I had just gotten out of jail on sept.9 and spent a few nights out at the beach to clear my head out and try to figure out what to do with my life,like somehow stop drinking.I biked over to the boat launch and there were a bunch of firefighters deploying boats and I saw Stimpy and Kent on a bench and I'm like"what's up,guys did someone drown?" (This is in California,but I was born in NY) and Stimpy goes "oh they're just doing training manouvers-but bro,the World Trade Center blew up!" whooa.
So we drink a few beers 'cause I really needed a buzz at that point and I bike 10 miles into the next town to go talk to Orbit Rob as he has a government/intellegence background and might have some deeper understanding of what the heck is going on and he is fully freaked out waiting to be remobilized or whatever and has sent his wife and kid into hiding,has a duffel bag full of weapons and spy junk and is hypervigilant and rattled as he mumbles at the TV as WTC 2 and the Pentagon erupt into smoke we pass the weed pipe and slurp this bottle of brandy I had stashed under his porch for just such an emergency.But no way am I getting into his meth cache,he is unravelling by the moment and sweating,completely tense and babbling speedfreak conspiracy jazz so I eventually bow out and go make a new camp up on a hill in the woods and try to settle my mind as I ponder WW3 and the fall of Babylon and what I'm going to tell probation about why I just dropped off the map for a few days,but it all worked out over time. And eventually about 7 years later I was able to stop the drugs and alcohol abuse and improve my situation. That was a very intense day,for real.
