapter 8
Horse Badorties’ Number Two Pad
    A knocking at the door, man, I have to get up and answer the door, man, stumbling falling across the room to the door.
    “Yes, who is it?”
    “Luke”
    “Right, come on in, man,” Luke, man, cat lives down the hall in the only other occupied pad on this floor. The other two pads are empty, man, and I am going to get them, soon and somehow.
    “I’m going to Japan, Horse.”
    “You are, man? That means, man, we can get fans directly from Tokyo and eliminate the middleman, man. We can work a fantastic import-export deal, man, and not make any money.”
    “I’m going to enter a Buddhist monastery, Horse. No more deals.”
    “These fans, man, are religious objects. Half the time they don’t work, man. Nirvana fans, man, perfectly motionless. Consider them on that basis and send me a hundred as soon as you get there, for distribution here among fifteen-year-old chicks.”
    “I don’t know where the landlord is, Horse. Will you give him the key to my apartment for me?”
    “Gladly, man. I would consider it a privilege to serve you in this way, seeing as you are entering the religious life.”
    “Thanks, Horse. Take care of yourself.”
    “Just answer me one question, man: That little bag you are carrying, no bigger than a gum-bag, in which only a toothbrush and safety razor could fit–is that all you are taking with you to Japan?”
    “That’s all, Horse.”
    “Incredible, man. I plan to go to Japan myself, next year, when I buy a 747 super-fortress flying boxcar, man, to take all my stuff with me, and bring fans back. I’ll see you then, man, I’ll see you in Japan next year, man, stay cool.”
    There goes Luke, man, down the steps for the last time, to a Buddhist monastery. He’s on the Path, man, and so am I, directly down the hallway to his pad, man. Opening the door, and going inside. How neat, man, just like a monk’s cell–bare, everything in place, only the essential objects. My new pad, man. All it needs is a few homey Horse Badorties touches. In fact, man, since the landlord has evicted me out of my Number One Pad, I will now move into this Number Two Pad. This is my lucky day, man, a brand-new pad. A new pad and a second-hand school bus, which reminds me, man, I must get out of my new pad AT ONCE and go to New Jersey, man.

Chapter 9
About a Spoonful
    Now, man, that I am outside my two-pads in