Once upon a time I lived undercover for an independent ethnographer in a squat on the outskirts of London for two months with a bunch of hippies (actual hippies who were self-sufficient, growing their own food, dumpster diving, guided group meditation, "you're so unplugged dude", hairy armpits and hairy legs on the 8/10s, pungent body odour, no electricity or technology, dmt every other day, weekly outdoor raves, etc). I was fascinated about the fact that I did not sympathise with their worldviews at all. I adopted their lifestyle. I tried to adopt their language. I was just so unplugged, dude. But it was actually around this time I decided I wanted to run my own business and become a ruthless capitalist further down the line. Naturally, about two weeks in, they did not really take me "seriously" as one would call it. They were suspicious of my motives, why I was there, how I showed up out of nowhere with no vouch. But hippies are fucking hippies, so they let me stay.
One night, after somehow hitch hiking it back to the outskirts of the city after an outdoor rave held north of the city, I lost the group. I thought to myself that it was my chance to quickly go home for one night and finally have a warm bath, a nice meal, a pleasant sleep. I finally made it home by train and it was good.
The next morning, I went on Zoklet. I hadn't posted in weeks, so I wanted to catch up and see what was going on. Toothlessjoe was still trying to become a mod. Something about Raptor Ribs pretending to live with Silverfuck. 3 unread PMs from Vizier. And then I saw it. In the religion and spirituality subforum. A post from Obbe. Seemingly trivial, ignored even. I don't remember what it said. I just remember that it was by Obbe - and I remember how it made me feel.
I dressed back up in my dirty, shitty, hippie clothes, made sure not to trim my fucked up beard, messed my hair up with cheap, shitty clay, resisted the urge to put on any sort of antiperspirant and made my way back to the squat, Obbe's words still lingering in the back of my head. Who was this guy, really? Why did he seem to get me and my situation right now? Nah, nah, fuck this guy, I thought to myself. Just fuck off.
I went back to the squat and everybody greeted me, asking me what happened, where I went, where I stayed. I shrugged my shoulders, mumbled something about tripping too hard and falling asleep in the woods somewhere before making my way here. Nobody really cared, they just nodded half-heartedly and resumed what they were doing. And then Obbe's post came to the forefront of my consciousness. And I said his words. It was a one-liner post, easy to memorise. And I said his words triumphantly.
Suddenly, the entire group began to smile at me, a few even standing up to hug me emphatically, one of them slapping my back hard like I finally "got it", like I was finally part of the group. One or two even cheered. One of the girls made me a daisy chain and one guy gave me extra mashed potatoes later that evening. My active participant observation (the most valid aspect of ethnography) was now fully integrated with the subjects.
Needless to say, I was paid very well by my employer after I wrote my 10,000 word report on how this off-the-grid, eco-friendly community lived. I had several eye-opening experiences. I did many high quality drugs (for free). I made friends. I got laid (smelly). But none of this would have happened without Obbe's insight into the human condition. So I want to take this time to thank you, Obbe, for your contribution to my life. May your soul live on for eternity.
