Why I Committed Suicide by sam paul Read Free Book Online Page B

with me but I’m relaxed about the situation now that the final cards are dealt because it’s all up to fate I suppose. Regardless of what happens we are going to have a little time together before our vacation/separation and more than likely we’ll see each other at the shows in Oregon but I really don’t know what to expect. Long car trips tend to create a forced companionship that strengthens or dissolves any bond. I’m confident that even if she doesn’t know me yet, she knows she wants to know me and I’ll leave it at that.
    One of Jenifer’s ex-boyfriends (another?) who owns part of the Karma Kafe is going and she isn’t promising anything, but she said she would talk to him. I’m hoping to find a ride because I would like to go with someone who knows about the music and “scene” to maximize my experience.
    It would be cool if I could find some opium too, but I’m not holding my breath. Among the Grateful Dead fans there seems to be a riptide of desperation underneath the happiness so I don’t know what to expect. The people I’ve spoken to say that this might be the last year to see the shows because Jerry Garcia is rumored to die soon. He looks pretty old I suppose but I don’t know why he would suddenly keel over. Maybe it’s a fan thing, but geez they sure are pessimistic.
    Well it’s official, I’m moving out of the Delta Lodge. I am sad to leave a house I truly love but there are some good reasons for this. I’ve written before about how I keep getting sick in the room I’m living in. Even with that it might be tolerable if the room wasn’t so accessible to revelers and hoed out all the time. Plus if the heat abated a little our room might actually be downright cozy for about the only 4 months of the year Texas weather isn’t intolerably annoying. Of course I’ll miss all the free marijuana I get to smoke around here (thanks to someone always needing a nearby room to light up in) but while I enjoy smoking dope, ever since I met Jenifer I’m enjoying being a little more aware.
    My second reason for leaving the house, and I’m not fucking kidding about this, are the giant possums that wander the hallways at all hours like ambling diseased ghosts. A literal family of possums have taken over the first and second floors. The front door got ripped off during a party last week and several windows are missing so there isn’t really any way to keep an animal that can climb trees out of an open house. One of my alternative fraternity housemates tried to kill one of the possums with a garden rake but the creature was too damn big. I’m serious, we’re talking at least the size of a medium dog here. It’s extremely disconcerting to stumble into the bathroom hungover, or barely hanging onto reality thanks to varying drug combinations, and find a salivating mangy possum between the porcelain god and me. Hangovers and tetanus shots are not a good combination. And despite what I’ve heard about possums, these motherfuckers do not roll over and play dead like in the fucking Deputy Dawg cartoons. I’m speculating whatever keeps making me sick probably mutated them into a new smarter and larger species. I thought they were cute for about five minutes, then back in reality I learned it’s not really cool in any circle to cohabitate with rodents. Jenifer’s pet rat Rico is the exception I suppose.
    My third and most important reason for moving is that I found a new place to live. Jim Heines, my friend from the dorms, and his friend Dan found a neat little house on the opposite side of campus, right by the school. I initially didn’t really think they would find any houses at all, so I kind of off-handedly offered to move in with them if they could find one near the campus, knowing that’s a near impossible task in a college town. But less than a half hour after I sent them out on a snipe hunt they came back and had a fresh pad. The rent is cheaper, the house is cleaner and I’ll have my own