can * nois * seur ( kan' us sur' ), n. one competent to render critical judgement on the qualities and merits of Cannabis.

Heads Up: On a recent recon to three dispensaries about San Francisco we came up with a nice surprise at Divinity Tree, 958 Geary Street. White Shark, a well-named offshoot of the popular Sativa, White Widow, is indeed a heavily snow-dusted, dark green bud. Nicely cured, it has a good burn which lifts you steadily to altitude, before settling into a comfortable flight that makes a smooth landing on a tropical island. At $50 the 1/8th it's a holiday vacation treat.

Divinity Tree is small, but has a mighty menu and offers reasonable prices and discounts.

Say Goodbye To Hollywood

i was on my second car in nine months and LA's cheap gloss had long since worn off. Granted the place looked great from a Bentley convertible but for young talent trying to find a door on which to knock, the landscape was pure Dali bad dream. Social work had come down to filling out and filing bureaucratic forms, and my friend Shelby decided to hit on me.
While flattered, i was something of a serial monogamist so i passed. This did not sit well with Shelby. However we remained civil and a month later she had hooked up with an affable Afro-American dude named Hogan who was more suited to Shelby's flamboyant Southern charm. Just about that time Barbara and i attended one of Manny's Sunday pool parties. He and his wife had just returned from Maui where they had vacationed with LA's Fire Commissioner and his wife. Both the ladies were wearing flowery muumuus and all were feeling no pain. Curious, i decided to give the Commish a rundown on the problems in the ghetto. It was drought season and to make my point about the level of desperation i asked, "what's to stop them from spilling some lighter fuel and lighting a match?" The Commish put down his drink, gave me a look of pure loathing and said, "why don't you take a vacation in Hawaii?" A year later Watts was in flames.

Happily, Robert Gilman and his wife Gail came to visit. It was great to see my homies and hook them up with my new pals, including Shelby and Hogan. i missed the quick, educated humor cultivated back East. All they cultivated in Southern California was easy credit. Robert told us that unlike LA, which had a large segment of narrow-eyed John Birchers, San Francisco was full of artists and hippies, and North Beach was the new Village. (In LA at that time, the Birchers, a militant right-wing group whose logo was a rifle target, were leaving anti-John Kennedy pamphlets everywhere.) Thus, when my second car, a canary yellow Dodge convertible, blew its transmission, i decided it was time to move on north, to San Francisco.

Next: The Ghosts of Kerouac and Ginsberg