Copper Flames

We had big plans to go camping Up North. Only it started to rain a little before we got there. Light, misty, warm drizzle. Jacks drove us to Loon Lake. It’s on a seasonal road. If you’re not from there, you’d never find it. There’s one shitter, a hole in the ground. You better bring your own shower. Otherwise use the lake. We put down our tarp, assembled poles. Red to red. Blue to blue. And we raced to get the tent in standing position with rain fly. Every so often the wind would rustle the branches, sending us a pseudo down pour.


These were last minute big plans. We were doing this in the dark, using the car head lights. But we managed. Had a tent. 2 air mattresses. A shower/shitter. A screened in picnic area—only that soon turned into a Daddy Long Legs Haven.


We had hot dogs to roast and marshmallows to toast. No firewood. Anything that might have been used as kindling was soaked. No paper to start. Not that we could have fit anything more into my little hatchback Kia anyway.


Uncle Smoothie saved the day with dry logs and a can of gasoline. He brought Cousin T along. We had invited him to camp with us. Gasoline fire is quick but doesn’t last. The logs wouldn’t start. Cousin T threw some scrap paper in the fire. Only it wasn’t scrap. It was Uncle Smoothie’s truck title. Oops. Mostly we had a smoke signal. The fire didn’t really get going until it really started to rain. We retreated to the tent and fake farted until we fell asleep laughing.


The rain subsided by morning. We were able to get a second fire going from the coals. French Press Coffee and drinkable oatmeal. The coffee was good. Then it started to rain again. We played cards with Cousin T and then switched to scrabble. Only we gave up on that because he kept cheating. Hiding letters in his hoodie.


The tent started to leak. Wet pillows. Wet bedding. Wet ass. We packed the valuables and drove to Grandma’s where we dropped off Cousin T. We headed over to Mom’s for a shit and a shower. We thought things might clear, but there was a permanent cloud. We ended up throwing the muddy wet tent in the back of Mom’s truck. Nothing folds up nicely after camping. There was no way it would fit back into my little Kia.


Mom fed us a garden vegetable dinner. Beans with bacon. Zucchini & summer squash with butter. Corn slathered in butter. Sliced tomatoes. And oatmeal cookies. I think that’s all we ever do when we’re Up North. Eat and drink coffee.


When it stopped raining that night, Mom drove us to Head Quarters. Deeper into the woods on seasonal roads somewhere on state property. That’s where her boyfriend, Rob had been camping for the past 2 weeks. It looked like Rob had been out there longer than 2 weeks. The disorganized random shit he had out there—garage sale items that he had picked up: craftsman tool boxes, miniature pewter statues, lamps, kids toys.


Uncle Hiram was out there against medical advice. Mom wouldn’t shut-up about his congestive heart failure and COPD. Said he was killing himself with the drinking and his smoking. He’s an adult. Maybe killing himself was the point.


And Mike Kane had been living down the hill for the past 2 months in a reconstructed shack with a shitter on the lake. Seriously, you could sit on the toilet and look over the lake. He was the peaceful hippy type with a longish beard, a wooden stick for a cane, and stocky black dog. Jacks and Mom had talked about the Kane curse. Something bad happens to all of them by someone else’s hand or their own. Suicide, murder, cancer. I wondered how he was cursed.


I didn’t know it until we were driving away that Mike Kane had only been out of prison for 6 years. Stabbed a guy for $50 dollars while he was fucked up on crystal meth. Did 25 years. He was the nicest guy.


Uncle Hiram brought his stash. Said he paid $50 for 1/8th. He got ripped off. He’s blind. The shit was brown. So they smoked the oregano and pretended to get high for Uncle Hiram’s sake. He would fall asleep intermittently and wake up in the middle of a conversation and just start right in. I don’t think it was from anything he was smoking. I think it was a combination of lack of oxygen and elevated blood sugar from the beer.


I sat on an old boat seat low to the ground watching the copper flames. Every so often I would pick a Daddy Long Legs off my hoodie and throw it into the fire. There we were surrounded by trees and dark sky. And the only way to get in or out was by a two-track dirt lane.


It’s weird how the most peaceful, beautiful night was a night with a bunch of old men. Far away from the sulfur smell of the city and the orange night sky. No houses. No hum of traffic.


Jacks and I went 4-wheeling the next day on a different seasonal road. Traveled 30 miles and hardly saw a house. We were even lost for a little while. But we felt so free.

Steps to Dependence and Self-Loathing

It won’t matter how much determination you have. Or how hard you work. Or how long you go to school. The more educated you are, the higher your debt to the government. Unless you have rich parents or win the lottery or marry a sugar daddy or sugar momma.


If you happened to get caught smoking, growing or selling weed before you started your education, you can forget it. You might as well keep smoking and selling it. A felony limits your career opportunities to under the table, completely illegal or dishwasher. A felony drug charge eliminates the possibility of a student loan. Yet felons who committed violent crimes qualify for student loans as long as it wasn’t drug related. How the fuck does this make sense? An armed robber can get a student loan, but not a weed dealer. My theory—drugs have a way of opening up new ways of thinking. Drugs = liberal, peace-loving, possibly anti-government hippy thinker. Can you imagine a higher education for someone who thinks that way? They might change the whole world.


Obama started this program that will allow people to volunteer to reduce or eliminate their school loans. That doesn’t seem so bad. However, there are rumors that these volunteers will be used to create a civil servant army separate from the U.S. Army. One that would be used to keep the peace in times of upheaval. Like if we decided we wanted to rise up against an unjust government, this civil army would throw us into detainment camps. This is one of the conspiracy theories.


I was delighted when he created that program for loan restructuring. Yay, something that might actually help me. My friend Q, single-parent, makes jack shit in a factory has been having trouble making her house payment. They wouldn’t help her because she has been late. Well no shit! That’s why she is asking for help. I also applied for restructuring, because I have lost hours and soon I will have to pay back student loans. They said I didn’t qualify because I paid on-time. They didn’t see the problem.


Those tax refund bonuses that were handed out a couple of times. People who really needed them, didn’t get them. I know several people who had their refund bonuses garnished for debts that were greater than 7 years old.



The new programs that are out there to help people--exist only in name not in reality. They are there to make us think that someone gives a shit— to appease us.


Look at the new Cash for Clunkers program. On the surface, it appears the government is doing us a favor. $4500 for any intact car when we buy a new one. I don’t know anyone right now who has money to buy a new car even with $4500 off. I bought my little Kia in 2005 for $15,000. So that would still be $10,500. That’s $300 per month for almost 3 years. A used car is still cheaper. But the dealerships aren’t allowed to resell these clunkers--not even their parts. Instead the government requires that dealerships pour sodium silicate into the engine. This turns to glass. Afterward, they can be flattened into metal pancakes. This means less parts for used cars. This will make used cars more expensive to repair and also to buy. And then when the government stops the program we will be in a worse place than when we started—not able to afford either a new or used car. I’m not sure if they don’t think when they institute these programs. Or if they know exactly what they’re doing and don’t give a shit. I think perhaps the government made a deal with the company that manufactures sodium silicate. Just like the government made a deal with China for these energy efficient light bulbs that contain MERCURY.


The government will own us all through our enormous debt. We’ll be dependent on them for everything. Everyone will have to move in with everyone else. Bunk beds in every room and beans & rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner.



These are just steps in creating a larger gap between the elite rich and the rest of us.