I'm riding in the car with Beth, writing on my phone again. on my way to the HAI Ball. Time is slipping by and I can feel the clarity of my trip getting fuzzy. Worse, I can feel myself getting bored by my own stories, compressing them down into sentences to save brainspace; the weight of new events pressing in urgently, stealing vitality from what has gone before, however precious, however pleasant. So here's my last ditch effort to preserve what's left:
So, we went home with the drug dealer. This is not some ironic invocation of the stereotype, covering an aging hippie who likes to smoke weed. No, drug dealer barely begins to evoke the correct image of the physically threatening, emotionally fragile, inevitable train wreck of a man.
As soon as I walked in the door I was passed an empty sobe bottle with a hole drilled in the side. There was a joint sticking out of this hole. To my later regret, I took two big hits from this makeshift pipe. The weed was strong and it left me feeling paranoid and vulnerable in an unknown situation.
I was sitting on some steps next to Keli, trying to acclimate myself to the environment when the words being soken by our host started to filter through. He was talking about how the Jews controlled the media in the US, and how different the news was in countries that aren't controlled by Jews. I was too shocked to speak. This was my first time in the presence of a real live anti-semite. I think it was Aron who steered us out of the uncomfortable subject by agreeing that foreign news was really cool.
Next he started talking about the fags. How they were perverts who fucked babies. How he had joined the the white supremacists in jail just for safety. He striped off his shirt and showed off a huge swaztika tattoo that had been artfuly transmuted into the stem of a rose.
So, we went home with the drug dealer. This is not some ironic invocation of the stereotype, covering an aging hippie who likes to smoke weed. No, drug dealer barely begins to evoke the correct image of the physically threatening, emotionally fragile, inevitable train wreck of a man.
As soon as I walked in the door I was passed an empty sobe bottle with a hole drilled in the side. There was a joint sticking out of this hole. To my later regret, I took two big hits from this makeshift pipe. The weed was strong and it left me feeling paranoid and vulnerable in an unknown situation.
I was sitting on some steps next to Keli, trying to acclimate myself to the environment when the words being soken by our host started to filter through. He was talking about how the Jews controlled the media in the US, and how different the news was in countries that aren't controlled by Jews. I was too shocked to speak. This was my first time in the presence of a real live anti-semite. I think it was Aron who steered us out of the uncomfortable subject by agreeing that foreign news was really cool.
Next he started talking about the fags. How they were perverts who fucked babies. How he had joined the the white supremacists in jail just for safety. He striped off his shirt and showed off a huge swaztika tattoo that had been artfuly transmuted into the stem of a rose.
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