Tom Bartlett

Blue and white 56 chevy convertible, "four barrel 283", for one month, then sold to Mike Mason for a crappy electric guitar, and maybe a few bucks.

Becoming yearbook king was a kind of nerds revenge for me, having always been the most uncoordinated, last picked kid in PE (a personal hell). Awaiting the crowning ceremony, my fellow nominees, all letterman, some of whom had repeatedly bumped me and threatened me the previous three years because of my hair, were discussing why "it would be so and so because of his performance in football", but no "it would be so and so, because this was basketball season. " Of course, there were four of them dividing the traditional votes and one hippy so it should have been obvious I could at least swing a plurality! I was so ill at ease, I didn't even know I was supposed to kiss Patty Merrill, the queen. (Dufus!)

I sometimes think the only thing that kept me in high school at all was fighting for the right not to have to cut my hair. My father would call the principal at home and say, "What kind of fascist state is this, telling my son how long he can wear his hair?" By 68, the "not over your eyes, ears or collar" rule was long gone, and all that remained forbidden were (a) beards, and (b) representing the school in extracurricular activities with long hair. I stopped shaving and told Kemmeries I was going to run for Council, forcing him either to martyr me and give the lie to "student government" by saying I was not allowed to run or give way on the final rule, which he did.

I won by going to the afternoon session, which was filled with people uninvolved in most extracurriculars, and asking English teachers if I could talk to their class, where I pitched for open campus, choosing our own bands, etc. I was abysmal and a fish out of water when it came to actually serving. My closest friends had graduated and I was schitzy from tripping.

Mr. Archambault, Mr. Raskob, Mr Essig,

(My least favorite teacher list would be much longer.)

I guess it is listed above. Oh, but that I got married in Pittsburgh in 84 and divorced in Philadelphia in 92. No children.

And that aside from practicing psychotherapy and psychoanalysis, I am an avid practitioner of Iyengar style yoga.

One year after HS to organize against the war and later get generally lost,
two years at Antioch College, with a 3 month stay in mental hospital (too much peyote and unresolved baggage),
then eight years in London to live and study with RD Laing's "Philadelphia Association",
and while there also studied
Acupuncture one year (Intl Coll Oriental Med),
Chinese one year (SOAS, Univ Lon)
and finally got a BSc in Continental Philosophy at the City University, London (80).
Then 2 years at Duquesne in Pittsburgh to get an MA in Philosophy,
then one year there to get an MA in Phenomenological Psychology,
Then to UPenn in Philadelphia, where I got a third MA and "all but dissertation" in clinical psychology (84-92 or so)
and around 1999-2005? I completed psychoanalytic training.

Summer after PVHS, Seattle with the SDS > Tucson (69-70) > Antioch, Yellow Springs, Ohio (70-72) incl six months in Boston to work in a state mental hospital for an Antioch job > London (72-80) > Pittsburgh (80-84)> Philadelphia (84-present).

I only recently realized I've lived in Phila longer than anywhere else. Not being born in Philadelphia, you're never quite a real Philadelphian, whereas five years in Tucson and you already resent the newcomers.

London, Paris, Nice, Berlin, Barcelona, Rome, Florence, Rio de Janiero, the Pantanal (Brazil), Singapore, Bangalore, Cuernavaca,

A yoga retreat I do in the French alps, two hours north of Nice.

Running on Empty and Almost Famous both can make me cry every time.

Cat Power, Leonard Cohen, Dylan, Ian Dury, Khaled, Lou Reed, Outlandish, Youssou N'Dour,

Altamont