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We eventually got driven out of the old house.I'll alway's remember the impact that moldy dump had on me though.The silk screened poster's that were everywhere,although corny and hippy dippy in retrospect,at the time seemed like the coolest thing in the universe to me.There were alway's cool psychedelic poster's hanging up on all the wall's.Probably my last discovery before we got evicted was a big washing machine in the hall.It was filled with old book's,by Edgar Rice Burrough's,L Sprague De Camp,Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury.My reading level was pretty high,so I started reading them.There were Conan book's,and John Carter of Mar's book's,plus sci-fi short stories.I couldn't stop reading.I think the escapism helped me get through the tough times.It seemed like everybody hated me & my family because we were dirty hippy scum.My dad hated us,I know because he would come visit and yell and freak out.My mom was pulling shift's as a waitress in the resort' there.Alot of people were really cool to us,but alot of people thought being anti-war was for commie scum,and were mean to us.People alway's made fun of my long hair,and called me a fag or a girl.My dad eventually caused too much trouble for us there-we had to move.He called the state on us or something,and fought with my gradfather too much.We got the boot.One high point of moving though was that every year,my mom would let me go to a comic convention.They were kind of a new phenomenon,and cheap,so once a year,if I could find out about one,she'd let me and my little brother go.There were alot of science fiction author's at some of them,so she figured it was cool,intellectually and everything.That was where I used to pick up alot of fanzines.They were mostly,like,hybrid's of all kind's of shit-crappy,creative comic's mixed with some sci-fi fandom shit.I mean,I went there for the Marvel comic's mostly,but there was such a variety of stuff,you brought home all kind's of cool shit-Canadian comic's,home made comic's,Independant comic's.It had a big impact on me,especially with my home life being such a mess.My dad by now was buting me Warren comic's,Eerie and Creepy,but also putting in these wierd Catholic scare comic's-really gory,wierd ones.I'm not sure what the logic of this was,but by now he had got me a huge stack of expensive magazines.But then I kept having nightmares.My mom was dating this huge biker she had met in Family court,and he was strict-he would hit us.He had a huge Harley chopper with a coffin gas tank-a big crazy wop.He burned all my comic's my dad got me one day.He made me watch-I have no idea why.One day when my dad was supposed to drop us off from a weekend visit,my mom wasn't there,but left instruction's with Ron to pick us up.My dad was like,"Hell,no!",and got in the car and peeled out and sped away at 70 miles an hour.The biker's chased us down.but my dad tried to run them over,while my sister screamed like Dakota Fanning.Ah,memories.

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