Vaporfornia Chapter 1: Vapor Privilege

Chapter 1: Vapor Privilege

Take in another deep breath. The air is nice: warm and dry with a whiff of dry grass and pine. The sound of the songbirds and crickets as it approaches sunset.  It’s nice and all, but it would be great to have someone to share this romantic moment with. Yes, the perfect spot to take a date for a sunset picnic.  Some girls say they like hiking but just end up staring at their iPhone the entire time and then complain about wanting to head back indoors. That sounds terrible. I know. Like some rightwing misogynistic jerk.

Forget about that. Just enjoy the tranquility of nature.  I’d like to go to Yosemite this summer but I don’t have a car and am short on funds, but that’s ok because there’s so much great wilderness to explore right here in my own backyard. Just be thankful some money-grubbing bastard didn’t buy up all this land and cover it with McMansions for more corporate drones.

The crisp golden hills are dotted with oaks that give off a blueish hue this time of day. Some in groves with the rest spread out. Some of these trees must have been here when the first European settlers arrived. I learned in school that the golden grass was brought here by the Spanish Colonists. Maybe we should have indigenous plants instead and reject European colonization. But all the golden grass is just splendid. I just want to take off my clothes and roll around in the warm dry grass, even if it scratches up my back.

Looking out over Walnut Creek I can see my neighborhood in the distance. I can’t believe I’ve hiked this far. One day I shall hike all the way to the summit of Mount Diablo. I remember when my uncle was still alive, before he took his own life, he would take me up to the summit. I felt like I was up on Mount Olympus with the gods.

On a clear day I could see to the City and the Sierras. I think it’s the highest viewshed after Mount Kilimanjaro. I’ve got to save up to buy a car so I can drive up to the summit again. Maybe get a summer job.  My dad keeps telling me to stop sitting around and go out and get a real job, become a real man who contributes to the capitalist economy. He doesn’t really get it. He got into Tech at the right time and made great money but conditions have gotten worse for workers in this country, not just the proletariat.

Now that his company is laying off workers, especially older workers like him, he fears he will be laid off soon. He comes home every night, gets drunk and watches rightwing cable news pundits rant about how socialism is destroying the American Economy and then goes on about how immigrants are stealing our jobs.

You can’t really blame immigrants. We live in a capitalist economy where all workers are disposable; brainwashed by corporations that they need to acquire material possessions in order to have any value as a person. That 20th Century model of getting a corporate job and buying an SUV and big house in the suburbs is so outdated. All this competition for money and status. For stuff we really don’t need is destroying the planet.

Anyhow, back to me. Yeah, went through some severe depression in High School. Didn’t really fit in with the popular crowd, repeated incidents of social rejection. Had a few friends but they were into your stereotypical nerdy interest. But I had bigger dreams. I could have gotten into a great university to study journalism. Started out getting good grades, straight A’s in honor’s courses, but then went through a phase of depression and I don’t know if I can even afford college with all the student debt, even with some underpaying retail job.

But before you think I’m going to go crazy like that Noam in Connecticut. No way. I have a life to live and I’m going to make the best of it. I should head back for dinner soon. Let me take in one more breath of fresh air and watch the sunset highlight the golden grass.

Heading back to the trailhead, I unlock my bike and ride through our suburban neighborhood. There’s a group of bratty teens, a few years younger than me skateboarding as their snotty blonde girlfriends watch. Are they sneering at me? Sometimes I really just hate White people. Look I have White Privilege too. I know. Even though I’m not the most popular guy I get to live in a nice area and at least had the opportunities to succeed even if I didn’t make the best of them.

I just think about all the poor people of color who don’t have those opportunities. Yes, true. High School is over so I need to stop thinking about silly adolescent drama and social cliques. I have to prepare myself to be a leader, a journalist who fights for social justice to make the world a better place.

Finally home, dad’s car is parked outside.  Hungry from the long hike, my mom must be making dinner.

Oh shit! There’s that girl next door. That cute blonde, Chloe. She was a Freshman at my high school last year but we never spoke. But sometimes we’d awkwardly exchange glances. Doesn’t matter. She’s way too young for you. You could get arrested for just looking at her.

Dad opens the door, “Max. Where have you been all day?”

“I went hiking up in the foothills,” I respond.

He orders me to sit down. I protest, “look dad, I’m 18 now.”

“As long as you live under my roof you answer to me,” He responds.

My mom says “give him a break. He just graduated.”

Dad bangs the table “stop wasting your life Max. What are your plans for the future?”

“I told you, I want to study journalism,” I say.

He responds “oh, common get real. Step up. Take action for once and think of a career that will actually make you money.”

I look away. Tired of another one of his rants.

“You’re always complaining to your mom about which girl ignores you but if you want to get the ladies you need to start making money,” my dad says.

“Knock it off, Mitch,” says mom.

He responds “this is my house. I worked my ass off to pay off the mortgage.”

My sister walks in disrupting another potential fight.

Mom says: “hi Stacey, dinner is ready.”

Mom ordered some Indian take out. My personal favorite.

Dad complains “can’t you make something decent for once, like steak? Not this Pajeet shit. All day at work. Always going on about bobs and vegana.” I don’t think I can take another one of his racist rants. I do love Indian food though; Palak Paneer, Lentils, Raita, Garlic Naan, and a Mango Lasse. All vegetarian. The Hindus are far more enlightened than us Westerners when it comes to how they treat animals. I remember this Indian girl in my health class. I feel bad and a bit racist for forgetting her name, but she gave the most moving speech on the horrors of factory farming and health benefits of veganism. Ever since then I’ve tried to stay the course even if I sometimes slip and have a bite of steak.

Dinner is awkwardly silent. Dad finishes his Lamb Vindaloo and goes back to watching his rightwing cable news show with some pundit ranting about how corporations need tax cuts and how we need to bomb Iran. Funny how capitalism conditions one to worship their oppressor.

I overhear my sister on the phone. Is she talking to a boy? She’s entering high school, a freshman already talking to boys while I have spent my entire high school years alone and dateless. Don’t get bitter and turn into another Noam. We are all on different courses in life. Yours is to enlighten humankind; show the world how to better treat their fellow beings by exposing them to the beauty that they’ve been deprived of.  I’ve taken loads of photos of nature and architecture to submit to an exhibition at an art gallery in Berkeley. And all proceeds will go to a shelter for abused transgendered persons of color.

After dinner I go to my room to contemplate. I enrolled at the local city college, signed up for courses in journalism, broadcasting, political science, and photography. No, it’s not University but I will get over my depression, get good grades, transfer to a prestigious University, and go on to accomplish great things.

I stay up all night looking at my photos. Most of them of nearby wilderness. I need to take a trip to the City to get some urban photos. Beauty is unjust because it’s a finite resource. But once I spread it to the world everyone will be equal and free.  

In my sleep my mind tries to process all my photos and other images I found online. The visuals of the golden hills, neon lit cityscapes, and girls I like; both from school and from social media all blending together in my dreams. The gold from the hills, gold neon, and girls’ hair all now just one blur of gold.

Whenever I dream, I can sense what I’m missing out on. Sometimes I see it vividly yet locked out, unable to touch or partake. The energy representing everything I so deeply desire surrounds me, yet I’m still alone in a dark bubble.

Vaporfornia is available for purchase on Lulu publishing. Warning: Not for the easily offended.