The words "Never trust a hippie!" were actually spoken by Malcolm McLaren, not Johnny Rotten (Lydon, now, to you), in that daft punk crockumentaryThe Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle. But what about anex-hippie—one whose self-published memoir of his years in the counterculture begins with his dropping acid for the first time in Chapel Hill the night before Bobby Kennedy was killed?
We didn't catch Robert Roskind's stage version of that work,Memoirs of an Ex-Hippie, when he presented it at The ArtsCenter in 1997. Since then, he's convened a series of cross-cultural gatherings of Jamaican, Central American and Native American elders, seeking congruence and uncommon ground among Rastafari, Hopi and Mayan traditions. In recent summers, he's hosted "Gathering of the Peacemakers" and "One Love" festivals in Boone and Oregon. Now he's back from that walkabout, with plans to open a coffeehouse/cultural center in Carr Mill Mall this spring. He shares parts of his long, strange trip in this new one-person show. —Byron Woods