Lennon was thin and looked as if he were in his late 30s. I had a good rapport with him and we seemed to be good friends. We talked about music. His speech was rather difficult to understand due to the way he was talking. I compared his music to the way he talked. I said that his lyrics actually did not make much sense, but that the words sounded good in the songs. The way he used words had a musical quality to them. He admitted that. I said something like, "It's probably just as well that way."

I also thought of Bob Dylan's songs, and how that unlike Lennon's songs, Dylan's songs made sense. But not as many people listened to Dylan's songs. I told Lennon that I thought that was the way it was with many song writers. Their songs made sense, but no one wanted to listen to them. Lennon's songs, on the other hand, had a musical quality which made people want to listen to them.

I thought about mentioning that Paul McCartney was actually a better song writer than Lennon, but I thought it might not be the best thing to bring that up, and so I did not mention it.

Lennon stood up and sat down on a couch. He pulled out a baggie of marijuana which was mostly green, with some brown color to it. He asked who the other marijuana had belonged to, and I told him it had belonged to the other person. As I stood in front of Lennon, I reflected that he had probably smoked a lot of marijuana in his life.

He then lit up a joint and handed it to me. I took a deep toke from it.