What are you worried about me for? I'm going Morocco. Its the total language immersion program at Humboldt State. Humboldt State, where the rent is cheap and the psychotic boyfriends who almost chocked me to death are a memory. Of course, as I just told you today, one of them gave me another gift that I have to take care of this week. I've gotta be more careful. When I get to Northern California, I'm going to start practicing abstinence. I'm getting a place on my own. Someplace quiet. I'm sick of spending the night in a room with twenty other people and the constant drama.
Anywho, it all started when I left with that homeless guy Spud from Mississippi. I still remember the night we left. We were watching the Hot Bag of Donuts in that bar in Divernon. After you left, we smoked a blunt with Zack.
I thought things were going to work out with Spud and me. I thought that he would be like the perfect traveling companion. He's a crust punk. He was helping me drive. We were so stoned the whole way there. We must have taken every scenic route we could. Every sign that said scenic route and boom were were off the interstate--staying at some campground. It was all good in the beginning. We went on the loneliest road in America. I was so full of hope then that I was doing the right thing.
So we got to Occupy in San Francisco. And Spud disappeared for day spangling. Then he came back and then Andrew, Spud and I wanted to drive up north to see the Redwoods. Bad idea. It was the worst trip I have ever been on. We were dumb. We tried to build a fire in the National Forest which of course was not allowed. The Forest Rangers caught us right away. Then we ran out of water. We were looking everywhere for water. Then we were lost and out of money. Some Mexican hunters finally helped us. They were like "little girl, you can't go into the forest without any water." Like I said, it was a bad idea. We made it to Redding, California and were stuck in a Wal Mart parking lot because my brakes went out. We were wandering around trying to find some mechanic who would fix the car cheaply. Then we really really really started hating each other as much as three people could.
Andrew disappeared. He came back later but I was already with Rory by then. But I still was seeing Andrew. I'd call him up and he would come running to meet me. I was in Berkley then. I didn't like the place. That was were Rory got shot right next to me. Some drunk dude was shooting wildly. I didn't like the people there. There was a girl there with multiple personalities. There is so much mental illness among homeless people. It really opened my eyes to a bunch of things. But I never really fit in there. They used to think I was stuck up because I was looking for a job wanted to finish my college. I didn't want to be around all junkies and meth addicts who lived near the landfill. Maybe I was being judgmental. But I was sick of it. Sick of being taken advantage of. I let the junkies store shit in my car and they totally trashed it. Now it smells like urine.
And there is such a gang mentality on the street. The GDF (Grateful Dead Family), would put a red mark on you and beat the shit out of you. It happened to one of my friends who didn't do anything. The GDF occupied the Telegraph area. Then there were the Juggalos. They say that they are a family but they are nothing more than gangs. The whole thing is fucked up. I understand the need for a family and community but they are all fucked up. I've seen them jump people for nothing.
At that time I really felt alone and wanted companionship. But they treated their women like shit. Like I was at their disposal. Like they could lift up my shirt whenever they wanted. Starting in about November I started to retreat into my own scene.....(cont'd in Ch. 12)
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