Now somewhere in the black mining hills of Dakota
There lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon
And one day his woman ran off with another guy
Deadwood, South Dakota
Late Fall, `75
C.S. and I were getting along, but not great. A distance separated us
like never before. After one particular nasty argument, I became so
frustrated that when the mail came, I opened a letter sent to her by
her girlfriend back in Michigan. Opening other people’s mail was a
terrible thing to do, but I was desperate. I thought maybe I would
find a clue that would help me figure out what the hell was going on.
After reading it, not only did I discover that C.S. had been carrying
on a love letter correspondence with her old boyfriend, Rick, she also
had plans to leave me and return to Michigan. I was stunned. I sat
down and drank a couple of beers. When she came home, of course she
was outraged that I had opened her letter, but she denied nothing.
Apparently she had given a lot of thought to what she had planned, and I was coming in on the tail end of it. All of a sudden I felt sick,
and I was absolutely certain that my sickness would get worse before
it got better.
When I found out she was leaving, it was late September. She wouldn’t
(or couldn’t) tell me when she was leaving, though. She used her leaving as a “carrot on a stick approach” to our relationship. I got progressively more agitated; we hardly had a civil word to say to one another. Finally, in mid November, I moved out of 5 Cliff, and into the Syndicate hotel. Brad, C.S.’s cousin, had been living there since the beginning of summer. In addition to it being a cheap place to stay, the Syndicate gave me a reprieve from the inescapable mayhem and bitterness back at 5 Cliff.