For those who just can't handle Twitter, or who joined late, the whole book is collected here, updated each day with the tweets arranged in chronological order for the ease of the reader.
CHAPTER ONE: January
Testing, testing. 1-2-3.
Is this thing on? Guess I just start typing, is that how this works?
Hello world. Are you there God? It’s me, Zoe. Actually I signed up under the name Tweetheart. And I’ve never been that into God. He doesn’t seem 2 spend much time out here on the street.
Altho Temple kinda looks like Jesus. Maybe that’s why they call him Temple.
I don’t really know who I’m talking 2 out there, or who’s listening 2 me. Maybe no1. Maybe every1. I don’t care. Kept a diary 4 a while but it got stolen. This is my 3rd cell phone. Until some1 else takes it from me I’ll do this Twitter thang. Gives me some1 2 talk 2... anyway some1 who isn’t crazy or wanting something from me.
I don’t pretend 2 belong here. I don’t really belong anywhere. Sometimes I feel like a fraud on the street. But less than I did at school. Or in college…or at home…or at my job…or in “real life” in the “real world.”
This world is so much more real than any I’ve ever lived. I doubt very many people would understand that. Most people live fake lives in fake houses eating fake food. They go 2 fake jobs where they fake smile at fake friends. Then they go home & fake orgasms with their fake husbands. My orgasms have never been so real as they are out here. I can’t remember the last time I cried while making love. I cry every time now.
Of course that could also be because I keep having sex in the back of my truck & there’s so much crap piled on the seat that something is always digging in2 my ass.
It can b hard 2 find a place 2 fuck out here, you know? What can I say?
I wish my hair were a little cleaner. I used 2 have nice pretty hair. Long & thick. Wavy. B-yoo-ti-ful. Now it’s kinda a mess of tangled knots. I’ve got 1 nice little dread forming at the back of my neck. It may take over my whole head soon.
That might not be so bad, now that I think about it.
I think maybe I’m starting 2 smell again 2. I went home 4 a couple days & my dad said I “smelled like a homeless person.” Stupid fuck. He wanted 2 burn my clothes. He said he didn’t want the dog in the house. Wasn’t sure if he meant me – or Milo.
Told me he had people coming & he didn’t want them to see HIS daughter “like this.” Don’t worry Dad.
U won’t c me again 4 a while.
Really foggy out here last nite. Couldn’t see shit. Walking Milo, the town emerged from the clouds like some sort of ghost city. Eerie shit. Cal campus bldgs felt like we were walking thru a graveyard. The graveyard of my academic ambitions. Ha!
Twatter. That’s what this guy rayRay is calling me now. I told him about this Twitter thing. He doesn’t quite get it I guess. I guess I don’t either! R u texting? No. Who r u sending the text 2? It’s not texting rayRay! Whoever reads it. What if the cops read it? Or your family?
Shit. I did not think about that.
I really didn’t.
OK so I just spent a few days cathecting on this 1. Perseverating. I really don’t think my parents would have any clue abt Twitter or how 2 read it. So I think I’m safe there. Whew!
Figured out how 2 see who’s following u & it looks like no 1 is anyway! More whew! & I checked & no one I know is even on Twitter. So I've decided it's safe to resume.
As for the cops…Fuck the cops. I don’t know. They wanna read abt my orgasms they can go right ahead. Hey cops wanna watch me come? Come & get it. I probably should watch what I say tho.
Shit. Are they reading this? Is the govt reading this? Can they track u thru this thing? Maybe it’s some big govt plot 2 keep track of every1, & all their thoughts, at all times, by convincing us 2 constantly type out everything we do & say, & send it to them, and look how much trouble we are saving them by doing it!
Holy fucking Christ.
OK I tried really hard not to send any tweets there for a while but I have to talk to SOMEbody. You listening, Mr. President?
Beautiful sunrise this morning after a gorgeous night. Milo & I laid on top of the car & watched the full moon dart in & out. Pretty cool. Hazy moonlight. Milo never barks at the moon but he does love to bite at the wind.
The nights can be long & hard & cold. Thank God no snow! C there was at least 1 good reason we moved 2 California. Damn glad I have my truck. Me & Milo hunker down & cozy up & try to stay warm & dry. I’ve slept on the sidewalk/in Peoples Park/doorways w/some of the gang. No question the truck is better. Much harder for people 2 steal your shit too.
Music alone is reason 2 live. 2day's soundtrack: Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley. Hallefuckinlujah for my iPod.
rayRay is cute in kind of a Charles Manson way. I love the way he says his name: rayRAY. It's not RAY-ray. ray-RAY. Small r, then big R.
Or as he told me when I met him, it rhymes with hooray. hooRAY. rayRAY!
He gets me in ways no guy I ever met be4 ever did. Well, maybe Dante of course. I don't know why rayRay & Temple fight so much tho.
Those 2 just do not get along. Gotta watch that...
People do not look u in the eye. I mean, probly 2 out of 3 look away, pretend u don’t even exist, walk right by & how dare u force this ugliness in2 their fucking lives. Like making eye contact would force them 2 acknowledge that u r a real human being.
Maybe 1 in 3 mumbles “sorry” or something like that.
They’re not really sorry, they just feel bad & can’t deal.
And then 1 out of 4 maybe actually gives u money. 50 cents, loose change, a dollar or five if u r lucky. Sometimes u get a smile, a kind look, some real warmth, some1 w/heart actually gives a damn.
Yeah, I’m spare changin’ on Telegraph w/Temple, down by Blondie's. I feel bad myself cuz I don’t need the money like he does. But he always says a girl & a dog help him do better. Cute makes money. Would probly make even more if Milo weren’t part pit bull. He scares some people. People who don’t know him. I’m so tired of the prejudice. He’s the greatest dog ever. In fact now when people ask what he is, that’s what I say: he’s a Great. A Great Dane? No, a Great Dog!
Sometimes I say East Oakland Mountain Dog.
Spare change, mister?
The weather has been so kind 2 us lately. This is January?? Love it. Sucks out here when it rains. As long as it stays like this I can hold out here a long time b4 I ever go home again.
Every1’s stuff gets soggy. My blanket gets wet. Milo gives me that mournful look – make it stop raining on me mama!
But no this is good. Lot more people out & about 2 which means more spare change 4 every1.
Yeah - money. That’s what we all want. Your love don’t pay my bills. Flying Lizards on the iPod this morning!
People out here know I have $. They’ve figured it out. They c the truck, the iPod, the new cell phone whenever mine gets stolen. Gotta be careful w/that. I tell them I got a sugar daddy, my ex Dante who still takes care of me, makes sure I don’t starve, that it’s his money, not mine. And then I spread it around a little.
I think they buy it.
Maybe I gotta watch that 2.
Balmy nite, beautiful moon, so warm. Sleeping rough. On grass in Peoples Park. Ssshhh. Every1’s crashed. Puppy snoring! He’s sleep-running, having dog dreams…
Gotta pee. Up naked. No1 around! No1 awake! Walking naked around park. Feels amazing. Standing on Dwight side of park in middle of nite now strolling naked down grass.
Exhilarating. Empowering. Could get caught. If cops come I am so screwed. If any1 comes I am so screwed!
My skin feels so good. Just me & my body & the night & the moon & the grass…sssshhhhhh
I used 2 watch Rudolph & fantasize about living on the island of misfit toys. I identified w/the raggedy Ann doll. She would curtsy just like I used 2 have 2.
I was never really sure what was wrong w/her tho. They never said. I heard on the radio once that she was depressed. Not sure what’s wrong w/me either so that’s a good fit.
The spotted elephant was cute 2.
Now I’m finally on the island, except there’s no snow & no abominable snowman. A few abominable people, but mostly just other misfit toys like me.
Milo is my reindeer.
And like Rudolph & the doll & the elf who wants 2 b a dentist I have found somewhere I fit in. No one judges me here. No pressure, no expectations. Free 2 b the freak that I am. We are all freaks here. Which makes me normal, for once.
shit - cops!!!!
The cops got Temple for possession! He’s gone. Meth in his pocket.
Can they really bust u for smelling like weed? I don’t think so. They put a good scare in me tho. Gave me a real talking-to.
How do they know who I am? Knew all about me. Said Zoe we have ur license number. Milo better have a license. Thank God for Dante dealing w/that kind of shit!
They better not try 2 take my dog. They told me, go home. What r u doing out here?
Well it’s kinda complicated, what can I say? Gonna lay low. Off Telegraph. Gonna hang in Gourmet Ghetto w/rayRay 4 a while instead.
Wow they sure eat better at this end of town! Could live for yrs on leftovers from Cheeseboard Pizza alone. Sat on grass right under sign that says “no sitting on median.” No1 seems to care as long as u have asiago/roma/arugula slice in hand.
Camped outside Chez Panisse last nite during dinner. People will pay $80 for pigeon but look away from scruffy girl out front. Amazing there are any pigeons left on Shattuck Ave!
If Milo can learn to root for truffles I could strike it rich over here.
Word is Temple got sent 2 Santa Rita. Thinking about driving out there 2 see him. rayRay doesn’t want to hear about it.
Happy birthday 2 me! 25 years old. Every1 says I don’t even look 18! Feel about 12. Wonder if my dad even remembers it’s my bday.
rayRay bought me an Adult Brownie from Andronico’s & stuck a candle in it. Says 25 means I’m a grownup now & can eat 1 legally. LOL.
This lady gave me her leftover quail as she was leaving Chez Panisse & I had that 4 bday dinner. How can any1 have leftover quail? The lady must eat like a quail!
Poor little quails. They go running around in the woods, they never even fly, then some sous chef comes & grabs them & stuffs them w/dates & pours truffle sauce on them. Or whatever that was. Sure r delicious tho. Milo even liked it.
Speaking of sous chef, made a new friend. Said his name was Sue – a boy named Sue! – but turns out he spells it Sous cuz he was a sous chef. Has 4 shopping carts tied 2gether w/more shit than I’ve ever seen. He is huge & looks 100 yrs old. Been on streets 40 yrs he said.
Big black man w/big gruff voice & big gray hair & small sweet way of being. rayRay told him my bday & he dug out some stuff from deep in those carts & made me a delicious little salad!
Got some stuff here he said, all still good. People throw away lots of good stuff. And damn it was.
Cell phone did ring once. Guess Dad did remember. I didn’t answer it.
Cold cold morning after a cold cold nite. rayRay got a gig painting a guy’s basement for a few days so we slept in there last nite. Kinda fumey but much warmer than the truck. Brrrr.
Milo didn’t like the smell of the paint at ALL. And he wagged his tail up against the wet wall & now it’s ½ white!
Some1 ransacked my truck! Just came out 2 truck & it was all open, all my shit gone thru. Doesn’t seem like anything missing tho.
Worried that some1 planted drugs & cops will search next time & bust me. Wait, maybe the COPS planted drugs there to find on me next time.
Can’t find anything. So why didn’t they steal my shit? Can’t figure out how they broke into car. Maybe I left it open? Everything a mess. Don’t see any drugs.
Shit shit shit. Worried worried worried. Bad situation! Berkeley is a small town but I hoped cops wouldn’t know me this end of city…