...With whom I shared places and spaces over the years; whose life was ended by a heart attack in November 1993.
His favourite quote was -
"For each has a heart, each heart it's own leanings.
Their right is our wrong, our right is their wrong.
No unquestionable sages we, nor need they be fools;
All of us, we are men.
How then will a one lay down a rule by which to divide all's right from all's wrong?
We are all, one with the next and another, in the ring which has no end."
- Prince Shokotu, in his 10th clause, 12th year of Suiko, 604 AD, the 4th month, 3rd day
He wasn't a "musician", but when he played the sitar, it was like being transported to India.
He wasn't an "artist", but no one painted the stars and the galaxies better.
He wasn't an "author", but his writings and stories covered three decades of underground culture in which he played a unique role - as Crazy Charlie (original president of the London Chapter) put it when talking about the beginnings of the first authorised English Hell's Angels, "Odd Job was... Odd Job" (OZ #20, April 69).
I never knew him to be out-fronted, and people tried. I never knew him to lose his temper. I never saw him instigate violence - a black belt in karate, he didn't need to. I never knew him to be without tales and legends, cats and drugs. For more people than I can remember he was a living example that "to live outside the law, you must be honest".
How many thousand motor bikes he stole will never be known.
As OJ himself put it in one of his prison letters -
"O Joyous Rebellion, O Psychopolitics, O Trips.
Give my love to those who smile,
And throw dung at all who don't."
Many peoples' thoughts and feelings have honoured his passing.
- Weed (November 1993)