stained tears running down my face, all that shit.
I pulled myself together, and I started to drive oĉ. I got
down to the street, and all of a sudden I was like, What the
fuck was on that damn tape? What the fuck was on that
tape? I need to know what the fuck was on that tape.
I parked a block away, and walked in the rain back to his
place. My hair was fucked, but I gave zero fucks at this
point. I broke into the apartment building that he lived in
with his mom. I hopped over this gate and jumped into the
dumpster. I was diving in that dumpster for like an hour
looking for that tape.
And I found it.
I was so dirty. I just remember feeling like a piece of shit.
I felt like garbage—I literally had actual garbage all over me
—but I had to find out what the hell was on this tape.
ͳis was one of those mini-videotapes, and I needed an
adapter to play it on my VCR. Once I had the tape, I drove
around for about three and a half hours looking for an
adapter. I drove all the way to Orange County, still smelling
like garbage, trying to get one, but no one had it.
I bought a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t even know how to
smoke. I went home, and I smoked like three cigarettes. I
was going, I hope this kills me right now. I have no idea why I
thought three cigarettes was going to kill me, but I did.
That’s how fucking loopy I was right then.
At 5 a.m., I called my friend Anna. Her work involved
some kind of media stuĉ, and I remembered she had the
same kind of video camera as Titus had.
ann
(Ann)
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