Novocaine
in the ghetto
10 years earlier...
They were in the back of the schoolyard, out on the basketball court. There must’ve been 80 kids or so gathered around a smaller group of 10. Some kids of the smaller group were laying on the ground in a daze while the rest of the smaller group were attacking this lone kid. The big group of 80 was just watching- as bigger groups tend to do. In the center of this mess was the lone kid. He was wearing a big red sweatshirt ‘cause he was a fat boy, but he had an even bigger grin on his face. His nose was bleeding and his clothes were torn, so his smile seemed odd to the crowd gathered around. Now... on the court there were some kids getting off the ground looking dazed- and after a few moments, there were more of them, brushing themselves off and looking confused. In the center of the court there were between five and eight kids constantly swinging at the fat boy in red. The strange thing about it was that the fat boy wasn’t fighting back. He was just dodging punches as best he could, and doing pretty good at it. In fact he probably got nicked in one out of 20 attempts. All around him kids were falling. They were falling quite rapidly as they tried to attack the grinning fat boy. Some of them were accidentally punching each other, some accidentally kicked each other, some tripped on shoelaces, and some just fell down for apparently no reason. The few who made contact with the boy tripped up immediately after impact. They were swearing and yelling and carrying on... they were pissed off! One of them screamed,
"Come here, you fat bitch! You look like Fat Albert, you fat bitch!"
(The fat boy replied with a jolly) "Hey, hey, hey!"
It was the first thing he said during the fight and it was said with radiant perfection. The majority of the 80 person crowd broke out in a hysterical laughter. This deflated his opponents, who were already tired from their failed assaults. They fizzled their way out of the court, and the huge crowd began to disperse also. There was a lot of talk going on amongst the crowd though. They were purely amazed at what they saw. The boy took a beating from a group of clumsy kids, and yet the boy looked happily amused and all the bullies were more bruised up than he was. And the kid’s demeanor... there was nothing fake about him... it was strange.
Now every group of kids that sort of know each other have one in their midst who’s considered the biggest bad ass of the group, and this particular bad ass walked up to the fat boy and asked,
"What you on, man?"
The boy said, "Nothing, man"
"You in pain or what, man?"
"Just a little bit. Nothing too bad."
"Yo man, you gots to be on somthun to take a beat’n like that and come out smilin’ .. .oh may be y’ah are somthun."
"Maybe I am something... like Fat Albert, or something? Yeah... funny, man!"
"No, you ain’t no Fat Albert, man... you mo’ like novocaine or some shit man, ‘cause you acts like you on it."
That’s all it took. The second he said that, the girl next to him said,
"Shit, Novocaine. You crazy!" Then she called over to her girlfriend, "You hear what dis bad ass call dat lil’ fat boy? He call um Novocaine!"
Quickly the name passed through the sitting crowd. It passed and it stuck, because it was the perfect word to describe how they envisioned that boy and his brawl. The bad ass walked off triumphantly as he performed the most sacred ritual of being a veteran bad ass- to name someone. No name sticks to a person more than when a bad ass addresses it... a particularly clever name can stick with someone for the rest of their life. He knew this would be the case with Novocaine. He knew intuitively... and he was proud. The bad ass grabbed the girl next to him and gave her a big kiss, then he turned toward Novocaine and nodded before he walked off into the sunset away from the court.
The fat boy was still grinning, but this time he was grinning about his name.
In the ghetto
one month later...
Novocaine just turned 16 years old and he was thinking about his new name. He felt like a super hero now. He knew what his name meant, but he had looked it up in the dictionary a few times anyway. He couldn’t wait until he could go to the dentist again because he was given Novocaine once for pulled tooth. He probably wouldn’t go to the dentist for awhile since his family was broke, at least that’s what he heard any time he asked about anything.
His family was his mom and his grandfather, and they were both religious people. His mom believed in Jesus, and his grandfather believed in Bill Cosby. He loved hearing stories about both of them, and his family didn’t let him down. At the age of 10 he tried to walk on water in the bathtub, and was strangely successful until the tub filled up. Anyway, the partial results fueled further experimentation and daydreams. Novocaine memorized whole episodes of the Cosby show and wove in stories from the Bible also. He imagined Denise as a prodigal daughter going off dealing smack on the streets, and then returning to her family one Christmas. Her parents excepted her back, and Theo got jealous until Bill Cosby went into one of his monologues smoothing everything over in jest. Novocaine lived in this world of imagination with his family. They didn’t mind the way he looked at things as they saw it worked for him. Sometimes he got picked on at school because he was fat, but he dealt with it way better than they did when they were young and fat. He’d come home and say, "Mom, that Bible ain’t kidding. People are wicked and crazy. I bet Jesus was fat... I bet he was fatter than me... to get crucified and all!" She’d just break out laughing.
Now he was at a point in his life where he had the sacred name. Some people said "Hi" just so they could say it- "Novocaine". In the past months he started talking more because people started talking to him more, and he found that he liked talking to people. The bad ass who named him called out to him every chance he got, and when he said it, he said it so everybody else could hear too, "Novocaine!!!" He knew he was somewhat popular now because of this new name, but he also knew he didn’t want to buddy up with anybody either. They were still sort of wicked and kind of insane, but in a way that they couldn’t help-- like people in the Bible, or white people in the 1950's. His mom always said Jesus helped cure Bible people, and Martin Luther King Jr. helped cure white people, until both of them died. Well, that was it! He would try to cure people too! From that moment on, Novocaine solidified himself as an apprentice of his heroes.
His main models of study were Jesus and Bill Cosby. He first considered Martin Luther King Jr., but he wasn’t different enough from Jesus for Novocaine to separate learning styles, and he got killed too. Novocaine wanted to find a way to help people and not get killed. He figured that Bill Cosby had that part of the problem covered as he made people laugh... and it seemed hard to kill somebody that was making you laugh. So it continued...
in the ghetto
five years later...
It took Novocaine a long time to walk down the street, whether it was in the middle of the day or the middle of the night. He knew everybody somewhat, at least enough to walk up and chat with them. During the day he stopped in all the shops just to say "hey", and during the night he did the same on stoops and corners. People called him the Ambassador of the Ghetto ‘cause he was always around, everywhere. After high school, this was what life presented to him, and he helped create it. He was a member of the group called The Guardian Angels. They spent their time keeping the streets safe from the somewhat "wicked and kind of crazy" nature of people. This was a part-time gig for most of The Guardians, but it was full time for Novocaine. He loved it, he was made for it, and he knew it.
In the three years he had been a Guardian, he had been beaten up 33 times because he was on-the-job alone most of the time. He wasn’t too bothered by these fights, since it never hurt. Never enough to stop smiling and talking to his assailants, and they were usually more beat up than he was from falling all over the place. Not much changed since the fight where he had received his name. He never threw punches, he just dodged them. People mysteriously fell down all around him, regardless of what weapons they had. Those with knives got cut. Those with guns got jammed. But the truth of the matter was that most people who started shit with Novocaine walked away without a fight, usually laughing, or if they were stoned... giggling. He had an uncanny knack for building people up, and a deep respect grew in many people’s hearts for him because of this. He was becoming a legend. And because he already was a legend in spirit, it didn’t ruin him. Well, except for a few times...
The City
Sir Jane and Ray were heading into the city. A few hours before, they washed up in a creek and found some clothes behind a gas station. The clothes were in the back of a junker car that was almost rusted through. Perhaps by more than chance, the two sets of clothes were just a little baggy for them, but otherwise perfect. Sir Jane wore a black Metallica T-shirt, and Ray sported a green Snoop Dog T-shirt. They both had black jeans on and fairly new socks. A woman who was pumping gas walked over to them and handed Sir Jane a $20 bill. She said,
"I used to be without once, and somebody helped me out... so here you are."
The boy Ray said, "Thanks, lady!" Sir Jane stared at her and then said, "Thank you" also. The woman walked back to her car as they headed to the street.
The city they entered was a big one. After a few miles of clustered houses a mountain of tall blue buildings were everywhere. Many people between the ages of 20 and 50 were walking around staring straight ahead with no emotion on their faces. A newspaper stand had 10 different papers with the same headlines. It read, "War May Be Necessary". Next to the newspaper stand was a much larger stand with what seemed like a hundred magazines. They had famous people on the covers wearing the newest styles of clothing. Sir Jane looked around and noticed that most of the people on the street looked like the famous people. It wasn’t just their clothing either – it was something organically built into them. The city itself seemed just as clean as those magazines except for the air, which smelled like a city.
Sir Jane began to glaze over. Her mind took a back seat and withdrew to the background. Force fields of something circled and locked around her. Were they force fields of energy? Aura? Consciousness? The boy Ray didn’t know, but he had grown accustomed to her changes. She was always rigid and half there, but mostly with a good touch of humanness. From time to time she went completely robot, but it was common enough not to be alarming. After all, Ray had known Sir Jane for over a week now- so they must’ve been good enough buds.
He was hungry, so they bought a couple of hot dogs from a vendor and sat down on the ground against one of the big buildings. Just a few yards next to them was an older gutter punk playing a guitar for change. She was dressed in an assortment of rags and colors, with long careless hair partially dreaded up. The strange thing about her though was her voice. It was deepened, somber like a man’s when she sang. She sounded like a cross between Leonard Cohen and Courtney Love, much more masculine than feminine. The song spewed out,
"1492 the ship came in
a variety of crooks and scabs
and a few good men
ants on a tray of marmalade
a questionable girl
with a bridal maid..."
People picked up their pace as they walked by her with mildly threatened looks on their faces. Once in a while she’d scream out a swear word or stare somebody down. As she was staring one person down, her eyes noticed Sir Jane and Ray. She stopped playing and blushed, then she called over to them,
"Sorry... didn’t think anybody was really here!"
This was said in a very feminine voice, except maybe a little smoky. She picked up her guitar and an old hand bag, and walked over to the two.
"Are you two just in from the road?"
They both nodded as they looked her over.
"Well shit, why don’t you stop by my place and rest up a few...come on!"
Sir Jane smiled in reply, and the boy looked half perplexed and half terrified. Sir Jane took him by the hand and followed the woman. She said,
"I like you’re singing"
"Thanks, I’ve been doing that for awhile. It’s my mission."
"Mission?"
"Yeah... I sing to wake people up... or maybe just to connect, I’m not sure yet. But for the past 10 years I’ve been on the streets trying to bring down The Man."
"Who’s the man?", Ray asked.
"The Man is the part of everybody who cares about themselves more than everybody else. The Man is anybody that takes advantage of people. The Man is- you know what, my man...? I think I tend to go on for too long sometimes. What’s your name, little man?"
"Ray"
"And what’s your name, Honey?"
"Sir Jane"
"Well, mine’s Danny. You both look like we could use a beer!"
Danny’s Place
Danny’s place was in the part of the city where there were lots of clumped up houses. She had her own little house though. It was the size of a small apartment, but she said she owned it. Her mother left it to her when she died. Danny was probably in her late forties. She had gray weaves in her black, partially dreaded hair. Danny could’ve been 50.
The house wasn’t clean, but it smelled alright. There were posters all over the walls of different bands and people. The Sex Pistols, Metallica, Ozzy Osbourne, Johnny Depp, Jesus Christ, Cypress Hill, Kurt Cobain, Pat Benetar... there were homemade posters here and there on the walls also. One particularly large one red, "1984 Again". There was another pink poster that read, "Vagina Monologues", next to a homemade peace sign. Next to that was "Damn The Man", and "Love Your Neighbor". All over the walls were smaller pieces of posterboard and a great many of them had "Frannie and Zooey" written on them.
Danny said, "I don’t really have any beers, I’m through with all that. It’s funny though... I could still go for one. Anyway, I’m gonna put some coffee on."
Sir Jane and Ray were sitting on the front porch just looking around. The city had been different from what either of them were used to, for awhile anyway. There was something strangely unreal about it. When Danny walked in she could see it in their eyes,
"The city’s really taken a change recently. I don’t know if it occurred over the past month or the past decade. I imagine it’s taken a while... but more so lately."
She put down 3 cups of coffee, black no sugar. Then she reached under the porch table and started to role a cigarette. Sir Jane watched her intently, and then Danny offered her one. She accepted.
Danny said, "Here, put this bit of straw on the end. It’ll keep your fingers from getting smoke stains on them."
Sir Jane put the hand-rolled cigarette into the piece of straw. Her straw was orange and Danny’s was green. It enhanced the smoking experience.
"People have been changing a bit lately. I can’t put a finger on it, but I noticed things..." Danny tried to explain.
"What types of things have you noticed?", asked Sir Jane.
"I’ve noticed that nobody says anything to me anymore. When I first started playing my guitar on the streets, I used to get real pissed off at all the stupid things people used to say to me. They’d tell me to get a job, or straighten myself out, and I’d tell them right back what was on my mind........ some people were nice. They’d tell me to rock on, or they’d invite me somewhere to hangout for awhile. Sometimes they asked me about The Man, but whatever... they stopped coming around. And I’m not talking about particular people, I’m talking about random strangers. Maybe they were a particular breed, I don’t know. They’re all but gone now."
She stared off for a second then went on again,
"It’s scary the way people are dressing these days too. It’s like they all wear the same stuff...with just little differences. They look like clones of the television. It’s freaky... I don’t have a TV anymore, that freaked me out a good five years ago. You know something about designer clothes, man? Almost everything you see people wearing around here was made by a sweatshop slave. Little kids, man! They’re getting cut up in machines, and beat by The Man in their country just so everybody can look like the fucking TV set over here! That really fuckin’ rips me up! Sorry if I’m freaking you out, I get overwhelmed..."
Sir Jane said, "You don’t have to worry about that."
"Thanks, man... I usually don’t." She looked at Sir Jane and Ray. "So what are you two doing around here anyway?"
Ray spoke up, "I ran away from home and I’ve been traveling with her for about a week now. My mom and I had thrown her in the trash awhile back for being a demon whore, even though she’s really pretty cool. Sir Jane’s on some mission from a gravestone she heard from, and I’m just tagging along."
Danny looked at Sir Jane and nodded her head. "He’s a little out of his gourd, huh?"
Ray broke in, "No, I’m sane- as anyone here..." Sir Jane nodded and Ray went on, "She had a tape recorder at the graveyard and a voice told her to hit the highway".
Danny had a half stare on, "Oh yeah, I heard of that...communicating with ghosts. I never have heard it myself though... sounds a little creepy........What’s this I heard about a demon whore?"
They spent the rest of the day talking, and Danny offered up her house for them to sleep at that night.
The next day
The next day quite a few things were different for different people. Sir Jane was not at Danny’s in the morning. She had spent the late-night into early-morning traveling out of the city. She was following Route 76. There was no note of explanation, and there weren’t any goodbyes because she wasn’t awake when she left.
Pat woke up with an incredible hangover for the first time in her life. She was the woman mentioned earlier who ran off into a hotel reacting to her life up to that point. She cried as she woke up, and felt no comfort until she let out an extended moan. So she let out another... and then another. After a few minutes the moans took form as words morphing into a tortured song about waking up. She smiled somehow and caught a reflection in the mirror, then she broke out laughing... painfully.
Novocaine and I left the alleyway in the morning and headed towards his neighborhood. Jimmy stayed back at the alleyway because that’s where he belonged, or so he said. I imagined that he was pretty tired out from being in semi- trances so much yesterday. That was fine by me, ‘cause I had some busy-ness ahead of me. Novocaine was going to train me to become a Guardian Angel! He said I had to learn some martial arts and discipline, and then I had to get tested. Enough about me now, Sir Jane was just waking up...
The Trip Continues
Sir Jane woke up from a lingering dream. She only remembered the last part of the dream. She was walking down a strange road. It was an empty, blank, white road with swirls of liquid gliding across it at random areas. Different parts of liquid were different colors, and the movement of the liquid was extraordinary. The liquid could pour down and then lift up again as if it was filmed in reverse. It paused for moments at a time. Sections of liquid hopped up and down as if each molecule was a Mexican jumping bean, and these individual molecules also emitted sounds. Tiny voices, each one. It was as if human bees were traveling in her area. Maybe it wasn’t the liquid that was making sounds- she didn’t know. There were shapes and shadows alongside the road that she was on. Dull gray movements behind walls of hidden glass. Or force fields, or something different, but separating. Sir Jane knew that her body was a liquid and that it was alive. She could feel it rotating on her axis, traveling in a pattern only discernible as randomness. Her body was made of colors but it slowly began to swirl into darker matter. The road ahead of her receded from liquid color into gray pavement and the shadows on the sides of the road became trees. Slowly, everything changed from lucid into what one would call – "An ordinary scene of walking down a quiet highway, in the darkness of morning". There were still some scattered colors bleeding off of Sir Jane’s waking reality. Her eyes were open but they didn’t fully focus until the sun began to rise.
Pat again
Pat left the hotel for good with a hangover. She was humming something to herself and she didn’t notice the lady behind the glass say anything when she handed in her room key. Pat’s eyes were red and winced in the sunlight but she didn’t mind, it was something new for her. Instead of going to her car, she went behind the hotel into the woods a little ways and threw up all over herself. It wasn’t pleasurable but she didn’t mind, ‘cause it was something new. Pat looked around and eyeballed a stream a few yards away. In a haze she stripped off her pukey clothes down to her underwear and sat on a rock in the middle of the stream. Quite matter-of-factly she said, "I’m not going home.", and then she laid backwards into the water. It was freezing but she didn’t mind, in fact she passed out with just her face above stream level.
In the same place about an hour later there were four kids staring at a body in the creek. It was Pat’s body and Pat was in it, but they thought she was a corpse. The kids were in their late teens, early twenties, two girls, two guys. All of them were dressed in black shirts and pants, with black eye liner on each one of them. One of them said, "It probably looks like we killed her." Then another said, "She’s got to be around 40 years old." And another, "She doesn’t seem like a local whore... maybe she’s a city whore." It was the last member’s turn to say something. You could tell by the awkward silence, but she picked up a stick instead and poked Pat in the nose.
Pat’s eyes opened point-blank. The kids just kind of glanced at each other and then looked back. Pat turned her head and said, "I’m a dead person. You’re just going to have to get that straight. Now take me home." Then Pat passed out again. One of the kids said, "That was cool." And another said, "We should bring her somewhere." And another, "We should bring her to the house. She said she wanted to go home." Finally the fourth member walked over to Pat’s clothes and noticed the puke all over them. She said, "I’ll lend her my shirt if somebody can part with their pants." They pulled Pat from the creek.
Home?
There was loud music coming from the basement of an old house. It was the type of music that kills flies in the summertime, the four kids dressed in black with their instruments on. The woman lying face down on the ancient couch. Rafters of partially rotted or destroyed wood. Random light bulbs with sick yellow perspective.
The players were trying to look serious, but the good time shone through every few moments. They liked what they were doing, you could tell that much.
The woman of the couch woke up, and slowly. She could hear the music low at first and then it gradually grew louder. Then it became the room. All there was...was the music. An organic carnival ride to Pat. She had a visual of what she was hearing. A living, breathing, roller coaster handling the gleeful cries of its passengers. Without knowing it, Pat crawled off the couch and made her way towards the oblivious musicians. She was on her hands and knees the whole way until she grasped for a microphone stand. It fell on the floor with a thud and a screech, bringing the music to a dead stop. The four of them stared at her blankly as she set the stand up again and slowly pulled herself to her feet, clutching it awkwardly. Pat snarled into the microphone, a strong, crazed voice, "I am alive somehow!!", and then she let out the whimpering howl of a rabid wolf. Pat jeered around staring from face to face with a timid, but intense stare. Their expressions were open eyed but very cautious – no one spoke. Pat turned back to the microphone and repeated herself, but this time she sang it – and sang it strong. It took maybe three repetitions until collectively the band knew to play. Her melody went perfectly with what they had just been practicing. Pat’s words changed from, "I am alive somehow" to "I am alive somewhere", then "I am afraid of life" to "because I’m not prepared" and then it went on some more. I think she collapsed after about an hour, but with a smile on her face. Oh yeah, and the band loved her.
Training Day
I was getting my ass kicked, but I wasn’t scared because I signed up for it. I was to be a Guardian Angel and I had to learn how to protect myself. It was like Novocaine said, "All a Guardian Angel’s supposed to do is keep the streets safe. But in order to do that they also have to absorb all the danger, you feel me?" so I was learning the hard way and it wasn’t that bad. My body was getting bruised up but my attackers were teaching me to fight- and in a very respectful manner, I might add. They were being careful with me. They told me ahead of time that they’d hold their punches but it was still gonna be rough. It was... for four weeks I was pulling myself off of the ground trying to listen to Novocaine’s directions while anywhere between one and four Angels carefully assaulted me. By the end of that month I became more secure than I’d ever been. The times I had been beaten up before then were degrading experiences. Kids cutting me down mentally along with physically, but these guys built me up mentally as they cut me down physically until my body caught up with my newly conditioned mind. After months I didn’t fear getting hit, and by that time they weren’t pulling punches so much anymore. It was a spiritual experience for me, and Novocaine was the preacher. He built up my mind until I had ability. It became possible to block punches from three or four guys... and watching him demonstrate was a miracle. We’d all go after him with all we had and somehow we just couldn’t hit him. We could graze him- but we couldn’t hit him.
After that month I went on walks with them. That was the job, walk the streets and absorb the danger ‘til there wasn’t any left. One of us had a police radio in case somebody called something in. We met with the police from time to time when we ran into a more serious situation- possible weapons suspects, gang members. We treated everybody with respect. If somebody was selling drugs, we had them dump them, no busts. We weren’t concerned with marijuana or mushrooms, just the hard stuff. If somebody kept showing up on the corner after we warned them once, we gave their name to the police and we let them know that we were doing it. Nobody wanted to deal with the police... the police were a whole new set of rules, and a more dangerous book to read. Everyone knew that with the Guardian Angels came respect- Angels didn’t treat anybody without respect. They were a part of a spiritual legion when they wore their red jerseys, after all, they volunteered.
With my new life, being a service to society, came a job offer I couldn’t refuse. One of the neighborhood businesses needed someone to shine floors for eight dollars an hour under the table. 20 hours a week was all I had to spend. I made $160 a week just to train, it seemed. You see, I didn’t use the wax machine, I tied cloths to my hands and feet and imagined I was being attacked by advanced gang activity. Spinning around on a waxy floor became a great exercise for balance and strength. I was amazed myself at how fun it was. With the money I could afford a small apartment. I even convinced Jimmy to live with me- although he wouldn’t sleep inside. For too long he slept out on an alleyway floor, so every night he went out and slept in the hallway. My apartment was at the end of the hallway, so nobody had to walk over him in the morning.
In the Morning
In the morning we developed a bit of a routine. We made a pot of coffee and poured it into two large travel mugs. Then we would go down the street to the heart of the city to drink it, using sugar and creamer from a nearby 7-11 mart. We usually sat there reading the newspaper or other articles of information well into the afternoon, until I had to go to my floor waxing job. Those hours were precious, spent watching everything and everyone around us. Each situational detail was observed like a scene from a movie. A person walking was a person walking where?...and for what? Were they dressed to fit in or dressed to survive? Our conversations about events in general led to conversations about the world we lived in. There were so many people doing things. Going places, they were.
I think it was after Jimmy was finished drinking his coffee one morning that he started talking about the Machine Bible and how it was related to the replacement system. I remember asking him if he was talking about the Holy Bible and he said, "No, The Machine Bible isn’t a written work, it’s a work being written. Before people were given tools and then machines to work for them, they relied completely on the land. The land was like a mother to them, much more personal than it is now. When people were given tools from the Spirit World, they began to work with the land in a way that brought them to feel more like equals with it. Naturally they had to distance themselves from the land as they gained more independence from it.
Now, with the gift of machines, people feel superior to the land- in their eyes they depend upon it little. It is now in the collective mind of people that eventually they will not and should not need it. They are beginning to believe that they should strive to replace nature with something better. This scares the hell out of me because people are part of this world, and they’ll have to take it with them wherever they go. It’s a false realization and you can see the effects of it right there in the street. Notice the people walking around. Most of them don’t even search over each other with their eyes. Most of them are talking to someone else through machines."
I noticed the majority of people were talking on cell phones as he was saying that. He went on, "I really wonder if whoever they are talking to is even a real person sometimes. If people get any busier they won’t have time to find out."
So I asked him, "Is this what the Machine Bible’s all about?"
"The Machine Bible is a system of belief that is replacing our natural belief system." "And what belief system is that, you old mystic?!", bellowed Novocaine who came from out of nowhere. Jimmy looked at him from over his shoulder and said, "The Spirit World, and I’m not old enough to describe that to you in any detail at all my friend." Novocaine sat down with a big smile and three coffees from the 7-11. He gave each of us one and said to Jimmy, "Well maybe you can downgrade and describe some of this Machine Bible instead." Jimmy smiled from his coffee. "Well, I’ll give it a shot. Way back when people didn’t think of work as work... they spent all day doing odd chores but these chores were spread out through the day as they hung out with their family and friends. Generations of humanity were given gifts from the Spirit World. These gifts were ideas that appeared to them in dream states and then their conscious minds put the ideas to conscious reality. Many of these ideas were inventions which have evolved into machines taking care of basic needs. We’re at a time now where all people’s needs could be met... but they’re not. This isn’t a surprise because there have always been some who take more than their share. Unfortunately those few lessened in their enjoyment of material advantage because a great big hole engulfs them from within. Now they’re seeking to fill the void with influence over others- power. They want more than for other people to make them wealthy, they want to make people more like themselves." I had to ask, "Why do they want to do that? What good will it do them?" Jimmy went on, "It’s not a matter of what good it will do them, it’s a matter of what they believe is good."
There was a long silence. Jimmy looked like he was trying to drown his chin in his coffee cup. Novocaine spoke up, "I think I know what you’re describing here. Like the gangs around here. They all gotta wear this... and not that, listen to this...", Novocaine made a longhand gesture from his left to his right to accentuate his sentence, "...but not that." Jimmy said, "Yeah, it’s gang mentality but more organized and with an extremely high level of influence."
"So what would the machine Bible command? Thou shalt not look hungry? Thou shalt not wear used clothes? What about- thou shalt watch cable television when thou gets home from work?", pondered Novocaine. I said, "I don’t know man, but if those are the commandments I think they’re working." Novocaine kept going on, "Thou shalt stare at girls’ asses in the company of other men... and thou shalt comment on them. Thou shalt wear deodorant. This is crazy man, I think I’ll say it out loud for awhile!"
Then off Novocaine went shouting out commandments into the air. At a good distance I could hear him bellow, "Thou shalt eat out on your lunch break!", and then he was gone. Just before I left for waxing the floors Jimmy muttered, "He’s right, you know. He’s probably doing the right thing about it too. We all need to hear what’s there sometimes." Then off to what some consider work I went.
Thou shalt desire to be more accepted than others.
Thou shalt shield thyself from those who show weakness.
Thou shalt stop skateboarding when one’s schooling is finished.
Thou shalt support the structure in which one lives.
Thou shalt let no errors go recognized in the public eye.
Thou shalt conform one’s perception when at the appropriate age.
Thou shalt not be anywhere without a reason.
Thou shalt remain cautious of all others.
Thou shalt express disinterest to protect status.
Thou shalt compromise one’s eccentricities to fit the grid.
Thou shalt develop personality from accepted celebrity figures.
Thou shalt remain efficient.
Thou shalt remain constrained.
Thou shalt not run amok except for in varying degrees of sexual or violent outbursts.
Thou shalt gain importance through position.
Thou shalt rely on one’s particular function.
One’s particular function shall be one’s reality.
Reality is machine...
Highway
Sir Jane walked down the highway, which was beginning to look like any typical highway. She could feel her legs only for awhile. She could hear them only, for awhile. Then she began to hear the rhythmic call of the crickets on the side of the road. Then she could feel the breath coming out of her body, and then she could feel her eyes in the air. She was wondering why she was there. She had been asleep near the boy in Danny’s house, but now she was walking alongside a road and it was becoming morning but still dark out. She walked by a sign that read Route 76 West and then she completely understood... she understood the moment.
The sky was turning from mostly black to mostly blue when she saw a parked car pulled off the side of the highway about a football field ahead. When she reached the spot she noticed a slight trail heading off from the road to the woods, like something had been dragged through the grass. Sir Jane followed the trail into the woods with just enough light to see. A few yards in, there was a creek reflecting just enough light for her to see another trail. This time a trail of blood... the blood ended at a body under a tree. The body’s legs were still partway in the water. It was a boy in his mid-twenties, scruffy looking. He hadn’t shaved in awhile and his clothes smelled of blood and old sweat. Sir Jane moved close to the body. Its eyes were open, staring straight ahead. There was no expression, like the constant look of fish. She got down on her knees and saw that the shirt near the belly was soaked in blood, then she looked back up at the eyes and something came alive in them. "Jane", it said, "This is Jane.".................... "Yes", she replied and then with barely above a breath, "What is this?"................... "This... Jane, is what has known you since the beginning.... Alive and still dying, we are..... alive and still dying........ You’re so strong Jane.................... I knew they’d get me." The boy looked down at his gut and said, like someone would say to their dead pet, "My spacesuit..." More away than there Jane asked, "Who did this to you?" "It was a man in a gray hat", he said, "I think he was just a man...wearing a plain gray hat." Sir Jane knew this boy. She could feel it and that he knew her, but she could only think dialogue. Wanting desperately to express anything, she could only utter, "How do you know me... and I you?" He looked straight above him and then down at his feet, "There’s a book Jane, a Journal. I’ve met people... if you can..." He looked straight at her, "Find the angel........ but now...take my eyes and heart..."
Sir Jane knew and didn’t know as the life left his body. The torment of this half knowledge was too much for her to express rationally and she howled into a frenzy, ingesting first his body’s eyes and then clawing into his chest to free the heart. After the heart was consumed Sir Jane wept. She wept as she took the boy’s journal from behind his back, and she wept as she dropped his body into a tunnel of dirt, covering it over for good.
The Journal
Sir Jane was sitting on a guardrail in the morning sun not far from the woods where the boy lay buried. She had his journal in her hands and a song running through her head.
‘Sitting in the morning sun
I’ll be sitting when the evening comes
watching the ship’s roll in
then I’ll watch them roll away again
sitting on the dock of the bay
watching the tide roll away
sitting on the dock of the day
wasting time’
There was a bit of traffic on the road at this point; she had taken time to wash off in the creek, so the sun was at good strength. The road almost glowed a dark blue hue and to her it looked more liquid than solid. Gradually, ever so gradually the cars zoomed by less steadily. They would glide by and waiver to the sides as they splashed up road behind them. She began to watch them float by as if they appeared in slow motion during this meditative like state. She didn’t zone out for long though. There, in slow motion, was the panic filled expression of a driver in one of the cars, and then a similar expression on the next and the next. They didn’t have control of their vehicles. They were terrified! Sir Jane looked down and saw her legs submerged in road. She was caught off guard with this occurrence and jerked her legs out, falling backwards off the rail. She landed on solid grass and then crannied her head back towards the road. It was just a regular road again. Solid. Cars driving by here and there; their operators without much expression at all, which was usual. The boy’s journal was on the ground also so she reached over without getting up and put it in front of her. Then she leaned against the guard rail facing the woods and opened the small blue book...
The Journal
The road
second trip:
Albany 8/19
got a ride with a guy who probably wanted to see what I tasted like. Detoured to a nude bathing hangout that was part of the Massachusetts State Reservation. Bought me lunch.
Rode with a man of God, a teacher. Cool dude but seemed confused. Gave me some cash.
Rode with a working man who set me in the right direction.
Old man getting divorced after 30 year marriage for a mile.
Played "Iris" (goo goo dolls) for some teens at a pit stop. One had a chip on his shoulder but the pretty girl singing eased any pain.
Mass 8/20
ride told me they pile out of their car to mug you these days, five to one. Gave me orange juice.
Rode with an ex trucker. Gave me five bucks.
Turned down a ride from a dirty old man for a paranoid adventure with a crazy guy named Paul. Ended up cruising through Rhode Island(Providence) blaring rap music. The guy drove with action movie style grace, but probably the craziest driver anyone will ever experience.
Confusion: this guy was aggressive so my paranoid sensors went mad. Being stuck in the middle of a drug deal didn’t help matters. I think he’s genuinely good but his mixture of alcohol and pride brought out a demon I couldn’t trust. I feel like a weak schoolboy.
I can’t deal well with lonely and lost people for long amounts of time. I can’t help anyone in the way they want me to. I think I’m paranoid so much of the time cause I can sense that these people take out their frustrations on me in quiet ways. I’m not a bad ass and I don’t wanna be, but not being a bad ass makes me feel like a whore. I am a whore, but they’re all whores too. And that sucks.(this is the pessimistic view) need some peace of mind.
Connecticut 8-20
Ride to Connecticut with two cool dudes. Benjamin I think from hope valley, Rhode island. Gave me a knife and told me to come back sometime.
Played some Dylan tunes with a kid named Carl. Had the same shoes I did. Brought me to the ocean after midnight and we both jumped in (the unknown). Back at the truck stop a kid in the Marines bought me two packs of cigarettes and gave me a Marine issue lighter. Slept at the truck stop with a barlow in my hand.
The road is getting old. It’s been almost three months (that’s always been my average for a full time job to last)
gotta find "Jenny", or start a band without her.
Connecticut 8-21
Picked up by an intellectual Harvard school guy. Picked me up cause he saw the guitar, said if he saw my shirt he wouldn’t have-Charlie don’t surf.
He treated his companion like an irritable mother would treat her son. Seemed like a good guy in general, we argued about stuff.
Had to climb over a barbed wire fence when a cop made me get off the highway.
Picked up by a Hell’s Angel guy. Said Hell’s Angels carry i.d. cards now. (One punk kid didn’t have his and was given a choice to cover up his tattoo or else. They ended up cutting off the tattoo with a knife-he had a choice).
Got another ride with a guy my age who’s getting married and hoping to open up a tattoo parlor. He was a trucker for Christian supplies.
A ride with two guys looking for weed.
Ride with a guy who delivered flowers. On his way to a funeral. A lot of business comes from funerals and weddings. The love of his life died. He brought her to Colorado before she did. (One of her dreams).
Ride with a guy who turned from drug addiction to God. HE spent from fourteen to seventeen on the road. Bought me a dr. pepper-the cap was a winner (good for another one).
Ride with a security guard/coast guard reserves man. He was pretty cool and offered me a place to stay if i was ever in town.
Lots of walking, no sleep.
New York 8-22.
Stopped by a yacht club and jammed out for the rich people. This guy’s construction company ended up killing four people in his last project (times square). He was pretty cool, just a normal guy trapped in his money.
I thought this pretty girl stopped for me (bike and all) under some bridge. I think she’s heading on.
A rottweiler breeder drove me a good ways into Pennsylvania. He was the youngest of three brothers and had a sister along with his parents. They all didn’t get along with him. Black sheep-bought me a soda. Name of company was something like denway-in Maine.
Yacht club...I started getting greedy just knowing this guy was rich. I thought I might get some cash or maybe a cruise on a boat. I didn’t expect anything though. I’d rather him give it all up, leave the phonyland.
PA 8-22 Trucker named Michael drove me straight to Roanoke, Virginia. Real, cool guy. We listened to heavy metal and southern rock. He’s pretty sure his wife’s going to leave him and take the kids. Said he feels she loves him but doesn’t want to be with him. He’d rather she leave if she’ll be happier. He brought me some bacon cheeseburgers.
VA 8-23Got a ride to Salem with a kid my age and his newborn daughter. He was wacked out about getting married soon and everything that comes with it. He said you don’t try to solve problems for a woman, you just lend her an ear and a shoulder. I hung out with some cool kids that picked me up for the rest of the day and night. Schyler, Ducky, Johnny, Travis, Troy, Mike, Laura and a whole lot more. We jammed, drank and drew blood (Mike gave Troy a tattoo). It was a good day and a half with good people. They fed me, gave me smokes, and were just themselves.
8-24 Left for Charlottesville and was picked up by Jerry-damn good artist. A leader of a different life. He said I should check out Europe. Well I might. Coffee and smokes. Slept by a stop.
8-25 Picked up by a local named Doug. A cool enough guy. Turned into a dirty old man for a while detailing his gay lifestyle, but it was just talk.
Rode into Charlottesville with Todd, a guy who lost his leg after a battle with cancer (only found in children). I went to Newport News with him to help build his grandfather a shed. His grandparents lost their son months before me being there. He had a diabetic attack and walked into electrical lines one night. He had lived right down the street from them, saw them daily. Spent three nights there myself. Last day we worked was in the middle of a monsoon from a neighboring hurricane. I called Charlottesville there and decided to head to Blacksburg, VA. Stayed with Todd, his girlfriend Caroline, and her kids Tonya and Seth for a couple of days. Jammed out with Caroline a bunch of times real loud. Hung out with Tonya, beautiful blue eyed blond with a brain, and got kicked off a ritzy pro-golf course with Seth (who wrote wussy in the sand pit). Me and Seth hauled rocks across a creek for Todd to use, and I heard all about this guy named Rusty from California-ex boyfriend stuff. Todd dropped me off on a little country road and I started walking.
After a few miles I got picked up by a clown. Chally Erb, a professional clown. He’s been a part of the rainbow tribe (gathering) for over twenty years now. I keep running into this rainbow tribe. Chally’s also a Vietnam vet. I was dropped off on the highway and a cop pointed me up a ramp. I found a Barbie doll’s head.
Lost the bag of food Caroline gave me when I was picked up by Melvin (I think), a senior at VA tech who talked to me about the institution. Religion, workplaces, people- the way things work. He was a cool guy but I think I screwed up his name. It’s Sunday in Blacksburg. I slept behind some……
8-31 A guy stopped by in a van and offered me a job selling magazines. I gave it a shot. The deal was that food and shelter was paid for with a cut from your sales. Stayed at the Ramada with a huge group of kids that loved to party and make cash. Spent my whole first night with this guy Carl, on railroad tracks and in a stairwell (great acoustics in stairwell) they made me clean up in the morning so I was late. 9-1 Everything about selling magazines pisses me off. I ended up just talking to people and I quit the job at the end of the day. That night I ate at a waffle house talking to a local named Joan about everything and anything. Slept on the side of the road.
9-2 Got a ride from a kid named Bo who just finished following Phish for the summer. We ended up in West Virginia by accident and ended up taking all day getting back to Blacksburg again. Got a ride with a Christian drummer, he tried to save my soul but I declined. He was a nice guy. Slept on the side of a telephone company.
9-3 Hung out in Blacksburg and contacted Leslie. I met the Christian drummer again. Met a girl named Daniel who taught me some stuff. Hung out with Leslie until late and then went to bed by some drainage system.
9-4 While leaving Blacksburg I was picked up by the girls I met selling magazines. Jen, Brook, Cecilia-watched a soap opera and listened to The Doors, they made me a care package and off I went. A guy on the street who used to be a gutter punk gave me ten dollars for a song "Sweet Jane", he’d just lost his girl. I was picked up by a kid about my age who was a big fan of drinking and drugging. A year before he flew out of his car going one hundred twenty miles per hour, seventy five feet into a fence. He still can’t remember anything for the first three weeks. Picked up by an older dead head looking guy who brought me to a rest stop.
9-4 At the bus stop I met Steve Robins, the store clerk who’s also going to bible college. He was laid back and pretty damn genuine. After we argued about religion stuff he prayed for God to send me a miracle. I’ll give him a call if it ever gets here. At the bus stop I also met a couple who gave me five dollars, a piece, and a soda and a sandwich. Their car broke down and this camper happened to have a camper being worked on. Both vehicles eventually pulled away. I was picked up by a cop off the road and dropped at a truck stop. Slept in a field.
9-5 Woke up with a swollen jaw. The famous abscess tooth is back for the third time. Luckily Mike packed me some amoxicillin. Each time I stepped out on the highway a cop was awaiting. I slept at a rest stop for hours then got a ride- after another cop told me to move. Jon, an insurance salesman with ambitions to become a handicap aide distributor. He felt life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be-but all in all seemed satisfied enough with what he got. In seventh grade he was a loner until he got up on the dance floor one night. From then on (until he moved) he became popular with the boys and desired by the girls- over night. He got me a room at the super eight, and stole me a salt shaker from a waffle house for my mouth.
9-6 Jon dropped me off in Memphis, Tennessee. He gave me one hundred dollars and four bottles of spicy V8 juice (medication).
9-6 Gave some guy three cigarettes then went into a hospital to use the restroom. The same guy walked in on me accidentally, I didn’t care. Met another guy named Ken who described our bodies as spacesuits we needed to survive on earth. Said he played with pro golfers before and was a spiritual man. I liked him.
Mississippi Ride with J.C. club owner on bicycle street. He does "what he can, when he can".
Picked up by Shelly. Brought me to her friend’s house and told me if I was approached to say "I’m Jamie from the Club". Nobody ever came out. She bought me a soda, gave me a smoke and about Black Sabbath she said-the music means something different to her people than to the people where I come from. She also told me she was friends with the girl who starred in Titanic.
Mayre Thatcher pulled off to the left side of the road with handicap plates on the van. She was driving home to see her son (who was paralyzed in an accident). She never got outside of Mississippi, but that’s the thing she wants. Stayed with her husband for 10 years while he was in prison- he wandered off. Now she’s staying with her kids hoping to move on someday. She took my picture and didn’t seem to notice my swollen face.
Took a dip in the Yokono River, had a turtle squirm out from under my feet- saw some big fish, and bugs.
After a lot of walking in the dark, some kids picked me up and drove me to a gas station- we played the blues. Some girls at the station gave me a cigarette for a song.
9-7 Walked miles and miles. Picked up by a truck driver who told me Jesus was the way. Also said you should always talk to God while you’re shopping to get the best deals. Picked up by a professor who teaches people in the Navy. It’s a big traveling job. He also said Jesus was the only way to go and I wouldn’t get a miracle (divine) from God to prove it. He told me I’d like Key West so I decided to go. Also said I should check out Alaska and work on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming. Also told me to check out the crazy horse mountains. I think his name was Rusty. He dropped me off at the Florida Welcome Center. Florida
9/8 Picked up by Jennett, her lazy man-friend, and some hitchhiker they picked up. I ended up spending over $40 cause they had no gas or food money. She brought me back to her friend Brian’s and I met a guy named Mike there- he lost his two sons in an accident. Brian was living off unemployment and Jennett knew "Wish You Were Here" hardcore. Jenett dropped me at the highway around 3am. Can’t describe this……. 3:30 or so I hung out with this guy who was waiting for his girlfriend (Meredith) and his friend (Amy, maybe) to move into their apartment. He said they left to get away from cocaine, which isn’t a bad idea. They let me stay there and gave me some cigarettes and a couple bucks. Taking shelter under a bridge. Someone wrote that God helped them make a decision
9/9 Got a ride from Doug to this big bridge. He said I should find out about the captains of boats well before I got on one. He wishes he could get up and go, but he’s got a family. I’m stuck by this bridge right now and it sucks.
9/9 Detective Mike picked me up and over the bridge. His car phone didn’t get any rest; he was on that for over half the ride. Real cool guy, told me being a detective has its ups and downs, same as any job (usual perks keep you interested- nice car). He dropped me on the highway and a minute later a cop pushed me off; and it started to rain. Jim picked me up in his work vehicle. Real easygoing and laid back. He said his wife and he were a true pair, over thirty-forty years married. Their youngest is off to school so they’re going to hit the road in a Winnebago (three years). He gave me ten dollars and a couple sodas for the trip. One of his kids hit the gathering. They lady at the waffle house gave me a free waffle. I saw a stingray today, after hearing what they looked like last night. Brian was right- invisible, swimming shapes in the sand. I thought they were trying to surround me at first ‘cause you focus on one and you notice another one creeping around. Ocean swimming isn’t as easy as it looks. Turned down a short ride and got a longer ride that put me on a new route. Tony gave me a ride in his street sweeper. Told me to beware of alligator alley cause the people are as dangerous as the alligators; he mentioned deliverance. He is a survivor of the hippie culture ‘cause he wouldn’t mainline heroin. Most of his old buddies are dead ‘cause of that. I met a girl at a convenience store who said there are lots of poisonous snakes, spiders, some wild pigs and maybe a bobcat around. She said she hadn’t seen any recently though. Played a song for an old guy and then he offered me a joint. Got paranoid ‘cause a cop was around and I left. I kept going.
9-9 Tony picked me up again. He’s been hit by a car three times. Got money for each. Said his only true friend to trust is his mother. We smoked a j and ended his three hour break. I slept at the end of a Wal-Mart parking lot.
9-10 Bought a cheap tent at Wal-Mart. Got picked up by some kids, Marcia and Desiree. Met some of the people taking advantage of Marcia’s house (‘cause her mom wasn’t home). Marcia wrote some good stories and songs and she had me play songs for her step mom. Desiree had me play for her mom and dad (dad wasn’t amused). She said she liked him more as a drinking alcoholic. Spent the night there.
9-11 Left around four and stopped off at Brent’s home. He’s headed to the army in a few months. He was a cool kid who was also a bit of a kleptomaniac, not too bad. I walked for a while then set up the tent in some field.
9-12 Woke up hot as hell. Walked with no ride, then headed to route seventy five. Walked there with no ride for a while. Found twenty dollars on the ground. Picked up by Adrianus. A guy who worked on a shark boat for a few weeks. He told me working on a shark boat was the way to go, but to stay away from boats with heroin addicts. Played a song for a lady at a gas station; she gave me two dollars. She said she felt we may have met before in some way some how. Got a ride with a couple of beach guys. One was cool and the other was too cool to be cool.
9-12 Got a ride with Nancy and Paul. Nancy was a cute blond and Paul was picked up by a senator in his hitchhiking days- they had to move their golf clubs for his bag. Got a ride with a guy named Paul through alligator alley to Miami. Ten foot fences to keep the gators from the road. He was laid back and real easygoing. The two hours went quick. He was married twice for ten years; there won’t be a third. He gave me twenty dollars. Miami
9-12 A guy played some blues for me at the gas station. Showed me some chords. Told me to be careful of evil people. I got picked up by Hesus under a bridge. He came to America from Cuba on a raft with eight other people. Picked up by the coast guard after four days- without food. He went out of his way to get me to route one. I gave him two dollars for gas (he asked for). Talked to Sundown (Charles) about direction. He told me the wrong one, then came back to tell me the right one. I got paranoid at the gas station ‘cause this guy next to me kept pacing around and wouldn’t go away. Asked him if he wanted to hear a song and he said no. Started walking. Probably two a.m. by another gas station in Miami, and I told myself I wouldn’t get stuck here. Key West
9-13 Evil children walk like Dad said not to. They’re gonna take your child on their knees. Religion and the word don’t seem to find, these grownups pretending on their knees. If your made of……drunk……. I hitched a ride with this guy Dan. We stopped in at some bars along the way- I had coffee. He brought me to this gay and lesbian hangout where people sunbathe nude. They have a screen set up outside where they’ll view a movie. He dropped me off in the thick of downtown. Too many people so I left for the next closest island. On that island I met Vietnam Jon and Hawkeye Mike and a bunch of other homeless dudes. Everybody was pretty cool, we drank and played some music. This younger guy (26) Dragon Jo offered to set me up with a job the next day. After most left I met up with Hawkeye and he told me more about the huge homeless lifestyle as we got real drunk.
9-14 Woke up in the wrong spot to meet Jo so I slept for a while. Went to the beach. Met up with two other guys at the beach, told me some more street stuff. Jammed with a good man though…….. played at the square and made eight bucks. Spent most of the rest of the night talking to Victor.
9-15 Woke up and decided to head out. I met up with Vietnam Jon and Hawkeye on the way, so I hung out with them for a while. A new wanderer hung out for a while- he reminded me of Dave Ploof a lot, and his name was Dave too. I got a ride from a lady named Terry. She’s a piano player- said she was good and even better on weed. Three years clean of cocaine and alcohol. Pretty cool.
9-15 Got a ride from another guy, Mike, who was into nude sunbathing. He was gay but wouldn’t say and he delivered medical supplies. He was a hitchhiker once before; picks up only those that look clean. After three and a half hours of walking Danielle picked me up. Said I reminded her of a friend who hitchhiked. She had hitchhiked herself and was now doing this on a whim. She offered me shelter for the evening, a place she was house-sitting for her boss. After her dad died a short time ago, she deals with it by helping people. Noble and extreme measures, but it worked out for her. She might have opened up a job possibility for me too.
9-16 Danielle stopped by- job had been filled, so she dropped me off at a marina up the road (gave me twenty dollars). She wants to get a sailboat to be close to her father and she wants to be on MTV’s "road rules". Got a ride with two guys, but I noticed knives. One on the dash and a big one behind the seat. I went in to buy Gatorade and when I came back the big one was moved. I told one guy I was heading on (without disrespect) cause the situation didn’t seem right. He said he knew nothing about the wandering knife. They were supposedly returning a stolen van to a friend. They said they didn’t steal it after kinda saying they did. I left when one guy was inside buying a cd. Felt like I was the object of a ritual- never got to see the cd. Brenda, a gas station clerk, offered me a ride when she got off from work if I couldn’t get one. She also told me she had a gun and a knife she’d use if she had to. We talked about serial killers and Jaws. Two hitchhikers were found dead in alligator alley (a guy and a girl). I ended up getting a ride from a guy named Junior. We barely talked, but we got along better in silence- he seemed real cool.
9-16 Someone said the mosquitoes were worse than the gators- maybe. Walked the turnpike near a prison. A helicopter was searching and cops were riding around. They were looking for a young Latino kid. I set up tent in some dirt field.
Miami 9-17 Got a ride with a guy named Kenny who lived on a house boat. He told me some people are giving sailboats away ‘cause they are such a hassle. His place is at the one hundred twelve mile mark from Key West. Got a pickup ride with what seemed a small family to Miami. We almost got nicked by a Mack truck. They let me off and told me where to go for I-95. I ended up on a long walk, a bus and a train ride until I finally got near ninety five. Also had a small ride with a girl named Barbara. She was really into the strict Christian life, and she was a crazy driver. She offered me some places to stay, but I declined. She was cool. Met a kid at the I-95 gas station named Tyrone. He said he was an angel, a hustling angel, but an angel. He’d been living on and off the streets for five years. He said he’d steal from a store but not from a person and he can’t help but "help a bitch in need". A guy in a wheel chair offered me to stay at his place. I said no thanks and we both felt bad about it. An old man named Pop gave me twenty five cents. He was straight out of a fairytale, real cool. Some kids robbed the gas station of some beer and then sped off. Some too cool gangster dude gave me that challenging, snotty, stare- I hate Miami. Didn’t get any sleep either with the rain and all.
Florida, near Miami 9-18 Walked up the turnpike for hours until I got a ride with an ex-hippie. He had been a correction officer who they called "Crazy Joe" or something like that. Used to slash the tips of their noses with wire when they messed with him. He gave me a Jimi Hendrix tribute tape and got me to route ninety five. Talked to a guy from Missouri who said he hated it. Talked to some girls, Katie and Bobby Jo (or Bobby Jeff). Some couple gave me some weed and a guy gave me three bucks. Still raining. Smoked some of the weed with Woody, a local guy. He was a good mood-set for the area I’m in, easygoing and laid back. After a few beers I played a song for a beautiful blond named Cindy. She liked it but she didn’t come back. Set up tent behind the store and crashed.
9-19 Laconia, New Hampshire and Chezon, Canada- God’s country. Lake Winnapesaki, Weirs beach. These are places Diana Dell loved to hang out in with her biker friends. I hung out with her and Uncle Marty for the rest of the day. Diana was eccentric and Marty was a boozer, we drank vodka and beer all night. Uncle Marty let me stay at his place during a rainstorm that night; he lived in a front porch- it was great. I also hung out with Kelly off and on. He was a guy stranded there waiting for his friend to show up and give him a place to stay.
9-29 Left with five dollars to my name. A car stopped and asked if I had gas money. I said no so they kept going (to the next exit). I decided to try and find them but couldn’t. Instead I was picked up by Diane. We spent the whole day cruising around in the rain, talking like we’ve known each other for years. She wanted to hear about my journeys and stuff, but she didn’t want to read this- and I don’t think I want to write in it anymore.
The information will be released at the execution. Excuse me, Sir I do believe you’re standing on my seat. You’re off balance, your right from wrong, I don’t want it next to me. The sails on your ship ride on my wind, as I suffocate- you fornicate. I don’t want your right from wrong. The fire is rising on the island and you’re losing time. They won’t speak to you, you’re not good enough and you haven’t tried. Warm shadows still keep you at large. We may never meet, but I want my mind back. This timing’s negative. To flow zone to zone exchanging homes kills all perspective. The animals. They are changing. They are making up so much of what is everything. I want to care for you but you’re an illusion. I’m on my own. Excuse me, Sir I do believe you’re resting in my grave. I’ve lived too long to give that up and lose myself in space. Where are the clouds now and the horizon? And the earth that from which I came? They were blocked out then chewed up and swallowed by this mortal brain. Excuse me, Sir there is no explanation. Excuse me, Sir I’ve given up my medication
in the ghetto
10 years earlier...
They were in the back of the schoolyard, out on the basketball court. There must’ve been 80 kids or so gathered around a smaller group of 10. Some kids of the smaller group were laying on the ground in a daze while the rest of the smaller group were attacking this lone kid. The big group of 80 was just watching- as bigger groups tend to do. In the center of this mess was the lone kid. He was wearing a big red sweatshirt ‘cause he was a fat boy, but he had an even bigger grin on his face. His nose was bleeding and his clothes were torn, so his smile seemed odd to the crowd gathered around. Now... on the court there were some kids getting off the ground looking dazed- and after a few moments, there were more of them, brushing themselves off and looking confused. In the center of the court there were between five and eight kids constantly swinging at the fat boy in red. The strange thing about it was that the fat boy wasn’t fighting back. He was just dodging punches as best he could, and doing pretty good at it. In fact he probably got nicked in one out of 20 attempts. All around him kids were falling. They were falling quite rapidly as they tried to attack the grinning fat boy. Some of them were accidentally punching each other, some accidentally kicked each other, some tripped on shoelaces, and some just fell down for apparently no reason. The few who made contact with the boy tripped up immediately after impact. They were swearing and yelling and carrying on... they were pissed off! One of them screamed,
"Come here, you fat bitch! You look like Fat Albert, you fat bitch!"
(The fat boy replied with a jolly) "Hey, hey, hey!"
It was the first thing he said during the fight and it was said with radiant perfection. The majority of the 80 person crowd broke out in a hysterical laughter. This deflated his opponents, who were already tired from their failed assaults. They fizzled their way out of the court, and the huge crowd began to disperse also. There was a lot of talk going on amongst the crowd though. They were purely amazed at what they saw. The boy took a beating from a group of clumsy kids, and yet the boy looked happily amused and all the bullies were more bruised up than he was. And the kid’s demeanor... there was nothing fake about him... it was strange.
Now every group of kids that sort of know each other have one in their midst who’s considered the biggest bad ass of the group, and this particular bad ass walked up to the fat boy and asked,
"What you on, man?"
The boy said, "Nothing, man"
"You in pain or what, man?"
"Just a little bit. Nothing too bad."
"Yo man, you gots to be on somthun to take a beat’n like that and come out smilin’ .. .oh may be y’ah are somthun."
"Maybe I am something... like Fat Albert, or something? Yeah... funny, man!"
"No, you ain’t no Fat Albert, man... you mo’ like novocaine or some shit man, ‘cause you acts like you on it."
That’s all it took. The second he said that, the girl next to him said,
"Shit, Novocaine. You crazy!" Then she called over to her girlfriend, "You hear what dis bad ass call dat lil’ fat boy? He call um Novocaine!"
Quickly the name passed through the sitting crowd. It passed and it stuck, because it was the perfect word to describe how they envisioned that boy and his brawl. The bad ass walked off triumphantly as he performed the most sacred ritual of being a veteran bad ass- to name someone. No name sticks to a person more than when a bad ass addresses it... a particularly clever name can stick with someone for the rest of their life. He knew this would be the case with Novocaine. He knew intuitively... and he was proud. The bad ass grabbed the girl next to him and gave her a big kiss, then he turned toward Novocaine and nodded before he walked off into the sunset away from the court.
The fat boy was still grinning, but this time he was grinning about his name.
In the ghetto
one month later...
Novocaine just turned 16 years old and he was thinking about his new name. He felt like a super hero now. He knew what his name meant, but he had looked it up in the dictionary a few times anyway. He couldn’t wait until he could go to the dentist again because he was given Novocaine once for pulled tooth. He probably wouldn’t go to the dentist for awhile since his family was broke, at least that’s what he heard any time he asked about anything.
His family was his mom and his grandfather, and they were both religious people. His mom believed in Jesus, and his grandfather believed in Bill Cosby. He loved hearing stories about both of them, and his family didn’t let him down. At the age of 10 he tried to walk on water in the bathtub, and was strangely successful until the tub filled up. Anyway, the partial results fueled further experimentation and daydreams. Novocaine memorized whole episodes of the Cosby show and wove in stories from the Bible also. He imagined Denise as a prodigal daughter going off dealing smack on the streets, and then returning to her family one Christmas. Her parents excepted her back, and Theo got jealous until Bill Cosby went into one of his monologues smoothing everything over in jest. Novocaine lived in this world of imagination with his family. They didn’t mind the way he looked at things as they saw it worked for him. Sometimes he got picked on at school because he was fat, but he dealt with it way better than they did when they were young and fat. He’d come home and say, "Mom, that Bible ain’t kidding. People are wicked and crazy. I bet Jesus was fat... I bet he was fatter than me... to get crucified and all!" She’d just break out laughing.
Now he was at a point in his life where he had the sacred name. Some people said "Hi" just so they could say it- "Novocaine". In the past months he started talking more because people started talking to him more, and he found that he liked talking to people. The bad ass who named him called out to him every chance he got, and when he said it, he said it so everybody else could hear too, "Novocaine!!!" He knew he was somewhat popular now because of this new name, but he also knew he didn’t want to buddy up with anybody either. They were still sort of wicked and kind of insane, but in a way that they couldn’t help-- like people in the Bible, or white people in the 1950's. His mom always said Jesus helped cure Bible people, and Martin Luther King Jr. helped cure white people, until both of them died. Well, that was it! He would try to cure people too! From that moment on, Novocaine solidified himself as an apprentice of his heroes.
His main models of study were Jesus and Bill Cosby. He first considered Martin Luther King Jr., but he wasn’t different enough from Jesus for Novocaine to separate learning styles, and he got killed too. Novocaine wanted to find a way to help people and not get killed. He figured that Bill Cosby had that part of the problem covered as he made people laugh... and it seemed hard to kill somebody that was making you laugh. So it continued...
in the ghetto
five years later...
It took Novocaine a long time to walk down the street, whether it was in the middle of the day or the middle of the night. He knew everybody somewhat, at least enough to walk up and chat with them. During the day he stopped in all the shops just to say "hey", and during the night he did the same on stoops and corners. People called him the Ambassador of the Ghetto ‘cause he was always around, everywhere. After high school, this was what life presented to him, and he helped create it. He was a member of the group called The Guardian Angels. They spent their time keeping the streets safe from the somewhat "wicked and kind of crazy" nature of people. This was a part-time gig for most of The Guardians, but it was full time for Novocaine. He loved it, he was made for it, and he knew it.
In the three years he had been a Guardian, he had been beaten up 33 times because he was on-the-job alone most of the time. He wasn’t too bothered by these fights, since it never hurt. Never enough to stop smiling and talking to his assailants, and they were usually more beat up than he was from falling all over the place. Not much changed since the fight where he had received his name. He never threw punches, he just dodged them. People mysteriously fell down all around him, regardless of what weapons they had. Those with knives got cut. Those with guns got jammed. But the truth of the matter was that most people who started shit with Novocaine walked away without a fight, usually laughing, or if they were stoned... giggling. He had an uncanny knack for building people up, and a deep respect grew in many people’s hearts for him because of this. He was becoming a legend. And because he already was a legend in spirit, it didn’t ruin him. Well, except for a few times...
The City
Sir Jane and Ray were heading into the city. A few hours before, they washed up in a creek and found some clothes behind a gas station. The clothes were in the back of a junker car that was almost rusted through. Perhaps by more than chance, the two sets of clothes were just a little baggy for them, but otherwise perfect. Sir Jane wore a black Metallica T-shirt, and Ray sported a green Snoop Dog T-shirt. They both had black jeans on and fairly new socks. A woman who was pumping gas walked over to them and handed Sir Jane a $20 bill. She said,
"I used to be without once, and somebody helped me out... so here you are."
The boy Ray said, "Thanks, lady!" Sir Jane stared at her and then said, "Thank you" also. The woman walked back to her car as they headed to the street.
The city they entered was a big one. After a few miles of clustered houses a mountain of tall blue buildings were everywhere. Many people between the ages of 20 and 50 were walking around staring straight ahead with no emotion on their faces. A newspaper stand had 10 different papers with the same headlines. It read, "War May Be Necessary". Next to the newspaper stand was a much larger stand with what seemed like a hundred magazines. They had famous people on the covers wearing the newest styles of clothing. Sir Jane looked around and noticed that most of the people on the street looked like the famous people. It wasn’t just their clothing either – it was something organically built into them. The city itself seemed just as clean as those magazines except for the air, which smelled like a city.
Sir Jane began to glaze over. Her mind took a back seat and withdrew to the background. Force fields of something circled and locked around her. Were they force fields of energy? Aura? Consciousness? The boy Ray didn’t know, but he had grown accustomed to her changes. She was always rigid and half there, but mostly with a good touch of humanness. From time to time she went completely robot, but it was common enough not to be alarming. After all, Ray had known Sir Jane for over a week now- so they must’ve been good enough buds.
He was hungry, so they bought a couple of hot dogs from a vendor and sat down on the ground against one of the big buildings. Just a few yards next to them was an older gutter punk playing a guitar for change. She was dressed in an assortment of rags and colors, with long careless hair partially dreaded up. The strange thing about her though was her voice. It was deepened, somber like a man’s when she sang. She sounded like a cross between Leonard Cohen and Courtney Love, much more masculine than feminine. The song spewed out,
"1492 the ship came in
a variety of crooks and scabs
and a few good men
ants on a tray of marmalade
a questionable girl
with a bridal maid..."
People picked up their pace as they walked by her with mildly threatened looks on their faces. Once in a while she’d scream out a swear word or stare somebody down. As she was staring one person down, her eyes noticed Sir Jane and Ray. She stopped playing and blushed, then she called over to them,
"Sorry... didn’t think anybody was really here!"
This was said in a very feminine voice, except maybe a little smoky. She picked up her guitar and an old hand bag, and walked over to the two.
"Are you two just in from the road?"
They both nodded as they looked her over.
"Well shit, why don’t you stop by my place and rest up a few...come on!"
Sir Jane smiled in reply, and the boy looked half perplexed and half terrified. Sir Jane took him by the hand and followed the woman. She said,
"I like you’re singing"
"Thanks, I’ve been doing that for awhile. It’s my mission."
"Mission?"
"Yeah... I sing to wake people up... or maybe just to connect, I’m not sure yet. But for the past 10 years I’ve been on the streets trying to bring down The Man."
"Who’s the man?", Ray asked.
"The Man is the part of everybody who cares about themselves more than everybody else. The Man is anybody that takes advantage of people. The Man is- you know what, my man...? I think I tend to go on for too long sometimes. What’s your name, little man?"
"Ray"
"And what’s your name, Honey?"
"Sir Jane"
"Well, mine’s Danny. You both look like we could use a beer!"
Danny’s Place
Danny’s place was in the part of the city where there were lots of clumped up houses. She had her own little house though. It was the size of a small apartment, but she said she owned it. Her mother left it to her when she died. Danny was probably in her late forties. She had gray weaves in her black, partially dreaded hair. Danny could’ve been 50.
The house wasn’t clean, but it smelled alright. There were posters all over the walls of different bands and people. The Sex Pistols, Metallica, Ozzy Osbourne, Johnny Depp, Jesus Christ, Cypress Hill, Kurt Cobain, Pat Benetar... there were homemade posters here and there on the walls also. One particularly large one red, "1984 Again". There was another pink poster that read, "Vagina Monologues", next to a homemade peace sign. Next to that was "Damn The Man", and "Love Your Neighbor". All over the walls were smaller pieces of posterboard and a great many of them had "Frannie and Zooey" written on them.
Danny said, "I don’t really have any beers, I’m through with all that. It’s funny though... I could still go for one. Anyway, I’m gonna put some coffee on."
Sir Jane and Ray were sitting on the front porch just looking around. The city had been different from what either of them were used to, for awhile anyway. There was something strangely unreal about it. When Danny walked in she could see it in their eyes,
"The city’s really taken a change recently. I don’t know if it occurred over the past month or the past decade. I imagine it’s taken a while... but more so lately."
She put down 3 cups of coffee, black no sugar. Then she reached under the porch table and started to role a cigarette. Sir Jane watched her intently, and then Danny offered her one. She accepted.
Danny said, "Here, put this bit of straw on the end. It’ll keep your fingers from getting smoke stains on them."
Sir Jane put the hand-rolled cigarette into the piece of straw. Her straw was orange and Danny’s was green. It enhanced the smoking experience.
"People have been changing a bit lately. I can’t put a finger on it, but I noticed things..." Danny tried to explain.
"What types of things have you noticed?", asked Sir Jane.
"I’ve noticed that nobody says anything to me anymore. When I first started playing my guitar on the streets, I used to get real pissed off at all the stupid things people used to say to me. They’d tell me to get a job, or straighten myself out, and I’d tell them right back what was on my mind........ some people were nice. They’d tell me to rock on, or they’d invite me somewhere to hangout for awhile. Sometimes they asked me about The Man, but whatever... they stopped coming around. And I’m not talking about particular people, I’m talking about random strangers. Maybe they were a particular breed, I don’t know. They’re all but gone now."
She stared off for a second then went on again,
"It’s scary the way people are dressing these days too. It’s like they all wear the same stuff...with just little differences. They look like clones of the television. It’s freaky... I don’t have a TV anymore, that freaked me out a good five years ago. You know something about designer clothes, man? Almost everything you see people wearing around here was made by a sweatshop slave. Little kids, man! They’re getting cut up in machines, and beat by The Man in their country just so everybody can look like the fucking TV set over here! That really fuckin’ rips me up! Sorry if I’m freaking you out, I get overwhelmed..."
Sir Jane said, "You don’t have to worry about that."
"Thanks, man... I usually don’t." She looked at Sir Jane and Ray. "So what are you two doing around here anyway?"
Ray spoke up, "I ran away from home and I’ve been traveling with her for about a week now. My mom and I had thrown her in the trash awhile back for being a demon whore, even though she’s really pretty cool. Sir Jane’s on some mission from a gravestone she heard from, and I’m just tagging along."
Danny looked at Sir Jane and nodded her head. "He’s a little out of his gourd, huh?"
Ray broke in, "No, I’m sane- as anyone here..." Sir Jane nodded and Ray went on, "She had a tape recorder at the graveyard and a voice told her to hit the highway".
Danny had a half stare on, "Oh yeah, I heard of that...communicating with ghosts. I never have heard it myself though... sounds a little creepy........What’s this I heard about a demon whore?"
They spent the rest of the day talking, and Danny offered up her house for them to sleep at that night.
The next day
The next day quite a few things were different for different people. Sir Jane was not at Danny’s in the morning. She had spent the late-night into early-morning traveling out of the city. She was following Route 76. There was no note of explanation, and there weren’t any goodbyes because she wasn’t awake when she left.
Pat woke up with an incredible hangover for the first time in her life. She was the woman mentioned earlier who ran off into a hotel reacting to her life up to that point. She cried as she woke up, and felt no comfort until she let out an extended moan. So she let out another... and then another. After a few minutes the moans took form as words morphing into a tortured song about waking up. She smiled somehow and caught a reflection in the mirror, then she broke out laughing... painfully.
Novocaine and I left the alleyway in the morning and headed towards his neighborhood. Jimmy stayed back at the alleyway because that’s where he belonged, or so he said. I imagined that he was pretty tired out from being in semi- trances so much yesterday. That was fine by me, ‘cause I had some busy-ness ahead of me. Novocaine was going to train me to become a Guardian Angel! He said I had to learn some martial arts and discipline, and then I had to get tested. Enough about me now, Sir Jane was just waking up...
The Trip Continues
Sir Jane woke up from a lingering dream. She only remembered the last part of the dream. She was walking down a strange road. It was an empty, blank, white road with swirls of liquid gliding across it at random areas. Different parts of liquid were different colors, and the movement of the liquid was extraordinary. The liquid could pour down and then lift up again as if it was filmed in reverse. It paused for moments at a time. Sections of liquid hopped up and down as if each molecule was a Mexican jumping bean, and these individual molecules also emitted sounds. Tiny voices, each one. It was as if human bees were traveling in her area. Maybe it wasn’t the liquid that was making sounds- she didn’t know. There were shapes and shadows alongside the road that she was on. Dull gray movements behind walls of hidden glass. Or force fields, or something different, but separating. Sir Jane knew that her body was a liquid and that it was alive. She could feel it rotating on her axis, traveling in a pattern only discernible as randomness. Her body was made of colors but it slowly began to swirl into darker matter. The road ahead of her receded from liquid color into gray pavement and the shadows on the sides of the road became trees. Slowly, everything changed from lucid into what one would call – "An ordinary scene of walking down a quiet highway, in the darkness of morning". There were still some scattered colors bleeding off of Sir Jane’s waking reality. Her eyes were open but they didn’t fully focus until the sun began to rise.
Pat again
Pat left the hotel for good with a hangover. She was humming something to herself and she didn’t notice the lady behind the glass say anything when she handed in her room key. Pat’s eyes were red and winced in the sunlight but she didn’t mind, it was something new for her. Instead of going to her car, she went behind the hotel into the woods a little ways and threw up all over herself. It wasn’t pleasurable but she didn’t mind, ‘cause it was something new. Pat looked around and eyeballed a stream a few yards away. In a haze she stripped off her pukey clothes down to her underwear and sat on a rock in the middle of the stream. Quite matter-of-factly she said, "I’m not going home.", and then she laid backwards into the water. It was freezing but she didn’t mind, in fact she passed out with just her face above stream level.
In the same place about an hour later there were four kids staring at a body in the creek. It was Pat’s body and Pat was in it, but they thought she was a corpse. The kids were in their late teens, early twenties, two girls, two guys. All of them were dressed in black shirts and pants, with black eye liner on each one of them. One of them said, "It probably looks like we killed her." Then another said, "She’s got to be around 40 years old." And another, "She doesn’t seem like a local whore... maybe she’s a city whore." It was the last member’s turn to say something. You could tell by the awkward silence, but she picked up a stick instead and poked Pat in the nose.
Pat’s eyes opened point-blank. The kids just kind of glanced at each other and then looked back. Pat turned her head and said, "I’m a dead person. You’re just going to have to get that straight. Now take me home." Then Pat passed out again. One of the kids said, "That was cool." And another said, "We should bring her somewhere." And another, "We should bring her to the house. She said she wanted to go home." Finally the fourth member walked over to Pat’s clothes and noticed the puke all over them. She said, "I’ll lend her my shirt if somebody can part with their pants." They pulled Pat from the creek.
Home?
There was loud music coming from the basement of an old house. It was the type of music that kills flies in the summertime, the four kids dressed in black with their instruments on. The woman lying face down on the ancient couch. Rafters of partially rotted or destroyed wood. Random light bulbs with sick yellow perspective.
The players were trying to look serious, but the good time shone through every few moments. They liked what they were doing, you could tell that much.
The woman of the couch woke up, and slowly. She could hear the music low at first and then it gradually grew louder. Then it became the room. All there was...was the music. An organic carnival ride to Pat. She had a visual of what she was hearing. A living, breathing, roller coaster handling the gleeful cries of its passengers. Without knowing it, Pat crawled off the couch and made her way towards the oblivious musicians. She was on her hands and knees the whole way until she grasped for a microphone stand. It fell on the floor with a thud and a screech, bringing the music to a dead stop. The four of them stared at her blankly as she set the stand up again and slowly pulled herself to her feet, clutching it awkwardly. Pat snarled into the microphone, a strong, crazed voice, "I am alive somehow!!", and then she let out the whimpering howl of a rabid wolf. Pat jeered around staring from face to face with a timid, but intense stare. Their expressions were open eyed but very cautious – no one spoke. Pat turned back to the microphone and repeated herself, but this time she sang it – and sang it strong. It took maybe three repetitions until collectively the band knew to play. Her melody went perfectly with what they had just been practicing. Pat’s words changed from, "I am alive somehow" to "I am alive somewhere", then "I am afraid of life" to "because I’m not prepared" and then it went on some more. I think she collapsed after about an hour, but with a smile on her face. Oh yeah, and the band loved her.
Training Day
I was getting my ass kicked, but I wasn’t scared because I signed up for it. I was to be a Guardian Angel and I had to learn how to protect myself. It was like Novocaine said, "All a Guardian Angel’s supposed to do is keep the streets safe. But in order to do that they also have to absorb all the danger, you feel me?" so I was learning the hard way and it wasn’t that bad. My body was getting bruised up but my attackers were teaching me to fight- and in a very respectful manner, I might add. They were being careful with me. They told me ahead of time that they’d hold their punches but it was still gonna be rough. It was... for four weeks I was pulling myself off of the ground trying to listen to Novocaine’s directions while anywhere between one and four Angels carefully assaulted me. By the end of that month I became more secure than I’d ever been. The times I had been beaten up before then were degrading experiences. Kids cutting me down mentally along with physically, but these guys built me up mentally as they cut me down physically until my body caught up with my newly conditioned mind. After months I didn’t fear getting hit, and by that time they weren’t pulling punches so much anymore. It was a spiritual experience for me, and Novocaine was the preacher. He built up my mind until I had ability. It became possible to block punches from three or four guys... and watching him demonstrate was a miracle. We’d all go after him with all we had and somehow we just couldn’t hit him. We could graze him- but we couldn’t hit him.
After that month I went on walks with them. That was the job, walk the streets and absorb the danger ‘til there wasn’t any left. One of us had a police radio in case somebody called something in. We met with the police from time to time when we ran into a more serious situation- possible weapons suspects, gang members. We treated everybody with respect. If somebody was selling drugs, we had them dump them, no busts. We weren’t concerned with marijuana or mushrooms, just the hard stuff. If somebody kept showing up on the corner after we warned them once, we gave their name to the police and we let them know that we were doing it. Nobody wanted to deal with the police... the police were a whole new set of rules, and a more dangerous book to read. Everyone knew that with the Guardian Angels came respect- Angels didn’t treat anybody without respect. They were a part of a spiritual legion when they wore their red jerseys, after all, they volunteered.
With my new life, being a service to society, came a job offer I couldn’t refuse. One of the neighborhood businesses needed someone to shine floors for eight dollars an hour under the table. 20 hours a week was all I had to spend. I made $160 a week just to train, it seemed. You see, I didn’t use the wax machine, I tied cloths to my hands and feet and imagined I was being attacked by advanced gang activity. Spinning around on a waxy floor became a great exercise for balance and strength. I was amazed myself at how fun it was. With the money I could afford a small apartment. I even convinced Jimmy to live with me- although he wouldn’t sleep inside. For too long he slept out on an alleyway floor, so every night he went out and slept in the hallway. My apartment was at the end of the hallway, so nobody had to walk over him in the morning.
In the Morning
In the morning we developed a bit of a routine. We made a pot of coffee and poured it into two large travel mugs. Then we would go down the street to the heart of the city to drink it, using sugar and creamer from a nearby 7-11 mart. We usually sat there reading the newspaper or other articles of information well into the afternoon, until I had to go to my floor waxing job. Those hours were precious, spent watching everything and everyone around us. Each situational detail was observed like a scene from a movie. A person walking was a person walking where?...and for what? Were they dressed to fit in or dressed to survive? Our conversations about events in general led to conversations about the world we lived in. There were so many people doing things. Going places, they were.
I think it was after Jimmy was finished drinking his coffee one morning that he started talking about the Machine Bible and how it was related to the replacement system. I remember asking him if he was talking about the Holy Bible and he said, "No, The Machine Bible isn’t a written work, it’s a work being written. Before people were given tools and then machines to work for them, they relied completely on the land. The land was like a mother to them, much more personal than it is now. When people were given tools from the Spirit World, they began to work with the land in a way that brought them to feel more like equals with it. Naturally they had to distance themselves from the land as they gained more independence from it.
Now, with the gift of machines, people feel superior to the land- in their eyes they depend upon it little. It is now in the collective mind of people that eventually they will not and should not need it. They are beginning to believe that they should strive to replace nature with something better. This scares the hell out of me because people are part of this world, and they’ll have to take it with them wherever they go. It’s a false realization and you can see the effects of it right there in the street. Notice the people walking around. Most of them don’t even search over each other with their eyes. Most of them are talking to someone else through machines."
I noticed the majority of people were talking on cell phones as he was saying that. He went on, "I really wonder if whoever they are talking to is even a real person sometimes. If people get any busier they won’t have time to find out."
So I asked him, "Is this what the Machine Bible’s all about?"
"The Machine Bible is a system of belief that is replacing our natural belief system." "And what belief system is that, you old mystic?!", bellowed Novocaine who came from out of nowhere. Jimmy looked at him from over his shoulder and said, "The Spirit World, and I’m not old enough to describe that to you in any detail at all my friend." Novocaine sat down with a big smile and three coffees from the 7-11. He gave each of us one and said to Jimmy, "Well maybe you can downgrade and describe some of this Machine Bible instead." Jimmy smiled from his coffee. "Well, I’ll give it a shot. Way back when people didn’t think of work as work... they spent all day doing odd chores but these chores were spread out through the day as they hung out with their family and friends. Generations of humanity were given gifts from the Spirit World. These gifts were ideas that appeared to them in dream states and then their conscious minds put the ideas to conscious reality. Many of these ideas were inventions which have evolved into machines taking care of basic needs. We’re at a time now where all people’s needs could be met... but they’re not. This isn’t a surprise because there have always been some who take more than their share. Unfortunately those few lessened in their enjoyment of material advantage because a great big hole engulfs them from within. Now they’re seeking to fill the void with influence over others- power. They want more than for other people to make them wealthy, they want to make people more like themselves." I had to ask, "Why do they want to do that? What good will it do them?" Jimmy went on, "It’s not a matter of what good it will do them, it’s a matter of what they believe is good."
There was a long silence. Jimmy looked like he was trying to drown his chin in his coffee cup. Novocaine spoke up, "I think I know what you’re describing here. Like the gangs around here. They all gotta wear this... and not that, listen to this...", Novocaine made a longhand gesture from his left to his right to accentuate his sentence, "...but not that." Jimmy said, "Yeah, it’s gang mentality but more organized and with an extremely high level of influence."
"So what would the machine Bible command? Thou shalt not look hungry? Thou shalt not wear used clothes? What about- thou shalt watch cable television when thou gets home from work?", pondered Novocaine. I said, "I don’t know man, but if those are the commandments I think they’re working." Novocaine kept going on, "Thou shalt stare at girls’ asses in the company of other men... and thou shalt comment on them. Thou shalt wear deodorant. This is crazy man, I think I’ll say it out loud for awhile!"
Then off Novocaine went shouting out commandments into the air. At a good distance I could hear him bellow, "Thou shalt eat out on your lunch break!", and then he was gone. Just before I left for waxing the floors Jimmy muttered, "He’s right, you know. He’s probably doing the right thing about it too. We all need to hear what’s there sometimes." Then off to what some consider work I went.
Thou shalt desire to be more accepted than others.
Thou shalt shield thyself from those who show weakness.
Thou shalt stop skateboarding when one’s schooling is finished.
Thou shalt support the structure in which one lives.
Thou shalt let no errors go recognized in the public eye.
Thou shalt conform one’s perception when at the appropriate age.
Thou shalt not be anywhere without a reason.
Thou shalt remain cautious of all others.
Thou shalt express disinterest to protect status.
Thou shalt compromise one’s eccentricities to fit the grid.
Thou shalt develop personality from accepted celebrity figures.
Thou shalt remain efficient.
Thou shalt remain constrained.
Thou shalt not run amok except for in varying degrees of sexual or violent outbursts.
Thou shalt gain importance through position.
Thou shalt rely on one’s particular function.
One’s particular function shall be one’s reality.
Reality is machine...
Highway
Sir Jane walked down the highway, which was beginning to look like any typical highway. She could feel her legs only for awhile. She could hear them only, for awhile. Then she began to hear the rhythmic call of the crickets on the side of the road. Then she could feel the breath coming out of her body, and then she could feel her eyes in the air. She was wondering why she was there. She had been asleep near the boy in Danny’s house, but now she was walking alongside a road and it was becoming morning but still dark out. She walked by a sign that read Route 76 West and then she completely understood... she understood the moment.
The sky was turning from mostly black to mostly blue when she saw a parked car pulled off the side of the highway about a football field ahead. When she reached the spot she noticed a slight trail heading off from the road to the woods, like something had been dragged through the grass. Sir Jane followed the trail into the woods with just enough light to see. A few yards in, there was a creek reflecting just enough light for her to see another trail. This time a trail of blood... the blood ended at a body under a tree. The body’s legs were still partway in the water. It was a boy in his mid-twenties, scruffy looking. He hadn’t shaved in awhile and his clothes smelled of blood and old sweat. Sir Jane moved close to the body. Its eyes were open, staring straight ahead. There was no expression, like the constant look of fish. She got down on her knees and saw that the shirt near the belly was soaked in blood, then she looked back up at the eyes and something came alive in them. "Jane", it said, "This is Jane.".................... "Yes", she replied and then with barely above a breath, "What is this?"................... "This... Jane, is what has known you since the beginning.... Alive and still dying, we are..... alive and still dying........ You’re so strong Jane.................... I knew they’d get me." The boy looked down at his gut and said, like someone would say to their dead pet, "My spacesuit..." More away than there Jane asked, "Who did this to you?" "It was a man in a gray hat", he said, "I think he was just a man...wearing a plain gray hat." Sir Jane knew this boy. She could feel it and that he knew her, but she could only think dialogue. Wanting desperately to express anything, she could only utter, "How do you know me... and I you?" He looked straight above him and then down at his feet, "There’s a book Jane, a Journal. I’ve met people... if you can..." He looked straight at her, "Find the angel........ but now...take my eyes and heart..."
Sir Jane knew and didn’t know as the life left his body. The torment of this half knowledge was too much for her to express rationally and she howled into a frenzy, ingesting first his body’s eyes and then clawing into his chest to free the heart. After the heart was consumed Sir Jane wept. She wept as she took the boy’s journal from behind his back, and she wept as she dropped his body into a tunnel of dirt, covering it over for good.
The Journal
Sir Jane was sitting on a guardrail in the morning sun not far from the woods where the boy lay buried. She had his journal in her hands and a song running through her head.
‘Sitting in the morning sun
I’ll be sitting when the evening comes
watching the ship’s roll in
then I’ll watch them roll away again
sitting on the dock of the bay
watching the tide roll away
sitting on the dock of the day
wasting time’
There was a bit of traffic on the road at this point; she had taken time to wash off in the creek, so the sun was at good strength. The road almost glowed a dark blue hue and to her it looked more liquid than solid. Gradually, ever so gradually the cars zoomed by less steadily. They would glide by and waiver to the sides as they splashed up road behind them. She began to watch them float by as if they appeared in slow motion during this meditative like state. She didn’t zone out for long though. There, in slow motion, was the panic filled expression of a driver in one of the cars, and then a similar expression on the next and the next. They didn’t have control of their vehicles. They were terrified! Sir Jane looked down and saw her legs submerged in road. She was caught off guard with this occurrence and jerked her legs out, falling backwards off the rail. She landed on solid grass and then crannied her head back towards the road. It was just a regular road again. Solid. Cars driving by here and there; their operators without much expression at all, which was usual. The boy’s journal was on the ground also so she reached over without getting up and put it in front of her. Then she leaned against the guard rail facing the woods and opened the small blue book...
The Journal
The road
second trip:
Albany 8/19
got a ride with a guy who probably wanted to see what I tasted like. Detoured to a nude bathing hangout that was part of the Massachusetts State Reservation. Bought me lunch.
Rode with a man of God, a teacher. Cool dude but seemed confused. Gave me some cash.
Rode with a working man who set me in the right direction.
Old man getting divorced after 30 year marriage for a mile.
Played "Iris" (goo goo dolls) for some teens at a pit stop. One had a chip on his shoulder but the pretty girl singing eased any pain.
Mass 8/20
ride told me they pile out of their car to mug you these days, five to one. Gave me orange juice.
Rode with an ex trucker. Gave me five bucks.
Turned down a ride from a dirty old man for a paranoid adventure with a crazy guy named Paul. Ended up cruising through Rhode Island(Providence) blaring rap music. The guy drove with action movie style grace, but probably the craziest driver anyone will ever experience.
Confusion: this guy was aggressive so my paranoid sensors went mad. Being stuck in the middle of a drug deal didn’t help matters. I think he’s genuinely good but his mixture of alcohol and pride brought out a demon I couldn’t trust. I feel like a weak schoolboy.
I can’t deal well with lonely and lost people for long amounts of time. I can’t help anyone in the way they want me to. I think I’m paranoid so much of the time cause I can sense that these people take out their frustrations on me in quiet ways. I’m not a bad ass and I don’t wanna be, but not being a bad ass makes me feel like a whore. I am a whore, but they’re all whores too. And that sucks.(this is the pessimistic view) need some peace of mind.
Connecticut 8-20
Ride to Connecticut with two cool dudes. Benjamin I think from hope valley, Rhode island. Gave me a knife and told me to come back sometime.
Played some Dylan tunes with a kid named Carl. Had the same shoes I did. Brought me to the ocean after midnight and we both jumped in (the unknown). Back at the truck stop a kid in the Marines bought me two packs of cigarettes and gave me a Marine issue lighter. Slept at the truck stop with a barlow in my hand.
The road is getting old. It’s been almost three months (that’s always been my average for a full time job to last)
gotta find "Jenny", or start a band without her.
Connecticut 8-21
Picked up by an intellectual Harvard school guy. Picked me up cause he saw the guitar, said if he saw my shirt he wouldn’t have-Charlie don’t surf.
He treated his companion like an irritable mother would treat her son. Seemed like a good guy in general, we argued about stuff.
Had to climb over a barbed wire fence when a cop made me get off the highway.
Picked up by a Hell’s Angel guy. Said Hell’s Angels carry i.d. cards now. (One punk kid didn’t have his and was given a choice to cover up his tattoo or else. They ended up cutting off the tattoo with a knife-he had a choice).
Got another ride with a guy my age who’s getting married and hoping to open up a tattoo parlor. He was a trucker for Christian supplies.
A ride with two guys looking for weed.
Ride with a guy who delivered flowers. On his way to a funeral. A lot of business comes from funerals and weddings. The love of his life died. He brought her to Colorado before she did. (One of her dreams).
Ride with a guy who turned from drug addiction to God. HE spent from fourteen to seventeen on the road. Bought me a dr. pepper-the cap was a winner (good for another one).
Ride with a security guard/coast guard reserves man. He was pretty cool and offered me a place to stay if i was ever in town.
Lots of walking, no sleep.
New York 8-22.
Stopped by a yacht club and jammed out for the rich people. This guy’s construction company ended up killing four people in his last project (times square). He was pretty cool, just a normal guy trapped in his money.
I thought this pretty girl stopped for me (bike and all) under some bridge. I think she’s heading on.
A rottweiler breeder drove me a good ways into Pennsylvania. He was the youngest of three brothers and had a sister along with his parents. They all didn’t get along with him. Black sheep-bought me a soda. Name of company was something like denway-in Maine.
Yacht club...I started getting greedy just knowing this guy was rich. I thought I might get some cash or maybe a cruise on a boat. I didn’t expect anything though. I’d rather him give it all up, leave the phonyland.
PA 8-22 Trucker named Michael drove me straight to Roanoke, Virginia. Real, cool guy. We listened to heavy metal and southern rock. He’s pretty sure his wife’s going to leave him and take the kids. Said he feels she loves him but doesn’t want to be with him. He’d rather she leave if she’ll be happier. He brought me some bacon cheeseburgers.
VA 8-23Got a ride to Salem with a kid my age and his newborn daughter. He was wacked out about getting married soon and everything that comes with it. He said you don’t try to solve problems for a woman, you just lend her an ear and a shoulder. I hung out with some cool kids that picked me up for the rest of the day and night. Schyler, Ducky, Johnny, Travis, Troy, Mike, Laura and a whole lot more. We jammed, drank and drew blood (Mike gave Troy a tattoo). It was a good day and a half with good people. They fed me, gave me smokes, and were just themselves.
8-24 Left for Charlottesville and was picked up by Jerry-damn good artist. A leader of a different life. He said I should check out Europe. Well I might. Coffee and smokes. Slept by a stop.
8-25 Picked up by a local named Doug. A cool enough guy. Turned into a dirty old man for a while detailing his gay lifestyle, but it was just talk.
Rode into Charlottesville with Todd, a guy who lost his leg after a battle with cancer (only found in children). I went to Newport News with him to help build his grandfather a shed. His grandparents lost their son months before me being there. He had a diabetic attack and walked into electrical lines one night. He had lived right down the street from them, saw them daily. Spent three nights there myself. Last day we worked was in the middle of a monsoon from a neighboring hurricane. I called Charlottesville there and decided to head to Blacksburg, VA. Stayed with Todd, his girlfriend Caroline, and her kids Tonya and Seth for a couple of days. Jammed out with Caroline a bunch of times real loud. Hung out with Tonya, beautiful blue eyed blond with a brain, and got kicked off a ritzy pro-golf course with Seth (who wrote wussy in the sand pit). Me and Seth hauled rocks across a creek for Todd to use, and I heard all about this guy named Rusty from California-ex boyfriend stuff. Todd dropped me off on a little country road and I started walking.
After a few miles I got picked up by a clown. Chally Erb, a professional clown. He’s been a part of the rainbow tribe (gathering) for over twenty years now. I keep running into this rainbow tribe. Chally’s also a Vietnam vet. I was dropped off on the highway and a cop pointed me up a ramp. I found a Barbie doll’s head.
Lost the bag of food Caroline gave me when I was picked up by Melvin (I think), a senior at VA tech who talked to me about the institution. Religion, workplaces, people- the way things work. He was a cool guy but I think I screwed up his name. It’s Sunday in Blacksburg. I slept behind some……
8-31 A guy stopped by in a van and offered me a job selling magazines. I gave it a shot. The deal was that food and shelter was paid for with a cut from your sales. Stayed at the Ramada with a huge group of kids that loved to party and make cash. Spent my whole first night with this guy Carl, on railroad tracks and in a stairwell (great acoustics in stairwell) they made me clean up in the morning so I was late. 9-1 Everything about selling magazines pisses me off. I ended up just talking to people and I quit the job at the end of the day. That night I ate at a waffle house talking to a local named Joan about everything and anything. Slept on the side of the road.
9-2 Got a ride from a kid named Bo who just finished following Phish for the summer. We ended up in West Virginia by accident and ended up taking all day getting back to Blacksburg again. Got a ride with a Christian drummer, he tried to save my soul but I declined. He was a nice guy. Slept on the side of a telephone company.
9-3 Hung out in Blacksburg and contacted Leslie. I met the Christian drummer again. Met a girl named Daniel who taught me some stuff. Hung out with Leslie until late and then went to bed by some drainage system.
9-4 While leaving Blacksburg I was picked up by the girls I met selling magazines. Jen, Brook, Cecilia-watched a soap opera and listened to The Doors, they made me a care package and off I went. A guy on the street who used to be a gutter punk gave me ten dollars for a song "Sweet Jane", he’d just lost his girl. I was picked up by a kid about my age who was a big fan of drinking and drugging. A year before he flew out of his car going one hundred twenty miles per hour, seventy five feet into a fence. He still can’t remember anything for the first three weeks. Picked up by an older dead head looking guy who brought me to a rest stop.
9-4 At the bus stop I met Steve Robins, the store clerk who’s also going to bible college. He was laid back and pretty damn genuine. After we argued about religion stuff he prayed for God to send me a miracle. I’ll give him a call if it ever gets here. At the bus stop I also met a couple who gave me five dollars, a piece, and a soda and a sandwich. Their car broke down and this camper happened to have a camper being worked on. Both vehicles eventually pulled away. I was picked up by a cop off the road and dropped at a truck stop. Slept in a field.
9-5 Woke up with a swollen jaw. The famous abscess tooth is back for the third time. Luckily Mike packed me some amoxicillin. Each time I stepped out on the highway a cop was awaiting. I slept at a rest stop for hours then got a ride- after another cop told me to move. Jon, an insurance salesman with ambitions to become a handicap aide distributor. He felt life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be-but all in all seemed satisfied enough with what he got. In seventh grade he was a loner until he got up on the dance floor one night. From then on (until he moved) he became popular with the boys and desired by the girls- over night. He got me a room at the super eight, and stole me a salt shaker from a waffle house for my mouth.
9-6 Jon dropped me off in Memphis, Tennessee. He gave me one hundred dollars and four bottles of spicy V8 juice (medication).
9-6 Gave some guy three cigarettes then went into a hospital to use the restroom. The same guy walked in on me accidentally, I didn’t care. Met another guy named Ken who described our bodies as spacesuits we needed to survive on earth. Said he played with pro golfers before and was a spiritual man. I liked him.
Mississippi Ride with J.C. club owner on bicycle street. He does "what he can, when he can".
Picked up by Shelly. Brought me to her friend’s house and told me if I was approached to say "I’m Jamie from the Club". Nobody ever came out. She bought me a soda, gave me a smoke and about Black Sabbath she said-the music means something different to her people than to the people where I come from. She also told me she was friends with the girl who starred in Titanic.
Mayre Thatcher pulled off to the left side of the road with handicap plates on the van. She was driving home to see her son (who was paralyzed in an accident). She never got outside of Mississippi, but that’s the thing she wants. Stayed with her husband for 10 years while he was in prison- he wandered off. Now she’s staying with her kids hoping to move on someday. She took my picture and didn’t seem to notice my swollen face.
Took a dip in the Yokono River, had a turtle squirm out from under my feet- saw some big fish, and bugs.
After a lot of walking in the dark, some kids picked me up and drove me to a gas station- we played the blues. Some girls at the station gave me a cigarette for a song.
9-7 Walked miles and miles. Picked up by a truck driver who told me Jesus was the way. Also said you should always talk to God while you’re shopping to get the best deals. Picked up by a professor who teaches people in the Navy. It’s a big traveling job. He also said Jesus was the only way to go and I wouldn’t get a miracle (divine) from God to prove it. He told me I’d like Key West so I decided to go. Also said I should check out Alaska and work on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming. Also told me to check out the crazy horse mountains. I think his name was Rusty. He dropped me off at the Florida Welcome Center. Florida
9/8 Picked up by Jennett, her lazy man-friend, and some hitchhiker they picked up. I ended up spending over $40 cause they had no gas or food money. She brought me back to her friend Brian’s and I met a guy named Mike there- he lost his two sons in an accident. Brian was living off unemployment and Jennett knew "Wish You Were Here" hardcore. Jenett dropped me at the highway around 3am. Can’t describe this……. 3:30 or so I hung out with this guy who was waiting for his girlfriend (Meredith) and his friend (Amy, maybe) to move into their apartment. He said they left to get away from cocaine, which isn’t a bad idea. They let me stay there and gave me some cigarettes and a couple bucks. Taking shelter under a bridge. Someone wrote that God helped them make a decision
9/9 Got a ride from Doug to this big bridge. He said I should find out about the captains of boats well before I got on one. He wishes he could get up and go, but he’s got a family. I’m stuck by this bridge right now and it sucks.
9/9 Detective Mike picked me up and over the bridge. His car phone didn’t get any rest; he was on that for over half the ride. Real cool guy, told me being a detective has its ups and downs, same as any job (usual perks keep you interested- nice car). He dropped me on the highway and a minute later a cop pushed me off; and it started to rain. Jim picked me up in his work vehicle. Real easygoing and laid back. He said his wife and he were a true pair, over thirty-forty years married. Their youngest is off to school so they’re going to hit the road in a Winnebago (three years). He gave me ten dollars and a couple sodas for the trip. One of his kids hit the gathering. They lady at the waffle house gave me a free waffle. I saw a stingray today, after hearing what they looked like last night. Brian was right- invisible, swimming shapes in the sand. I thought they were trying to surround me at first ‘cause you focus on one and you notice another one creeping around. Ocean swimming isn’t as easy as it looks. Turned down a short ride and got a longer ride that put me on a new route. Tony gave me a ride in his street sweeper. Told me to beware of alligator alley cause the people are as dangerous as the alligators; he mentioned deliverance. He is a survivor of the hippie culture ‘cause he wouldn’t mainline heroin. Most of his old buddies are dead ‘cause of that. I met a girl at a convenience store who said there are lots of poisonous snakes, spiders, some wild pigs and maybe a bobcat around. She said she hadn’t seen any recently though. Played a song for an old guy and then he offered me a joint. Got paranoid ‘cause a cop was around and I left. I kept going.
9-9 Tony picked me up again. He’s been hit by a car three times. Got money for each. Said his only true friend to trust is his mother. We smoked a j and ended his three hour break. I slept at the end of a Wal-Mart parking lot.
9-10 Bought a cheap tent at Wal-Mart. Got picked up by some kids, Marcia and Desiree. Met some of the people taking advantage of Marcia’s house (‘cause her mom wasn’t home). Marcia wrote some good stories and songs and she had me play songs for her step mom. Desiree had me play for her mom and dad (dad wasn’t amused). She said she liked him more as a drinking alcoholic. Spent the night there.
9-11 Left around four and stopped off at Brent’s home. He’s headed to the army in a few months. He was a cool kid who was also a bit of a kleptomaniac, not too bad. I walked for a while then set up the tent in some field.
9-12 Woke up hot as hell. Walked with no ride, then headed to route seventy five. Walked there with no ride for a while. Found twenty dollars on the ground. Picked up by Adrianus. A guy who worked on a shark boat for a few weeks. He told me working on a shark boat was the way to go, but to stay away from boats with heroin addicts. Played a song for a lady at a gas station; she gave me two dollars. She said she felt we may have met before in some way some how. Got a ride with a couple of beach guys. One was cool and the other was too cool to be cool.
9-12 Got a ride with Nancy and Paul. Nancy was a cute blond and Paul was picked up by a senator in his hitchhiking days- they had to move their golf clubs for his bag. Got a ride with a guy named Paul through alligator alley to Miami. Ten foot fences to keep the gators from the road. He was laid back and real easygoing. The two hours went quick. He was married twice for ten years; there won’t be a third. He gave me twenty dollars. Miami
9-12 A guy played some blues for me at the gas station. Showed me some chords. Told me to be careful of evil people. I got picked up by Hesus under a bridge. He came to America from Cuba on a raft with eight other people. Picked up by the coast guard after four days- without food. He went out of his way to get me to route one. I gave him two dollars for gas (he asked for). Talked to Sundown (Charles) about direction. He told me the wrong one, then came back to tell me the right one. I got paranoid at the gas station ‘cause this guy next to me kept pacing around and wouldn’t go away. Asked him if he wanted to hear a song and he said no. Started walking. Probably two a.m. by another gas station in Miami, and I told myself I wouldn’t get stuck here. Key West
9-13 Evil children walk like Dad said not to. They’re gonna take your child on their knees. Religion and the word don’t seem to find, these grownups pretending on their knees. If your made of……drunk……. I hitched a ride with this guy Dan. We stopped in at some bars along the way- I had coffee. He brought me to this gay and lesbian hangout where people sunbathe nude. They have a screen set up outside where they’ll view a movie. He dropped me off in the thick of downtown. Too many people so I left for the next closest island. On that island I met Vietnam Jon and Hawkeye Mike and a bunch of other homeless dudes. Everybody was pretty cool, we drank and played some music. This younger guy (26) Dragon Jo offered to set me up with a job the next day. After most left I met up with Hawkeye and he told me more about the huge homeless lifestyle as we got real drunk.
9-14 Woke up in the wrong spot to meet Jo so I slept for a while. Went to the beach. Met up with two other guys at the beach, told me some more street stuff. Jammed with a good man though…….. played at the square and made eight bucks. Spent most of the rest of the night talking to Victor.
9-15 Woke up and decided to head out. I met up with Vietnam Jon and Hawkeye on the way, so I hung out with them for a while. A new wanderer hung out for a while- he reminded me of Dave Ploof a lot, and his name was Dave too. I got a ride from a lady named Terry. She’s a piano player- said she was good and even better on weed. Three years clean of cocaine and alcohol. Pretty cool.
9-15 Got a ride from another guy, Mike, who was into nude sunbathing. He was gay but wouldn’t say and he delivered medical supplies. He was a hitchhiker once before; picks up only those that look clean. After three and a half hours of walking Danielle picked me up. Said I reminded her of a friend who hitchhiked. She had hitchhiked herself and was now doing this on a whim. She offered me shelter for the evening, a place she was house-sitting for her boss. After her dad died a short time ago, she deals with it by helping people. Noble and extreme measures, but it worked out for her. She might have opened up a job possibility for me too.
9-16 Danielle stopped by- job had been filled, so she dropped me off at a marina up the road (gave me twenty dollars). She wants to get a sailboat to be close to her father and she wants to be on MTV’s "road rules". Got a ride with two guys, but I noticed knives. One on the dash and a big one behind the seat. I went in to buy Gatorade and when I came back the big one was moved. I told one guy I was heading on (without disrespect) cause the situation didn’t seem right. He said he knew nothing about the wandering knife. They were supposedly returning a stolen van to a friend. They said they didn’t steal it after kinda saying they did. I left when one guy was inside buying a cd. Felt like I was the object of a ritual- never got to see the cd. Brenda, a gas station clerk, offered me a ride when she got off from work if I couldn’t get one. She also told me she had a gun and a knife she’d use if she had to. We talked about serial killers and Jaws. Two hitchhikers were found dead in alligator alley (a guy and a girl). I ended up getting a ride from a guy named Junior. We barely talked, but we got along better in silence- he seemed real cool.
9-16 Someone said the mosquitoes were worse than the gators- maybe. Walked the turnpike near a prison. A helicopter was searching and cops were riding around. They were looking for a young Latino kid. I set up tent in some dirt field.
Miami 9-17 Got a ride with a guy named Kenny who lived on a house boat. He told me some people are giving sailboats away ‘cause they are such a hassle. His place is at the one hundred twelve mile mark from Key West. Got a pickup ride with what seemed a small family to Miami. We almost got nicked by a Mack truck. They let me off and told me where to go for I-95. I ended up on a long walk, a bus and a train ride until I finally got near ninety five. Also had a small ride with a girl named Barbara. She was really into the strict Christian life, and she was a crazy driver. She offered me some places to stay, but I declined. She was cool. Met a kid at the I-95 gas station named Tyrone. He said he was an angel, a hustling angel, but an angel. He’d been living on and off the streets for five years. He said he’d steal from a store but not from a person and he can’t help but "help a bitch in need". A guy in a wheel chair offered me to stay at his place. I said no thanks and we both felt bad about it. An old man named Pop gave me twenty five cents. He was straight out of a fairytale, real cool. Some kids robbed the gas station of some beer and then sped off. Some too cool gangster dude gave me that challenging, snotty, stare- I hate Miami. Didn’t get any sleep either with the rain and all.
Florida, near Miami 9-18 Walked up the turnpike for hours until I got a ride with an ex-hippie. He had been a correction officer who they called "Crazy Joe" or something like that. Used to slash the tips of their noses with wire when they messed with him. He gave me a Jimi Hendrix tribute tape and got me to route ninety five. Talked to a guy from Missouri who said he hated it. Talked to some girls, Katie and Bobby Jo (or Bobby Jeff). Some couple gave me some weed and a guy gave me three bucks. Still raining. Smoked some of the weed with Woody, a local guy. He was a good mood-set for the area I’m in, easygoing and laid back. After a few beers I played a song for a beautiful blond named Cindy. She liked it but she didn’t come back. Set up tent behind the store and crashed.
9-19 Laconia, New Hampshire and Chezon, Canada- God’s country. Lake Winnapesaki, Weirs beach. These are places Diana Dell loved to hang out in with her biker friends. I hung out with her and Uncle Marty for the rest of the day. Diana was eccentric and Marty was a boozer, we drank vodka and beer all night. Uncle Marty let me stay at his place during a rainstorm that night; he lived in a front porch- it was great. I also hung out with Kelly off and on. He was a guy stranded there waiting for his friend to show up and give him a place to stay.
9-29 Left with five dollars to my name. A car stopped and asked if I had gas money. I said no so they kept going (to the next exit). I decided to try and find them but couldn’t. Instead I was picked up by Diane. We spent the whole day cruising around in the rain, talking like we’ve known each other for years. She wanted to hear about my journeys and stuff, but she didn’t want to read this- and I don’t think I want to write in it anymore.
The information will be released at the execution. Excuse me, Sir I do believe you’re standing on my seat. You’re off balance, your right from wrong, I don’t want it next to me. The sails on your ship ride on my wind, as I suffocate- you fornicate. I don’t want your right from wrong. The fire is rising on the island and you’re losing time. They won’t speak to you, you’re not good enough and you haven’t tried. Warm shadows still keep you at large. We may never meet, but I want my mind back. This timing’s negative. To flow zone to zone exchanging homes kills all perspective. The animals. They are changing. They are making up so much of what is everything. I want to care for you but you’re an illusion. I’m on my own. Excuse me, Sir I do believe you’re resting in my grave. I’ve lived too long to give that up and lose myself in space. Where are the clouds now and the horizon? And the earth that from which I came? They were blocked out then chewed up and swallowed by this mortal brain. Excuse me, Sir there is no explanation. Excuse me, Sir I’ve given up my medication
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