HOW I GOT INTO THIS BOOK WRITING MESS TO BEGIN WITH

It was a rainy August day in 1969 on Max Yasgur's farm just outside of Woodstock, New York. Good for the crops. You could tell. There were over 500,000 of them. Kids. Lots with long hair (including some of the girls). Some naked from the waist up (including some of the girls). Others cross-pollinating in nature's ultimate fertility cream--mud. Yeah, there was mud by the acre. This wasn't an event for industrial pollutants like Astroturf.  

No, the chemical additives were mostly in the kids. Cannabis, peyote, LSD, amphetamine, and a lot of elephant tranquillizer.

Then there was the greenery. Half the kids who'd swallowed pills were green. So was most of the cash. That was being handled by a friend of mine, Michael Lang, who was having it carted by the hay load to his bank back in New York. He'd decided to throw this little harvest. Musicians, hallucinations, and declarations of political rights for plants in bloom ("flower power"). I'm Bloom. But I wasn't there. Didn't need to be. I'd sewn the seeds seven years earlier. Long hair. Lysergic acid. Entering the vaginal canal of any willing girl in sight. But I hadn't done it on purpose. Honest. The whole thing was an accident.