BIG ORANGE BLUES
It didn't take long for that tiny diamond ring to go from my pocket to Sweets' finger and back to my pocket. As the Knoxville sky greyed and the roads iced up I pawned the ring for 20 bucks on Cumberland ave. I should've recognised the pattern by now. The shorter the days became the lonlier I got. Barry (my giant dicked roommate) tried to cheer me up. He even let me borrow his motorcycle for the day. That's when I ended up in that Sevierville jail. By Xmas break I was a mess. Then only reason I'd applied to UT was because of Sweets. Without her in the picture I had no reason to be in this giant, fraternity and football-centric institution. The freaks i found in Tenn. weren't the LSD hipsters of Cullowhee, but hardcore Quallude and heroin junkies. A whole bunch of them lived next door. I sublet my apartment and dropped out of school.
I went north for the winter and worked as a roofer in Ct. In the Spring I returned to school with a hardon for education. The Selective Service office was hot on my tail. That winter breathing roof tar and freezing my ass off, worrying the army would come knocking, made school (even without a girlfriend) look pretty good. The junkies next door kind of adopted me. Heroin was never my drug. It made me sick and I didn't have the patience to get beyond that point. Qualludes on the other hand.... Sweets and I remained friendly but it was obvious we ran in different crowds. Skeezy, arm scratching, nose dripping, .38 spec. packing drug addicts with attitude didn't fit in at the sorority house.
There was a big overhang porch on our house. When the weather warmed we set up some ratty lawn furniture on the roof of the porch, ate 'ludes, drank 40s and sunbathed. As our pastey white skin turned lobster red, Neil Young blasting, we cut class and peroidically rolled off the roof into the bushes. Scratched, but unhurt, we would climb back up, pop another 'lude, crack another beer and stare at the sun. As much fun as this all was I knew i couldn't keep up the pace. I applied to The Maryland Institute in Baltimore once more and this time got in. It was 1972. Forget college. I'm going to Art School.
I went north for the winter and worked as a roofer in Ct. In the Spring I returned to school with a hardon for education. The Selective Service office was hot on my tail. That winter breathing roof tar and freezing my ass off, worrying the army would come knocking, made school (even without a girlfriend) look pretty good. The junkies next door kind of adopted me. Heroin was never my drug. It made me sick and I didn't have the patience to get beyond that point. Qualludes on the other hand.... Sweets and I remained friendly but it was obvious we ran in different crowds. Skeezy, arm scratching, nose dripping, .38 spec. packing drug addicts with attitude didn't fit in at the sorority house.
There was a big overhang porch on our house. When the weather warmed we set up some ratty lawn furniture on the roof of the porch, ate 'ludes, drank 40s and sunbathed. As our pastey white skin turned lobster red, Neil Young blasting, we cut class and peroidically rolled off the roof into the bushes. Scratched, but unhurt, we would climb back up, pop another 'lude, crack another beer and stare at the sun. As much fun as this all was I knew i couldn't keep up the pace. I applied to The Maryland Institute in Baltimore once more and this time got in. It was 1972. Forget college. I'm going to Art School.
posted by mike osterhout at 9:02 AM
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