LIDVp9: The State of Jefferson

August 4, 2004

Stan tried to murder me with Sake and Sushi last night. I’ll bet you didn’t know Japanese cuisine could be a murder weapon, but it’s true. And all that hippie peace and love stuff is all a front. He’s one savage bastard. Still, we had a great time. He and Dru and I went to two wineries near Ashland yesterday, and capped off the day at a Sushi bar. Capped it off heavily, I guess, since we both ended up puking by the end of the night. Dru offered to drive us home and we just kept drinking carafe after carafe of Sake, this great milky, unfiltered Sake that tasted like cold rice milk. We at $200 worth of great sushi - Stan is a food bully - and then hit two other bars before I vomited in the bathroom. And on the side of the road. And in our brown bag filled with leftovers and stolen pears. And in my bathroom. Felt kind of good actually. It’s been a while since I’ve thrown up, and I forgot how it’s kind of a comforting experience. Still, it was one of those perfect days. We spent the afternoon sipping wine on a balcony overlooking a vineyard. We stole pears from a farm along the road. Dru said, "Thanks for not puking on my yarn," as we left the car at the end of the night. There were two brown bags in the back seat with me: one was filled with yarn she bought, the other with pears and sushi. I puked in that one, and when they got to their front door with both bags, the puky one ripped open and pears rolled everywhere.

The day before that I hiked from Mazama to the Rim, after a frustrating hunt for a cutoff to the Pacific Crest Trail. I was rained on and just missed a massive thunder and hail storm that evening.

Rabbit mumbles great things to me when he’s half asleep. Today he said he wants to go to France instead of work. Then he said he doesn’t really. That if he were there he’d punch the French. "Why does your country stink so much? Why does every country in Europe smell good except yours? I hate you." He wants to burn Chiloquin to the ground, just like I do, but only if it were evacuated. Except for Gloria, an Indian who works here that he hates. "I’d tie her up to the flag pole and make her watch her city burn down in front of her." The other day he said, "I’m just a big ball of nothin. Sometimes I’m a big ball of somethin, but usually it’s the other way."

I went to another ranger party with Tim. It was another pasta party, this time at Paco’s, a really cool hippie guy who normally lives on an organic asparagus farm. He told me I’m always welcome at his house, no invitation necessary. I like hippies, I’ve decided.

August 5, 2004

I found out that in the early to mid 1900s, there was a strong push to make a new state - the state of Jefferson - that would comprise parts of California and Oregon from Redding in the south to Roseburg in the north. The rural, sparsely populated areas were being neglected by their respective state governments and their populations felt they would make better sense as a separate state: the State of Jefferson. The state was up for a vote in Congress, but on the same day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. The vote was passed over and never took off again. I heard all of this from Eric Weisinger, the vintner of Weisinger Winery and Vineyard south of Ashland. (Note: Further investigation shows that while it was not up for vote, there was a massive demonstration planned that day, and until Pearl Harbor, Jefferson was competing daily with WW2 for the front page.)

Digger moved out by the way, and left town for reasons unknown. Rabbit and I snuck into his room and it appeared to be vacated. He left a bunch of clothes, empty beer cases, and some food around the dorm. His key and id badge were lying next to each other on the desk. Rabbit and I were going to take the room, annex it for ourselves, but instead we just stole his Pringles, Nutty Bars and some Ramen.