I'm sitting where the kids hang out. They could be 50 years old. They could be 1,000. They could remember when the dinosaurs roamed. But they're all "kids." Traveling kids, or more commonly "street kids." Some of them actually are kids. Most of them "spange" or somehow otherwise don't have jobs. There's a lot of exciting hair, body modification, natural body smells and earthy clothing. I'm getting shrooms for ten bucks. I'm talking to kids with dogs. At 7:21 I'm watching some "kids" get "agro."
"What... you're gonna mace me?"
"take a swing"
"mace me, you fat fuck"
"take a swing"
"mace me then"
"take a swing"
I had the pleasure of sitting idle, confident that everyone was pretty full of shit. Another old kid rightly pointed out that they should both shut the fuck up because the heat was going to be brought on all of them. To me it looks like Ashland doesn't have any heat. If there's heat anywhere around, it should be here on this constant gathering of kids.
Today was not a model of health. I drank way more than I ate, and then tripped. Hallucinogenic mushrooms are way too easy to find around here. I waited for four years on the east coast, and four minutes out here.
[editors note: I'm not getting "caught up" in drugs. Seriously. I'm not. Bye bye.]
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