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Nobody's Home
Dec. 22nd, 2022 11:14 amHere's something I was just thinking about today, thought I'd share.
I got married right out of college to an older guy who was a reporter. He'd worked for Rolling Stone and had even opened their Nashville office, covered the Altamont incident, stuff like that. He came from this tiny-ass town in Tennessee, but when he was living in Los Angeles, he met up with a girl his age that he'd grown up with and they moved in together. This was mid- to late 1960s.
She was very gifted as far as TV production and stuff goes but was kind of a derp. Or more appropriate to the times, "hippe-dippie." She was into all kinds of weird stuff, and even when I met her many years later, she was trying to control high blood pressure with yoga, and of course she had a stroke. But you get the idea - very head-in-the-clouds.
She comes home one day telling my ex about this really interesting guy she's met, and he leads a commune out in the desert. I mean, you could probably throw a rock in LA and hit two guys who were commune leaders, so my ex is like, great that's awesome what's for dinner. She won't shut up about it, and finally, he says, I've got some time off let's go meet this guy. They get in his car and she gives directions and they drive out to the middle of nowhere.
When they finally get to Spahn's Movie Ranch there's nobody there, and they just wander around for a while. She's saying they must have just missed him and they should try again the next day, but my ex is annoyed at driving so far just to look at an old movie set and refuses to go back. Eventually she moves on to the next great thing that attracts her attention and she forgets all about Charlie. For a little while.
That's my only "six degrees of a serial killer" story - that I'm aware of.
I got married right out of college to an older guy who was a reporter. He'd worked for Rolling Stone and had even opened their Nashville office, covered the Altamont incident, stuff like that. He came from this tiny-ass town in Tennessee, but when he was living in Los Angeles, he met up with a girl his age that he'd grown up with and they moved in together. This was mid- to late 1960s.
She was very gifted as far as TV production and stuff goes but was kind of a derp. Or more appropriate to the times, "hippe-dippie." She was into all kinds of weird stuff, and even when I met her many years later, she was trying to control high blood pressure with yoga, and of course she had a stroke. But you get the idea - very head-in-the-clouds.
She comes home one day telling my ex about this really interesting guy she's met, and he leads a commune out in the desert. I mean, you could probably throw a rock in LA and hit two guys who were commune leaders, so my ex is like, great that's awesome what's for dinner. She won't shut up about it, and finally, he says, I've got some time off let's go meet this guy. They get in his car and she gives directions and they drive out to the middle of nowhere.
When they finally get to Spahn's Movie Ranch there's nobody there, and they just wander around for a while. She's saying they must have just missed him and they should try again the next day, but my ex is annoyed at driving so far just to look at an old movie set and refuses to go back. Eventually she moves on to the next great thing that attracts her attention and she forgets all about Charlie. For a little while.
That's my only "six degrees of a serial killer" story - that I'm aware of.
