State of Love and Distrust

May-June 1992: The Repercussions

The descent down from the Hills felt like a descent down into Hell. Little by little, the white Tudor mansion disappeared into the foliage, and the long winding roads of Laurel Canyon merged into the flat streets of Hollywood, then Silverlake, Echo Park, and on to Westlake.

After Kim drove Dianne and me to the bottom of the hills, Carl was waiting for us. We had to drop back by his place to pick up our belongings and clean up the grime and rockstar essence from the night before. Dianne and I prepared in silence, not sure of what was going to happen next. When I took off my "sexy" attire, I felt as if I was shedding a snakeskin. I put my good girl clothes back on, returning back to my usual self. At that moment, I felt extreme sadness. For less than 24 hours, I was a Cool Chick, but I had to let that girl go.

Carl attempted to lighten the mood but gave up once he realized that my anxiety was through the roof.

"Hey ladies, everything will work itself out," he said. "You were taking a chance and living in the moment, and that's actually pretty rad."

I knew he was right, but all I could think about was the NOW. Due to what I had done, I didn't know if I would be able to live to tell the tales of my exploits.

Before we left, I deposited all my items into a small backpack—my outfit, my red thong, the weed, Demri's massive bagel offering, and last but not least, the ticket stubs. Sadly, my beeper was long gone, probably swept up in a pool cleaning.

Now what? Dianne and I formulated a plan for the concert, but we really didn't think about how to cover ourselves for the aftermath, especially since we didn't anticipate going to a party afterward. At that point, I realized, there would be nothing I could lie about or explain away. Once I came face to face with my parents, I knew I was in for a world of trouble.

LATER

"What the fuck is this world?..."

Underneath a red glow, Eddie, seemingly constrained by his little black stool, maneuvered into a swimming position and started flailing his arms and legs. Meanwhile, still slapping his bass, Jeff stood on top of Dave's drum kit and danced along to the feverish notes. Occasionally, he tapped his guitar head on the cymbals with a bright smile on his face. Dave smiled right back.

After a few seconds of his erratic moves, Eddie stood up on the stool, and bent over, attempting to not lose his balance. Out of nowhere, he pulled out a Sharpie marker while his back was turned away from the camera. As the rest of the band continued to play, Eddie scribbled fervently on his skin, and when he was finished, the camera zoomed in on his slender arm. After that, Eddie stood back up proudly on the stool. In bold black letters, Eddie had written a simple but defiant phrase:

PRO - CHOICE !!!

"That Jeremy Vedder!" Mom wailed. "Look at him! Leading all the kids astray! A horrible kid! Horrible. It's a wonder people can understand him. He talks like he has marbles in his mouth!"

Unfortunately... Eddie's antics were all over the news that day, and it sparked heated debates across the country. As Mom's old people news channel replayed the scandalous moment of Pearl Jam's Unplugged performance, my stomach dropped. Apparently, it had aired while I was out and about the previous night. The timing couldn't have been worse.

The contents of my bag were spilled all over the living room floor, and both Mom and Mr. Hernandez were standing up, eyeing the TV in rage. Mom held my tiny pink thong between her thumb and index finger as if it was a radioactive artifact. I sat in the center of the couch, with my hands folded in my lap. Once again, as I felt the waves of my parents' anger, the Virgin Mary gazed into the distance on her tapestry, as if to say, "What you DID is none of my business..."