(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.
Showing posts with label nelsonville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nelsonville. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
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.
(next 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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
(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)
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)
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