Ruth was a free spirited waitress I'd met
at the Onyx Cafe right before I started
school at Sonoma State University. Ruth was nine
years older than me and had been around the block
at least twice. She was tired of Los Angeles, too,
so when I asked her to join me, she just packed up
her things and led the way.
We lived out of our cars for a few days before we
finally rented a room in a new suburban tract home
owned by the son of the developer. Within days,
Ruth started to freak out. The smell of the new carpet was
giving her headaches and the conformity of all the
new homes was making her paranoid.
So, of course, she turned to drugs.
One day Ruth looked me straight in the eyes and
asked: "Have you ever dropped acid?"