Above are some pages from my FBI file, obtained under the Freedom of Information Act when I was at Rolling Stone in the '70s.
These pages concern my time with SunDance magazine. That we were being spied upon was not lost on us at the time -- thus my FOIA request for the proof.
What is most striking about these old files is how mundane the information was -- mostly just who came and went from our office on Fillmore Street.
***
It's 68 degrees in SF, 57 in Missoula. The workers hammer and buzz away next door, as that construction project seems endless. Otherwise this neighborhood is silent, between Burning man and holiday getaways, the streets seem empty. I've been watering my neighbors' many plants as they are traveling.
I'd hoped my daughter might visit but no luck. I guess she is caring for her new pet rats. I miss my boys. The Giants have won five straight. The Mud Lake Mafia has risen to sixth place. I had scrambled eggs for breakfast. It's garbage pickup tomorrow -- I've moved the blue recycling bin and the black garbage bin to the curb. But not the green compost bin -- it's not full enough.
If I had the energy I could easily fill it with the fallen apples strewn throughout my backyard. I think I'll watch baseball instead.
Life's mundane details -- just like back in 1971 when the FBi was watching. Who's watching now? The NSA? I could have cared less then and I could care less now. I'm just a harmless old man passing time as he pleases, or at least as it presents itself to me. I would prefer some company, perhaps a BBQ, some activity. Then again, working so hard at my age (ten hour days at least) is taking a toll, so it's probably best to have a quiet weekend alone.
Happy Holiday everyone, or rather anyone who might read these words. My audience is miniscule since I took this thing private. Mainly I write now just for myself.
-30-
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