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Time,to me,is meaningless.It could be yesterday,tommorow,next year,100 year's ago-it's a worthless concept.I just don't give a fuck.This whole joint could be a Philip K. Dick plot twist.I don't know.It's insignificant.I was living in California-North Oakland,to be exact.Right on Telegraph-it was a step up for me,from West Oakland-Ghost Town.I had this 19 year old girlfriend-real sweet,but kind of a bubble head.We rode around on beat up Schwinn's,smoking weed.I was drawing comic's.Protest's broke out over Rodney King.I didn't give a fuck.Yeah,I thought it was fucked,and I was glad people were pissed enough to riot,but people in Berkeley riot over everything.Anyway's,my job landscaping sucked-I was getting paid 5 buck's an hour off the book's.And now,everywhere I went,black people were jacking me up,calling me racist-I mean,more than usual.I mean,it was Oakland,so I was used to people calling me Casper,throwing soda's at my head,all that stuff.If your white and you live in a black neighborhood,your gonna get that anyway's.But now it seemed worse-I was getting yelled at by protester's at Laney when I went to meet my girl,hassled at party's.I called my brother and was complaining to him about it-see,I don't feel like I'm racist simply because I'm white.I spent 10 year's as a migrant fruit laborer,and lived with the black people until the orchard made me move into "The Hippy House".My dad was from the Bronx,and taught me to never be racist.Dr.King and JFK were my biggest heroes when I was a kid.People make fun of me for hanging out with black people all the time-so when somebody call's me racist,I'm going to tell them to fuck off.So I was getting in alot of fight's-and I called my brother,and told him all the black people kept yelling at me to move out of thier neighborhood because whites don't belong there.So he said,"Move to Portland-there"s,like no black people here.".So I did.I didn't want to be in Cali any more.When I got here,I couldn't believe how boring it was.I asked him,"What are some of the bigger cities around here people go to,for show's and shit?".He laughed,"You ever look at a map of Oregon?",he said."Fuck no",I said,"Why would I?"."Well,you better".I thought it was like New York,with,like,50 little town's everywhere.Anyfuck,he had a couple of grow houses-pot was illegal back then-right off Alberta Street.You wouldn't know it now,but back then,Alberta St. was abandoned.I remember La Serenita was there,and the Alberta St Brew Pub was a strip joint called The Lucky Lady,and that was it.Joe's Place was open,and that was the only businesses from Alberta and 31st,all the way to Interstate.There was nothing-just boarded up houses,and churchgoer's,and wino's and banger's.It was the kind of place where you didn't stop at stoplight's because people thought you wanted to buy crack.I remember I told him,when I arrived at daytime,"This ain't such a bad neighborhood",and then when I left at sundown,taking it back.Downtown Portland was also alot different.Old town was just an open air drug market,with people shooting up at bus stop's,and smoking dope in Pioneer Square.There were alot of skinhead's around.Satyricon had just been blamed for a riot,and there was an anarchist book store on 5th.There were whores on Burnside,hitchhiking over the bridge-usually about 5 or 6,night and day.The pearl didn't exist-it was old warehouses,some with band's playing in them.Hawthorne neighborhood was just a big gaggle of stoned hippies-it was where you got cheap dope.They used to hand out free pizza in front of the Fred Meyer's.Portland was an old lumber town back then,just barely starting to get popular.Houses were 80 grand.Fuckin' whatever,time.