During our 41st Anniversary, Matt X told us this story of leaving Twin oaks Community. Enjoy!
Early morning, Tupelo. I awake on my moldy and familiar futon to the sound of birds. Too many birds. 9:30 is too early for this.
I moved upstairs to this room to take advantage of the relative neatness and sanity that is upstairs North wing Tupelo. My room is the one with the wood paneling and Kana’s old staircase. It’s like a ski lodge for people on acid.
Pele is my neighbor. I’m sure that has something to do with why it’s quiet and somewhat clean up here.
I walk out into the living room. Crap. All of Rose and Maya’s teenage friends trashed the place last night. Beer bottle caps and mysterious stains are all over the carpet. My favorite lamp is gone. Pele’s gonna be mad. I really don’t want to be around for that.
I walk downstairs and catch a whiff of Pianky’s onion drying experiment that’s going on in his room. I respect the idea but it smells very bad. This house is crazy. As I fry my egg in the kitchen I realize I am depressed. My favorite skillet was left out all night with fish oil in it.
Three years of wild communal living has taken its toll. I’ve processed myself raw, managed a few areas, dated every single available woman who was even slightly interested in me, and the thrill is gone.
But where else is there to go? The world is insane. It’s all about cars, and money and violence and discrimination and war. Plus where could I go where they’d let me start work at 10am, work for six hours, topless and bearded, and call it a day? Christ, maybe I’m getting lazy. Well regardless, I’ve got some serious sitting around to do for another hour before I go varnish some chairs.
And Twin Oaks has changed, yo. Just last week someone stole a community van. Right off the property! I think it was that sketchy Ryder guy who left a few days before in the middle of the night. How did he get past the membership interview? Aren’t they there to protect us from high impact weirdos with no social skills? It’s all falling apart.
I think about some of the ex-members I know. They seem happy. They have their own kitchen. They haven’t sold out to the Man. And I’ve been thinking, I don’t think the Man really exists. I think it’s just a fairytale created by another Man to keep us suspicious about each other and arguing over who to be against which distracts us from being together. Yeah. The outside world isn’t so bad, it’s this place that’s dysfunctional! Pant pant pant, whoa, what was in that egg? I leave Tupelo and walk the logging trail up to OZ where it’ll be quiet and relatively clean.
While varnishing chairs I realize something, “Holy cow, I’m engaged to be married.” It all happened so fast. She came, we did yoga and chanted RAM and then I watched “Hero” with my buddy Dream, smoked a spliff and it all became clear. I could die and never really truly love another. I rode my community bike over to Acorn where she was staying late at night, pushed her out of the seed office in Heartwood where she was counting heirloom tomato seeds and said “I want to marry you.” She said “I know.”
It all makes sense now. I have to move forward, settle down, dedicate my life to one partner that doesn’t have another partner who is negotiating for primary status. No, something simple and pure, with my own – gasp- refrigerator. I’ve gone mad. Yes, I want to go back to Babylon. Please, forgive me elder Gods and Goddesses of Twin Oaks. Thou must sailest on without me. You were my whole life, you will always be in my heart Twin Oaks (my real family). I promise to not let you down. I will continue to buy soy products and live your greatest lesson. To accept people for who they are regardless of race, gender, or body odor.
I will miss you, miss gender bending kissing parties, musicals and dance band. Facepainted hula hooping anarchist food bombing primary kid caring pond swimming, date hammock swinging, late night popcorn eating, River’s mac and yeast eating, gardening, non violent communicating, care group having, skirt wearing, visitor meeting, dreamers one and all. Well, I still have the Vulgar Bulgars.Share on Twitter Share on Facebook