In the Shadow of the American Dream

by David Wojnarowicz

  I vomited twice early this morning. I am writing this while waiting for the boat to come. I did not put up my blue flag because I want them to stay ashore so that they can take me away from this place.

  I am still very frightened. Tried lighting a fire, but I used up the rest of my matches. I keep thinking I am hearing things. Like walking around in the woods. I am seated on a homemade bench by the sea. The waves are coming in faster and the birds are beginning to chirp. Thank Swami.

  If they don’t take me off this island this morning I will swim across to the next island where my friends are. I mean it.

  I just finished packing all my things. I have had to. I am going to leave this morning. When I get to Hurricane Island I am going straight to Rafe and demand that he call my mother for permission to let me go home.

  I can’t wait to get back to New York City again. I keep thinking about the 8th Avenue Bakery, the candy stand in the drugstore, and Smilers food store sandwiches. I am driving myself crazy with the thought of good food. So far there are only signs of lobster boats. The Meka powerboat is not in sight. When it comes I am going to explain what happened last night and tell them that I can’t stomach the sea plants and animals. I pray to Swami that they will take me back. I don’t care what anyone thinks about me. I’m just sick and tired of all this. I want to be able to eat when I want and where I want. I want, I need time before school starts to adjust myself to the city. It will be bad to be depressed and then go to school at the same time.

  My legs are feeling like lead weights are draped around them. I can barely walk. I keep thinking what I am going to say to the people in the boat or back at Hurricane Island. I keep thinking of the city. And all of the food stores. I also think how the children starving in India, Biafra, S.E. Asia, and the U.S. feel. Here I haven’t eaten in two days and I feel this sick? Imagine what they feel.

  I will be so happy when I am at the airport ready to board the plane. I JUST CAN’T WAIT. I keep hearing jets and planes passing by and it is nerve-racking waiting for the Meka powerboat. The sun is 1/8 across the sky.

  The Meka boat appeared and went to my friend’s island to check if everything was okay. He did not come here. If anything happens to me I am going to bring charges against the Island or H.I.O.B.S.! I think this is pretty sickening. Here I am getting cramps, starving, and throwing up, and the boat misses this island.

  The sun is getting stronger. My head is getting cloudy.

  Excuse me, but the Meka just came. They said for me to sit down and drink water every once in a while. They said that they were going to check the north islands and would be back this afternoon. If I thought I could stay until tomorrow morning, I could, or else if I didn’t think I could take it, they would bring me back. I am definitely going back. I really couldn’t take another night of staying awake and having cramps.

  NO SIR, NOT ME!

  I need some good normal food in my stomach. I’m not going to feel bad that I am going back early. I have to if I want to feel better. Some solo. Here I thought I was going to enjoy myself. What a laugh.

  No sign of the Meka yet. I really do hope it comes back for me. All my stuff is on the beach and I am lying here writing to pass the time. I keep thinking about food and I am going absolutely crazy. You know that you can have food just about any time you want in the city. If you are starving, you can steal some. But, out here on an island there is no packaged food, only what you can find. And that makes you sick. If they don’t return for me then tomorrow I am definitely going home after a meal on Hurricane Island.

  I am feeling worse and the water I have been drinking feels sloshy in my stomach. The bees are buzzing and landing on me. The spiders are crawling around on me. Also the sand fleas and strange insects. I am waiting to see that boat zooming in to pick me up. I feel like crying but I don’t have the strength to. I also feel like cursing out the world.

  I don’t know what is happening. I feel like I am about to burst inside. I want to scream and curse and yell and stomp and cry. I could never fall asleep tonight unless I had some good food to eat. Please dear God or Swami or Buddha or whoever is watching, let them come back and pick me up. I can’t take another hour of this. Please.

  Where are they????!!!!!!

  THE MEKA JUST ARRIVED. They told me that in order for them to pick me up off the island when it isn’t an extreme emergency they have to pick up a license, which would take about four hours. They gave me two slices of bread and a nectarine. I am eating slowly. I will go to sleep as soon as I am finished. They will pick us up tomorrow. Thank Swami!

  I just ate another pail of raspberries. They make me nauseous but I have been drinking water and eating a piece of bread. That is so I will be full and then I can sleep. I have not eaten my nectarine. I am saving that until just before I go to sleep (which will be soon). I just saw a man and his two kids walking below on the beach. I suppose I could have said something but to me they represent freedom from this island and I can’t have that freedom until tomorrow morning. So I don’t enjoy looking at them much less speaking to them. I will continue until tomorrow morning. Good night.

  I fell asleep and just woke up again. It is still daylight. It is an amazing thing how just a flutter of a bird’s wing or a chirp can wake you instantly if nearby. I have forgotten the city sounds. I feel pretty good right now but occasionally think about tomorrow and a Hurricane Island meal. Also about the airport and its coffee shop and candy stand. Also the donuts and coffee before I board the plane. Yum! Yum! I wish tonight will go very quickly for I am going to get grumbles from my stomach.

  It’s funny but I can tell the kind of boat out here before it ever gets into view. While waiting for the Lurcher to appear today, I knew it was a lobster boat when I heard its motors. Well, I will soon try to go back to sleep. I hope I get to sleep. OOOOOMMMMMMM.

  The sun is a bright orange ball sinking quickly. I still can’t get to sleep. Maybe when it’s dark the birds will shut up and I will fall to sleep. This light is going to be unbearable. I can feel it in my bones. I did not throw up the food they gave me. It just goes to show you that it is only this food that I am not used to that gets me sick. I am sleeping in a new spot overlooking the ocean. It is getting very foggy out. I can hardly see the other islands. The birds above me are still yakking away every once in a while. The fog is covering the sun but it is still light out. I am getting gas. The sound of the small waves breaking gets to be monotonous but I keep hoping I will soon get to sleep. When I lay down I feel wide awake. But when I sit up I feel sleepy. I am starting to get cold. I shall soon snuggle back into my sleeping bag.

  Good night for good!

  Saturday, September 4, 1971

  Thank Swami, I finally got to sleep last night after about an hour of tossin’ and turnin’. The mosquitoes are biting the hell out of me. It is still very early in the morning. I could not get to sleep so I started dreaming of eating licorice (black). It was very filling and I finally fell asleep with my stomach “full.”

  This morning is very foggy. I hope it clears up so I can see the ocean again. Damn those mosquitoes.

  I just busted a rock that I found on the beach and inside are little crystals. I don’t know what kind, but I imagine they are quartz crystals.

  The sun is starting to come up. I hope it is going to be a beautiful day. The mosquitoes are lessening. But the bites are itching like hell. I have washed them off with alcohol, but it doesn’t faze them. I think I have a long wait for those boats.

  I am starting to get hunger pains again, but I can put up with them with the thought in mind of going back to Hurricane Island. I hope they have a meal waiting for us back there because I am not going to do any work without eating first. I am thinking about what is going to happen to people around home now that I’ve decided to come home early. Will Jerry Baron ask why did I give up? Are they going to lose faith in me if I give up? I don’t really care what they say or think because it is I who has made the decision, not them, to come home early.

/>   I felt it was best for me to start the school year with a happy (not depressed) mind and on the same day as everyone else. That way there is no reason for me to mess up. Plus, I am really longing to see the city for the first time in my life. Amazing! Any other summer and I would hate to go home to those dirty streets. But I realize how much I have taken for granted. In fact how much everyone has taken for granted. I think everyone should go to a course like this. It makes them appreciate the freedom they had at home. There is an incredible amount of freedom in the city. Stores when you are hungry. Movies when you are bored. Bookstores when you feel like reading. Bars when you feel like drinking. I could go on for days writing about the things in the city that people take for granted. I just can’t wait to get back to it all. I will enjoy every speck of dirt on the streets and buildings. I will be happy to see all the old bums again. The pimps, prostitutes, and whores. I will be extra happy to see the Broadway Game Room. I will be happy to see my mother and brother and sister and Johnny and James most of all!

  The seagulls are fishing right now. They follow the lobster boats because when the lobstermen pull up their traps they throw away the crabs that have gotten inside, so the gulls dive for the crabs. AM I GOING CRAZY? There are what appear to be hummingbirds on this island! They zoom from flower to flower getting nectar. I have to ask about this.

  Lobster boats in the distance …

  I just thought about one of my friends who wanted to see a green snake so I decided to try and catch one for him. I realize that these uninhabited islands usually have many snakes roaming about fearlessly because no one is here to bother them.

  Well, I started looking and pretty soon something flung itself into the taller grass nearby. (I imagine?)

  It was a snake but it was too fast for me. I was pretty well pissed off for not being more alert and having seen it before it saw me. Soon I was walking on the other side of my little field and I said to myself, There’s a nice quiet swimming area, and I walked over and what do you know? A little green snake was sliding out down the tiny pathway. I caught this one!

  The Meka or the Lurch is not in sight or hearing distance. I’m getting sick.

  The Meka picked me and two other friends up and left us on another island while they go pick up more kids. I feel more sick.

  Well, we are on the pulling boat and waiting for twelve more people, then they are going to tow us in. It’s a one-hour ride. But the sooner we get started the better I will feel.

  My snake almost escaped. I don’t blame him for trying. I realize how it feels to be locked up. He will soon be free.

  One more group of people and we are on our way.

  My snake got loose on the boat. But I caught him all the way up in the bow. That poor snake is in the hands of Cricked and some other asses who, thank Swami, are not in my watch. I hope he gets back to me alive without any broken ribs.

  The man in the lobster boat is talking about homemade apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

  I met Dr. Spock today and his wife, Jane. He was tall and bald with a little fuzz around his ears. His wife had long brown hair. I was quite shocked speaking with them. I had tea and donuts.

  I have had my evening meal and it is a strange feeling eating so much. I am glad to be back on the island where there are three meals a day. Good night!

  Sunday, September 5, 1971

  After a long run and cold dip I have just finished eating breakfast (delicious pancakes and hot maple syrup). Yum, it was very good. I am on my way to clean up the tents. I will soon speak to Pete Willauer about leaving soon. Everybody tells me that I am going to have a rough time talking to him. But he is only a human being and I feel I have made a decision so things should work out. They better because I have a dollar bet on it.

  I have spent the whole afternoon speaking with Mr. Willauer. He is trying to get me to stay. But I swear after the incident at lunchtime, I am definitely leaving this island. Community togetherness, ha! I am debating whether to eat dinner with them or not. I am hungry but I don’t know. I am feeling like dirt, which is what Willauer is trying to make me feel like, so I stay. But I am fighting it off because I know inside that I have made the right decision. I think I will go to dinner. I am slowly getting more and more depressed. Sometimes you would like to kill yourself. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m that desperate. Things don’t seem to be going right at home between Mom and Steve. I don’t know … It seems that just from the letters, I’m back where I started from already. I’ll still be happy to leave this place. I am going to go straight to the candy stand at the airport and buy a Milky Way bar. Yum! I feel like crying but I won’t give those bastards the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  I am going to wait until tomorrow, and if I don’t hear word of when I will be leaving then I am going to split on a Meka or some boat. I swear.

  I hate even thinking about those kids. Everyone probably thinks that I am more of a kid than they are. FUCK THEM!!! I have eaten and am more or less with the group. Good night.

  Monday, September 6, 1971

  We ran and dipped and didn’t eat. Because of Chris and George, who did not feel like running. I am dying of hunger.

  In his early twenties, David spent time hitchhiking and hopping freight cars from the East Coast through the Midwest, out to Northern California. The following is an excerpt from one of those hitchhiking trips.

  July 15–August 17, 1976

  July 25, 1976

  11th day. Best day yet—not necessarily in terms of distance but in terms of great people.

  We left the Milford Foote Hostel and hiked almost all the way up to 96. Stopped and chatted with a fruit-stand lady and corn farmer while eating plums. Got picked up by a young local hipster who drove us up to 96 in his car—Dylan blasting on the tinny radio. Showed us stoned color photos of himself and others (one of a girl bending over for something at a gas pump), some of him smoking dope—fuzzy color photos. Let us off and said he was tired of the town after twenty-three years there and was going to go to California too. Amazing how when you meet people in their daily life situations they immediately want to do what you’re doing when you’re on the road. It’s a break from systematized daily life and it does look inviting but you have to do it not just fantasize.

  We climbed up to 96 got a ride after a half hour with a local who “never normally picked up hitchhikers but saw our packs.” Drove us down 23 as far as North Territorial Road. We got picked up pretty quickly by an elderly couple who were nice—quite funny talking as the woman lay with pure white hair and white skin bundled in sweater in front seat adjusting air conditioner. Her husband took us to his grandson’s house in Ann Arbor where his grandson, a musician, drove us to the 94 West entrance ramp. We walked over to a K mart and had ham and cheese sandwiches on the Wrigleys Super Market Sidewalk with milk, Golden Fruit cookies, and we made squeeze oranges (that’s where you cut a sugar-cube-size out of a good orange and squeeze the hell out of it for the juice—delicious). We soon got onto 94W and got a ride with a local craftsman who worked in metal. He drove us a ways on 94 and then let us off.

  We got picked up in a silver Mazda by a fellow named Stan Jones who sold stereo units and recording equipment in Indiana. He was up to visit a friend, Pink Floyd on the cassette recorder system. An incredible ride past sunburnt hills farms cars trucks zooming along and letting the mind drift. Back on North Territorial drop-off I saw a face in a passing car that looked like someone I once knew. It’s like that when you move on to other places in your life—memories of faces fading like thin ice sheets in winter sidewalk puddles, they melt, become only a part of the water so you can’t separate them ever again, but they do remain there.

  Stan told us he was tired of working for others and that after next April he’ll be home free. He and his friend in Ann Arbor (who’s a real estate dealer) bought more than a hundred acres in Mexico. They made some investments together that paid off, bought a tractor, two Jaguars between them, a hydraulic pump for water-powered ele
ctricity (both were married). He said the land looked onto the mountains on whose base the land bordered. Said it was like a postcard of Colorado Rockies. They were going to build a huge home on the land with kilns for throwing pottery, an acre or two of garden vegetables, and an acre of third-generation pot seeds planted. The people they bought the pumps from would engineer the damming of the water for electricity. They were getting chickens and would use the manure for methane gas. He let us off near Lansing where we got a ride in an open-air Barracuda with a guy who had just gotten the car on the road with his cute red-haired girlfriend with freckled legs. Us three in front, John in back, we whipped off towards Kalamazoo, wind whipping our hair around.

  Left off at Kalamazoo exit while they went on. A Kalamazoo county policeman pulled up just as we were walking to get off the interstate onto the exit ramp. Checked our ID. A young cop who watched too many TV police dramas, he said to us, You know, gentlemen, that it’s illegal to hitchhike on interstates. You could get fined (lifting mirror glasses from his nose) and you could even get thrown into jail, but I’m not that kind of guy. He told us to hop in the car and he would give us a lift to the exit ramp where we could legally hitchhike. We got in the backseat cage and he drove us the quarter mile up to the ramp, spoke into his radio, turned, and said, Well this has got to be a quick drop-off ’cause I have to get back. We tried to get out of the car but the police break the locks and handles off backseats of police cars so the suspects don’t have a chance to run off. He had to get out and open the door for us. I was tempted to mock a royal accent: Thank you, Charles, but refrained.

  July 31, 1976

  17th day. Left YMCA St. Paul Hostel and headed for grocery store to buy provisions for freight hop to West Coast. Bought a bag of:

  12 rye pumpernickel rolls (small)

  1 can tuna fish

  1 box raisins

  1 can mixed nuts

  1 small bag peanuts