I'm warning you right now -- this is a random story. So, unless you have some time to kill, I suggest you waste your time elsewhere.

Okay, so about two years ago I went on this family reunion trip to Big Sur. We go every year, but we usually rent a cabin. This time, though, we decided to camp out - which meant, sleep in our cars that were parked around a hole surrounded by stones which we lovingly referred to as a campfire.

After three days, of wilderness, drunken aunts and uncles each weighing four hundred pounds and each threatening to fall on you at any given moment, I was desperate to find someone without blood relation. Anyone would do. But, we were at the most removed campsite in the whole fucking park and no one came by for hours at a time.

Luckily, though, I spotted two guys, a little older than me with back packs on their back walking pass the site, and I hurried up to them. They had seen me. I had smiled at them. And when I was walking behind them I called to them to wait up and when they stopped, I ran up to them and introduced myself. Almost immeadiately I recognized Butch.

He shook my hand and I said

"Hey. My name is Lost." and he said to me if we knew each other. Sure we did. We'd practically lived together when I was on the streets. He was a traveler and he'd run into this Andre kid in Georgia and the two had been hitch hiking around the nation. I remembered when he had left the first time. I was there when he got in the car. I never thought I'd see him again, especially not hundreds of miles away, in Big Sur.

He was dirty, with shaggy blond hair, his curls were practically dred locked and he was wearing these ridiculously ripped up bellbottoms and sandals he made out of God knows what.

So, we started catching up and apparently he and his friend had been staying with this guy with a van they'd met at the Grand Canyon and did I want to go back and meet him.

Desperate to be anywhere but there, I went and found the van parked across the other side of the street from the camp site with the driver no where to be found. So the three of us crawled in to the back and in the back, along the back wall was a larger than life poster of Jim Moorison. Scattered along the floor was random paraphenalia: empty beer bottles, pipes, matches, pills, a bong made from bamboo, etc...

Butch pulled a cheap bottle of half drinken red wine from under the front passenger seat and handed it to me to drink as Andre started packing a pipe.

I told him all about how I'd been staying with this transvestite and how these two women had found me in the park and took me in for the night. He kept saying

"Cool. Cool." and asked me if I liked The Doors.

Of course. Sure. Who doesn't. So, it just so happened the driver of the van had been an avid Doors fan and had just about all the tapes and record albums. That explained the huge poster on the wall. But, when I asked where the driver was they just sort of alluded the question.

I guess we got pretty stoned. And they had the music really loud. The three of us were just sitting in the back of the van, with Jim Moorison watching us on the wall, and things really started to make sense.

I think it was the music, though, that brought it all together. I just heard the music, and saw the picture, and looked at Butch all shaggy and dirty from traveling and thought about the days and nights we'd spent together, in the park. The night under the bride, near Fort Point. And the randomness of reality.

But, I really think it was just the music.

Cheers,
Lost

Not to be cruel, but you need to put this sort of thing somewhere else. I think you write well and could direct your effort into a more profitable direction. TOTSE is long dead. Only us tarans darting between the tall dolts would even want to understand. Love ya, though.

direct/direction connection. I'm begining to be too faint.

She said she's got a book written.. or almost written..

How ironic, what a lost cause. Eh, I dunno about that Z3m, but if I had somewhere else to go, I would (as if I needed to defend my staying here *scoff*). Keep postinf LostCause, I like reading. I'll continue being myself and presenting what I feel like. Sometimes I think the reason why I stay is because I enjoy chaos/anarchy. I love being able to stroll beside crumbling walls and people dying around me.

Gee, wow, thanks Z. That means a lot to me.

Cheers,
Lost

quote:

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Originally posted by Z3m:
TOTSE is long dead.

---

I think it retreated to the other forums.

I've had that feeling. Every thing just clicks, it's so right you don't have to think any more, it just all works and you know not only what the people around you are thinking but why and thats very special.

------------------
~Kameron
Carpe Aptenodytes! (Seize the Penguins!)

I always like anything you write Lost.

The Doors do alter ones emotions and perceptions of reality. They open up doors into your conciousness.

Hence the name: The Doors

hehehehe

Thanks. I just wish there was some point to that story. I have a lot of little stories like that that sound nice but are completely pointless, so they're no good for anything.

*sigh*

May be I'll be famous after I'm dead for a few hundred years.

I should start writing in scroll format.

Drop them at the bottom of some ocean and tell some guy who wears sandals to walk around telling everyone about it.

But... eh... nah...

Cheers,
Lost