100 Futures: Tales of Possibility

.11 (6 Strings)

2016

      I got my driver's license after listening to this series of videos that covered the Colorado Driver's Test. I was never going to read the actual handbook, but there isn't as much need to read such boring stuff anymore since Youtube is around. In school anytime we were assigned a book to read I would just watch the videos on that book and it takes a fraction of time and I was always able to get passing grades. In a pinch I could just look up some key quote from the book and copy them. I hate how they always made us read books from the last century instead of something that might actually be interesting. What do I care of mice and men? Apparently their plan don't work out anyway. Its like being forced to watch a black and white movie when I can go see an IMAX 3-D on the weekends. So boring. Ugh I hate school. They are always telling me about my own good, and never letting me decide my own good. A bunch of hypocrites. I always thought that learning to drive would be my ticket to freedom, but my parents made me pay for insurance and gas and maintenance, and this meant I had to get a job. At school I was studying science and math at the point of a whip, and then I would go to a job where the hardest mental work I had to do was keep from being so bored I was rude to people that came in. This was actually harder because I hated people so much, especially customers that expect you to act like a servant. They want a slave behind the counter and but what they got was what all slave owners get, which is just enough effort to avoid the whip, and I'm not ashamed to say a healthy amount of sabotage. I worked at a movie theatre and saw a bunch of my co-workers pocketing money. Anytime someone paid the exact amount of cash for a large popcorn and soda, one guy would ask if they wanted a receipt and if they said no he would say, "thank you enjoy your movie," real pleasant like and then he would pocket the cash. Then some days later there would be a team meeting and management would rail against our shoddy work and how the receipts weren't matching the inventory checks and how it was our job to rat on anyone stealing. Sorry minimum wage doesn't offer enough incentive to become a rat. Sad to say when I got really mad at being a wage slave, on a few occasions, like some of the horribly busy holiday weekends when the line was without end and managers were grumpy about giving me a lunch break, I put some of that cash in my pocket. I felt some guilt but then I got into my car and drove home with homework, like reading some old piece of crap, or transcribing math out of a text brick, and thoughts about the fact that I only had to work so that I could pay for the car that I really only used to get me to work or school, and I didn't care at all. Then one day there was this big snow storm and they wouldn't let anyone leave early, and so I had to drive my little car home on roads that were two feet deep in snow, and as I was trying to go up this hill to my parent's house, not even my own place, my car lost traction and I went sliding down the hill and into a curb, breaking the axle. It was a couple thousand dollars to fix, which was more than the value of the car itself, and thats when I decided I never wanted a car again. I quit working, went to school on the bus, and gritted my teeth until I finished high school. What a waste. A high school diploma doesn't mean crap. The only job a high school diploma qualifies for was working at a movie theatre or fast food, which I had qualified for before the diploma. Oh and I now qualified to get buried under a pile of debt by going to college, another joke. I had an older brother that went to college and when he graduated he couldn't get a job except as a waiter or in another low paying service job he could have gotten without the degree. I was trapped and my parents were getting more angry at me for not getting a car and job. If they had to be miserable trapped with a car and a job then so did I or I could get the hell out. So I got the hell out.

2024

     I hit the street. It was a shock to my system. For all my life I'd lived in my parent's warm embrace, and suddenly I didn't have anything that I had previously taken for granted. I stayed with friends at first, sleeping on the couch or floors of their dorm rooms or crappy college apartments, but rather quickly they decided they didn't want me mooching off them, and they eventually learned how to say no. They would come up with excuses like, "oh sorry but my roommates said you can't stay here anymore." The dirtier I got, and the more nights I spent sleeping outside in a tent helped their argument. I could smell myself. I would set up my tent in some tree hidden area, and luckily I had a really high quality sleeping bag my dad bought me one time when we went camping so I would stay warm, but it was damned scary. Never hung out with the other bums, near the homeless shelters because I was sure they would eventually rob me. I had good supplies for the cold and so I stuck to the foothills, especially near Garden of Gods because there were a lot of fat tourists that would throw away perfectly good food. Okay not perfectly good, but especially in Old Colorado City, they would throw out food that I could eat without gagging. Hunger did funny things to me. I stopped caring about a lot of things because I was always hungry. I also had my guitar with me, which was one of my few valuable possessions, and salable skills. I would play on the street, and because I knew a few songs most people knew, like Beethoven and Jack Johnson, they would leave me some money in my case. I made a deal with a pizza shop in Manitou Springs, on the bend where almost all the tourists passed, if I played there they would give me the left over pizza after the shop closed. Once I found that spot I started to eat well, and since I was playing the guitar ten hours a day, I started to get better. I was able to use the library to print out tablature, and my song list expanded, and the better I got, the more coins and cash were dropped in my case. I had enough money the good stuff and other essentials. I never stopped brushing my teeth. I did my best to keep my appearance decent since no one likes a smelly bum. At least once a week I had enough money to stay in a hotel. I would shave and wash my clothes in the bath tub. Eventually I came up with a great trick to save some money. I went to the Goodwill down the street and purchased clothes that made me look like an old-timey gold miner. This fit the Manitou Springs history given that Colorado was essentially founded because of gold and other mining operations. The good stuff helped me learn how to sing. I would puff throughout the day and my inhibitions would wash away and the tiny gold flakes of my voice settle deep in my chest. After about two years of making people laugh, my singing and playing advanced enough that crowds would stand silent while I played and then they would all clap and cheer, and most would leave some coins or bills. When I learned how to play Edwin McCain's old song, "I'll be" and I learned how to sing it with the right amount of weary pain I would always make the most money. A close second was when I played Dave Matthews Band, "Crash into Me". Not to long after I had really got a hand of those songs, I started to get offers to play in a bar next to the pizza joint. I got paid more and found a small attic apartment that I could afford. It was a tight angled living space but it fit me just fine. On the other side of the same pizza joint was a public stage and with a bit of scratch growing in my pocket from both the street performances and the bar gig, I organized a concert.