The Sonoma County Trap House - Welcome to the Underbelly of Wine Country Society
Chapter 1
I've slept in the gutters. I've rested my weary ass on park benches
surrounded by litter and bird shit. Waited beneath bus stop shelter
overhangs for the rain to stop. Walked miles in the rain to get an
opportunity to make money for some rich guy. I drank
half pints of Ancient Age on the long bus rides home. I’ve slept in drug
dens with no insulation and woken up to my breath hanging in the air in
front of me - the ghost of my youth and my health.The only thing you can do in that situation is roll over on your futon mattress (now sunken down to only four inches off the ground), grab your bottle of Wild Turkey 81 and take a long gulp and feel the warmth of the whiskey as it stings your throat and finally settles in your stomach. Then you roll over, wad your pillow into a lump, and wrapped up tight in your blanket, wait for the morning to come. For the daylight to make the cold stop. For the sun to finally shine so you can live again.
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