Sorry about the lack of updates lately. I've been spending most of my time working, and little time pursuing hedonism.
Well, that's not entirely true... I refuse work that I don't enjoy doing... so really, even my work is hedonistic. I've been doing farm work around Northern California. It's harvest season and the medicinal growers are in need of help doing extra maintenance around the grow sites. As someone who is used to being outdoors and has worked on farms all over the country, I have some of the skills and knowledge to keep things flowing smoothly. I was mostly building structures, and keeping track of supplies.
I spent a few weeks living in a trailer at a farm where the house recently burnt down. Working all day, keeping busy and trying to stay out of the rains.
The cops came out a few times to check on the prescriptions and make sure the farm was legit. With no real problems any time...
After a few weeks of toil, I took a break for a quick weekend trip up to Eugene.
The drive was beautiful and I was glad to be back in Oregon.
I spent my first night in town watching a band I used to be involved with open for one of our biggest influences, The Devil Makes Three. I danced my ass off and partied hard, eventually finding myself in the green room, spending a good amount of time drinking whiskey and getting high with DM3. Score!
My weekend in Eugene was great, spending time with close friends, hitting all the hot spots and checking out the changes from the last year. Now, I head back to California for a few weeks.
Last Sunday, I woke from the treehouse I'd slept in and made my way to the world's largest BDSM/Leather Festival, the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco. The streets crawled with deviants and perverts; it was a wondrous sight.
There were all sorts of displays of debauchery: public floggings and bondage suspensions. Straight, queer, couples and groups... nothing was taboo. Sadists, Masochists, Exhibitionists, Slaves and Masters... Freak Pride!
Naked Twister, ButtPlugZilla and the Kink.com booth were highlights.
I made a new friend too, under the best circumstances:
From SF, I went north and camped on the beach beneath the stars for a night. Owls flew by and the hills were teeming with deer. Waves crashed on the shore as I feel asleep. In the morning, I took some friends to the airport, then headed north for Humboldt County, The Marijuana capital of the world to camp out and hangout with friends for the week.
I came back to SF for the weekend to Check out the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, a three day seven stage free music festival in Golden Gate Park. While in the city I caught a bit of Love Parade, a huge rave that overtakes downtown SF for one day a year. I partied hard with friends in the Sac and the Bay... tearing up long nights with serious inebriation.
It was truly a week of hedonism; just how I like it.
Worked for the week in Pinnacles National Monument in the middle of California. It was a hilarious trip with incompetent kids and fun coworkers. A true shit-show that we could do nothing other than laugh about.
The wide open night time skies were magical, pitch black- no light pollution. The milky way streaked across the centre surrounded by hordes of stars. The days were hot; averaging around 105 and the dry climate seemed to pull moisture right out of our bodies. The focus of the trip was rock climbing, and I didn't envy the guys who'd be in the direct sun on rock all day.
Wild turkeys and deer came through camp daily, I'm pretty sure I saw feral pigs on the road at night time and a few rattlesnakes and bobcats were spotted. A few California Condor, among the last 300 currently living, circled above us in the daytime awing us with with their impressive 9 foot wing span.
Woke up on Friday around 5:30 in the AM, got to making coffee and breakfast for the camp. Within a few hours, the work week was winding down, the kids packed up and left the site and we went about cleaning up our gear and getting our final bits of paperwork filed.
As the gig was over, our crew packed the work stuff into a Cube Truck to be driven back to headquarters, had a beer to commemorate the week's end and split ways. I headed for San Francisco to meet up with friends I haven't seen in some time.
The afternoon drive put me in San Jose in the middle of rush hour. My favourite. I sat in bumper to bumper traffic, sweltering in the sun and listening to cranked up punk rock.
Finally I made it to the Bay Area, and more traffic. I had some friends in town for the weekend from Eugene as well as friends from previous lives, a slew of coworkers, and a couple of other nomads who were congregating in the area for the weekend. As soon as I sent out a message declaring I'd made it to SF, my phone started ringing off the hook.
I took some of time to myself in the East Bay, just a few minutes, smattered with calls and offers of things to do for the weekend. I made my way across the Bay Bridge to SF and dropped in on a friend who I used to work with. We caught up for a while, he showed me his place and offered it to me for the night, then he vanished, off with a girl he had plans with. His house mates came home and we spent a bit of time getting to know each other, then I went to meet up with the Eugene Crew.
The Oregonians were confused by the big city and we had a hard time actually finding a meeting spot. After cruising to every corner of the peninsula, we finally found a parking lot that we could all identify and were quickly reunited.
One of the travellers jumped in my car, the others headed to the East Bay for sleep. It was my plan as well, but after crossing the bridge, I realized: I'll get plenty of sleep when I'm dead, now is the time to party!!
So Abbey the Oregonian and I made our way to a house party I'd been invited to. The central theme of the night was "Simpler Times", both the idea, and the beer (6.2% $2.99/sixpack).
We drank and met the friends of my old comrade Jake. Drank free booze and listened to a few live bands before finding a place on the floor to crash out... it was after 3am, I'd been up for close to 23 hours.
Around 7 the next morning I came too, trained to wakeup with the sun after the prior two weeks of camping out. I dug out some coffee that I travel with and found a coffee machine in the kitchen of the strange house I'd passed out in. Only one problem... no coffee pot.
I brewed the lifeblood directly into mugs for Abbey and myself. Microwaved some stale croissants, which didn't help at all, cleaned up our gear and left to find fresh fruit for breakfast.
A quick stop by a Berkeley Hippie Commune to pick up another Eugenian, and a run to Whole Foods, Then we metup with an old comrade who took us to explore the East Bay.
First Stop: Trash Island.
A post apocalyptic wonderland. A dump site for industrial building materials that people had reclaimed and been building into an art community and squatted living space. Laws dont apply and the creative folks of the area had turned slabs of concrete and bent arms of rebar into castles, fortresses and sculptures, turning waste into beauty, giving a new life to the discarded remains of a disposable culture.
Next Stop: Sake Factory.
California's premier Sake company, we toured the Museum and watched a quick video about the production of the booze then drank samples and bought a bottle for the road.
Third Up: Rope Swing Mountain.
A huge park in Albany, A hilltop covered in Eucalyptus with a few solid rope swings. We had a picnic and setup a hammock, enjoying the shade. From the swing, you could see out into the SF Bay, all the way across to Golden Gate Bridge. Flying free amongst the tall trees, the distinctive smell invaded our nostrils. Truly absorbed in the moment.
From here: Bay overlook.
Up to the Berkley hills to a spot overlooking the whole bay, quite a sight. Not too long to stop, though, we just caught a glimpse then went to drop of one of the nomads.
A drive to Redwood City turned out to be pointless and we came back to East Bay, dropped off another companion, and Abbey and I went into San Francisco to check out a party. It was a fundraiser for a local human circus trying to go to Peru to perform. DJ's and a bar, a few Burlesque troupes: SF's anarchist, punk, and free living party scene packed a small warehouse space and got the nighttime roaring. A few Aussies that I had loose connections with showed up and we got a bit of dancing in, as much as the hot, cramped space allowed.
Made it back to Berkeley around 3:30 and climbed into a 15'x15' tree house that sits a few floors up in a Redwood, rolled out my sleeping gear and was caught some Zs.
A blink and the week was gone. 6 nights camped under the stars on the coast of Marin County in Northern California.
I spent my days cooking for 55 people in our make-shift kitchen. Two picnic tables and the propane burners along with the BBQ pit would be the tools of the trade. Three heavy plastic tubs carried pots and pans, A tackle box had been reapropriated as a 'Utensil Kit', full of knives and large metal spoons, spreaders and tongs. A menagerie of tubs and coolers locked away in the back of our large white Cube Truck would be the pantry and fridge. The blue rain fly tied the whole scene together.
Each night was a battle against the swarm of ravenous racoons that would descend upon us under cover of night looking for any unguarded scraps. We could be sure that at 9:30 sharp, the bandits would suddenly appear, creeping towards anything that might smell of a hint of food. I slept each night under our kitchen rainfly; stars in view, but protected from the weather. Unprotected however, from the racoons.
All through the night, I could hear them, surrounding me; sniffing, barking, and chirping to one another. Surely planning a coordinated attack on my face. Every few minutes, in a torpor between sleep and wake, I would jerk upright and swing around with my flashlight, only to see dozens of pairs of glowing yellow eyes staring at me from the shadows. I would reach to grab the nearest object lighter than the cast iron dutch oven and hurl whatever I could land my hands on towards the night time marauders, pushing it along its path by whatever vulgarity I could muster. They would dodge, hiss at me, and scatter off, only to restratagize and regroup, starting the cycle over again.
I was glad to get to hangout with some old friends and make a few new ones. My coworkers are generally interesting people who have amazing adventures and its fun to swap stories. Some had just returned from overseas while others had worked in similar jobs during this company's off season. No one had a boring tale to tell.
In the middle of the week, a quick trip to the beach during a short block of free time turned into more of a journey than had been expected. My friend Josie and I got lost a few times and eventually tried using my GPS for directions. It lead us to a twisted, steep uphill road, amongst fancy houses. When we finally got to the turn that put us on the main route, there was a gate with a sign which read “This is not the way to the beach, even if your GPS tells you it is...” it proceded to give us the directions we needed. We could see the road, the gate didn't protect any property other than 5 feet of hard packed dirt between this littly residental road and the main road. I swore out the window at the top of my lungs, got out to check that the gate was really locked and the quality of the chain. It all turned out to be horribly true, and we didn't have any way to nueteralize the problem, so we had to flip around and go back out the way we came. We finally made it to the beach, where had about 15 minutes to dip in the ocean and take a few pictures before returning to work. But those 15 minutes were spectacular.
Friday came and the work week was at an end. All of my coworkers decided to go to the Lagunitas Brewery in Petaluma to unwind and have some adult-oriented fun. We made our way through the windy roads to the picturesque town and found with brewery with minimal issue. Turns out, our luck was high, because we caught the tail end of the tour, just in time for the free beer tasting. We had a few complimentary pints then made our way to the 'Tap Room and Beer Sanctuary' where we paid for a few more. I befriended a tattooed punk couple from Santa Cruz who had been in town to see a lecture about sustainable living. A live band provided a soundtrack to the afternoon, providing some danceable toons for our crew. A variety of delicious beer was ordered for our table and we shared tastes. I thuroughly enjoyed the “Ruben and the Jets” and the Red.
Finally, I left the crew, they were headed to San Francisco to meet up with other friends and continue the party. I had business to attend to and we said our good byes in the parking lot, a good end for a good week.
Time to get back to my seasonal job, leading groups on week-long outdoor trips. I spent Saturday going through some gear, gathering what I'd need for a couple of weeks camping, then just after the sun dropped, I took off in my little geo through the heart of California. I cranked up a Leftover Crack album and shot down Interstate 80. Sacramento, Davis, Vacaville... from this perspective, the towns were the ones coming and going, not me.
The settlements become less frequent as I drive. I cut across highway 37 to bypass San Francisco, and the countryside opens up. The Oak Savannah, central California's beautiful natural landscape, is haunting, yet still beautiful in the darkness. This is Steinbeck's country and it isn't hard to see how he was so inspired by it.
I hit the 101 and drove to Petaluma, mindlessly cruising, getting lost and unlost a number of times while on the phone with a friend in the Virgin Islands. I cut through the town on side streets and began the long windy country road that would deliver me to the campground where I'd be based for the week.
The clouds had been getting thicker and more ominous. I changed the music, time for Black Flag. I cracked the window and was slapped in the face by a familiar smell - rain was on the way. I then realized that I had forgotten my rain gear.
I got to the campground and pulled into our reserved site. I was the first one there, but within minutes a car carrying two co-workers showed up. One I had met one of the two previously, the other I was a new face. We made introductions and caught up on summer exploits. Soon, we were all unrolling our sleeping bags and calling it a night.
Woke up to another co-worker pulling into the site. She jumped out of the car and ran over to where we were sleeping. “15 minutes till we start.”
I got myself up and put on my shoes. I looked around and took in my surroundings; redwoods and pines, big hills or small mountains to the west, rolling savannah to the east. A gentle fog reminded me we're just a short hike from the ocean. The campground was too crowded for my taste, but as Sunday morning, most of these people would be going back to their real lives soon... Suckers.
Soon, we saw the big white familiar Cube Truck come rolling towards us from a ways down the dirt road. Two work friends sat in the seats, both smiling ear to ear. They circled the lot, had us move some cars and parked.
The usual hellos and filling each other in on lost time, then I suggested: “Lets unload everything we need for coffee first, eh?”
It was agreed, we worked specifically towards finding the stuff we needed for coffee and breakfast, got ourselves fueled up, then unloaded the rest of the truck. As the cook for the week, I started setting up the kitchen area while my coworkers went over information for their indiviual groups. After an hour or so, we put up a rain fly, just in case, then they piled in a car and left to preview trails they'll be hiking this week, leaving me alone to setup camp, finish the kitchen and organize all the food.
Just as I finished loading the food back into the truck to keep it safe from the birds and racoons, the drizzle started. Now I sit huddled under the rainfly, it's thin nylon keeping my computer and my self, both, safe from the steadily increasing downpour. The other campers have all cleared out by now.
Soon my coworkers will return and I'll start cooking dinner. But for now, it's just me here to enjoy the sounds and smells of a beautiful rainy day.
Someone forwarded me an internet about the event: “Scientists are the new Rockstars”. It promised an interactive presentation about 'garage-scientists' and how they were taking us into a new, sustainable, world. What seemed even more interesting is they were going to be utilizing some of these very technologies to run the event. And it was a potluck and bonfire (read: probably will have beer).
I recruited my friend John and we rode up to the quaint little mountain town of Nevada City having only an address from the Facebook invite to get us to the event. The drive took a little over an hour, mostly through back country roads. We bounced along the bad pavement through oak savannahs listening to an assortment of bluegras and theorizing on what might be discussed for the night.
A stop by the Safeway for bread, dip, veggie platter and a case of beers. I pulled over to find a WIFI signal and check my GPS. Location acquired, we found the house in no time. I explained to John, “I have no clue what's going on here tonight really, I might not know anybody, or maybe I'd know a couple folks.”
We drove past, and noticed a few people hanging out on the stoop, looked encouraging. We parked and unloaded the food for the potluck. I carried the veggie tray and beers and headed to the front door, obscured by a tall hedge. As I came around the corner to a walkway leading right up to the front door, I noticed my old friend Jake was who had been on the stoop, Malori stood in the walkway.
“FRITZ!!!” they yelled out, shocked to see me.
Jake lept up to give me a hug then ran off to his van to get a delicious bottle of merlot. “For You!” he put it in my hands. We caught up for a while, filling each other in on the last year or so since we've seen each other. Jake is one of the people who inspired me to me current lifestyle and I appreciate getting to see him from time to time. He said he'd been following my pursuits on my blog and was envious of how well the world treats me. He was getting ready to move to the bay area and invited me to come checkout his new setup once he gets there.
It was good to catch up and meet a few new people. Most everyone was recovering from Burning Man. We moved out back and laid our some food on a table. Others followed suit. Soon, we were munching, drinking, laughing – having a good old time.
The person who was putting on the presentation arrived and asked for some help setting up his projector and screen. The crowd flew into action, digging up cables, securing the screen to the wall, and setting up speakers. There was a few short tests of the setup. The woman who was hosting the event asked if we could get her stoned... no problem.
We settled in and watched the show. It was basically a bunch of short videos that had been dug up online showcasing some creative projects that people worked on, primarily art projects for the notorious Burning Man. There was an automated electric rickshaw, self propelled kinetic sculptures, a few funny videos and a few serious ones, but unfortunatley, nothing earth shaking, nothing really giving a glimpse into any technologies that will let us live in a sustainable world. All in all, although I was glad the event went on, but I was rather disapointed by it. The booze didn't even help. The presentor said that it was a rough draft, the first version of a show that he was just begining to develop. I hope a lot of deceloping goes on.
Jake, John, Mallori and I went down to the local bar for some beverages, and to try and meet up with more local friends. We caught up with a crew of Mallori's girls from Portland, and one local girl who invited us all over to her house for the night to party. We kept up at the bar, enjoying two-for-tuesdays then went back to her place to drink whiskey.
I woke up in a strange house surrounded by cute girls and I knew everything was going to be all right.
John and Jake were soon stirring and we rallied for another day's hedonism. We loaded into Jake's van, made a trip to the Gross Out (Grocery Outlet) for cheap eats, and went down to the stream to cook up eggs and bacon. After our kings feast and a little machette juggling, we piled in, went to pick up Mallori, and ventured into the wilderness to spend a day at the Yuba River.
My little Geo crashed through the brush, deftly avoiding potholes and rocks on the dirt road. We hugged the cliff and wound around the corners of the tiny road making our way down a canyon. After about a half hour of this, we got to the parking lot, grabbed our minimal gear, and started the few mile hike down to the spot we wanted. We passed group after group of naked hippies they all seemed to be drinking, smoking, soaking up sun and frolicking in the water.
We found our spot and set up – chairs and beers. I tried to stay in the shade, while others sat on the hot sunny rocks. After a while, a middle aged, naked german lady came up and befriended John and I. She loved Americans, whiskey, the sun, and ganja. She hungout for a while, stretching this way and that, making sure we got the whole picture. She drank with us, asked for a smoke, and eventualy invited us back to her campsite “for some bacon”, she put it.
The bacon was a good shot, but we weren't ready to take off from this paradise just yet. The naked german wandered into the water and swam off. It was a long, slow, lazy day, soaking up nature and beer. Eventually, as the sun was going down, we hiked back out to the car and drove to a nearby cemetary, where we cooked up the leftover bacon from breakfast. One last feast with the mountain friends, amidst the dead, and I started off down the hill, back to the city.
The flight to the US wasn't bad, I had stayed up partying till 7:30am and gotten 2 hours of sleep the night before. My plan was to be as tired as possible and sleep through the whole 14 hour flight. Just in case, I had some sleeping pills that a friend had given me. I popped them in line for the security checkpoint, an hour and a half before time to board my flight.
45 minutes later they were hitting me hard. I was ready to pass out sitting at the gate, waiting to board. I tried my damndest to stay awake, spying on people's passports, curious where everyone was from. There were some Aussies and Americans of course, but also a good amount of Chinese citizens and Germans. I talked to a few people about where they were going, and finally heard the much awaited words:
"Quantas Flight 73 is now boarding unaccompanied children, people with strollers and other priority travellers at Gate 9"
A few minutes later it was my turn to get in line I stumbled to the gate and handed in my ticket. All of the questions I was asked were answered in grunts and gestures. I was waved through, found my way to my seat, cursed the people who had used all the overhead storage space, jammed my camera in as best as possible, sat down and was out cold.
A few hours into the flight and I was awoken as the dinner cart passed. "Beef or chicken sir?"
"uhhh.." I was still pretty groggy. "uh, beef?"
suddenly there was a dish in front of me. Black bottom, red top, a few little cups (one full of salad, the other two empty) red foil covered hot plates. a thin plastic bag held plastic cutlery, salt, pepper, sugar and a napkin. There was a mint.
I ate the food, unsure exactly what it was, then tried to get back to sleep. The food kept me awake, I held my eyes shut, but still couldn't doze off and eventually gave up. A flight attendant walked by and I asked for a glass of whiskey (complimentary... score!) which I drank while watching a few episodes of The Simpsons, finally falling asleep to the classics.
A few more hours of sleep and I woke back up, still groggy but unable to sleep. I ordered more whiskey and watched a few movies.
I passed the time watching art flicks and finally landed in San Francisco.
From the airport, off to the De Young museum to see the King Tut exhibit with all kinds of artefacts from his tomb. The ancient relics got me thinking about all sorts of things...
A few days in Sacramento visiting friends and a quick jaunt up to Humboldt County and back. The drive was great, a fast way (6 hours each direction) to reconnect with California and wrap my head around all that I'd seen in two months in Australia.
No its time to figure out my next move. I have lots of projects I thought up recently that I'd like to start implementing and lots of choices of what to do with myself now.
I was out, givin downtown Sydney another go, exploring art galleries. Was dissapointed by the exhibits, but still in a good mood. I came back to the suburbs and stopped by the cafe for a cup of esspresso and a free sandwich, and chatting with the rad barista girl.
I asked her if she wanted to go drinking Thursday, she said she'd come over to my place after work to hangou and because she wanted "to take pictures of the place before it all implodes". I was feeling great and made my way back to the squat. The whole walk back I thought about how great it was that the property owner is an American living in the USA with no intent of renting the place out.
When i got home, everyone was sitting around in the bar, a dark cloud hanging over the group. I said hello and checked in. After a few pleasantries they broke it to me: "The cops came by and evicted us. We have to be out by Friday."
"what????"
They explained:
The pigs came by with a real estate agent who was bein paid by the property owner to check on the place. Apparently, said realator hadn't noticed people living here for he last 6 months.
The cops took everyones IDs and walked through the house. They said the owner had no intention of using the property at all, but we had to leave.. They said they would be back Saturday morning and we had to all be out.
The story shook me up.
Everyone was somber. You could read it on their faces- 'not again'. They had finally felt a sense of home. For six months they had been unopposed in this residence. Now it was time to pack up and move again.
It obviously effected me less than everyone else. I already had my ticket to leave the country on Saturday. Besides, I'm a full time traveller; I am used to living out of a backpack and being ready to load up and move out in mere minutes. The people I had been staying with were very different. They are looking for a more permanent situation. They want a home.
A meeting was scheduled between members of this house and the next door neighbors, also squatters who had the same property owner and thus- situation. They wanted to keep the community that has developed and build upon it.
I went out for the night, cashing in on the luxury of being a vagrant.
This morning, the mood was still dreary. The sunshine and beautiful day didn't help at all. As I made breakfast, people came with dollies and moved out the stand-up freezer and started breaking down the kitchen.
The squatters talked about their dreams of somewhere to live;
"I wish I had a van I could live in, then this wouldn't be a problem. Even just a car, some roof that I could always sleep under."
"I just got to get my tent fixed, then I'll be ok."
"yeah, I reckon I'll be camping for a bit"
A few new buildings had been opened in the night and some of the people were moving in there. Others were looking at where to move their stuff as they would be living on the streets for a while.
The move began, packing and transporting, mending clothes, sleeping bags and tents.
Woke up late and had coffee and breakfast. A few bongrips, then I was on my way downtown. I stopped by an Internet cafe for an hour to update my blog, then went back to the National Gallery of Victoria to check out more art.
The impressionist paintings were phenomenal, and a good amount of abstract expressionism. Glad to see some old favourotes:
rothko
picasso
matisse
monet
cezanne
Magritte - one of my absolute favourites.
I was quite taken by the furniture design exhibit and the contemporary art section had a great series by Damien Hirst.
fancy ass cradle.
Hirst
Warhol
Oceanic art blew me away, the collection from Paupa New Guinea and New Zealand was amazing. The gallery closed and I stopped by "Lord of the Fries" for a box of chips.
oceanic masks.
Jumped a tram down to Barricade Books for the vegan cake competition, had a rainbow love themed cake and a pirates revenge sea shepherd themed one, both were good, unfortunately I was too late to try the cake that had won the coveted 'most scrumptious' catergory. I hungout and chatted with Melbournes radicals until the shop closed, then headed back to the squat.
Everyone at the house was pregaming for going out to a party that night. I joined in for some beers then we mounted bikes and took off into the chilly winter night.
A couple mile ride, me on a wobbly Frankenstein-bike, and a stop at the bottle shop before we got to the party. I walked in first, as the unknown American guy, demanding; "I'm here to drink your booze!". I was greeted with confused looks and a few chuckles.
My friends came in behind and reassured eveyone: "this is Fritz, he's a good cunt". I was called a 'good cunt' more in that one night than I have been in my whole life up till then combined. Its a term of endearment here.
The party was crowded with people who had been at the cake compititon. We drank hard, listened to punk rock and woody guthrie, and laughed the night away. I ran out of beer and started hitting the cask wine (known by the kids here as 'goon' - not space bags).
Around 5 in the morning, two kiwis I was staying with got in a bit of a scuffle with two other people at the party and were told to leave. I joined them and made the cold ride back to the squat. We bullshitted around the living room for a bit before passing out on the floor.
A few hours of sleep and I woke up sore and haggard - the goon had gotten the better of me. The Sydney crew piled in the car and hit the road for the 10 hour drive north.
