I'd see the guerilla portion of the theater here and there at major demonstrations I happened to swirl within.  That's why I can tell you of the evolution of the soldier's mechanical arm, as the years of performances stretched out.

But .... first Sandy was gone, then (oh and in between I was kicked off the stairs and I was a nobody) then Ronnie, then Darryl .... well nobody was left really who was in the initial groove.  So I would follow Darryl's spin off the East Bay Sharks, his crankies, and his shows for Chinese people in parks at the edge of San Francisco Chinatown (when the doors of China were about to be pried apart).

All that darting around across the country to race ahead of Dow Chemical recruiters, that was Ronnie and Sandy, I felt.  And Peter was merely another horse in the harness pulling.

Although Peter did go to speak with Dalton Trumbo after word came up from Los Angeles that he was writing the script from the new English translation (1968), the script and movie were based on Dalton's imagination, a fictional portion, as it turned out, something that had never happened, and so not mentioned in the book ... he took artistic liberty with that, probably because the real story was so difficult to wrap your head around) ... I mean, I'd already read that excerpt and had discussed it with my friends, and I was already wearing my French prisoner's denim shirt everywhere I went in Berkeley at the time .. and even to performances of the Mime Troupe, because it just seemed suitable somehow.  I didn't have time to go off on these events because I was studying at the university, which was very important to me, and I needed to save my juice for that.  That plus working any and all odd jobs to get by ... usually manual labor, like weeding and raking, cleaning and painting places, trimming rose bushes (very badly I might add).  Not too many of those jobs were for actual homeowners who lived in their homes, but rather landlords (who seemed exceptionally wealthy to me, to buy Berkeley properties on investment to rent to students and so make even more money).  In 1968, I maintained an interest in community activities, and walked in to the Berkeley Co-op on University to see if I could lend a hand on the board, and at the board meeting I was the only person who'd showed up!  They were all busy elsewhere.  And I realize now, I could have effectively taken that place over, but all I wanted was a j-o-b.