Parental Warning: This short story contains strong language and adult content!
Klamath Falls: Final Entry
Dear Journal, Today is the worst day of my life. I’ve decide to write all this down just for the record. Perhaps it will be my best day? I don’t know anything anymore. As I had said earlier, I am just coming off three of most amazing days of my life and now I’ve hit rock bottom. I’ve lost a tooth and this whole affair is not an easy write. In fact, honestly, I am feeling totally ashamed. Completely ashamed of my life. Dad is right, I am such a total a piece of shit. Once again, this journal is my last refuge. It has been the one and only thing I will leave to this world. My story. Thank God they didn’t take my sleeping bags. Thank God I still have my music, my guitar, the cooler, and box of crystals. I still have my Ram utility van. Home sweet home on wheels. Thank God for all my blessings. Thank Shiva, Thank Krishna, Thank Gaia. Om nom shiva. Om nom shiva. Thank you Jesus Christ.
Let me see if I can get through it all, the events since my last entry. I feel so much fucking pain. My entire body is in pain. My head is pounding, my face is swollen, my stomach is nauseous, I look like a carved pumpkin, and I am still bleeding. I smell like shit. Okay, after three awesome days at the Techno-Tribal Dance, at Area 101, I headed for Weed, then continued north on 97. Throughout the day I was still having a metaphysical orgasm. Living high on the synthesis of wild freedom and loving my newly burned C.D. of D.J. Bliss Bong and thinking about the great X and was thinking how the Tribal scene is the first place I have ever felt like I belonged. Far more so then when I was living home. I was hoping I might hook up with my new tribal brothers and sisters in Seattle. I wish it never ended. But perhaps Dad was right, “When reality hits, all good things come crashing down.” Perhaps I am living in a fantasy world? Perhaps I am a piece of shit? Perhaps I deserve it?
Anyway, I scored some truly fine purple Mendo kind and took off for Klamath Falls. I guess it was about six when I drove into the Butte Valley. As I approached the town of Dorris I saw that stupid 200 ft. flagpole. They say it is the tallest flagpole west of the Mississippi. I was getting hungry so I decided to park for the night. That was about twenty four hours ago. I found a quite side street next to a brick wall and under a tree. No one even noticed me. I hiked up to the general store and picked up some beer and other supplies. There is some really great produce in that tiny little store. I picked up heirloom tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, lettuce, grapes and apples. I fixed myself a cucumber and cheese sandwich on sprouted wheat bread with Vegenaise. Then I laid down in the van to catch some zees.
At about 10 pm I woke up and wondered onto the streets. Dorris was dark and a cool breeze swept between the bungalows. Most of the tiny homes were well kept but a few look like crap. A couple looked like crack houses. About three and a half blocks down I found a small bar. One of those hole in the wall joints just off Main Street. It was dark, with a couple pool tables, a jukebox, and a long bar. Five rednecks dress like lumberjacks in plaid shirts and suspenders were hanging out at the corner of the bar near the pool tables and the jukebox. It was obvious these guys had the run of the bar. The bartender knew them all by first name. There was Ronnie, Jerry, and a guy they called Meat. I can’t remember the other guy’s names. I think one was Dick or Rich and the other George? I really didn’t pay much attention to them most of the time I was there. When I arrived, there were also two middle aged couples sitting in the middle of the bar and an older woman at the other end of the bar opposite the lumberjacks.
I sat between the couples and the old women and ordered a Red Tail. Soon I sparked up a conversation with the women and she told me her name was Carol. She lived around there all her life, even went to the local high school, and her husband past away over ten years ago. They were farmers but she sold the land and moved into a house just down the street. I never asked but I think she was in her late sixties. She had short silver hair, a somewhat dark complexion, and very few wrinkles for a woman her age. Even though I’m half her age, I was smitten. And the more I talked to her the more I liked her. I wonder if Carol knows what happened? Anyway, we got to talking about the environment and saving the trees. I told her I supported the tree-sitters and she disagreed. She said the folks needed the jobs and she was a Republican. I laughed a little but gave her great respect in expressing her beliefs. She told me she was a Christian and was raised Democrat until the war and then her family all began to support Nixon and then Reagan. She thought that Reagan helped bring down the wall, brought wealth, and delivered a moral consciousness to the nation. I was not sure what to say about all that so I just listened and nodded my head. Coming off the Techno-Tribe, I had a lot of cash in my pocket so I bought Carol her Bud Lights and listened to her. Carol is amazing, she is so articulate. She is deep and has had profound experiences. Carol and I connected. I totally fell in love her. She gives the world hope.
Carol told me more about her breast cancer and how one of her tits was chopped off. That is when Carol and I connected. She told me the weed help her overcome nausea. This, of course, I totally understood. We talked about how ridiculous the laws are. We decided to go out for a smoke and stepped out front. That was when Carol asked if I could score her some weed. I still had a pound of beautiful, crystallized, hairy purple from Laytonville and offered her a taste in my van. We hung for about a half hour. She told me more about her husband Dwight, her cancer, and how Dwight and I would get along. She said they were always very open minded. On our way back to the bar we talked about Tommy and Meat. She told me they were just a bunch of good o’ boys living in a small town and didn’t know jack shit. Meat’s brother is the local attorney and their cousin is a country sheriff. Recently they’ve been calling themselves Tea Party Patriots and before that Minutemen, but in reality they were all just a bunch of Log Cabin Republicans. I told Carol about teabagging and the John Water’s film Pecker where the term originated. We were both laughing our asses off as we walked back into the bar.
Our sets were still open. In fact it looked like only one older guy came in while we were gone and he was just was sitting in the middle of the bar, where the couples were, staring into his suds. He sat there for about an hour nursing the beer and then left. Carol and I were having a good time. Carol told me that Meat’s brother was a cop and his uncle was the local attorney/part-time councilmen. She said they were all Republicans and hated Obama. I thought that Obama was kind of doing a good job and needed to be given a chance. I stated we were 37th in the world in health care, we’re bankrupting Americans and we needed universal health care. I guess I began to talk a little loud. I guess I got excited, as I often do, when I talk about politics. I was going off about how socialized medicine is the only answer to our health care and how the radical rightwing loonies were a bunch of liars. I don’t know, I guess I was really soaring then when Carol said she had to go home. I think I blew it then. I shouldn’t have gotten so excited.
That’s when things get a little fuzzy. I ordered another beer and went off to the head. Just after I started pissing George comes in and starts pissing next to me. I looked over and he starts smiling, revealing a half a mouthful of teeth. He looked like a Cheshire cat on crank. Up close and under the bathroom lights, he looked like he spent the last years of his life strung out on crystal meth. I could see the puffy red sores on his ragged complexion and the creases in a face that easily aged him twenty years. When I got back to the bar I saw Meat and the gang over by my side of the bar talking to the bartender. As I approached they all look over to me. The bartender reaches between the men and handed me my beer. I sat In the middle of the bar and looked over to Meat and ask, “What’s up dudes?” Ronnie comes over to me and says, “What’s up with you dude?”
And I don’t know, I was just looking at these guys and said something like, “Just coming off the awesome Techno-Tribal Dance and headed up the Klamath Falls.” And then I went on and on about how the campsites were where the party really was at and how I met this truly authentic group of tribesmen and women including this girl named Rosa and she had the most amazing body and we wall hung out and danced and did X together. Then I told them about Rosa having to take off to L.A. and I was rambling on and on and telling them again that I was headed up to Klamath Falls and I was drinking my beers and when all of a sudden I starting to black out.
I remember my face hitting chain link. I remember someone yelling, “Fucking pinko-commie, queer-bait.” I remember being peed on and the smell of urine and garbage. I remember looking up at the blue dumpster and reaching over only to have my hand slipping on the gravel and grease. Then my face ate the asphalt. I think that was when I lost my front tooth. All I could remember was my mouth bleeding. Then I felt them kick me in the balls and heard them calling me a, “Faggot.” I felt my kidneys were about to burst and my eyes were about to pop out of my skull. That was when I blacked out again.
I don’t know, I must have been out cold for a long time. All I can remember next was the cop flashing a light into my eyes. I think he had his hand on my chest. I think I was being pulled up against the fence. I heard him say, “Hey buddy, are you awake?” I opened my eyes and saw the brim of his cap and watched it blur into many brims. Then tried to focus on his eyes and then drifted down to his badge which again became many shinny badges. I heard the officer ask, “What happened Chip?” “Joe, he had it coming. He got shit faced and started badmouthing Meat and Dick and then he spit on George and next I know they were throwing fists. I had to throw them all out. I had no idea he was still back here until I locking up.” “Okay, I think he’ll be okay. Just let him sleep it off.”
That is all I can remember. The next I know the sun in pounding and my entire body seems to be throbbing in pain. I pulled myself up and found my shirt torn up and my pants half off. As soon as I took that first step I was completely awake. My anis is bleeding. I am ripped up. My face is swollen like the Elephant Man. My ribs feel broken. I’m missing my front tooth. My eyes are blood shot. But all of that can heal. My ass being fucked, I don’t think so.
I cannot believe I have made it to Klamath Falls. I cannot believe I still have my private stash of purple Mendo. Thank God for that. I don’t know if there is a God. Why would God let people ass fuck? I don’t care. I hate life. I hate it. I want to jump. Shit. Whatever. Fuck life. Fuck you all!!!
This just reminds me off what a fucking piece of shit I truly am. Dad was right, I am a worthless piece of shit. Nothing really matters. No one really cares. They all talk big shit, but no one ever really cares. How come I am the only one that this shit happens to? How come I’m the only one out in the cold? Dad is right, I AM A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!!!
Klamath Falls looks sweet. I love the music of the water. I love the sound of the falls. Om nom shiva. Om nom shiva. Om nom shiva. Thank You Jesus. You are my Lord and Savior. The Lord is my Sheppard. I’m coming to see ya.
I am sorry. I am sorry Mom and Dad. Don’t worry. Don’t’ be sad. It’s all good. It’s all for the best. Klamath Falls is beautiful.