Smoke Long Stories

North California: Day 6 (12/11/12)

“Shut the fuck up!”
Pause. “You know normally when people say that to me I say ‘no.'”
Pause. “When I say ‘shut the fuck up’ I mean shut the fuck up!”
“Does it make more sense to say I need my ‘healing space!'”

——-

I met Phill at the US Outdoor on Broadway and Burnside. I was in the basement of the store in the camping gear looking to purchase a tent. I’m being helped by a cute girl, looking over tent specifications when one of her colleagues comes up to tag team the sale. I’m evidently the only customer in the basement. We start shooting the shit and talking about my journeys. His name is Phill. He looks to his co-worker and exclaims he is hungry. I also recognize I am hungry so I pull out some focaccia bread that I have in my side bag and offer it around. Soon after I have a ride to California.

——-

I meet him at his circus practice on Sudan evening. We drive to Eugene that night. I sleep in the back of his Subaru. He sleeps at his friends.

——-

101. Up down back and forth roads. Red woods so big I get excited. Waves that have past toyed with ships as if they were models. One absent minded Alaskan we pick up for an hour stretch.

——-

Now I’m in Arcata. Hobos are yelling at each other in the town square. This is why people think pot is a gateway drug. I like to think pot was probably a small part of the problem. Dreaded neo-hippies lazily patrol the sidewalks before they retire to their decorated vans. In front of me, in the square, are palm trees, the country, state, and county flag, and a dead president atop a column. Mr. McKinely also doubles as a jungle gym for the local drunk college kids. Things are busy in Arcata. I’ve apparently arrived at the end of harvest season. The pot is done and people are on their way home with either wads or plastic sealed bags of cash and large sacks of weed. This situation has created a unique environment and a stimulated economy. Despite this fact I’ve found a place to stay for the night. I walk into a outdoor store to buy a flashlight for setting up my tent and walk out with a place to rest my head. I’m beginning to like these outdoor folks; he goes by Jake. We’ll meet up later tonight, until then I’ll sit in the square to observe the end of harvest festivities.

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This entry was published on 12/11/2012 at 13:43 and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.
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