I've sometimes thought that I'd have liked to be
normal. To do what "normal" people do. I have
thought I'd like to be dead too. But the truth is, I
have no desire what so ever to be either!
So this is where it all began; with me
lying on the sidewalk in a cardboard condo. Just barely well
enough on my little piece of Mexican tar heroin that
I'd hustled for the day to keep the chill of the San
Francisco air from taking my last bit of will away. So far
down that I can't even lie to myself anymore.
Slowly, after having no escape, the fog began to lift.
All was revealed in horrifying detail. A shiny, scantly veiled piece
of sh*t. It was like a mad bear bursting from the woods at
me. Like I was suddenly looking at someone Else's
life and I had just stepped into it. The fact is, I've
been f**k up every since that moment.
Things happened to me that I just never knew how to adjust to.
So I guess I had just assumed that I had dealt with it, it had
no effect on me, and that was that!
I suppose it was the ultimate denial. I was truly at
the bottom of my threshold of humanity, and there was no more
self defense's of any kind left in me, all of my switches had gone
I lye there, and there, and there, and I was forced to watch this
epic movie of this miserable wretch dodging and darting and
morphing, trying to escape the reality that had him trapped.
He was beaten before he even got started. It was my legacy
you see. A long line of blind lemons. trapped in a vortex of
filthy slime that just wouldn't wash off. Even when
they'd thought they'd escaped it, it would always
show up again.
Anything if soaked in flavoring for a long enough time
will retain some of that flavor. On the other hand, you only
have to taste sh*t for one brief moment and you'll never forget it!
Being a forty year old man and suddenly realizing just what you are,
for the first time in your life. It was like I was dropped out
of the womb and straight into this middle aged man's body and his
I think I was in some kind of dazed state all of my life.
Like a super slow motion awakening from a lucid dream.
Sometimes it was like I was an actor bound by a script.
I remember once when I was in my early
twenties, I was lying on my bed keeping a watchful eye on
the alarm clock. It had gone off already some twenty minutes
earlier, and I was about five minutes from not being able to
make it to work on time. I both liked and needed the job,
but I just laid there. Oh man, if I get up now I can be
just ten minutes late...if I get up now I'll just be
thirty minutes late...Well, it looks like I just lost
I myself have no idea why I didn't get up and go. I have worked
at some of the hardest labor jobs there are; cement foundry, furniture
mover, hod carrier, so it's wasn't laziness.
It was like I was just a bystander to my own actions and
Lying there with the rest of the trash in my sameness of addiction,
I had to face it! Through sharing of history's with others of my sameness,
I had to see that all of those things of mental, moral, and physical
abuse's, did both happen to me, and effect me. These
things affected and infected my every decision, emotion, and
moral philosophy; or lack of. They have left me with a
fractured identity. There seemed to be only three choices
left; make a last desperate attempt at repairing and
rebuilding this pathetic disgusting jigsaw of a man,
continuing on until I died, or just go ahead and die. Well
I'm writing this so....this part of my last effort at
being at least a piece of what I'd always tried to
convince myself that I was. It's not easy to polish a
turd. I just keep rubbin, and it just keeps stinkin.
"sure I could fall in love again, but there just aren't any decent whores around here"