i ran across a lot of people back when we were raving. our apartment was a halfway house for almost every raver in san francisco at the time. there was rarely ever a point when it was just the flatmates there. the doorbell stayed ringing and we stayed answering it. in the morning i would step over young and exhausted bodies, burned out from the night before and the night before that, piles of human ash and stain. strange faces greeted me when i got home, most were oblivious that they were even in someone elses house. i could hardly keep track of everyones name and im sure only half of them knew mine.
one name i did remember was casper, though. he had been over a times and was a fixture on the scene. there was nothing remarkable about how he looked or dressed. he was an average white kid form the suburbs of california that always wore a hat and never had a jacket. i have one distinct memory of him sitting cross legged on the floor in one of our rooms, his eyes closed and his neck rolling in rhythm with the music playing. we were no doubt on drugs but he seemed to be simultaneously in control while being lost at the same time. it was mysterious. i was fascinated by him. he was strange in an impressive way, like an artist that had yet to find his medium. we sat there alone in the room, both of us not speaking, listening to a mix tape and dancing in place.
at one point he mumbled something and i asked him what he said and when he repeated it i still didnt understand but nodded my head in agreement anyway.
its been forever since i thought of him and what ever became of him. i assumed he moved back to the suburbs and tried becoming whatever it is he was aiming to become. i suppose i was half right.
this is what he did over the weekend.
i didnt know his name was chris until i read the article. its sad to think this is where hes at and its even sadder to think its not surprising. but such is life. we all made our choices and we all meandered down our paths and sometimes the rut we dig ourselves into is one we cant get out of. that dot on the map that tells us "we are here" is sometimes in the most awful place.
i think its time he made a change.