(no subject)
Last night marked my first encounter with the Santa Cruz PD. Because we were drunk, we decided to collect colorful orange things from the roadside. Because said colorful orange things were placed there by civic authorities, we were later apprehended and accused of theft. This town has no sense of humor. I've had to deal with a lot of cops before. I like to think I'm pretty good at it. I was for a time thinking of drawing on my many such experiences to create a manual to guide others. "How to talk to the Po" or "the complete idiot's guide to getting arrested". You treat them with respect and show appreciation for their desire to protect the god fearing public from vermin like yourself, answer all of their questions, call yourself a moron at least twice, and they will almost always let you go with a warning after which you should insist on shaking their hand only because it is fun and creates an instant sense fo reciprocity which you know drives them crazy. These cops were nasty mean cops. They called us liars directly to our faces. I consider this rude despite the fact that our faces were clearly lying to them at the time. Our faces were saying things like "We found all this junk in a pile by the road, so we figured we'd better turn it in" and "we were drinking a bit earlier, but were all totally sober now" and even "some homeless guy bought it for us, I swear" Clearly these cops did not recognize the beauty of fiction as an art form and were not to be sold on the concept of suspension of disbelief. They were cold hard realists with sticks and polaroid cameras and no appreciation for our innocent need to amuse ourselves in a cruel and ugly world. Standing there, being searched and threatened with actual real imprisonment, I think it occured to me for the first time that the time when I could get away with this sort of thing is rapidly coming to a close. I'm twenty years old and for some reason people are expecting me to behave maturely. It's an evil and strange time for me. Suddenly I'm not allowed to be the irresponsible but fun loving punk kid that I feel I should be. It's not endearing or understandable when I steal parking cones anymore. It's just sleazy and pathetic because suddenly I'm an adult and should know better. I used to get caught shoplifiting and get away with a stearn talking to. If I got caught now it would be jail time, fines and a festering sore on my permanent record that could keep me out of jobs housing and public office. I hate this. I'm not ready for it. So what am I supposed to do? Reform? I had a bank account only once in my life. It was closed when I went two dollars into debt. Now I carry all of my money with me, which rarely amounts to more than six dollars. How then am I supposed to behave like an adult. How can I be expected to embrace this when I still regret leaving the playing with leggos on the floor stage of life. I have dreams of riding in the back of the car at night with no idea where we were going but it didn't matter because I was with my perfect invincible family and nothing could possibly go wrong. I was warm and safe and always would be. And tommorow or the next day some policeman will probably come knocking at my door and I'll step out of the dismal and filthy hovel where I live and I'll face him and his total lack of sympathy for what the world has done to me and at that moment I will be totally alone.
It's cold out here. Can we go back inside?
No. Sorry.
Never?
Never. Sorry son, this is all you've got left, but one day you'll get used to it.
It's cold out here. Can we go back inside?
No. Sorry.
Never?
Never. Sorry son, this is all you've got left, but one day you'll get used to it.