RAGIN THE HATE 2012

SO YEA.... as my once crazy Batman wannabe cop vigilante wannabe friend who worked the door at Mortville (still one of my favorite places on earth) who was once named Eric... Went to a couple of fucking rainbow gatherings and some of those Jerry Garcia tribute Shits and changed his name to "HUCKELBERRY SPIN" (WTF) I know.... it's fucking weird.... but as HUCK would say I've been RAGIN THE HAIGHT for the last like way too long... I'm thinking it has been three days.... it seems like one long day, but it also seems like I have lived there for ten years.... I NEVER thought I would say that.... When I had to get out of the car and ask for directions to HATE AND ASS BERRY I vomited in my mouth.... Give me ANY FUCKING INTERSECTION IN THE DAMN COUNTRY.... and I will ask for it.... Can't think of any stupid ones now. BUT HATE AND ASS BERRY in my mind is the worst most embarassing place to exist, go, live, talk, shit, eat, read a magazine, open a door, kiss a baby, kill yourself, clean a fork, yea I don't know just ABOUT EVERYTHING.... But so I get there and I literally CAN'T WAIT FOR the hippies we will encounter and how I plan on laughing my inferior white trash ass off.... BUT yea we get there the first night, and a fellow asks me if I want mushrooms... at a very cheap price btw. OF COURSE I DO.... normally though when someone is walking around the street selling mushrooms they like have it ready, or at least some semblance of ready. My friend referred to him as "Hubbas" because the last time he was in his presence Hubbas was smoking madd crack and ya know being a Hubba Pigeon. So like anyways, I say yes and this guy ducks into this head shop and sez OK COOL GOTTA BUY A SCALE.... he didn't have a scale?!?!. After like 20 minutes he emerges to a very windy rainy night and asks us if we think he should divide them out on this fucking table.... and I'm like HELL NO. They're just gonna blow away. So there's always this option of this "space toilet" which I was not privvy to at the time.... But now after hearing story after story about how many people have accidentally or purposely offed themselves in the thing... it has become QUITE THE FUCKING MONUMENT.... I mean it's the perfect place to shoot up, and most people go in and wake up dead. I guess the door opens this space aged way.... I can only imagine opening it and finding a dead one in there.... It would be awful. And now that I have been ragin the hate I fucking heard so many first hand accounts of people's dead friends dying in there. That place has got some stories I'm sure. So anyways I see this atm place where we can duck inside and me and Hubbas go inside while he measures out the quarter of some of the best mushrooms I've ever ate and then while we're in there the motherfucker is taking like an hour to open the scale lay the mushrooms out, and then he asks ME for a fucking bag. I shoved them in a perscription container..... Meanwhile there is a line forming outside because there are two atms in there and my friend gnome is telling people to get the fuck away from the atm because his friend is fucked up and will freak out if anyone goes in there with him. That his friend needs privacy in the atm. I don't know still if this was good or bad but finally some guy says fuck off and proceeds in and Hubbas starts freaking and I start saying, just keep signing your fucking checks so we can go..... For some reason I'm not scared cuz I'm in the land of the burnt out zombies, constantly fighting, smoking dope, and hustling on the streets. Who the fuck would care about some mushrooms..... He finally finishes. It was wonderful. Then I go on for three more or ten more days talking to street kids who were literally birthed in Greatful Dead parking lots.... someone is staying on my bus who is only a few years older than me but seems like they are 4,000 or something. I guess that's what happens when you start SMOKING CRACK WHEN YOU'RE 6 FUCKING YEARS OLD AND YOU RUN AWAY FROM HOME WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND AT 8 AND START RIDING THE RAILS.... HOLY SHIT. But he makes a good living. He digs holes. Makes money. This guy talks just like Tommy Chong. But he does have ways to make good money. He and most of these other kids are like MacGuyver when it comes to drugs. They all have an encyclopedia like knowledge of everything. They can turn a fucking can of soda into a pound of crack in like two hours... And they find AMAZING things on the ground. Drugs, Jewelry, Clothes, Food, Shoes, Chihuahuas, I've fucking seen it.... it's AMAZING. These people are magical. There were seven of them staying on my bus at one time and I felt more safe than I had felt in forever. They are like sweet little minons that come back to the home base with weird drugs, jewels, clothes, food.... and they live like in a real utopia.... EVERYONE SHARES EVERYTHING. It's beautiful. So man I got so many stories about what these eyes have seen in the past few days... but shit. I'm so into it. The most creative writer on earth could not come up with these characters. They've got names like Troll, Six Pack, Rodeo, Molliwop, Steve, Pat, Gnome, Huckleberry Spin, Casper. I am no longer afraid of giving birth now. Because even if I was the absolute most neglectful mother, my kids would turn out like this and that would be just fine for me. I LOVE THE HATE.

CRACKHEAD NARNIA DIARIES

OK. so a mere 200 feet from where my bus has been sitting for OVER a week now, I have stumbled upon a fucking CRACKHEAD NARNIA. Invisible to most, even the longtime residents here, I was taken there today, behind a grafitti covered warehouse sits THREE MANSIONS with a fucking spiral driveway and a fountain thing. LIKE THE MOVIES!. FULL OF CRACKHEADS. THEY tried to bring me in today. You could never see my bus ever if I agreed to join them. They offered enticing items like kfc, electricity, cable, and crack. I merely have to sell my soul and disappear forever. I have closed and locked myself inside my bus (despite Brooks's efforts to disbelieve me and try to leave me vulnerable to the zombies.)Brooks's mind is vulnerable now because of a mysterious man who came by earlier and gave us eight free hits of liquid acid on two buisness cards. I did not take it yet. it is too convienant a gift. Had I taken it, I may have been captured forever and hidden inside this insanely beautiful hidden paradise. I'm not fucking making this shit up either. I slept with my machete. but they are harmless I think (the crackheadNARNIAN's?). they just want me and my humble belongings like the plastic jug my cat litter came in that I threw away that they could recycle and trade for crack. Oh yea and 8 piece meals at kfc. BUT ONLY THAT. I gave one three dollars and she came back with it saying she could not purchace the full 8 piece meal and was going to give it back to me, rather than purchacing a lesser amount of chicken in which she could afford, she chose to go without on the unlikely chance that someone would have given her the EXACT rest of the money to purchace the 8 piece meal and she would no longer have enough because she used the three dollars I gave her to buy a lesser kfc purchace. They are crazy, these folk. Also the little mowhawked white man. The "nicest white man I ever met" explained to me a peculiar thing about copper and electrical extension chords that only a mind deprived of sleep and nutrients and addled with cocaine mixed with baking powder would ever know. I will show anyone where it is who wants to know where you go to get there. but once you go in there, haha. I'm not kidding, you may never get out. It's fucking insane. OAKLAND IS CRAZY.