Thursday, November 5, 2015

Flowers On the Wall

(from The Book Must Burn)

Beautiful and silent,
like flowers on the wall
capturing the sun,
and glow of summer,
and joy
of that moment
when picked,
now withered away
to be passed without a glance,
until discarded
as a memory.

Reflections In the Sand

(from The Book Must Burn)

Shattered,
like a mirror,
reflecting the pieces
of who we've been,
who we are,
and who we will be;
I counted the fragments
before they reverted
to the sands of time,
carried away
by the winds of change,
and washed back up
on the cosmic shore
with all the grains
to ever be.

Worlds Of Time

(from The Book Must Burn)

Time is but a moment,
fleeting,
and undecided,
until it's there,
then gone.

We phase through.

With many souls
and many masks
for many lessons
from many tasks.

Every glitch
and anomaly
these worlds create
weave new fabric
from strands of fate.

We phase through,
and never notice
the change
until it's made.

For time is but a moment,
fleeting,
and undecided,
until it's there,
then gone.

We phase through,
and our worlds are never the same.

Wishing Star

(from The Book Must Burn)

The star shot across the sky
as the world watched,
each to their own corners,
wishing for new hopes and dreams
with new faith and inspiration
that the planets shall align,
moved by will,
as if the star could be a messenger
between Heaven and Earth,
illuminating sky,
and the heart,
of every eye
that beholds it.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

What A Ride: 2015 Festival Season

(previous chapter)

It wasn't long until it was time for Nelsonville Music Fest. Since I lived in the woods around Nelsonville at the time, moving my tent to the festival was a no-brainer for a camping fee of only $30 for the weekend, like I'd be anywhere else anyway - I've got pride in my home town, and Nelsonville Music Fest is our pinnacle of awesome.

I'm used to volunteering at festivals, or doing something with my time to keep me occupied and meeting people, but I waited too late to apply for Nelsonville. Instead, I racked my brain for things I could do, ways I could add something to the event. In addition to gathering trash, I settled on an idea I had seen at the Ocala Rainbow gathering - Gone Postal.

My weekend was spent going around the campgrounds, delivering festival mail. It was the greatest expression on people's faces when they got mail at the event. I found people by having the person writing the letter I was transporting describe the person I was looking for, their camp, and about where they were located, on the letter. Most of the letters got delivered successfully. I even delivered exactly one letter to someone I already knew - N's brother!

Unfortunately, I was unable to afford the full ticket and wasn't a real volunteer, so missed out on any music that wasn't in the campgrounds. I heard that, when the Flaming Lips played, they sent up a giant balloon that said, "Fuck Yeah Nelsonville" on it, and when it popped, a bunch of kids converged on the pieces and sold them to the crowd for $20 each.

At this point in my life, I figured my next stops would be Wisteria Summer Solstice, then on to Nationals in Michigan, then up to Maine to work on a farm. In the meantime, I wanted to see N again before I left, but wasn't sure where we stood anymore. I messaged her to ask if I could stop by before I left if I behaved, and she told me that she didn't want me to have to behave, she just wanted me as a friend, and that I would see her at Solstice. After trying for the last couple years to get N to like me as something more than that, and her still insisting she wanted me as a friend, I figured she deserved to have me as a friend - not some flake that disappeared at every turn because I couldn't control my feelings.

At Solstice, I was back on trash crew like most any time I was at Wisteria. In addition, I also helped out in the kitchen in exchange for free meals. Besides, the kitchen is where most of my friends were, anyway. N brought Go Time and Banjo.

The council for Nationals was in South Dakota in the Black Hills on Lakota territory, but they didn't want us there. I assumed the consensus would be to hold the gathering in Michigan, which was where I had heard all year it was going to be, but council elected to stay where they were. This decision was made late into Solstice. In light of the gathering being held on native territory without a proper invitation, I elected to stay in Ohio and do Starwood instead.

As a result of staying in Ohio for Starwood, I ended up at N's house again for the in-between period, then helping out in the kitchen to get into Wormhole, which takes place the week before Starwood.

Wormhole is filled with Subgeniuses, which are people that worship a prophet, named Bob, whom was contacted by the alien Jehovah 1 to brainwash the people into working for a living, but he infiltrated their ranks to promote slack instead. They're an interesting group, to say the least, and they make some good breakfast for the "Last Pancakes On Earth."

Wormhole ran into Starwood and more hippies started to arrive. N's brother's crew's camp was set up in the same location and style as the crew N and I had been a part of when we met in 2012. The night before the big bonfire, I sat at Crossroads in the middle of the campground and shouted nice things at people, calling myself the reverse troll. The day of the big bonfire, I picked a bunch of flowers and went around passing them out, calling them torches of love and light. I dropped some acid just before my trash shift, and was starting to come up by the time we had finished. I went around the rest of the day giving out more compliments, then found myself at the Marsh Swamp putting glow sticks together just before the fire.

The bonfire is lit after the last act on the main stage, which is followed by a procession to the bonfire field with chanting while they carry the ceremonial torch. Also included in the lighting ritual is a fire-spinning show, and the chasing of new fire tribe members around the fire. There's always a firetruck there for safety reasons, but this year's fire went off without a hitch.

I saw N in a group around the fire and wanted to do a lap around the fire with her so we could talk, but I didn't know what to say and she probably wouldn't have wanted to hear it anyway. I sat down instead, because that made sense to my tripped-out mind. Some blonde girl I had never seen before sat down almost on top of me a few seconds later, and after a few minutes of talking, we ran around the fire together, then she disappeared. I ended up in the pufferdome for awhile so I could be mostly on my own somewhere comfortable to ride out part of my trip, but eventually made my way back to the fire. A few people even approached me who still had their flower from earlier, which really helped my night.

Eventually, worn, I went back to my tent. I was back in Nelsonville a day later.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

What A Ride: All About N + A Wedding

(previous chapter)

Now that I was back, I wanted to be better than the mess that left.

I contacted one of the shareholders at Wisteria Event Site about doing a little under the table work once a week so I would have some money. I didn't need much, since I was still staying in the woods, or at friends' houses. She had plenty of work to provide; mostly house cleaning, but also some yard work.

After the first day of work, I had to either get dropped off at my dad's, my uncle's or N's, as they were the closest places I could land from Wisteria. I've never been on the best terms with my dad since moving out, and the last time I saw my uncle was when I stopped by to get some of my stuff I had left behind in his cabin that I used to live in. He told me he threw everything away, and I left; so I wasn't really sure what terms I was on with him. Besides, I really wanted to see N.

I didn't have a way to announce myself, but her family had always told me I was free to stop by when I needed, and I did need to, so I showed up when it was already dark. N's step dad let me in. When I left, N had her own place and roommates that didn't pay their share and she wound up back at her mom's house while I was away. She was still at work when I showed up.

When she got back, she sighed when she saw me, making my heart drop, "Hey, Chucke."

"Hey, N."

Then she sat down, half-leaned her head onto my shoulder for a few seconds, then we were normal again.

We hung out in her room to watch a movie. After the film was done, I lay back in her bed and she didn't ask me to go somewhere else. When I tried to put an arm around her, though, she did take it back off.

When she got up for work the next morning, while she was smoking her first cigarette of the day, I took a chance to make her smile.

"Hey, guess what?"

"What?"

I stuck my tongue out. She gave me a look for a few seconds, then stuck her tongue out, too.

"Guess what else?"

"What?"

"You're beautiful."

I got the smile I was looking for, so I rolled with it, complimenting as much of her I could think of in that moment. All she could do was smile, blush, and say, "Thank you."

Since I was still a good ride from Nelsonville, I took several days each time I was at N's. That wasn't uncommon for me, nor for N's home, which is sometimes a sanctuary for those who need it. The condition was that I did work around the house, whatever N's stepdad needed; there was plenty of yard work out in the country, and the house is a constant project.

After N got off work later that day, we had to get Go Time and Trash Can, who were busking with a couple other dirty kids uptown Athens. At some point that night, I called up that morning by asking N if I had told her she was beautiful yet that day.

She giggled, "Yes, you did."

For reasons of believing a woman should hear she's beautiful shortly after waking each day, I continued to tell her every morning, but her reactions were increasingly shut-off. I figured that if I came up with more creative ways to tell her she was beautiful, I could get her to smile. It worked for awhile, but the better I got, the better she got at shutting herself off to me.

Except the time I got out of the car at a red-light to pick her a tulip. Boy, did she smile after that. It even stayed in the air freshener on the rear-view mirror in the car for the rest of the time I was at her house that time. That stay included a night where she rolled over in bed on the night before last, and linked her arms with mine. For a moment, I was so happy I didn't know what to do. All I wanted was to wake up like that. After a few moments, she sighed and rolled back over.

The next morning, when she was at work, I wrote her a three page love letter on some of the reasons I had fallen in love with her, and included a poem I had written for her in early 2013 on a fourth page.

N had been using her mom's car, and one of her stepdad's friends was buying her car, so he had me clean it out before she got home. N wanted to do it herself, and had said so, so threw a fit when she came back and it was already done. Her stepdad stormed off down the road, so N and I took her mom's car out to a friend's for awhile. It was late when we got back, and I knew it wasn't the right timing at all. I don't know what I was thinking, except that I wasn't.

The futon mattress was on the floor and, when I laid in the bed as I had been doing when it was just us, she laid on the futon mattress that night. I offered to trade spaces, but she said she was comfy; the futon mattress - which is usually on the bed - is the most comfortable part of the bed. My letter was still where I left it, under the pillow.

"I wrote you a letter."

"You what?!"

I gave her the letter, "Please, just read it. If you want to talk after, we can talk. If you want to ignore it, we can ignore it. If you want me to go, I can go."

"I'm not ready to read it! It's late, and it's been a stressful day. We've been over this before. I've got problems that I've got to deal with, and you keep popping up, and you've got your own problems. I'm going to put this right here on the table, and that's where it's going to stay until I'm ready to read it!"

"Okay," there wasn't much more I could say.

We each lied down to sleep, but soon enough she turned the lamp on and I could hear her reading the letter I had wrote. Then I heard her crumple it up. She didn't stay in her room that night, and with work early the next morning, she was gone by the time I got up.

I didn't feel like I should stay around any longer, so I went to my uncle's, with whom I had already established I could stay with every now and then at that point. My sister was staying there and paying most of the bills at the time, and her and I went to see Home in theaters that night.

----

Now, I have to go a little out of chronological order here, because there was a big wedding in there that I had come back to Ohio for.

The time I stayed at N's before the time I gave her the letter, she dropped me off in Nelsonville the day of my friends Bo and Lindsey's wedding - April 17th. We hugged as we parted and, knowing I might not ever really get to kiss her, I gave her a peck on the cheek. The only kiss to ever pass between us. She was the love of my life, I had to have at least one.

I walked to Buchtel when it got closer to time for the wedding, thinking all the while that N was the only one I wanted to marry. No one was at Bo and Lindsey's house, so I waited outside for them.

After the wedding, while they were getting their pictures taken, I noticed they were missing a "Just Married" sign for Bo's car, so I made one in the church really quick.

The reception was DJ'd by the local D.A.R.E. officer. That was my friends' night; I was kinda just there. The food was good. I danced. I caught the garter belt. I guess it was a good night.

----

Back to where we were in the story.

So, my uncle has a bunch of woodland property and is always looking for ways he can make money off the land. I propositioned the idea of doing a festival. He was all for it, but the decision was vetoed my my sister and aunt, whom were covering the bills, because they feared it'd just end up being a drug fest and they'd lose the land over it.

I wound up back in Nelsonville. I still wanted N, but figured that, after the letter, it really was our last goodbye as friends. She had a tattoo of seeded dandelions, starting on one of her feet and going up the leg a little ways. I would pick seeded dandelions as I passed them, think, "I wish for you," and blow my wish.  At some point not long before Nelsonville Music Fest, I had one of my friends put that on my back as a tattoo based on N's tattoo's design, except the roots, which came down to shape into a heart - while hers is for her grandmother.

(next chapter)

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

What A Ride: The Journey Home

(previous chapter)

I have to admit my memory gets hazy right here because the journey happened so fast, but at some point I was picked up by a woman named Sam, who gave me a ride back to Union, South Carolina. The ride offer was to Spartanburg, but I wanted to see if I could see Dale again on my way home. Sam, familiar with hitchhikers, Rainbow, and a Ren Fair participant herself, was more than happy to help.

She dropped me off at the McDonald's in Union, but gave me her number in case I couldn't find Dale. I had forgotten how big of a place Union was, and it took quite awhile to get to the end of town that had the road to go out to Dale's, so the sun was already going down at that point and I was feeling rushed to find where Dale lived, or set up camp. I couldn't remember exactly which roads to go down, and the number I had for him in my phone wasn't going through. It didn't matter - as I found out latter the next day, I'd saved the wrong number anyway. I ended up just setting up camp in the woods not far from where Dale and I met.

The next morning, I tried again to find a way to reach Dale, but was unable. In the end, I hiked back to the McDonald's and called Sam, who came and got me and took me to Spartanburg. She took me out to eat a late breakfast before dropping me back off on the interstate.

It didn't take long from there to catch a ride out of Spartanburg, but then things get hazy again. At some point, I caught a ride with two guys who worked on cell phone towers. They dropped me off at a truck stop in Charlotte, North Carolina and told me they had a friend who would be passing through the next day who was going all the way to Ohio. I tried to contact them about their friend while eating at Subway at the truck stop, but their friend didn't seem completely reliable, so I resolved that I would set up camp that night, then hitch out as usual the next morning.

There were already a group of home bums spanging one of the intersections near the truck stop. It seemed like they were having trouble, so I offered the rest of my sub and asked directions to get me set straight, as the intersections between interstates was a little confusing.

I walked down to right by where I'd be hitching out on I-77 and, with the sun setting, hid myself in the cover of trees beside the interstate. There wasn't much depth, and I didn't feel like I would really be hiding with my tent up, so I hopped a fence to get in deeper, setting up camp sandwiched between the interstate and some industrial building.

Once again, my ride out came early in the morning. Mostly jumps of only 2-3 exits up, I caught a few rides that day, then the next, ending with some guy who picked me up because he had just had a sermon in church about how "Wisdom lies not from the East, the South, or the West, but from the North" and my sign said "North". He took me to some truck stop in middle-of-no-where, North Carolina.

It was getting late at that point, so I figured I wasn't going to get anymore rides that day. There was a good field with some cover that I was planning to lay a tarp down in for the night, but I figured I fly a sign until it got too dark; I was starting to see a lot of Ohio license plates and had a really good feeling.

At first, I would make O-H-I-O with my arms whenever I saw an Ohio license plate, but the people either ignored me or shook their heads. I eventually put "Ohio" on the back of my sign and began alternating which side I was flying. A trucker finally stopped when I was just about ready to call it quits for the day, when I was flying the "North" side.

"How far north are you going? I'm going to Ohio."

"I'm going to Ohio," I indicated the other side of my sign.

I rode through with him all the way to Jacksonville, Ohio. It was already night at that point, but I felt like I was home. I walked up a hill beside HW-50/32, laid out my tarp, and went to sleep.

The next morning, I was on my feet again. I wanted to make it home as soon as possible. Before long though, I looked up and suddenly noticed bad storm clouds and that the weather was about to change quick. Being so close to home, I called my grandma to see if she could come get me. Luckily, she was picking up my cousin in Wellston that day. I didn't have time to make it back to Jackson to wait around, so took refugee under the overhang of a church beside the highway until I got picked up.

From there, we went to get my cousin, then went back home. I got dropped off at the library, then contacted one of my friends and went over to his house for the night, which we spent on acid. The drugs amplified the sensation of being out of sync with normal life - even my normal life - after being on the road, and it became apparent I'd need an adjustment period to re-normalize.

(next chapter)

Saturday, October 24, 2015

What A Ride: Alabama


When we showed up to Anniston, it was already dark and the party at Dw's was already going strong. Dw was an older Family member who was also Tea Time Family with Mr. Tea. He was plugged into the local music scene, and had live bands play his house nearly every other night.

I managed to get a seat on the couch, even among the crowded space, where a kitten promptly settled into my lap. After a long stretch with little smoke, the abundance in Anniston was a welcome relief that the whole caravan had been waiting on. At one point, I passed out on the couch with my boots still on, prompting those gathered to draw on my face with a sharpie, which woke me back up.

The next morning, you could tell the place had played host to a party. Enter us. The deal in Anniston was: we got to stay at Dw's while as, basically, holding camp for the Talladega gathering, take showers, do laundry, eat very well, and never have to worry about smoke; in exchange for basic work, like keeping the place clean, handling the wood work for the fires, and of course helping prepare the meals. 

After a week at Dw's, Mama Frea and Mr. Tea took a group of us to another of Mr. Tea's friends, who lived just outside of Tuscaloosa, for a mission flying signs for money for food to bring to the gathering. I also needed new socks, athletes foot medicine, and some money for food on my journey back to Ohio. We spent the weekend there, flying signs on Friday and Saturday. We weren't the only Family in the area, either. The Fat Kids Kitchen bus was also on a spange mission. 

On Saturday night, I also went out to some bars in Tuscaloosa with a member of our group that had tried busking there the night before. I laid out my trade blanket, which contained mostly wire wraps made out of the glass I had picked up in Florida. Drunk college kids are easily swayed to look at shiny things. It was rainy that night, and we had walked in the rain to get there, but we sat underneath an overhang that protected us from most of the weather that night.

When the bars closed, one of the people that had given me a kick down offered the guy I was with and I to ride back to Mr. Tea's friend with him. The guy I was with declined, wanting to spend the rest of the night in town and try to make more money. I went ahead and accepted the ride, though I probably would have been better off walking. He was swerving all over the road and neither of us really knew where we were going, so we never made it to where I was going. He offered me to go back to his place and he would run me back the next morning. I wasn't ready to stay in a vehicle drifting all over the road, so I talked him into letting me out at a gas station. 

A cop pulled up to the gas station just as I got out, so I walked up to the officer and asked him if he could tell me where a food mart near where we were staying was. Turned out there were two of them. I asked if he could take me, but he said he didn't have the authorization to put me in the vehicle. I tried to find the food mart with his directions and my memory, but only ended up lost. Eventually, I spotted a paramedic ambulance headquarters and decided to ask for more directions there. One of the details of my memory, crossing a railroad, led to me finally getting some directions that led me back to Mr. Tea's friend's house.

After the weekend, we made it back to Dw's, where we stayed another couple weeks. I would be leaving for Ohio soon to watch some friends get married on April 17th, but the weather was still warming up so I thought I'd wait it out long enough to catch a free Blues Traveler show in Anniston on March 27th. I left the day after the show, catching a ride to Union, Alabama with some people who had also been staying at Dw's. Brand X Kitchen and Mama Frea had already had their own falling outs with the group, Brand X leaving first. 

After flying a sign on the on-ramp to hitch out, a cop pulled over to inform me that flying signs, regardless purpose, was against city ordinance. Luckily, he was a friendly officer that offered me a ride out of his jurisdiction after a quick weapon pat down. I got a sticker from him too, which I put on my pack until it fell off. 

I had to stay the night where the officer had let me out, but the next morning I caught a ride through Atlanta, Georgia with a trucker. To be honest, I can't remember where he dropped me off, but it was somewhere in Georgia on I-85. I was on my way back home.

(next chapter)

Thursday, October 1, 2015

What A Ride: The Caravan

(previous chapter)

The RV in our caravan was having some issues and needed a new part. In addition, having had to flee the gathering in such a hurry, we wanted some extra time to catch our barrings. We pulled into a pay-to-camp campground that was outside of area now being investigated, but still inside the Apalachicola National Forest. Paid in full for our campsites for the night, the Forest Service showed up at our location and demanded we be out by 9 am, when we were paid for through to noon. We agreed, though, and they left us in peace for the most part the rest of the night.

The campground had limited showers, so some of our large group were able to get showers at this point. I had been incubating an illness acquired, I assume, from the shared cup of espresso that passed around a circle at the Hookah Lounge; pretty much everyone there had gotten sick. I contacted my grandma and asked her to wire me a little bit of money for medicine, food, and a contribution of gas for the caravan.

One of the elders, we'll call him Mr. Tea, was having an argument with one of his crew, Goose. Mr. Tea wanted Goose to gather firewood so a meal could be prepared for that night. Goose was complaining he had hemorrhoids that were acting up, indicating instead that I should do it. Mr. Tea asked if I would help gather some wood, and I said that I would, but not if Goose was also not gathering wood as I was also sick. Mr. Tea said that was fair and we were both put to work.

While gathering wood, I caught a whiff of potent marijuana coming from a camper/RV and determined I'd stop back there when I was done. I did, and the elderly couple there turned out to be involved in the family. They had made us all peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, which I helped satellite to our dispersed group since I was already talking to the couple. I mentioned that I had caught a whiff of cannabis when walking by their camp earlier. The man told me I probably did, as his wife was making cookies. I offered to trade him for a little bud, but he refused, promising that I would get one of the cookies.

I did get one of the cookies, and it was incredibly potent. Actually scared me a bit because, between my illness, which had almost closed off my throat that night, and the strength of the cookie, I believed for awhile that I had been dosed with mushrooms too.

Thanks to Brand X Kitchen, we had a great meal that night.

The next morning, the Forest Service showed up at 8 am and asked if we could be out in 15 minutes, when they had promised us 9 am the day before. We said that was unrealistic, and settled on 45 minutes as an agreement. It took us a little over 30. The Forest Service followed us all the way out of the woods and down the main road, until we had passed the sign that said we had left the Apalachicola National Forest.

The RV was still having trouble, however, and we weren't ready to leave on too long of a distance journey just yet. We stopped at a Walmart in Florida and the head of Brand X got permission from the Walmart to stay in the parking lot while we got the RV repaired. However, we couldn't go inside the store, even to use the bathroom, unless we were buying something, and we had to stay off in the corner of the parking lot and not interfere with their customers. Most of us camped in the woods behind the Walmart, though I don't think the Walmart knew that. It kept us out of the parking lot during the day, too.

I took the time to get the moneygram from my grandma while at the Walmart, picking up some throat spray, cough drops, and a little food and snacks to pass out. What was left, I gave to Mama Frea.

The next morning, since we couldn't use the bathroom in Walmart, I did my morning constitutional in the nearby Burger King, deciding I may as well get my breakfast while I was there. Some nice, crazy old lady was telling her coworkers a story they weren't paying attention to, so she just continued her story to me from mid-sentence as if she had been talking to me the whole time. I noticed she was wearing some pins on her hat from work, and asked her if she'd trade me one that had a star on it and said Burger King, and she just gave it to me, telling me about a pair of patch pants she used to have with patches she'd get from naval men.

The head of Brand X found the part he needed for the RV, and someone to put it on, but it was still going to be a couple days until he would be available to do so. In the meantime, many of us had our beards, and some their heads, shaved. I just lost my beard. Also, a generous trucker with plenty of spare shower tickets got us all a shower.

A sheriff did come by each day to check on us, but mostly left us alone. We reassured him we were headed out of the state as soon as we were able.

Once we got going, we made our way into the Talladega National Forest in Alabama, where we set up camp for the night. Mama Frea told me to tear down early in the morning, though. The car was stolen and we were leaving the Wolfpack crew behind, cutting the caravan down to just the RV and the van.

From there, we made our way to Anniston.    

(next chapter)

Saturday, September 26, 2015

What A Ride: Apalachicola

(previous chapter)

There weren't many people at holding camp when I arrived, as most people were still in transition from the Ocala gathering. The only camp I remember being set up was Wolfpack 13, though there were a few others.

When we pulled into the campground, I rolled down the window and shouted out the window, "Are we home?"

One of the members of Wolfpack answered, "Are you home? Yes, you're home. Welcome home!"

The man who gave me a ride and I set up camp just off the road, where a fire-pit was already in existence. I kept a stock of wood for fires at night, and making breakfast and coffee in the morning. My ride left after only a few days to go pick up his woman, leaving me with plenty of supplies to feast on. I donated something around half of it to the Stockpot Kitchen, which had become my favorite at Ocala for its very welcoming atmosphere.

An overdose happened very early on at holding camp after a family member consumed a bunch of Benadryl capsules to achieve a high and ended up in the hospital. An emergency council was called to decide on how to act, and one of the members of the family that had not intervened was saved from excommunication for inaction due to a vote that determined that, while sad, the party that had overdosed was an adult - just barely - acting on his own free will. He survived, by the way.

The lake we were gathered beside had been ravaged by Florida State University students that would often come to party, leaving a gigantic mess of nails, broken glass, and other items of trash strewn all around, but focused on the beach. You could shift through the sand for hours in the same place and still be picking up trash. Starting with a girl named Katie, her boyfriend Bo, and myself, we began picking up the mess. The first day was just us, but after that we had an entire group. All we had to do was clean. Other members of the family would satellite us food, drinks, and anything else we might need. I began sorting through the broken glass for pieces to turn into jewelry to reduce the amount being tossed. It wasn't enough. Even with a whole, dedicated group that spent most of their days picking up garbage, there was still trash to be gathered when we left to the actual gathering.

The Forest Service officials that interacted with family were grateful for the effort, giving us a great permit for the Apalachicola gathering, including an extension for cleanup if needed.

I joined up with the Hookah Lounge as a barista at seed camp. I spent almost all of my time there when I wasn't cleaning to keep myself caffeinated and in good company, anyway, so I figured I could learn how to make their (s)expresso (espresso with sweet and condensed milk) and take shifts as barista/host. I traveled with the Hookah Lounge to the Apalachicola seed camp from holding camp

Overall, Apalachicola was a more relaxed gathering than Ocala, with very minimal interference from law enforcement. Well, until the shooting happened.

Towards the end of seed camp, a group of projects kids were engaging in their tradition of burning a tire. The shooter thought he'd record it with his camera, but one of the gatherers took his camera and smashed it. The shooter went back to his truck for his gun, then opened fire, went through a clip, reloaded, then began firing again. Family did what they could to contain the situation and subdue the shooter. Smiley lost his life, while Dice was injured to the point of paralysis. The shooter was also placed in critical condition, having been stabbed multiple times, castrated, and being nearly beaten to death. The mamas came in last minute, claiming he needed to live with what he'd done.

All this, the night after some Front Gaters sought to beat an attendee named Dale for false accusations of  him beating his woman. What really happened was a verbal argument between Dale and his woman that a Front Gater stepped in on and picked a fight with Dale over. Dale won, and the Front Gater got his friends. Being afraid for his life, Dale hid while the search party sought him out. I found an elder to call an emergency council, but first Dale had to be brought back to the elder's camp for sanctuary. That elder was Greywolf. I went on a reconnaissance mission to sneak Dale into Greywolf's camp, where he was sheltered until council decided he could leave the woods without confrontation, but he had to leave immediately. His woman went with him, though she was not made to.

Healing council the morning after the shooting, a picture of Dale and Smiley was passed around a circle. The person who had died, and the person that would have likely died had I not stepped in the night before the shooting. It was kind of a surreal moment for me to see the picture.

Law enforcement had set up roadblocks to keep gatherers in and newcomers out while they searched for the murder weapon they had already secured after responding to the shooting, but subsequently lost. Their claim was that all they wanted was the gun, and if it was not turned over in a set amount of time, then a judge was going to sign a blanket search warrant for all gatherers. The whole forest had its mission for the day, with everyone wanting to just find the gun and turn it over to the authorities.

When the deadline to turn the gun over had almost past, the law enforcement officials claimed they found the gun and left. The next day, they came back, claimed it wasn't the gun, and demanded all gatherers be out withing 36 hours, setting into motion a frenzied tear-down of camps that left much cleanup to still be done by the time everyone had evacuated. I acquired a tarp and rope that had been left behind during the mess, and a group that provided family with necessary gear gave me a new tent.

Since everyone was fleeing the gathering so early, there was not much time for me to figure out my ride situation and where I'd be going now. Nano and Mama Frea from the Hookah Lounge had split up, and rides for the Hookah Lounge's staff became uncertain as the van belonged to Mama Frea. Mama Frea gave me permission to accompany her into Alabama, so I left with a caravan of three vehicles - Mama Frea's van, a car with Wolfpack 13, and the RV transporting Brand X Kitchen.

(next chapter)

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

What A Ride: Ocala

(previous chapter)

The four of us set off from our roadside camp in the morning, ready to reach the gathering. After awhile spent walking, a local picked us up and gave us the last ride before we were really in the woods.

It was still holding camp when we got there, meaning there weren't many people, kitchens, or other precious resources - like water buffaloes - on site yet. I wasn't really sure what to do or where to camp when I first got there. People had set up all along the fireroad into the woods, but said most of the people were further ahead. I decided to set up at the point where the road made a right, but on the left-hand side. There had been a fire constructed in the bend in the road, and the early gatherers had made it the place to gather. Fire does that.

From what I knew of rainbow gatherings of the event, they were places of love and gifting, where money is meaningless, and everyone is expected to contribute how they can to help support the community. Kitchens serve free food, mamas and babies eat first, everyone listens to and respects the elders, and everyone is family.

I didn't really have much to offer when I got there, nor did I know how to contribute, really. I knew gathering firewood was always a priority, and stocks were still low and building, so I made that my job. I loved gathering wood and tending fires, and was really good at it. I spent much of my time on the main fire at the intersection of the roads, but contributed to kitchen and personal fires throughout the gathering as well, which gave me invitations to meals and caffeine.

Now, things get kinda blurry at this point.

I became friends with a man obsessed with tea, where I began spending my mornings - and much leisure time - drinking cups of tasty caffeine. I also met, and moved camp with for awhile, Happy Joe, who ended up joining the Bear Necessities kitchen. I also learned how to do wire wraps and started to acquire trades slowly. Trade circle started at the fire in the road, but moved into the woods when seed camp started. Forestry officials shut down the fire in the road sometime around then, anyway.

That fire had actually been a hotspot of activity before it got shut down for being in the road, as it was a central place to gather. During one day, a girl who was autistic, schizophrenic, and French-Canadian became the center-focus of a dispute between gatherers and law enforcement when she, in a state of delirium, made contact with an officer who had been trying to ticket people for their dogs not being on a leash. The officer suspected she was intoxicated, and began asking her questions to determine her state of mind. Because of the language barrier and her psychosis, she had difficulty answering. Before the whole thing was done, there were six law enforcement vehicles, a firetruck, an ambulance, and a helicopter on site for the tense confrontation. The "man" wanted to take her to a mental institution, she didn't want to go, the gathered family didn't want her to go. In the end, amid all the stress, she reached for someone's knife, saying she wanted to kill herself. There was no help for her, then, and it was only a matter of time to get her to go willingly.

The same fire was where forestry officials announced the gathering had exceeded the 75 people limit early, and without a signed permit - a result of the location being released prematurely. That made the gathering "illegal." We didn't get kicked out, but the forestry officials responded with heavy policing. Law enforcement at a gathering is split between the Sheriff department and the Forest Service. We had to deal with often four to six law enforcement vehicles in the woods at a time, rolling in early in the day, late at night, and whenever else they wanted, hanging around as long as they see fit. Also used to police the gathering, helicopters and drones could often be seen flying overhead, especially at trade circle and main circle. Apparently, Ocala is the largest regional Rainbow gathering, and it's where several law enforcement offices, including the Rainbow Task Force, conducts their training.

At some point, I became "Vibe Patrol, keeping the vibes up." That meant I was going around from one end of the gathering to the other, keeping people's vibes up. I usually just ate as I went into a kitchen to keep their vibes up when I was hungry, since I kept myself too busy patrolling a large gathering to really keep up on meals. I think that started the night after I got dosed on some MDMA. Later, being Vibe Patrol led to my other dosing - on LSD - as I walked into a kitchen holding a conversation about how amazing Albert Hofmann is!

After spending somewhere around a month in the woods, the Forest Service informed the gathering it was finally time to leave. I was gonna stay for cleanup, but the Forest Service wanted the names of everyone staying on a list, and they only wanted fifteen people. Rainbow is supposed to have 75 people allotted for cleanup, and they got the number fixed, but not until after most gatherers had already left.

I caught a ride straight from the Ocala gathering to the Apalachicola gathering's holding camp.

(next chapter)

Monday, September 7, 2015

What A Ride: To Ocala Part 2

(previous chapter)

Once we were off the train, we had to climb up a hill to get back on the road. A pair of motorcycle cops stopped us almost immediately.

"Just get off the train?" As it turned out, one of the cops used to work in a city with a big train yard and would have to respond to pick up train kids that the railroad cops, known as bulls, had caught. He was pretty cool with us, though. The cops complemented us on our gear and choice of lifestyle, saying that we were, "just living." They gave us directions and sent us on our way.

We split the group up a bit as we set off walking, hoping we'd get picked up sooner if there weren't five of us together. That didn't really make much of a difference, unfortunately, and we all met back up at a gas station after getting some food. The two train kids and I ate at the gas station, while Virgo and Gypsy got some Subway that had been on the way. The two kids were out back in a field behind the gas station when Virgo and Gypsy caught up with us.

While we were waiting for the kids to finish their drink, Gypsy got more directions to a Flying J truck stop that we'd gone in the opposite direction of. The two train kids decided to go the direction we'd been hiking in, staying in Birmingham to make some money and hit the bars. Since the group was no longer so large, Virgo, Gypsy, and I decided to stick together and head towards the Flying J. Once we were going in that way in a smaller group, we managed to get a ride to the truck stop.

The Flying J had a Subway that we spent the rest of the day hanging out at, as the weather was starting to shape up into rain. Gypsy and I scouted out some woods across from the truck stop for camp that night. When we found a site, we went back for our gear and set up my tent, covered by their tarp, to protect us all from the rain.

The next day was nothing but rain. We considered staying back at camp all day, but tore down and went back to the truck stop instead. We spent the last of our money there on breakfast, then hung out in the same corner we'd occupied the day before. Not actually bothering anyone, a manager eventually came up to us and told us we had to leave because we weren't spending enough money and we'd hung out all day the day before. We tried to plead we be allowed to stay at least until the weather let up, but this woman would hear none of it.

We stood out in the rain, using tarps to protect our gear from getting too wet while we waited on a ride to pick us up. A veteran on his way to Texas was the first car to stop and fit us in. Our ride split what money he had on him with the three of us, since we had spent the last of what we had at the truck stop. We'd be taking I-59 south to Louisiana, at which point he'd join with I-10 to go west. Since we had already gone so far west already, and since the ride was continuing west, Virgo and Gypsy decided to stay with the ride and go visit a friend of theirs in New Mexico. I got out in Sidell, LA, still on my way to Ocala.

It was already night when I set out on my own. I started to look for a good place to set up camp, but I was in the middle of a city without many wooded areas to conceal me, and everything was wet. I encountered a man dropping a bag of trash in a dumpster and asked him about homeless shelters in the area. He let me use his phone to look up and call around until I finally found a place to put me up for the night, Trumpet of Truth Ministries, then he gave me a ride there.

Trumpet of Truth was almost completely black, with only one other white person at the time. They let me take a shower, eat, and stay on the couch for the night, trying to convince me to stay longer and get a job in the area. I insisted that I was on my own personal mission to reach the Ocala gathering.

I hit I-10 again in the morning, catching a ride rather quick from a man who had spent the night in town on his way back to Florida, from Texas. Apparently, he makes the trip to pick up a bunch of weed - ten pounds to be exact. We went cruising down the interstate smoking down, talking about the legal system and how rights work. He's the kind of person who buys bulk quantities of the Constitution to pass out to people for free. I've still got the one he gave me. He had plenty of books on law in the car, too. It was quite the enlightening ride.

He took me as far as De Funiak Springs, FL, dropping me off at the McDonald's with $23, a dime bag, and all the roaches from the joints we'd smoked on the ride. I ate at the McDonald's, but could hear people commenting on my weed smell in there so decided to not go stand at the on-ramp, which was in view of the restaurant, and instead began walking HW-331 south.

An older couple picked me up, informing me I didn't want to go in the direction I was headed being homeless, as the area I was going towards had cops that'd try to arrest me for it. They took me back to De Funiak Springs, where I finally went ahead and hit the interstate on-ramp. A ride didn't come. I stood there all of the rest of the day. The hitchhiker I was supposed to meet up with in Richmond Hill informed me of a good place to camp behind the Walmart in town, which is where I slept for the night.

The next day was shaping up to be just as unproductive at the on-ramp. Eventually, I decided to just walk HW-90, which runs parallel with I-10. HW-90 is a lot of nothing back road. After walking for a couple hours, I got my first ride past a blink-and-you-miss-it town called Ponce De Leon by a father and his son. From there, I walked for another few hours until I had worn myself down to the point of limping from all the weight on my back I had carried all this way without rest.

That's when I got picked up by a rapist. I was eager to get in the white pickup truck when it pulled over and the man inside told me to, "Throw your stuff in the back and get in."

All the trash in the back and in the cab had set off a red flag, but I figured he was just a hoarder, which isn't that bad. He was heavyset, with a big, black cross around his neck. He also kept shifting his right hand between the steering wheel, and a box that sat between us. The box was half-locked; the switch nearest me was undone, while the switch nearest him was still clasped. I had the sinking feeling that the box had a gun inside it, and his hand kept going between the wheel and the box the whole ride.

I started off by telling him why I was on this empty road in the first place, where I was from, where I was going, and what all I'd been through so far. When I finished my story, the first word out of his mouth were, "So how do you feel about a boy raping a girl?"

I didn't know how to respond, "Uh, that's bad, and he should go to jail."

"Okay, so how do you feel about a boy raping three girls?"

I couldn't believe the situation I had gotten myself in. I had some pepper spray, but if he had a gun I might end up dead if I said or did the wrong thing. I didn't want to ask him to just let me out on the side of the road for fear he'd shoot me with no one around and just leave. So I rode along, dealing with questions about castration and insisting that I didn't want to be adopted into a "manly family" - whatever that meant. Eventually, I saw a McDonald's up ahead and requested he let me out there, as I was hungry and wanted a burger. He tried to convince me to let him take me another four miles. I insisted I wanted out at McDonald's, ready to use the pepper spray if he didn't stop. He did stop, but on the other side of the road from the McDonald's and threw a fit about me leaving. I got out, got my pack, and didn't look back, glad the ride was over.

A man at the McDonald's who was biking across the country bought me a burger and listened to my story of the ride I had just escaped, but night was approaching fast and I needed somewhere safe to set up camp for the night.

It was already dark by the time I encountered a group of five dirty kids and four dogs spanging outside of some business towards the other end of town. Once I got there, we went over a hill across the road from us where they had intended to camp for the night and stayed with them and got them high. The next morning, I got them high again and gave them a bunch of food and other supplies I felt I could spare, before hitting I-10 again.

I caught a ride rather quickly, making it to the first Tallahassee exit. From there, I caught a ride to the last exit in Tallahassee. Then, I got a ride to another town between Tallahassee and I-75. It had already been such a wonderful day for rides that I could have easily been satisfied after my last couple days, but I figured I'd keep flying a sign a little bit longer and maybe get lucky enough to catch one more ride to I-75 before the day was over. If it didn't happen, I was already eyeing some woods across the road where I could stay the night.

As luck would have it, a former hitchhiker-turned truck driver was hungry and stopped at my exit's McDonald's, even though he never eats there, because he only had a couple dollars on him and that's where his sons in college always ate when they only had a couple dollars.

He asked where I was going, to which I responded, "Ocala."

"No shit, you're in luck. I'm going straight through there."

Turns out, he was on his way back from shipping a load in his box truck. He used to hitchhike, then became a trucker, and was now an independent. He also used to hang out at Rainbow gatherings in Ocala, and his girlfriend had friends who still did. When he learned that the gathering was my destination, he decided he'd help me get as close as he could. After all, it would be late by the time we made it to Ocala and he was coming off running his rig, and his girlfriend was waiting on him - which he was going to see because taking me towards the gathering would take him closer towards her than his home, so it was a win for both of us.

His girlfriend got her friend to get us some directions to the gathering, but it was late and we were having a hard time finding it. We decided I'd just go back to town and try to find a ride the next day, but as we came back to a four-way intersection, I noticed a fire had been lit where there wasn't one before.

We pulled over to investigate, and I shouted out at the campers, "You guys Rainbows?"

"Um, yeah, sorta," two of the group were also on there way to their first gathering, the other one was a long-time front gater named Mouse.

I thanked the trucker and we parted ways. After the ride the day before, I was finally just outside of the gathering - my destination. I felt like it had been gifting the dirty kids earlier that morning that gave me the karmic boost I needed.

Anyways, we weren't to the gathering yet. That journey would come in the morning. Some locals kept going by and had been upset we had a fire on the side of the road. Forestry officials came over to investigate, but they told us we were okay because we were in the national forest, and the fire was about survival. They did have to run our names though. Most of us came back clean, but Mouse came back with an escapee charge that was non-extraditable - so he was still good to go. Before the officers left, Mouse got it in his mind that he he was gonna tell them a joke. We tried to talk him out of it, as he approached the officers at their cars, drunk. The officers said it was okay, they'd listen to the joke - and they loved it. Mouse got them to laugh hard at a couple jokes, then they left us alone.

(next chapter)







Sunday, September 6, 2015

What A Ride: To Ocala Part 1

(previous chapter)

One of my uncles was on his way to visit some of his family in South Carolina when I was getting ready to leave, so I caught a good ride out of Ohio. We left early in the morning and arrived just outside of Spartanburg that night. I stayed with his family since it was late, but it wasn't long before I was on my own the next morning.

I got dropped off on HW 176, choosing to avoid the interstate at first since I wouldn't be able to just walk the interstate if I didn't get a ride, as Charleston was still in the back of my mind. Then, I set off south to the tune of "Wagon Wheel" on loop in my head.

My first ride came from a friendly, older fellow that took me as far as Union, SC, then gave me a nice camouflage jacket to help keep me warm. I continued walking from there as the sun got lower and the temperature got colder.

On the outskirts of Union, outside of the actual city itself, I encountered a man named Dale, and his girlfriend. Dale had called me over to his side of the road when he noticed the large backpack on my back. In a period of "roughing it" himself, Dale was curious why I was carrying such a load around. We began to chat and ponder over the workings of the universe, synchronicity, and things happening for a reason, while I enjoyed a meal he had given me. I asked if he knew a place I could set up camp for the night, as the light was fading rapidly, still in early January. In response, he and his girlfriend called the pastor of Philippi Baptist Church of Union, who was away on church business at the time. Even though he was wasn't in town, the pastor still set me up with a room at the Magunison Motel for the night, where I was able to shower and rest in a comfortable bed.

The next day, Dale was going to run me to Whitmire, the next town over. Instead, we just ended up running around together. We hung out with some of Dale's friends, including one that gave me an extra bag with wheels to pull behind me, and one that said he'd get me to Charleston, SC the next day. And Dale ended up breaking up with his girlfriend, but that's another matter. Dale also traded me a lifesaving jumpsuit for the jacket my ride the previous day had given me. I ended up crashing out on the couch at Dale's that night.

Dale's friend gave me the ride to Charleston the next day, but it wasn't until later in the day and the sun had already set by the time we got there. I wasn't comfortable in such a big city at night when I didn't know much about the place, so I had Dale's friend take me to a free campsite in Francis Marion National Forest.

The next day was a long walk back to Charleston along HW 17. It took a few hours just to leave the forest, then another couple hours of walking before I finally caught a ride with some older black gentlemen. When they dropped me off in Charleston, a group of more blacks on a job-site gave me advise on the city bus system, then tried to outdo each other in the amount of money they gave me. Since I had left with almost nothing, that had been a welcome and needed surprise.

The bus didn't seem keen to pick me up, though. I sat at the bus stop for a couple hours as buses went passed with no sign they intended to stop. Eventually, I called the line and a bus stopped shortly after. I rode to where I'd catch the next bus, then rode that bus as far as they went towards leaving town.

I ate some Burger King before going on down the road. Some man stopped me and offered me a place to shower and rest for the night in the motel room he was staying at. Maybe I didn't have anything to worry about, but the fact that his first question to me had been how would I respond if someone took all my things, which left me with a red flag big enough to turn the offer down. He kept persisting that I stay. He was also drunk. I insisted that I wanted to cover as much ground as I could before I stopped to rest and kept walking. He stared at me for longer than I was comfortable with as the distance between us grew, which solidified my decision to keep going.

I took HW 17, also known as Savannah Highway, south out of Charleston. It was dark by the time I set up camp that night. I had wandered into some neighborhood off the highway with a path into a wooded area where I could conceal myself.

I hit the highway again in the morning, making it to a gas station where the manager gave me some cardboard and free food she was about to toss out. I put "Georgia" on the cardboard and enjoyed the gift of food while standing on the other side of the road from the gas station, trying to catch a ride. It was actually a pretty attractive woman that picked me up. She was on her way to Florida and decided to turn around and come back to give me a ride after passing by the first time.

My next destination was Richmond Hill, GA. I was supposed to meet up with another traveler on his way to Ocala there, though he was a few days behind in his journey. From there, I was supposed to continue south to St. Mary's, GA to meet up with a friend from Nelsonville, Ohio that had moved away. I made it to Richmond Hill, but those other two things never happened.

The woman let me out at the McDonald's in Richmond Hill. No sooner had I left the ride that a man, Gypsy, comes out of the restaurant and asked if I was traveling, and if I was hungry. He told me to come inside, then bought me four McChickens.

As it turned out, there were quite a few dirty kids in town at the moment. There was Gypsy, his wife Virgo, and another four kids - I can't remember everyone's names, but for the sake of anyone who may recognize his traveling name, Strings was one of the four. I include that information because I've since met many other people who've claimed to have known Strings since he was a young, naming him as an inspiration they began traveling. Unfortunately, Strings and some other kid got a ride out shortly after I got there, so I didn't really get to know him. The rest of us hung out in the McDonald's until it got late enough to go set up camp in the woods behind the restaurant.

The woods we camped in was obviously a bum camp already, with a tarp strung up for shelter and other trash around the site. After creating some bridges across a couple creeks, we could also reach some railroad tracks at a location where trains would often stop so one train could pass another. We spent the night at the bum camp, then went back to the McDonald's the next morning. We hung out there for awhile, but by around 4:00 in the afternoon we were back in the camp, waiting on a train.

We had to be quick finding a place when the southbound stopped. I was the last one on, and the train began moving again as I began stepping up on it, temporarily knocking me off balance. It was my first time hopping, so I shared a car with Virgo and Gypsy. The other two kids took the car in front of us. I decided to leave my extra bag, which had really been more of a hindrance anyway.

Being on the outside of a moving train left me pretty nervous at first, but the nerves quickly subsided once I settled into place. The view was incredible! Unfortunately, it wasn't the train we were looking for.

When we hopped, we were expecting to be in Jacksonville around 6:00 that day, having hopped around 4:00. The course the train took seemed strange to the more experienced rail-riders I was with once we started noticing the towns we were passing through. We assumed the train was headed for the station in Waycross, GA, where we might have needed to be ready to get off in a hurry, or perhaps to Tallahassee. Then, we passed right through the Waycross station without showing any signs of slowing down or stopping, confusing our party as to where we were going more, as we were now headed north-west.

While the view and experience made everything worth it, what was to be a couple hour ride into Florida became an all-night ride to just outside of Birmingham, AL. We spent the whole time joking about the ride, saying that one of us should go ask the conductor where we were going, demand the train go to Florida, or that he knew we were there and had gone off-course just to mess with us. We had, after all, passed plenty of railroad workers that either didn't see us, or looked the other way. We waved at plenty of pedestrians as we passed, including some people that slowed their car down to videotape us with their phone. I imagine the footage is on YouTube somewhere. The night was pretty cold on the outside of a moving train, even with my jumpsuit and sleeping bag. It could have easily been a longer ride to who knows where, but when the train finally finally stopped somewhere it seemed reasonable to get off in the morning, we decided the ride had already been ridiculous enough.

(next chapter)

Saturday, September 5, 2015

What A Ride: As Winter Approached

(previous chapter)

At first, I loved having so much acid around. I wasn't always on it, but it was always on me, so the option was always there. I was living life how I wanted to at the time, high and in the woods.

But it wasn't sustainable.

I often needed help from friends and family to keep myself fed. When I did have money, the food I bought was mostly dry and ready to eat from the packaging; lots of peanut butter, granola, and pop tarts. My diet wasn't healthy at all, and barely kept me full.

As the weather got colder and wetter, I began relying on friends and family more for shelter, too, making me feel like a useless burden at times. Whenever I needed to shower, shave, wash clothes, or even prepare some of my meals, I needed to find a house I was allowed to do those things in.

I fell into a depression, at which point I stopped being able to hold onto acid without doing it. Between my own acid, and the acid of the friend I was effectively living with, I started to trip at least three times a week, though most weeks that number was more like five or six times. That went on for a few months as the weather got colder and colder.

I didn't sleep much during that period. Almost every night was a party that I attended for the sake of having somewhere to be for the night. I'd end up on acid, go all night, then run on coffee the next morning because I couldn't sleep once the sun was up. The triple-loaded cocktail of THC, LSD, and caffeine kept me functioning, but left me stressed and mentally exhausted.

It was only a matter of time before I started to experience health issues. Everything from trench foot to dental problems tore at my body, while the lower-left area of my stomach region would sometimes spaz out and get hard for a reason I still don't know the origin of. Maybe it was my diet. Maybe it was the acid. Maybe it was both. I began to lose faith in my life and accept that I would probably die young, if I even made it through winter. Something had to change. I had to leave the situation I had trapped myself in, but I was also afraid of leaving. That would mean facing the unknown far from home when my body felt like it was falling apart. But still, I knew I had to go.

My family is pretty big on Ohio State, so with the run they were having I decided to stay around long enough to watch them win the first ever College Football Playoff. Then, I set out for my first Rainbow gathering in Ocala.

(next chapter)

Thursday, September 3, 2015

What A Ride: Into the Woods

(previous chapter)

I was still flipping burgers when I first moved into the woods. Instead of paying for rent, I bought gear and weed. It was so serene hiking into the woods at the end of the day, setting up camp, then hotboxing the tent before going to sleep.

Most nights I would stay in a cave about a half-hour's hike behind the nature center of the local college. I had attended a party at the cave earlier in the winter and decided it'd be a great shelter to live. My favorite part about the place was watching the thunderstorms from the cave, which was truly magical. Other nights I'd stay on a trail closer to town, just off the bike path. If I had to close or work late, some friends might let me stay at their house afterwords.

Now that I had work and an even less stable living situation than before, I decided to leave the editorial staff of The Oddville Press. I kept operating The Adventurous Pen for awhile, but I needed something to really stand out to promote myself as a writer - my own niche. I was always talking about psychedelics. Being introduced to LSD at the age of 13 left me open to study the chemicals with great passion from that early of an age. By this point in my story, I was 20 and had quite the knowledge of psychedelics. Even in everyday conversation, I was spouting the gospel of psychedelics, defusing myths, stating random facts, and generally raising interest and awareness of the magic chemicals. I felt like doing so was my calling in life. Even my poetry in Through Kaleidoscopes had been based on the psychedelic experience. It only felt right that I launch a website to help spread that information, thus Tea With the Captain was born.

At this point, I should probably detract a little to tell you how I got the name Captain Chucke. Having just graduated high school - just age 18 - I was at Wisteria Summer Solstice Festival 2012. One of my uncles makes mead, and he gets the honey off his neighbor that raises bees. I brought two bottles of this mead to share with people at the festival and get their feedback on it. There was a theater troupe called the Pirates of the C.U.C. Constantine that hold a 21+ only party-ritual called "Tortuga" at the summer solstice festival each year on the Friday of the event. The festival is now only a Thursday through Sunday event, but in 2012 it was a full week. I met the pirates earlier in the week at their 21+ only knot tying workshop. I walked in and the first words from my lips were, "Pirates, drink my uncle's mead."

They never questioned my age, so I never actually lied. They accepted the drink, then returned the favor by blessing me with "hilarious" lemonade - rum with lemonade powder. From that point on, the pirates and I became friends. When Tortuga rolled around, I asked them if I could borrow some pirate garb for the party and if they needed any help carrying things down to set up. They loaned me a pirate hat and had me carry a ship wheel and some thick rope, effectively sneaking myself into the party like I'm supposed to be there. I hung out in the back away from the fire at first, drinking lemonade to catch a buzz while trying to decide if I should stay hidden in the shadows, or just act like I'm supposed to be there. The decision was made for me. One of the pirates, Dirty Alice, came up to me and asked if I would do a big pirate favor; they wanted me to declare myself "Captain Chucke".

The Captain is an integral part of the Tortuga ritual. Whomever gets the title must undergo the "mutiny" game, Drink Or Drown, where the Captain is "tied" to the ship wheel I carried down with the rope I carried down (doesn't sound planed at all), before being walked around the fire a few times, then made to, essentially, beerbong some hilarious lemonade. I drank and didn't drown, thus earning me the title Captain Chucke.

At first, it was just a name close friends knew me by - a fun name with a cool story behind it. Over time, I put together my own pirate outfit to wear to parties, festivals, or even just around town when I felt like being a little odd for the fun of it. Soon, Captain Chucke became a common nickname that I'd introduce myself as. Since I was already this character, I decided to run with it as my psychonaut name when I started Tea With the Captain, thinking that an interesting character would make more people pay attention.

I left my job flipping burgers during a particularly stressful shift where the people in the back couldn't do their jobs right because they were still new, and the people in the front kept losing the sandwiches I'd make. I should have just stuck through it, but I was frustrated and left instead. From that point, Tea With the Captain became my life. I wrote articles and did videos on psychedelics, festivals, and other related things, then spent the rest of my time promoting and link building. I made it my gimmick to try to appear crazy, done up in weird costumes to mock the idea that psychedelics make you crazy.

Talking about how great psychedelics are naturally led to helping people find them, which since I no longer had a job became the deal I would make to keep myself high and fed. LSD and other psychedelics were slowly becoming more prevalent and popular in the area as people's fears from myths became alleviated and more information spread on the benefits of psychedelics and how to ID the chemical you're taking came out. With more people doing psychedelics, more people wanted to try the chemicals for themselves. I was watching, online and in the real world, the progression of a new psychedelic dawn. Zane Kesey had his father's bus, Further, out spreading family love. I got dosed by the Pranksters at the Gathering of Juggalos a couple weeks before the bus landed at Smoke Rise Ranch, at which point LSD gained more abundance and staying power than I had previously seen in my area. The renewed popularity only helped ensure it stick around.

(next chapter)

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

What A Ride: Before the Woods

(previous chapter)

When I got back to Ohio I learned that, after a month of nothing on my schedule, I missed some work while I was away and lost my job.

The Athens-area of Ohio is the poorest in the state, with the few job prospects. I applied to everywhere I could, I checked in frequently, I did everything that would normally make landing a job easy. There's just so many people fighting over so few jobs.

I kept myself occupied by writing. I began work on my first volume of poetry, Through Kaleidoscopes. I also started to learn more about putting myself out there as a writer by joining the forum website, www.writersbeat.com. This website gave me the ability to network with other starting and independent writers and learn how they participated in the literary industry. It also gave me a place to have my work critiqued and improved. Some of the poems that made it into Through Kaleidoscopes had been critiqued and altered after being posted to Writer's Beat.

The forums also got me on the editorial staff of The Oddville Press for Volume II, Issue II when I responded to an ad in the website's Classifieds section, giving me insight into and experience in the other side of the publishing door. I took that experience into my own project, The Adventurous Pen. Through Kaleidoscopes finally came out shortly after The Adventurous Pen's launch. I was also teaching chess to local kids at the library.

While all this was going on, I was still living at my mom's, with my stepfather, two little brothers, and an infestation of bed bugs. All of a sudden, bed bugs were everywhere in town, and our house was no exception. It was driving everyone crazy with stress as we all became alert to every little motion out of the corner of our eyes, or the feeling of something against our skin, only to lay awake at night as the bugs crawled all over, feasting in an unstoppable manner, while we wished only for a peaceful rest. Already lacking money, many funds were spent trying to eradicate the pests, unsuccessfully.

As spring began to poke its head, my mom was able to get me a job flipping burgers where she and my stepfather worked. Shortly after I began working, my mom and stepfather moved to escape the bugs. I stayed behind in the house as a squatter for another week or two, before moving into a friend's house and helping him pay rent for the next month.

I love festivals. I love the energy and the love at festivals. It rejuvenates me and gives me hope for humanity. I've been volunteering at the festivals at Wisteria Event Site since I was 16. Festivals are a big part of my life. That's why, when I had to decide on paying for new camping gear that I needed, or rent, I chose the camping gear. I bought a High Sierra 90L backpack, which is still my pack after everything it's gone through with me. One of my friends loaned me a tent, as mine was in no condition for long-term living like I was about to do anymore. I figured out how to sort through what I had left and put it in my pack. What I didn't need got tossed away and my pack became all my worldly possessions, my life on my back.

I moved into the woods.

(continue reading)

Saturday, August 22, 2015

What A Ride!: West Virginia and Back


In addition to having no where to go with winter rapidly approaching, I was also dealing with a heartbreak. I had recently came out with my feelings to the girl I was in love with (we'll call her N) at a festival we'd both attended, and, not having the feelings reciprocated, walked away from one of the most important friends in my life. That kinda started a habit of running away that I'm still fighting. I remember feeling so lost, like there was nothing left for me where I once called home.

I caught a ride to Athens, Ohio, where I stayed a couple nights with a friend while trying to figure out what I was going to do now. I contacted a friend from West Virginia to see if I could stay there on my way to Colorado, my next intended destination.

Then, I showed back up at N's house. Because I didn't know what else to do. I loved her and wanted to see her before I left, though I knew I had already said goodbye and would only be saying goodbye again. I hadn't really been prepared for the trip at all. N set me up with some extra supplies, like a good sleeping bag, warmer clothes, and a camp cooking set. She also gave me a wire-wrapped necklace that would become my most treasured item for the duration of the time it existed. 

My next jump was to Pomeroy, Ohio. I stayed with some of N's family there for a night on the Ohio-West Virginia border, before they drove me to Hurricane, West Virginia to stay with my friend there. I hung out around the Hurricane/Huntington area for a week or so with my friend. He made me a walking staff that I still use today for my journey, but it took him time to complete it - hence my stay when winter was creeping in. The day he had to leave for CoSM in New York to spin fire for Alex Grey's birthday, I hit the interstate in Huntington to head west. 

I stood on the on-ramp for hours flying a sign and thumb to no avail. The longer I waited, the more doubts my inexperienced mind had about what I was about to do. Eventually, I started walking back towards Ohio. 

The next several hours were spent on foot, painfully as my pack that I was not used to carrying - and that was not meant for this type of travel - also had broken straps that I had "fixed" enough to wear, but with it tight against me and cutting into my shoulders. 

Finally, a trucker on his way back to Ohio pulled over and picked me up. He was friendly enough, buying me some dinner at a McDonald's and giving me another $20 when he dropped me off on the side of the highway that night in Ohio before he went back to his home. 

I continued walking until almost midnight in the cold as I looked for a place to sleep for the night, knowing the further I walked that night, the less I'd have to the next morning. I finally decided that I would pitch my tent behind a small hill by the highway. The area was clearly marked as a construction zone, but there were no machines around so I though I was safe to camp. That night, I slept in two pairs of socks, two pairs of pants, two shirts, a jacket, a coat, and my sleeping bag. I was still REALLY cold. I also noticed at this point that I didn't have a rain fly for my tent. Good thing I was on my way back home and not still trying to make Colorado. There was no way I was ready yet. 

I set my phone's alarm for 6 am so I could get up early enough to tear down before anyone knew I was there. Well, 6 came around and it was still dark, still incredibly cold, and I was still exhausted from the previous day and night, not having much sleep from the weather. I decided I'd stay in my tent until the sun was up more. 

As I lay in my tent, I listened to the sound of machinery beeping. I could tell it was construction equipment I was hearing, but it was off in the distance. However, the more I listened, the more apparent it became that the sound was getting closer. I poked my head out of my tent and saw the long arm of an excavator as the machine was climbing some hills to get to where I was camping. I acted as quick as I could, throwing everything out of my tent and tearing down. With no time to pack up, I grabbed everything and ran for the tree line I was camped against. Unfortunately, the way I was carrying my things made me too bulky to get past the branches. 

The excavator made its way over the hill, with another piece of machinery on the way behind it. I gave up, dropped my things, and waved to the guy in the excavator. Luckily, he was cool with me having been there. He did need me to move out of the way, though, as I was camped right beside the trees he was about to knock down. 

So I was back to walking. I felt weaker than the day before, more worn, but I wanted to be home by that night if I could. After a few hours on foot, someone stopped and gave me a ride to the Marathon in Albany, where I got some breakfast and water before catching a ride with another trucker into Athens. I met up with a friend who gave me a place to be while I contacted a ride back to Nelsonville. This is when I did my first dab. 

I caught my ride back home. After me not being there for a couple weeks, I was allowed to go back to living at my mom's because they decided they did care about me being on the streets.

(continue reading)

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

What A Ride!: The Prologue

My story starts in a place called Nelsonville, Ohio. It's a small community in the foothills of Appalachia, nestled in the Wayne National Forest. My parents were never married. My mom gave birth to me when she was 16. I was their only child, but they've each had other children with their other partners since. My mom had two more boys with a man that is now dead. My dad had a girl a little older than me, two more boys, and a girl younger than me. They're both married respectively now, and I've got a handful of step-siblings, too.

My family has never had much money. My mom and step dad work at Sonic Drive In; my dad works at Wendy's.

During 6th grade, I moved into my dad's house in Shade, Ohio. It's not even a town, but rather a township, out in the middle of the country. Needless to say, I grew up pretty sheltered. I occupied my time by reading and listening to music when I wasn't watching my siblings or helping take care of the animals - we had cats, dogs, horses, goats, and chickens.

I was also pretty into computers. My dad got me interested in programming when I was still in middle school. I taught myself HTML in high school, went to Tri-County Career Center for their Computer Tech Academy program my junior and senior years, participating in SkillsUSA's web design competition at the state level both years. After high school, I decided to move back to Nelsonville to attend Hocking College for e-business and web design.

The only problem was that I was starting to become disillusioned with the matrix I was leading myself into. I had experimented with LSD at the ages of 13 and 14 on a regular basis, thanks to a friend I had back then. At 15, I attended my first festival - Cornstalk at Wisteria. At 16, I was volunteering for Wisteria's events. The more I got to experience the woods, the less I wanted to do with technology. Shortly after leaving high school, psychedelics became available to me again and made me question the direction I was leading my life even more - listening to the metallic drone of voices coming through a speaker in the classroom.

I was also letting a homeless friend of mine from high school stay with me, starting to worry more about getting high than class, and spending too much money on drugs. We've all been there, right? Well, it ended with me just not going to class anymore.

I lost my apartment shortly after that and moved in with some friends for about a month, then moved back in with my uncle, where I stayed until I got a job counting inventory.

I moved back in with my mom when I got the job, but the work the job provided was seasonal. It wasn't long before the off-season hit, leaving me without work for over a month. In that time, my step-dad said that my mom and him could no longer support me because they had to also support my brothers.

I packed my tent, sleeping bag, and some other essentials in a quite uncomfortable backpack and hit the road. This was in late October of 2013.

(Continue)