traveling story continued

okay, where did i leave off. bellingham. i spent one week in bellingham washington, and that's all i could take of that backward little town. so i spent from august seventh till like the second week of january in seattle, and took a bus up north to bellingham, and... let's see... i got to bellingham on a saturday evening, and left on a saturday evening. i left on the bolt bus, for forty bucks down to portland oregon. first time there in fifteen years, you'd think i could have had a nicer time. i got into portland late saturday night, january twenty fourth. i walked around downtown for a bit, looking for a spot to sit, smoke, sleep. i sat infront of some fancy store window, scraping a bowl of resin. these hot ladies passed by me, and one of them looked at me, and said 'would you like to smoke', the others giggled, i said 'sure', but they wondered off around the corner and never came back.

i wish i could remember so many of the stories between here and there. i've forgotten too much, haven't been able to post it all online, keep losing shit... if you think it's fun being homeless, you're sofa king we todd did you should go back to first grade, and do not pass go. you get a dunce cap for the rest of this party. corner of the class, naked on a stool, trying to think of jokes and puns about your sit you ation.

anyway, hopefully along these lines, i'll get to fill in parts of the story as i remember them, but all in all, this is pretty fucking retarded having to piece together parts of my life to tell single serving friends who weren't there for these parts of the fucking trip anyway, but whenever people ask me where i'm from, i'm fucking sick of answering that question, as it leads to me telling about my negative past, when that's the reason i'm traveling is to get to a better fuckin' future. so people, cut the small talk, stop asking me where i'm from, like it fucking matters. i'm from the fuckin' future, you'll hear the story tomorrow, smoke a fuckin' bowl and go to bed.

so, yeah, oregon. i got there saturday night, january twenty fourth, passed out downtown. woke up in a different spot down town, on a foggy, beautiful sunday morning, quiet, peaceful, oregon's special brand of fog, on my wife's twenty third birthday. happy birthday, baby. while i was in oregon, i was harassed three times for smoking pot, jailed twice of those, and they're about to legalize it in july. what a bunch of goat tards. they apparently just needed one more little scapegoat posterchild for their war on drugs hypocrisy. fascist scum. you normal fuckers have no clue what that did to my pride. before that, i was proudly telling people, i'm thirty six, father of two, never been arrested, never been to jail, never done a stupid psychotic drug... thanks, portland, for fucking that up. one of the times the douchebag pig was arresting me... first of all, they never even charged me with smoking pot. but the last time, when the scumfuck was arresting me, he said he was arresting me for offensive littering. wow, okay, first of all, offensive? wow, that's a little harsh. and secondly, since when did we arrest people for littering. why be so violent and aggressive for littering. because you're a neanderthal, that's why. doesn't take a moron with half a booger on his nose to figure that out.

and third... i hadn't thrown anything on the ground. i think he was literally just calling me trash. asshole. and when he had me up against his car, raping me of all my possessions and sentimental trash, his cop buddy walks up, and he says to his cop buddy, 'almost friday'. fucking douchebag, it was a monday fuckin' morning. do you have to be that much of an asshole, do you have to make it so obvious that you know your time is up. i wish your dick was big enough that i could shove it up your ass, and have you actually fuck yourself. i guess your head will have to do...

am i the only one who's this fucking sick of cops, and authority, and law enforcement, and concrete credit hearts and advertisements flashing in our faces... i really wonder how pleased you all are with these shit plastic fucking products. mcdonald's has tasted the same for eighty fucking years now, when is it going to get old for the rest of you fucks. and when will you stop looking at me like i'm crazy for not wanting to pay twenty bucks a day for free heart attack with every burger and free cancer with every fuckin' fry. you can shove my truth down your arteries and fuckin' choke on it.

while i was in seattle, i got myself a laptop. i didn't get paid on black friday, so i had to wait for cyber monday. i walked into a best buy on cyber monday with four hundred bucks to spend on something fast. i got the slowest thing in the fucking store, that shouldn't have even been made let alone sold. it was so below its own minimal requirements, that it died because of that. lasted me a month. then, just before i was about to take it back and get my money back, which meant losing all my files, cause there's no fuckin' security of any sort for poor people, and you rich fucks think you're doing some good. i could prove it to you with a piece of cardboard and a sharpie. before i was able to take it back, it got stolen along with my windows phone phablet thing, my sd card, headphones...

if one person on this godfucking planet wants to say right now that life is fair, and that everything bad that happens in my life is my fault, if one of you morons wants to take the chance of telling me that again right now, go the fuck ahead, i need more people on my shitlist. god's still at the top, though. position number one. i like to call it, love position number one. you figure out the pun and emphasis. it's not my job to help you get the joke anymore. if you don't get it, i get to enjoy watching you be left out. because for thirty six years now, i've been left the fuck out. life's fuckin' fair, for who.

so after portland, one of the douchebag cops that arrested me the first morning, some old fart hippie wannabe, told me, 'you need to go down to san francisco, that's where all the hippies are, haight ashbury, that's where you need to be', and sold it up like a shiny fuckin' product. i got down here, there's no fuckin' love down here. it's hard enough to get free weed every day, let alone cigarettes or food or anything fucking worthwhile, all i get is people issues and unhealthy hatred and anger. yeah, thanks, doc. so this is my taste of california. some of the dumbest yuppie scum i've seen walking this earth. haight street is lined with yuppies? have we gotten this shit on youtube yet? get alex jones down here, he needs to see this shit. i've even seen fake hippies. do i need to point this out? just because you can afford to buy the cool colourful hippie clothing in the stores doesn't make you a fucking hippie, it makes you a wolf in sheep's clothing, and we can smell you fuckers and your fake plastic perfume scents from miles away. do you think we're fuckin' stupid?

and that leads me to something else that needs to be said. the other night, this kid nico and i are tripping acid, or trying at least, and looking for a spot to charge my phone, which there are none in san francisco, by the way. good little traveling tip there. someone should put that on a street sign somewhere. but i don't know how this genius little kid, eighteen years old, found this electric plug that night, but we sat there and charged my phone for a bit, and were talking about funny stuff, and he goes off making a sign that i never got to see... suddenly this guy who apparently lives in one of those houses gets home and starts yelling at us for being there. this is a great story, cause it needs something obvious said about it. even some douchebag in the castro was this fucking psychotic, and i feel like both you fuckers need to be called out on this shit. it's gone on long enough, and it's time you whiny little fucks stop. so pay attention.

even number one, only a morning or two before mine and nico's acid trip night. i slept on someone's doorstep in the castro, because i was feeling safer there than on haight with all the new shady hippies flooding in, and a couple gangster homie thugfucks that seem to think that neighborhood has become theirs for whatever reason. when i woke up that morning, i sat up and smoked a bowl, like i prefer to do, instead of just bouncing off the concrete like a delayed equal and opposite reaction and walking on looking for more concrete and less people before i even get to enjoy my morning and shaving the stress off my mood that you fucks cause in the first place, but we'll get to that when i get a therapist again. apparently you can't find those anymore either. you fucks need to get your priorities right.

but anyway, i woke up, and this gay douchebag yells out his window at one point, 'get the fuck out of here, you're trespassing', and has to get all fucking gaydicktard hostile at me for being, what i shouldn't have to remind him, is a fucking traveler. as i'm picking up my stuff and walking away, i'm yelling back at him, trying to tell him to relax, he seriously needs to grow up, he doesn't need to be so hostile and violent. but i say, 'dude, get laid, smoke a bowl, relax', to which he responds 'i do that all the time'... and i felt like saying, 'the fuck you do! i can prove you don't with an instant replay button, you unfucked jerkoff!'. after which the pigs had to fuck with me for riding a bus for free, when there's a big fuckin' sign saying that disabled people can ride for free, but oh, it has that super small fine print that people who need glasses can't read, but that's completely fair, and it says you have to show proof, well fuck, clarence, ya got me, i'm just a stupid traveler without proof of anything, because i travel light, and don't like to carry your stupid trash around on me, and papers of dead trees weighing me down, hell, i don't even like having to identify myself every time you point your fuckin' stubby finger at me, you fat fuck.

so that wannabe faggot had to be called out. you live in the castro, you idiot. do you seriously need to be reminded to grow the fuck up, and realize you're living in san fucking fran fucking cisco, next to haight ashbury... hippies, travelers, potheads, you're going to have them all sleeping all around you, because some guy named timothy leary was born when your grandfather killed himself from the great depression, you chucklenuck fuck. i gotta get to the rest of this later, the computer's telling me to shut up.