Pothead Poltergeists
Hitch’n A Ride
I sit and think for another moment. What’s the point of staying home if no one knows I’m here. It is not going to help my family, and I have no fucking clue what to do about…oh yes, I almost forgot that this is not really me. My “body” is in the hospital. And if I do die, what will happen. I might not have another chance while I’m somewhere in the middle here. That’s it. I’m going.
In life this would be a stalker thing to do, but now…what the hell. I’ll go. I’ll go find them. It doesn’t matter if they can’t see me. I just need to see them in real life up close. I saw them in concert on September 24, 2005 along with fifty thousand other people in the Giant’s Stadium in San Francisco. That was their homecoming show and the one in my area. So I went. It killed me that they were really there in front of me. They might be so far away that they were only three inches high and I watched most of it on the huge 50 foot screens, but it was the best night of my life. I have always wanted to see them. To meet them. If they can’t see me then so be it. I could care less. I’m going.
So I run up to my room to grab a few things, but then I look in the mirror where my reflection should be. Then I look down at my hands which I can see clear as day. It was like a vampire. Strange. There was really nothing I needed so I took one last look at my room. I looked at Green Day on the Rolling Stones cover from February 2006. It was an original and my favorite picture on the wall I think. I walked over to the door and gave all three on the large poster the silly kiss good bye as I regularly do on my way out. I kissed my cats Tim and Daisy goodbye though they never saw me, they felt me, and I ran out the door.
I ran down the street, right smack in the middle of the road this time. And I ran all the way to the entrance of the highway and caught hold of one of the cars. It was an SUV and I climbed on top. I thought I hit my leg on the side doing it, but it didn’t hurt and the two people inside ignored it. Good, there’s two people in this car. They’ll be able to take the commuter’s lane. Hah! The things you think about at a time like this. Well, it only makes common sense.
I rode on top of the car down the highway the usual way we go, and when it turned onto an out ramp, I hopped off and caught hold of another. I hitched rides like that until I made it all the way into Oakland. If I keep walking down this main dirty road, I’ll reach Emeryville. Look at a map – or MapQuest or something – you’ll see it all right there. I told you I’ve been here before. I walk all the way down to Rudy’s across from what looks like town hall, and a street down from Holden Street. Really, it’s Holden Street. Ironic, eh?
There is no one outside today at the tables. It’s a little too brisk and chilly for that, but as I look through a window, the place is packed even more so than the last time I was here. I am not sure if it’s such a good idea to go inside. What if I bump into people? And it’s a thousand to one chance that Billie, Mike and Tre will actually be there. I walk around the side and look in the window at the seats where I have seen them sit before in pictures with a beer in hand. There were beers out on the table, but they were cupped in the wrong hands.
Hmmm… what to do now? I had not really thought about this. I can’t really go shopping on Telegraph Ave and they probably won’t be there either. It occurs to me how impossible this really is. I actually have seen a photograph of Billie Joe’s house one time. I never thought about it much. It was pretty and not as big as it could be. I thought it was kind of modest of him. Just a nice but normal home. But hell, who knows where in the city that is. And he’s moved since then anyway because someone figured it out. Probably because of that picture.
I understand though. Who would want all of the world knocking on their door at all hours of the day? It would get fucking annoying after awhile – though flattering. I guess I am really being rather stalkerish at the moment, but I’m not in any hurry. Who cares. I have a right seeing I’m practically dead right now. That’s my excuse, and I’m gonna keep rationalizing it for now so stop asking.
You know what, I’ve got time. I could have years as far as I know in this strange state. I only worry that I might wake up soon and never have a chance. And will I remember? I know for a fact this is not a dream. It’s all one train of thought and nothing turns into something else like babies into kittens. And I still can’t fly or breathe under water. Damn. Yeah, defiantly not a dream yet.
You know, it doesn’t make sense. I can’t wake up in the hospital if my “spirit” or other is way over here. Maybe if I don’t go back, I won’t wake up. When I’m asleep, there’s no school, no work, no stress. It’s their fault this happened. They were the ones who stressed me out and hurt me when they didn’t realize what they were saying. They are why I don’t want to go back. They made me look to Green Day in the first place; just to keep on living.
Billie Joe, Mike and Tre are some of the only people who were ever truly honest with me. It doesn’t matter if I have never met them or if I never do. That won’t change. So this is those people’s punishment. I will stay, and I will stay for as long as I want to.
I decide to make my way around and over to Telegraph for the hell of it. The whole way I play “look at the people” and “watch out for Billie’s car.” I never saw a black BMW anywhere oddly. Not even one. I spent some time sitting on the corner of Stuart Street and the Ave. where I had stood only for about ten seconds last time to snap a photo of the street sign.
And Billie Joe was right; the streets really are cracked and uneven here. I almost tripped about three times. That was also my fault though. I was being a little loose because no one can see me. There’s no reason to walk cool like when no one can see it. Does my hair look all right?
In life this would be a stalker thing to do, but now…what the hell. I’ll go. I’ll go find them. It doesn’t matter if they can’t see me. I just need to see them in real life up close. I saw them in concert on September 24, 2005 along with fifty thousand other people in the Giant’s Stadium in San Francisco. That was their homecoming show and the one in my area. So I went. It killed me that they were really there in front of me. They might be so far away that they were only three inches high and I watched most of it on the huge 50 foot screens, but it was the best night of my life. I have always wanted to see them. To meet them. If they can’t see me then so be it. I could care less. I’m going.
So I run up to my room to grab a few things, but then I look in the mirror where my reflection should be. Then I look down at my hands which I can see clear as day. It was like a vampire. Strange. There was really nothing I needed so I took one last look at my room. I looked at Green Day on the Rolling Stones cover from February 2006. It was an original and my favorite picture on the wall I think. I walked over to the door and gave all three on the large poster the silly kiss good bye as I regularly do on my way out. I kissed my cats Tim and Daisy goodbye though they never saw me, they felt me, and I ran out the door.
I ran down the street, right smack in the middle of the road this time. And I ran all the way to the entrance of the highway and caught hold of one of the cars. It was an SUV and I climbed on top. I thought I hit my leg on the side doing it, but it didn’t hurt and the two people inside ignored it. Good, there’s two people in this car. They’ll be able to take the commuter’s lane. Hah! The things you think about at a time like this. Well, it only makes common sense.
I rode on top of the car down the highway the usual way we go, and when it turned onto an out ramp, I hopped off and caught hold of another. I hitched rides like that until I made it all the way into Oakland. If I keep walking down this main dirty road, I’ll reach Emeryville. Look at a map – or MapQuest or something – you’ll see it all right there. I told you I’ve been here before. I walk all the way down to Rudy’s across from what looks like town hall, and a street down from Holden Street. Really, it’s Holden Street. Ironic, eh?
There is no one outside today at the tables. It’s a little too brisk and chilly for that, but as I look through a window, the place is packed even more so than the last time I was here. I am not sure if it’s such a good idea to go inside. What if I bump into people? And it’s a thousand to one chance that Billie, Mike and Tre will actually be there. I walk around the side and look in the window at the seats where I have seen them sit before in pictures with a beer in hand. There were beers out on the table, but they were cupped in the wrong hands.
Hmmm… what to do now? I had not really thought about this. I can’t really go shopping on Telegraph Ave and they probably won’t be there either. It occurs to me how impossible this really is. I actually have seen a photograph of Billie Joe’s house one time. I never thought about it much. It was pretty and not as big as it could be. I thought it was kind of modest of him. Just a nice but normal home. But hell, who knows where in the city that is. And he’s moved since then anyway because someone figured it out. Probably because of that picture.
I understand though. Who would want all of the world knocking on their door at all hours of the day? It would get fucking annoying after awhile – though flattering. I guess I am really being rather stalkerish at the moment, but I’m not in any hurry. Who cares. I have a right seeing I’m practically dead right now. That’s my excuse, and I’m gonna keep rationalizing it for now so stop asking.
You know what, I’ve got time. I could have years as far as I know in this strange state. I only worry that I might wake up soon and never have a chance. And will I remember? I know for a fact this is not a dream. It’s all one train of thought and nothing turns into something else like babies into kittens. And I still can’t fly or breathe under water. Damn. Yeah, defiantly not a dream yet.
You know, it doesn’t make sense. I can’t wake up in the hospital if my “spirit” or other is way over here. Maybe if I don’t go back, I won’t wake up. When I’m asleep, there’s no school, no work, no stress. It’s their fault this happened. They were the ones who stressed me out and hurt me when they didn’t realize what they were saying. They are why I don’t want to go back. They made me look to Green Day in the first place; just to keep on living.
Billie Joe, Mike and Tre are some of the only people who were ever truly honest with me. It doesn’t matter if I have never met them or if I never do. That won’t change. So this is those people’s punishment. I will stay, and I will stay for as long as I want to.
I decide to make my way around and over to Telegraph for the hell of it. The whole way I play “look at the people” and “watch out for Billie’s car.” I never saw a black BMW anywhere oddly. Not even one. I spent some time sitting on the corner of Stuart Street and the Ave. where I had stood only for about ten seconds last time to snap a photo of the street sign.
And Billie Joe was right; the streets really are cracked and uneven here. I almost tripped about three times. That was also my fault though. I was being a little loose because no one can see me. There’s no reason to walk cool like when no one can see it. Does my hair look all right?