Lost among the Vultures

Searching through paper work I come across a manilla folder. I've been going through pictures and paperwork for whatever reasoning. Looking in the large manilla folder I see something labled " Guardianship". Glancing over the top of the paper I see my full name. It always seemed like dream to me to be a ward of the court until the age of 18. Feeling like I could be taken away at ANYTIME; the blood that had become my family could be torn away away. My siblings felt like the only real family I had in my youth, my remaining family members seemed to not know what to do with us three kids.


 Growing up you could hear the snickers or voiced opinions of me being spoiled from snarky family members who felt like they know it all. Obviously, they didn't. How could they??? I know one family member compaired my father to a drill sargent. Stand-up! Sit down! Shut-up!  I felt like a black sheep you assholes. I encountered other situations where I was told by this dick: "Hey she killed one and stabbed another!" then laughed. He knew my biological mother. SO fuck you if you think I was spoiled. My mom's friends were drinks,misfits,pimps,cop-killers,rapists, a guy who'd been deemed "guilty by reason of insanity" for killing his wife spending over 20 years in a state hospital. Yeah exposed to that but I WAS SPOILED,huh?? Weird.


Going back to the paperwork. I found more papers. One written to the IRS by me;dictated by my father explaining the reasonings he didn't claim the money we three kids got in a trust to be given at 18. It wasn't his. But in detail reasoning he explained how *my* biological mother couldn't profit from her crime. A state law barring criminals couldn't benefit from a crime they were convicted guilty of. It was all so surreal.

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Lost

Ward of The Court

I was a teen aged runaway. part 1

  It was Feb of 1988. I had enough turmoil. I decided to bolt for the first time. Sick of taking shit. Sick of dealing with a killer for a biological mother trying to obtain my affection, I decided to run away with someone I loosely call a friend. She was sick of her drunken dad, too. She was 14. I was 15. She stayed over the night before and stayed out all night, scaring the crap out of me with worry.

 We decided to grab some cash and meet on bus 51 at a designated time. I went on the wrong bus. The creature went to Old Sacramento (which is the MOST obvious place the cops and parental units would find us!) and got caught. Stupidity I thought. I ended up taking the 62 then got off at the wrong spot. I walked and low and behold I see James. James was dressed in spikes,combat boots, with a huge red mohawk. Instantly, I told him my story; I was now a teen aged runaway! We walked to some fast-food joint convincing this guy we were siblings that needed to meet our parents asap; the guy questioned us, " You aren't runaways, are you???. "No,sir", we replied. The kindly soul took us to Java City.

  I had two bags in tow, got out of the car THEN saw my older friend Niki. Niki was a street urchin in some glam band about 5-7 years older ,who I had a HUGE crush on! He scanned me immediantly. With my two bags in tow he asked if I was running away.Admittedly, I said,yes. After some talking he introduced me to T.C. aka Troubled Child. I have no clue T.C.'s story. He was pale thin punk rocker with a mohawk. Niki spoke with James and T.C. telling them they'd better protect me until he could meet me in the morning; they agreed to protect me til the morning.


  This was the first time out of three that I had decided to runaway. I never stayed out long. The longest time was maybe 10 days-2 weeks.

It was getting dark. So we wandered around going to the K-Street Mall(which was outdoors with fountains and weird artwork.Nothing like it was now). We wadded in the fountains getting change to go to Denny's near Old Sacramento. It was getting dark and cold. While walking towards Old Sacramento we encountered a teenage "street-gang" called the Soldier Boyz; they were joy riding in the stolen bikes they happily obtained. One of the leaders rode the bike into the fountain, jumping off before the bike disconnected the cement flying into the fountain. The leader smirked at me taunting me with " Why don't you go back to your suburbia!".I told him it wasn't that perfect. He taunted me more telling me to "Go home little girl!" Fuck him.

  We walked to Old Sacramento and met-up with other street urchins who told us to search for change under the wooden walk way. We went into the old abandoned hotel, then I waited for them to look for change, as I acted as a look out. Eventually, we walked to Denny's being harrassed by the cops at one point. I doubt they bothered to check my description because there was a report out on me as a missing persons.

The Tenderloin Hotel Circa 1996

Gwar was playing at The Warfield. I was just barely with my son's father. We decided to go! Hell yes, Gwar! We took the Greyhound to SF.

We ended up on the bus the at the station getting dropped off in SF. We  hooked up some sort of transportation to Market street to find a hotel, then walked a block or so to this hotel ( which wasn't scummy I had stayed there before in the early 90's.), thinking " Sure, We'll get a room! Nope! We don't have a credit card! Fuck! This means...going to the Tenderloin.

 We walk up the street where I see shit literally on the ground. People selling drugs openly here and there. Hard drugs. I wasn't scared. At the time it seemed normal. My son's father and I  walked up to a dilapated hotel. The only one who would let us rent a room..walked up to the front desk; a room is available cause we have the cash in hand. Exchanged.

  Walking up the stairs we bump into this huge african american gangster drug dealer. Opening the door I notice a fucked-up looking bed, a sink and a window. Old orangey brown carpet with shitty patterned wall paper. There was NO toilet in the room OR shower. I lay down.We have sex and talk about Codeine. I might have been too loud! I hear a knock knock at the door. A loud voice tells us "I got codeine 2's,3's and 4's. Want some???".... It was the gangster drug dealer.  Holy shit did he hear us fuck???

  Then I notice cockroaches crawling up the walls..on the bed. Gross. Before walking to The Warfield I had to use the bathroom bad. I waited 20 minutes until I had to go desperately. The bathrooms were communial.Fucking Shit! My son's father walked to the lovely restroom for protection.I quickly straddled the toilet hoovering until I get terrified and book it like a bat out of hell. Out of the corner of my eye I see a transvestite hooker talking to my son's father. I'm safely in the room. He comes and tells me that the hooker told him " Honey if she don't want your money i'll take it!"

  Moving on. I was all fancied up not realizing I probably did look like a hooker in tall patent leather boots,fishnets, boobs pushed up in a black dress, black eyeliner and red lips.

Gwar awaits. My son's father and I get to the Warfield and I vaguely remember one of Gwar's roadies talking to us. I have no clue what exactly. I think he was performing in the stage show chaos. The show was fun. I refused to get blood on my pretty face and clothes, So I stayed a litttle distance from the stage. My son's father came back covered in fake blood and semen.

We walked back to the Tenderloin Hotel intact admist gunshots in the background and the next morning I washed up in the sink, walked the streets soaking all the bizarreness that is the Tenderloin. True Love ha then the next year I was with child.