12.6.1986 – 12.8.1986

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. -Trent

Saturday, December 6, 1986

We rented a VCR and three movies: “Hitcher”, “Party Animal” and a tape of Captain America cartoons. Pam had faked her way into an overnight pass, so she was out for the night.

At about 3am, Pam and I went in on Joe’s bed. We made out and around 4am we went downstairs to my room at #20 and went to sleep in my bed. It was the first time I had ever shared a bed with a girl and I don’t think I ever fell asleep. Pam was out, and the whole night I was so worried about disturbing her peace that I just laid awake trying not to move.

Sunday, December 7, 1986

After sleeping in my room, Pam and I woke up at 4pm in the afternoon. But we couldn’t leave the room right away; Jud Miller from the Bishopric was in the front room, and we would have been in trouble if he found out that she was in my room.

I took Pam home and she made me a late breakfast. She also talked me into going to the Christmas Conference message. Pam is, I would say, very religious.

Monday, December 8, 1986

Bought three boxes of magic colors candy cigarettes (Hey man, cool!).

Band practice.

Went to my aunt’s house for dinner. Took Dave and SNFU-Shoe. Ate. Played guitar a little. Left. Went to dorms where we were supposed to be a lot earlier. Gave Tina and Pam Hershey’s Giant Kisses. They were appeased.

Called home.

Lit a smoke bomb in our room.

11.26-29.1986 – Thanksgiving

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. -Trent

Wednesday, November 26, 1986

Today I flew home for Thanksgiving. After dinner with my family I took mom’s car out and drove around. I criss-crossed around San Ramon and Danville for two hours looking for my friends and came up completely empty. No one was at Crow Canyon, Twin Creeks, or anywhere. It was thoroughly depressing.

Thursday, November 27, 1986

Thanksgiving was pretty uneventful. We played Risk, ate dinner, played Bingo, and then watched Dad’s “Deadly Weapons” video, where people with big guns shot up watermelons and full milk jugs and large pieces of raw steak. After that we were all forced to watch Grandpa’s slides from a trip to Alaska.

Friday, November 28, 1986

“The #1 Shopping Day in America”

I saw Naomi today. Her hair was all spiked except for her bangs, which were pink. We talked in her room for a while, then we watched “Santa Barbara.” I was going to ask her out for lunch or something but she had plans with Jenny Canning. She also told she was going to be kidnapped tomorrow by Eric Perryman and Paul Skipper. I left feeling kind of unwanted. It sucked.

I was really “down” so I went to the mall to see if Jerri was working at McDonalds. She wasn’t, but I saw Jef, Marc, and Lori. I was bummed but followed them and we browsed at the bookstore. I left.

Went to the ramp being built at Terry’s and saw Joey. I told him to call me later on. I saw Jerri. I told her about Naomi. She said I should tell her how I felt. Jerri told me to bring Joey by Andey’s later.

That night, Joey, Pee-Wee, and I went skateboarding at a parking garage in Danville. It was cool, and so nice to skate smooth surfaces again. Idaho is all about rough concrete. Mike and John D. were there too. We drew graffiti with a paint pen. Pee-Wee wants me to play bass for his new band.

Saturday, November 29, 1986

Dad and I went to Wayne’s gun store by Safeway in Dublin this morning. I picked up Joey next and we went to brand practice (Rabid Lassie) at Jason’s house in Alamo. Jason had gotten a new Peavey amp, the heavy metal-themed “Butcher” half-stack. We started out playing “Fighting for Peace” and it sounded great. We talked about the record afterwords and stuff.

Joey and I left for Berkeley after that. I bought the Jackshit 7”. Nothing spectacular. We went back home, then Liz came over with Vanessa. Liz’s hair was really long, and she was dressed just like me a year ago: Jungle combat boots, a flannel around her waist, a green army jacket. It was cool talking to her, I guess.

Joey, Pee-Wee, and I went to San Francisco to see Clown Alley play Club Foote. We saw Crash-N-Burn, who weren’t too bad, and Clown Alley, who were the best band I’ve ever seen that night. It was intense! What a great band.

11.17.1986

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. Of course, at 38 today, I do not advocate any of the illegal activity discussed here. -Trent

Monday, November 17, 1986

I got up at 11:30, really tired. I went up to the school and ate lunch. I came back and Larry, Drake, Ray and I went to court. It was really kind of funny. When the cops came to our apartment, the other guys admitted to doing a bunch of stuff. When it was my turn, the judge asked me what I had done. Since they had nothing on me but Tom’s statement, I simply admitted to writing on a sign with a marker.

The judge ordered us to apologize to Mr. Gardner, whose hayseed signs we particularly enjoyed destroying (Knocking the heads clean off!). He also ordered us to do five hours of community service and pay a forty dollar fine. Right after our hearing, Larry pressed charges against Tom for assault. The police are going to pick him up tomorrow.

(38: Aside from paying the fine, you never did any of that stuff the judge ordered you to do, did you?)

We went to Idaho Falls after that. I sent a letter to Jerri to see why she didn’t write me. Charlene never wrote me back either. Very suspicious! We went to the Grand Teton and Country Club malls.

We came back to Rexburg. We went to the arcade and Ray and I each played 25 cents worth of Gauntlet. Fun! I went to Albertsons and bought some ice cream. It was good.

B called me and we talked. I let her know that I knew that she wanted to break Des and I up. She told me something about me that I knew but it only hit me when she said it. “Trent, we both play games with people, but you’re better than me. You have always won, except once.” She doesn’t know it but I’m undefeated. She just thinks she won that one. But I do play mind games with people.

Chad just called at 1am. What a dork. Says he’s on the Mafia hit list and that he killed someone with a knife. Reminds me a lot of Ray from Concord, the bisexual punk rocker who used to cut his arms up. All drama.

11.8.1986

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. Of course, at 38 today, I do not advocate any of the illegal activity discussed here. -Trent

Saturday, November 8, 1986

Had an interesting night this week, thanks to Tom ratting me out his new roommates, the football jocks in #18. He told them that I was the one who had been prank-calling them for weeks. This huge hulking neanderthal came over and was towering over me, leaning into my face swearing and threatening to kick my ass because he knew I was the guy crank-calling them. I was sure he was going to flatten me. But I stood my ground and yelled right back at him, denying it. Eventually he tired of the game and left. (38: Hey 18, to this day I don’t know why he didn’t just kick your skinny ass!)

Drake, Larry, and I went to Idaho Falls. Larry was looking for a car and spotted a red Volkswagen square-back that he wanted. It was cool. I bought a bass guitar at a pawn shop with the rest of the month’s money. Now I’m down to $6.04 for the rest of November. Luckily I have two meals a day paid for. I like the bass though.

We went to Drake’s aunt’s house and picked up his cousin, Des. She is cute. We went to movie at the Paramount, an old theater in the downtown part of Idaho Falls that charges like a dollar for a ticket. Des and I sat in the back of Larry’s car and we were holding hands quick. We saw “Nothing in Common”. Des and I sat away from Drake and Larry. We started kissing and some girls behind us giggled. It was great. We went back to Des’ house after finding nothing else to do in Idaho Falls. We sat in her room and talked. Then left. I wanted to go back to see her on Sunday, but didn’t.

11.1.1986 – Chaos

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. Of course, at 38 today, I do not advocate any of the illegal activity discussed here. -Trent

Saturday, November 1 – Monday, November 3, 1986

(38: Readers, this is where things get really crazy. To update you on several factors that came into play on this Halloween weekend, remember that A) Some of the roommates forged one of Charlie’s checks to buy pizza and cokes; B) Tom, Larry, Drake, Ray and I have been making multiple outings to deface and destroy campaign signs throughout southeastern Idaho; C) Tom and Larry, previously best friends who drove out from the east coast together, are now at each other’s throats; D) We, wait…I, have been repeatedly prank calling the guys in #18, saying only the words “urine bomb,” threatening to leave a open-mouthed piss-filled bottle of gatorade leaning on their front door, where it will empty into their apartment the moment they open their door. They are getting very pissed off and respond with profanity-laced tirades and multiple threats of ass-kickings if they find out who is making the calls. E) The six guys who live in #18 are huge, football playing hulks. Got it straight? Here we go…)

On Saturday, the tension between Larry and Tom boiled over and their friendship ended forever in devastating fashion. While Tom was gone, people ate his food, erased his floppy disks, and even took a load of his belongings down to a pawn shop; though the pawn shop refused to take any of his stuff.

After a trip to Idaho Falls I came home to find Tom was moving all his stuff out of Larry’s room and into Charlie’s room. He had had enough of rooming with Larry. Roommate Jeff was taking Tom’s spot in Larry’s room. Charlie wasn’t around to find out that Tom was moving into his room, his third roommate in two months.

We went to a party (Ray and I) at Tina’s. It was cool. When we got back, we all waited for Charlie to come home so we could see his reaction to his new roommate, Tom. He finally came home, went into his room and closed the door. They talked quietly for a long time and then Charlie came out and asked, “Who is going to reimburse me for the check you guys wrote?” Tom had told him everything. The guys all denied it.

It was late. Larry, and Ray and I went out driving and talked. This was really bad. Tom had been out with us on several sign-destroying and graffiti missions. He knew all about our stolen groceries and just about everything else we had done, all of which would certainly get us kicked out of school and in trouble with the cops. Not to mention there were people who would certainly kick our asses if they knew who we were. Since Tom and Larry were now enemies, and Larry was part of our group, Tom would certainly finger us all.

We came back after midnight, woke up Drake, and loaded our huge stolen grocery stash into our cars. We drove out to the sand dunes and buried it in several plastic garbage bags. Early the next morning, we went back, dug it all up, and moved it to a new stash spot. It was an abandoned sugar beet factory in Rigby. To scare people off from stealing it, we spray-painted a bunch of satanic stuff all around our hiding spot.

During all of this, Drake and Ray were freaking out. They were sure that Tom go to the cops, putting us all in some serious trouble. They kept talking about running off to Canada to escape the law. They said they would take Larry’s car and send him back the money. The biggest problem in this plan that I saw was that Larry’s car was a piece of junk and probably wouldn’t even make it there. My car was new, and I had given Drake had a key to my car. It was obvious they would realize this very soon. Once they started talking about running away to Canada, I started parking my car in different parking lots every night so they wouldn’t be able to take it. Sure enough, Drake later told me that they had planned on taking my car.

On Sunday, Ray, Drake, Larry, and I were home, sitting in the front room. Tom was home, but because of the tense situation, he was staying in his room with the door shut. He had been in his room all day. Larry couldn’t stand it. He wanted to throw a rock at the beehive. He got his camera, went into Tom’s room and snapped a picture of him and then came running out. Tom chased right after him and they started to fight. It was a furious, physical fight right in the kitchen and we all just sat there, stunned and watching these two former friends battle it out.

It’s hard to say who won, as it was pretty vicious on both of them. Tom got in some good licks and backed off when he realized that there were three other guys watching who were siding with Larry.

After the fight, I drove over to my aunt’s house for dinner, elk-steak. It was really good and I enjoyed the time at their house with their family. It is such a peaceful home. Little did I know that that hour and a half at my aunt’s would be the only peaceful moment I would have for a while. Things were completely spiraling out of control.

I came home to find out that Larry had been taken to the hospital for his wounds from the fight. Tom had vanished. Drake and Ray were also unaccounted for. Charlie said he thought that Drake and Ray had gone after Tom and “hurt him.” Larry was home now, with a seriously bruised hip. He was on codeine and really mellow. Things were falling apart all around us. Our apartment was in complete chaos. The once-mellow Charlie installed a lock on his door.

Tom never came back to #20. They moved him out of our apartment. And guess where he ended up? He’s now moved in with the jocks I’ve been prank-calling over in apartment #18. This can’t be good for me. How long before he tells them who their tormentor is? How long before he spills the beans on all of our other activities?

On Monday, Charlie went down to the bank and reported the forged check. Things in the apartment weren’t normal after this weekend. They never will be. I’m writing this nine days later and I haven’t been to any of my classes since that weekend. I’m so confused about everything. More events follow…

10.26.1986

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. Of course, at 38 today, I do not advocate any of the illegal activity discussed here. -Trent

Sunday, October 26:

Today we had to go back to Idaho. A seventeen hour drive. Mom told me to call her when we’d made it so she’d know we were safe. We picked up Ted and started driving. At the Benecia toll bridge, we gave the attendant 40 pennies (the correct amount for the toll) and drove away quickly as if we were short-changing him. His response: “Hey! HEY!!!” We kept going.

We stopped at the Nut Tree (a mistake, wasting precious time).

We stopped at Circus Circus in Reno and played Gauntlet for two hours (a terrible mistake).

Drake got a ticket in the middle of Nevada and the highway patrol acted too suspiciously about it. They were screwing us over.

We stopped for dinner at the Red Lion in Elko.

We got to Ted’s at 1am, mainly on the adrenaline gained from listening to Metallica’s “Master of Puppets.” It was horrible. We still had five hours of driving to go, and I had a class at 8am.

I called home and told Mom that we were back safely (we weren’t, but I didn’t want her to worry).

Drake drove the rest of the way while I slept but he took a wrong turn that cost us another hour. We were home at 7am, Monday, just in time for me to go to class. Instead, I went to sleep until 12:30 or so, missing four classes!

The whole drive I wondered why I was going back. I knew I had to, and couldn’t have stayed if I had wanted to, but my heart ached at the prospect of not seeing Naomi. I’m writing this Tuesday night, and the aching hasn’t stopped.

And worse, Mom was worried sick when I called early to tell her we were home. We would have had to drive 100mph to make it home when I called, so that was a big screw-up. By trying to have her not worry, I made her terrified.

10.20.1986 – Letter

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. Of course, at 38 today, I do not advocate any of the illegal activity discussed here. -Trent

Got a letter from L. She wrote some things she remembered. Thought it was interesting. Here it is:

Read each one of these… before you read the next one think about the one you just read for a minute:

– remember when we used to ride double all around on your board?

– remember your first flannel? Remember how, much later, I ripped it to shreds while we were talking?

– remember your smart pep talks to me that always helped me realize what I needed to realize?

– remember my Arnold Schwarzenegger haircut?

– remember your green phlegm shirt? the cemetery, the watertower? fair? Great America? egging? vegetabling? potatoing?

– remember skating at school, at the bank, at the pipe, and skate tag?

– remember our great stimulating and fun conversations before we started worrying about ‘what is a relationship’ and ‘how close we should be and what should we be doing’ and just worrying?

– remember when you used to want to be a forest ranger and when you used to want to join the Marines?

– remember how stupidly upset I used to get at the idea of you joining the Marines or getting a mohawk? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything to you by now but I wish I could apologize for being so stupid and not accepting all of you like I should have.

– remember your tablecloth shirt?

– I remember when I came home that first nite and I had had so much fun I was disoriented and I put my dishes in the garbage and was tripping and putting the milk in the freezer, etc.

– remember seeing my therapist?

– remember when you were bald and I used to slap you on the head?

-remember our first kiss? Joni said you kiss different than any other guy she’s ever kissed and I think so too but the funny thing is I like it the best. I have never hardly been able to stand anyone else!

10.10.1986

Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.

These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. Of course, at 38 today, I do not advocate any of the illegal activity discussed here. -Trent

Friday, October 10, 1986

Today was President Christianson’s innauguration. All classes after noon were canceled. Obviously, my last class was at 11:00. I went sleepily to Composition and then came back to #20. I missed Psychology though. Newswriting was uneventful, but Erin told me about the “water bottle leaning on the door” trick. Of course, water is a little plain. I’m thinking we need to fill the bottle with something a little more extreme. So during our D&D sessions, eating pizza and guzzling cokes and mountain dew, we’ve been “filling” a Gatorade bottle. Look out, R.A.
I ate a quick lunch and came back to #20. We played D&D until 5:30. Then I went up to eat after dropping Ray and Tom off at “Vid-wich”. You know, you couldn’t make up some of the names of the small businesses here that try to cater to the college kids here. Der Pizza Bomb is another one. It’s only a matter of time before they’re out of business.
When I went back to pick up Ray and Tom, they weren’t there. I went to look at Adventureland, the arcade we’re always hanging out at. They weren’t there either. I played a few games of “Jailbreak” and “Pack Rat” and came back to #20. It was cloudy and windy today.
Ray’s apartment was going to have a video party but no one came so after watching the “A-Team”, we played D&D again. I took a break halfway through and got a pizza at “Circle K.” Then I went back to DM’ing the Temple of Elemental Evil. At about 12am we heard a whole bunch of sirens going. We followed a cop out to the bark factory but didn’t see anything good. Then we played D&D until about 2am.