Home > books, feelings, friends, hitchhiking, insanity, the mind, travel > going crazy part 5

going crazy part 5

After a long night of restless wandering I returned to the mind spa. Everyone was up and rolling, cleaning up and packing. The first night we had arrived our host’s partner Rose had told us to “remember what it looks like” which in my then unspun mind was a simple admonition to clean the place up when we were done. Now i saw new implications of needing to remember what was here, what had transpired. I placed an Israel Regardie book on the shelf of metaphysical classics in thanks for the memories. Debbie seemed a little out of sorts as i put the last few of my things in my pack, doublechecked to make sure my ticket was still in my bag. I remember a couple of Aaron’s friends who hadn’t come over with us were there. I thought one of them might want to carry Debbie’s bag as they also only had one. I was remembering the Fishbone CDs left over from the show at the Melkveg. I was remembering Jennifer dipping CD sized sheets of hash into a large pot of boiling wax the night before. I was remembering that i’d brought Debbie’s bag over from the states. I felt very tired, that now i was ready to sleep, and told myself not yet. Its not yet safe. I’ll sleep on the plane when i know i’m safe. We left for the train station. Debbie was disgusted when i mentioned i was broke again. Jennifer asked what happened to the 100 guilders she had given me and i told her i spent it teaching an immigrant what “frivolous” meant. Debbie bought my ticket and we boarded the train to Schippol. I kept thinking about the 300 CDs, the CD sized sheets of hash, this whole extended dangerous practical joke i had fallen into, the vagaries of friendship – and who in fact where my friends? I had no clear plan but i knew i wasn’t rolling that bag through customs. My thoughts ran slowly through my sleep deprived befuddlement. As the train pulled into Shippol I pulled the roll away behind me, last in line, moving towards the door. I felt like i was walking through molasses. The doors closed before i could de-board the train with everyone else. Flooded with relief i waved to my dumbstruck friends as the train pulled away from the station. There was another passenger stuck behind me, seperated from her guy at the airport. She seemed nice and uninvolved in this mess. I thought i would ask her advice. We had decided, of course, to ride up to the next stop, change trains and return to the airport. On the ride I quickly explained i believed that i had fallen in with international drug smugglers and thought the bag i carried was filled with Hash and wondered on the ethics of checking. She considered my dilemma. She said, her guy would be at the airport when she returned however long it took because he loved her and would wait. If my friends were at the station i could trust them and if not then well….

We arrived at the airport and there was her guy, happy to see her and in a hurry to catch the flight. My “friends” were no where in sight. I pulled off my backpack to check the ticket for the time and gate. No ticket. I had seen it that morning, double checking it was in the flap it had rested through this whole ordeal, now it was gone. I checked the flight listings and went to the appropriate gate. We had been cutting it close and the flight was departed, no one was in sight. I was stunned, exhausted, not thinking clearly. I needed some air and went outside and sat on a bench to collect my thoughts. There was this rhythmic pounding of a huge piledriver at a nearby construction site. I felt drawn there. I had been thinking about the hypnotic quality of techno music and the risk involved in opening your mind to hypnotic suggestions enclosed in the “music”. I felt drawn there, i felt like our host would be waiting for some kind of final confrontation. As i walked towards the pounding i realized this was insane. He would not be there, trespassing on a construction site would only draw attention to me with possibly a huge amount of hash in my possession. I sat down more to think. I opened the large duffel and pulled out a cloth shopping bag with some of Debbie’s souveniers contained within. I consciously did not check the CDs. I felt it was safer not to know. I zipped the duffel back up, left it next to the bench and walked away. I saw an exit sign leading to a highway. I thought i would return to the known of hitchhiking. I saw i was on an on-ramp heading east. Home was to the West. Or was it, East would get me there too, it would just take a little longer. I felt ready for the journey. I felt beyond want, beyond fear, beyond even need. I walked as the 4 lanes of traffic, those funny little European cars whizzed by. I found a lighter in my pocket, from the Mind Spa. I wondered if this was how they tracked my movements? My sinuses were clogged, i felt like i could barely breathe, i felt exhausted. I thought if only my sinuses hadn’t been clogged i could have done progressive relaxation and shut off this barrage of thought and rested and i wouldn’t be so damn tired. I thought it would be over by now but here i was a stranger in a strange land still. I thought i didn’t know what was happening to me. Had I been drugged, hypnotized, had my mind blown by mindblowers. Had i touched the face of god? I felt powerful as i breathed air into my lungs. I felt i had to be a powerful magician to have survived or maybe i was an angel? I was uncertain, and i felt there was power in this uncertainty, that if i knew it would all crumble into dust. I realized i loved the unknown and did not fear it. I said quietly, “I whisper when i want to hypnotize and I shout when I want something”. I didn’t know if i was listened to by a microphone planted by mindfuckers or the god who made the universe or if i was being listened to at all but I was angry. Angry at my exhaustion, my clogged sinuses, my fear of pursuit as a drug smuggler though i had done nothing. I shouted, my spirit self grew to scrape the clouds, i found myself ten thousand feet tall and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that at this moment i wielded all the power of the universe. I shouted. “If i don’t get a ride right now! I will destroy Phillip Morris”. Bamn, instantly a van in the far left lane cuts through 4 lanes of heavy traffic. “Would you like a ride?” the driver asked.

going crazy part 6

going crazy part 1

  1. rebwg
    April 7, 2008 at 10:53 pm

    I doubt I could have, but I did not understand the depth of all this during our day at Sterling State Park. I just wanted my friend back.
    One of the primary reasons I showed up is that your mom asked. She knew that my love for you mattered and that my understanding wasn’t the point. I’m still amazed at how much she factored into my life as you and I created the joining that is solely ours.

  2. Mike
    April 16, 2008 at 11:02 pm

    Thanks for the comment Rebecca its really very sweet and i’m glad we’ve gotten touch. Just to share one of the wild coincidences that rule my life i had lost touch with Rebecca for years and didn’t even know what state she was in. I was living in Berkeley then and googled her, found her resume, and shot her an email. Lo and behold she was living in DC but moving to SF in 2 weeks so we got to be neighbors again. Anyway, i would encourage Rebecca to write about her recollections of that day in Sterling State Park or anyone else who has memories of my crazy time. To jump ahead a little in the story after i went back to Michigan from Amsterdam my Mom pulled together a regular stream of old friends to try and re-orient me to reality. It was really very sweet and i am looking forward to getting back to the states with this narrative as my mom was a champ on how she dealt with this crazy son of hers. On a related note my mom always loved Rebecca, she met her over the phone when Mom called to check on the house and dog when she was on vacation in Branson. My brother John and I were watching the house and planning a huge protest at the Fermi nuclear power plant and happened to both be in jail at the time my mom called. She was please that Rebecca a complete stranger had things under control and was watching the dog. Rebecca must not have told her we had 50 hippies staying over and the drum circle and pizza and beer we bought with the extra bail money is still one of the highlights of my life.

  3. January 2, 2012 at 4:15 pm

    I stumbled on your blog by searching ‘gardening’ on wordpress and have been transfixed this morning reading your story. I just want to say, you are a very talented prose writer with your own unique style (as I’m sure you’ve been told often). I found myself wondering why you haven’t collected some of your experiences, thoughts or even posts into a manuscript, gotten an agent, and gotten published? You don’t need to ‘wait’ for anything (more experiences, more training, etc) – you are a natural. Good luck to you although – what is it you said – you feel more blessed than lucky.

    • January 2, 2012 at 9:24 pm

      Thank you for the kind words Lisa I appreciate it. I have been putting more energy into my wordsmithing but not so much as to pursuing agents and publishing and such. I submitted the eulogy I wrote for my father to the New Yorker this year which as my first submission in more then a decade. I have a lot of reasons for not doing it. My life is pretty full doing what I’m doing now and self promotion has never appealed to me. I wouldn’t say no to an opportunity that seemed good but there is an appeal to a more normative kind of life. I don’t even like to edit and sometimes punctuation, capitalization and paragraphing seem like a chore. I will keep your advice in mind and try to do something more at some point. Thanks for stopping by.

  1. December 3, 2011 at 9:08 pm

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