from Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said (1974)...
|McCarthy Hall (Cal State Fullerton) 1970.|
KNOTTS BERRY FARM: “In the kitchen doorway Ruth appeared, holding up a stoneware platter marked SOUVENIR OF KNOTTS BERRY FARM. She ran blindly at him and brought it down on his head, her mouth twisting like newborn things just now alive. At that last instant he managed to lift his left elbow and take the blow there; the stoneware platter broke into three jagged pieces, and, down his elbow, blood spurted. He gazed at the blood, the shattered pieces of platter on the carpet, then at her.”
ORANGE COUNTY CIVIC CENTER: “He did not feel like returning right away to the Orange County Civic Center and room 430, so he wandered down one of the commercial streets in Ahaheim, inspecting the McDonaldburger stands and car washes and gas stations and Pizza Huts and other marvels.”
KATELLA BLVD (ANAHEIM): “Driving slowly up Katella Boulevard, Bob Arctor searched for the New-Path sign and the wooden building, formerly a private dwelling, that the energetic rehab people operated in this area.”
A "SLUM" APARTMENT IN BREA: “Strung out on injectable Substance D already, she lived in a slum room in Brea, upstairs, the only heat radiating from a water heater, her source of income a State of California tuition scholarship she and won. She had not attended classes, as far as he knew, in six months.”
“It was as if Ferris Fremont stood amid the deserts of Orange County and imagined, at the north end of the state, the unreal thralldom of Berkeley and shuddered and said to himself something on the order of: That must go.”
"Maybe your destiny lies directly at the center of Disneyland. You could sleep directly under the Matterhorn ride and live on Coke and hot dogs, like they sell there. There're bathrooms. You'd have all you need."
“I left my wife because I dreamed about a foreign land...which proved to be ten miles from Disneyland, near a lot of orange trees. Down in plastic-town U.S.A.”
MEXICAN BARRIO (DOWNTOWN PLACENTIA): Upon leaving the freeway near Anaheim--he took the wrong exit ramp and wound up in the town of Placentia--he discovered Mexican buildings, low-rider Mexican cars, Mexican cafes, and little wooden houses filled with Mexicans. He had stumbled onto a barrio for the first time in his life. The barrio looked like Mexico, except that there were Yellow Cabs. Nicholas had made actual contact with the world of his visionary dream.”
“It was spectactular; here he was, raised in Berkeley, sitting in his modern apartment (Berkeley has no modern apartments) in Placentia, wearing a florid Southern California-style shirt and slacks and shoes; already he had become part of the lifestyle here. The days of bluejeans were gone."
ORANGE COUNTY JAIL (SANTA ANA): "Wonderful. Now what was I supposed to do? They really had me. I cooperated or I went to the Orange County Jail. And people died--were clubbed to death--at the Orange County Jail; it happened all the time. Especially political prisoners."