And Hate Camp was a pretty eclectic bunch of people. Street people, artists, writers, painters, musicians, philosophers, druggies, complete lunatics, college students, high school kids, teenage runaways, gangbangers, blacks, whites, latinos, young, old. . . Just about anybody and everybody would drift into the stew.
Hate Camp was sort of part street party, part art happening. It was a salon, basically. This non-stop conversation that went on for decades. And the talk ran the gamut from the latest gossip of the day, to debating the great philosophical and spiritual issues of humanity. Hate Man primarily saw himself as a philosopher. A self-styled street guru. And a therapist. He dubbed his philosophy “Oppositionality.” As therapy it was part Primal Scream, and part Gestalt Therapy. Involving endless arguments and confrontations and screaming back and forth about any and every disagreement. Until the disagreements were either resolved, or considered “at an impasse.” At which point we’d revert back to talking about the gossip of the day.
Over the years, there was always a “second in command” at Hate Camp. A series of different “Hate Boys” as they were called. Who emulated Hate Man’s philosophy and lifestyle. Often exactly. And acted as sort of Sancho Panchez to Hate Man’s Don Quixote.