Night of JOLT!

I saw this picture this picture online of this can of Jolt and remembered the only time that I recall drinking it. It wasn't all that great as far as taste went, and I don't really remember felling all that "jacked" as I was already a fairly high strung person at the time as it was. Anyway, here's the story:
It was mid-1987 and I was very hostile, angry and punk as fuck! I had moved out of

my parents house in late spring into a one bedroom apartment at the invitation of a friend I'd known since we were kids. I had no job, no source of income and pretty much no clue about how life worked, but naturally, like most guys at that age, I thought I had it all figured out and I knew it all. After I moved in, a couple other friends moved in as well. I took over the bedroom closet which functioned as my room, and we had our own little party pad going! For about three months anyway before we all got tossed out on our asses... 
Anyway, I was far to stubborn and prideful to go crawling back home to my parents house so I decided I'd just "live on the streets" or where ever I ended up, which worked out half the time, since I didn't have much as far as possessions, blankets and some clothes and a few things I could stash here and there or at friends houses. Other than that, I'd just party every night somewhere and usually just crash where ever that was or go home with someone and crash and their house, and if nothing panned out from that, it was still warm enough to where I'd find a rooftop, a doorway or side of a building to crash for the night. I tried a laundry room at a nearby big chain motel but got chased out by a manager. 
It was during this time that I experienced my first vicious hangover of my adult life, which fortunately I was able to sleep it off for a couple days at a friends house, after which I decided to cut alcohol out of my life and just stick to drugs. Understand, drugs for me back then consisted of mostly weed, it was very rare that I imbibed in anything else. 

Anyway, one night I found myself feeling in an especially foul mood. I was dealing with a lot of anger issues back then, and on this night I was particularly on edge. Back then my hair was cropped about a quarter on an inch all the way around with about 3 or 4 uneven clumps about an inch long in random spots. I sported a pair of beat up combat boots, cuffed jeans, a trashy denim jacket and I carried a crow bar in inside pocket of it. So that night, like I mentioned, I was in "a mood" and I had turned down an offer to crash in an empty camper shell in my friends yard, so he kicked me down five bucks. I walked over to the Circle K over at Lomas & Eubank and bought myself a six pack of Jolt Cola and then wandered over and sat on the curb at Hotel Circle just south of Lomas Blvd and drank one can after the other while glaring at the passing traffic. Today, that whole area is totally developed, all kinda of stores and restaurants, in fact, where I was sitting that night, there's a mortuary now, but back then it was just mostly vacant lots and land, and people used to park their used cars along that stretch of Lomas Blvd that they were trying to sell. So I finished about 4 of those cans of Jolt and proceeded to take my crowbar and pretty much make every car sitting on that lot "not fit for purchase". I smashed out every headlight, almost all of the passenger windows, tail lights and anything else I could destroy. I wasn't exactly quiet either. I'm truly amazed I didn't get caught or attract any sort of attention considering there's houses just right across Lomas. Afterwards, I wandered over to nearby Tomasita Elementary School and hid in these tunnel things that they had on the playground and watched the police cars patrol and spotlight the area for a bit before they moved on. I was totally calm and fearless while all this was going on. After a little while, I came out of the tunnel things and walked back toward the mess I made and then passed on by then headed to the rooftop where I sometimes slept where my blankets and other stuff were stashed and crashed for the night. I still had my other two cans of Jolts too!

Rants and Takes On Mortality

I've heard all the typical cliches and other bullshit spewing out of the mouths of friends and others that I thought were friends and just people that it turned out that I didn't really give a flying fuck about after all. Anyway, one of the cliches I'm speaking of for example is this typical tough guy/gal wannabe classic, "I thought I'd be dead before 25", which is a fucking joke considering, if memory serves me correctly (and I have an amazing memory), most of these turkeys did not grow up in squalor or the kind of American neighborhoods that would be comparable to say, the Gaza Strip, which would justify their claims. No, almost all of them came from more or less, the same type of middle to upper-middle class American households of various dysfunction and income. And we all pretty much did the typical teenage "experimentation" to varying degrees as well.

I personally, have never made such an absurd statement, as I came from a pretty straight up, middle class background. Truth is, I just never thought that far ahead, back then. The thought of thinking much past the next week or so would kinda freak me out, so I avoided it altogether, and this was all through my adolescence. 

As I entered my twenties, I was living the whole "rock 'n roll life style" and had gained a pretty self-destructive and nihilistic approach to how I went about my day to day way of life. I didn't really give a shit about tomorrow or the next day or the next year for that matter. For all my bullshit and arrogance, I pretty much lived in the moment and couldn't be bothered with such silly concerns about dying, even though as I started getting deeper into drugs and other shadier endeavors, looking back, yes, I can see now, literally hundreds of times how easily that (ugh!) "coulda been me", but it wasn't, so who fucking cares.

Truth be told, I'm not all that worried about or afraid of dying. It's not for any spiritual bullshit, like I have "nothing to fear because I know where I'm going" kind of rhetoric, because I happen to be one of "the faithless", but I'm not an asshole about it either. I mean if someone's religious beliefs are comforting and it's working for them, and they're not hurting or oppressing others with their beliefs, then fucking awesome, that's great, more power to them! It's those pushy fuck nuggets that irritate the piss out of me, but I'm not gonna go on a big rant about that either because there's really not much, if anything, that I can say about the subject that hasn't been said before, if not better and more articulate, so I'll leave it at that and hope that anyone who may actually read this gets the idea.

I suppose in a way, it's a little bit strange to me when I meet younger people in their late teens and into their twenties who have never known anyone other than an elderly relative that's died. I recall starting to attend rosaries and funerals at a very young age, as well as my first real peer being killed by a drunk when he was only fourteen, and from that point on I became, for the most part, desensitized to it as there more or less seemed to always be a steady number of people around my age or younger that would die from one thing or another . Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I would assume being some gangbanger living in South Central LA (for example)seeing my "homeboys" gunned down every week either, but I would guess that the number for me personally, might be higher than any of my immediate family members combined as far as peers go. (For the record, I don't mean come off sounding like I'm bragging or like I'm some kinda "hardcase" either...) 
A lot of the people I kept company with in the 1990's were like me, the hard drinking and drugging, high risk types prone to trouble and "drama". But in those early days of my youth, there were things like illnesses, accidents, the occasional homicide/suicide and freak occurrence. It was later on in my late twenties and into my thirties when the bodies really started to pile up and it got to the point where I stopped going to to funerals and wakes and all that cause they were depressing and I was sick of going to them, as selfish as it sounds, I didn't care who it was at that point anymore.

Back in 2005, I believe it was, I met and hung out for a couple hours with Bob Noxious at a show in Santa Cruz, CA. In the early 1980's, Bob and his band, The Fuck Ups were one of, if not the most notorious bands in the San Francisco hardcore punk scene, and one of the most despised among some of their more "politically correct" detractors. I was completely sober at the time, and Bob wasn't drinking either, but I had asked him a few questions about the early punk days back in SF (I was really excited to meet Bob as I had been a huge fan of The Fuck Ups for years. Bob was genuinely flattered and really surprised when I mentioned that I had some live bootleg recordings from his early days. I offered to make him copies and we exchanged phone numbers but he never returned my calls) One of the questions I had asked was what what he ended up doing after The Fuck Ups disbanded, and he replied that he had taken off to Oregon and had been living practically in isolation in the woods for a few years, and when I asked why, he said, "Cause everybody started dying, man... It was fucking depressing". 
Bob passed away on Christmas Eve of 2008 of liver failure. Looking back on that night, I recall that he had a whole bunch of joints in the front pocket of his shirt that he was smoking pretty much one after the other, so I'm guessing he was in pretty bad shape even back then.
I guess I bring up that meeting and interaction, because I can relate in my own way with Bob's sentiments on the subject

The one thing above all else that I cannot stand when people die is the living! It's truly astonishing, low and pathetic how so many people turn someones passing into an excuse or opportunity for attention, undeserved sympathy or some other form of narcissistic bullshit. I don't know how many times I've seen someone post on their social networking page after someone dies some sort of  psychotic, melodramatic spew or a "RIP [insert name]"  post followed by some shallow rambling, after which they receive sometimes dozens of "sorry for your loss, call me if you need anything" type responses and then have the nerve to thank these people like they were actually blood-related and actually sitting around bawling... And what chaps me about it is knowing that these shallow, self-absorbed fucks were really nothing more than casually acquainted with the deceased, and in reality were maybe on a "hello" basis with them at shows, or the occasional party, not like they shared a genuine or sincere friendship that justifies those kind of posts. I just find it to be rather tacky and in bad taste. (I'm well aware that I'm not exactly the "poster child" for decorum and good taste, but even I know there some things that should be recognized)
I believe the proper decorum, unless you were close friends that spent actual real quality time together on a regular basis, is to post on the page of the deceased something like a, "RIP, deepest condolences to the family" or something along those lines. I recall the last person I knew that passed (as of this present time) was about five months ago, a guy that I wasn't extremely close with, but we were friends and were former coworkers at a local music venue. Anyway, he OD'ed on heroin in late June, and I learned of it via Facebook from a post by a mutual "friend" who's a known drama queen that I preferred to keep at arms length back then and sure as fuck want nothing to do with now. Anyway, my friend OD'ed up in Denver, and this guy that posted was laying out the drama, with shit like "Fuck Heroin" & "Denver, what have you done to my friend!!!"... Fucking loser. Dude didn't even show up to the memorial. People suck.

I'm not even gonna get into the drama and chaos, not to mention the legalities and all that regarding families, estates and wills, that's a whole other complicated mess better left to the "experts" and those paid and qualified to deal with things of that nature.

So if I you were to ask me how many people have I known that have died? Honestly? I really don't know for sure. It's not like I've ever kept a tally or anything, but there's been quite a lot, that, I can definitely say for sure, and it doesn't seem to end. Not that I expect it to either. I've pretty much accepted death as a part of life without any morbid or silly inclinations toward it. Sure, I find it fascinating just like most people, I enjoy cemeteries, I like looking at dead bodies, I respect human life, although I have certain attitudes toward certain humans and their behaviors but I don't wanna get carried away on a mega-tangent here. I'm well aware that there's a lot of horrible things that happen on a daily basis in this world, but there's a lot of beauty and wonderful things that happen too. I know for some, they're just born to fall by the wayside and fall into the muck, it's unfortunate, but for most of us, it's all about choices and what we decide to do with it these moments. And yes, I'm sure there's motherfuckers that may read this and want to attack me just for saying what I just said, but you know what? They can eat a dick. They have a choices too. Do or Die! 

The Controversial Cover Pic

"One thing to remember kids… Don’t ever mistake me for a role model, as I’ll likely just end up disappointing you, not to mention, I really don’t want the responsibility of such an endeavor" 

                                                                                                                              Myself 2014                       

I used this photo as the cover pic on my Facebook page about six months ago and some people lost their shit! This was back when I still had my original page, the one with close to 900 "friends", that I deleted a few months ago (as of this current time frame). I don't mean everybody, though, a majority of folks that normally "liked" and commented (Back then it was normal for me to receive several dozen)on my pictures and posts didn't touch this one, which at the time was the first indication that I had "struck a nerve" so-to-speak. Back then, I didn't really post a whole hell of a lot because it had kinda gotten to the point with Facebook, when you have that many number "friends" on your FB page, you pretty much have to keep any opinions or beliefs you may hold to yourself unless your willing to open up a can of worms and release a shit storm  of debate and back and forth rhetoric with a bunch of "know-it-all", opinionated,  arm chair activist , smug idiots, who unfortunately, seemed to make up a majority of my Facebook "friends", and I was finding that with each passing day, that I was outright loathing most of them and that very soon, I was going to have to make a drastic change on both Facebook and in my personal life, aka, the "real world".

First I wanna start of by mentioning that I did get a number of “likes” and a few comments from people with a sense of appreciation for my rather dark and morbid sense of humor and "style" for lack of a better way to put it, for the way I chose to "decorate" my personal Facebook page. Maybe it's obnoxious, shocking and tasteless, but so fucking what? You don't like it, don't look at it, You don't like my posts? Feel free to click the "Unfollow" or "Unfriend" button. Problem solved. (believe me, at that point in time, I was beyond giving a shit) But don't come at me lecturing me with your self-righteous bullshit, ESPECIALLY when you know that you have blood on your hands as they say, and you better make damn sure that I don't have dirt on you before you fucking try to attack me...

For example, one of the first to chime in on the "lecture circuit" was Judy, who I go way back with. I've known her since my early punk days, circa 1988, she was a white power skin chick back then, but there was only a few "boneheads" around ABQ back then and they were a bunch of pussy chumps, no biggie. Anyway, she was good friends with Kristin who was the girlfriend of my really good friend Carlos Yambao, of Filipino descent. Judy's boyfriend was this nazi loser named Jeff, so as you can guess, it made for some odd company at times back then...  Anyway, Carlos and Kristin married in the early 90's had a few kids together and divorced at some point, I had moved to California then, and don't know the complete details of all that. Anyway, they'd been apart for a few years, and Carlos was living with a girlfriend and I guess was pretty strung out and OD'd in May of 2001, on cocaine if I heard correctly. SO in this age of social networking, I'd become reacquainted with both Judy and Kristin, on friendly terms with both, however, one of Kristin and Carlos's daughters is a total junkie trainwreck and Kristin and Judy have a tendency to both be rather "outspoken" when it comes to heroin and drugs. Judy really doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about, as she's got little to no experience with drugs and has run off to live in the sticks with her current hubby cause she's terrified of the "big bad scary city". Whatever. Anyway, what really bother's me is how they're both quick to use Carlos as their "poster child" in their anti-heroin crusade where they're pointing their fingers and casting blame on everyone that was supposedly around back when he died. It's both pathetic and absurd, particularly with Judy as claims he was one of her "best friends" which is a complete crock of shit, it's nothing more than a ploy for sympathy and attention. There's no fucking way Carlos would have considered her one of his best friends. I could have easily exposed her and called her on her bullshit (still can), however, at my age and where I'm at now, I've learned the concept of "choosing my battles". Carlos has been dead thirteen years now, and really it wouldn't be in my best interest to do so. But I could... Anyway, as I said, Judy was the first to chime in... I ignored her, plus a couple of comments that dug the pic overrode her self-righteous babble and she never spoke up again.

Then there was Pete, a former gutter level hardcore, shit in your pants streetwise fucking junkie, whose pretty much seen and experienced every dark crevice of junkie hell one could imagine. I actually have a lot of respect for Pete, so I won't harsh too bad on him, I was just a bit surprised, cause I could tell the pic kinda bothered him and he was holding back what was really on his mind. Pete's a good guy and a great success story as far as where he's come from and where he's at now. Still a shithead, but I say that with respect and a smile.

Next was Jamye, the who had replaced Alice as the female vocalist in my band, A.P.D. That one was a real piece of work. Jamye is also a former junkie, supposedly clean four years, (I found out later that she'd been "chasing the dragon" with her ex-bf Phenochs around the time she came at me with her commentary) She's extremely insecure, has zero sense of irony or sense of humor and can't really function unless she's got some sort of intoxicant in her system. She's supposed to be on legally prescribed meds to deal with her emotional and mental issues but refuses to take them due to said insecurities and has literally every kind of psychological issue that a female is known to have. Anyway, she left a comment babbling some bullshit about me always "trying to be shocking" or some horseshit" and then about ten minutes later I receive a rather nasty message from some military guy telling me off about how fucked that photo is and how fucked up of a person I am for posting it and how his buddy in the military recently OD'd on that shit, and that people like me deserve to blah blah blah..... I looked at his page, and yep... mutual friends with that little cunt, Jamye....go figure.  Anyway, I ended up responding to the military guy rather viciously myself, and I assume setting him straight, as I never heard back from the prick.  

Seriously though, fuck that guy and his buddy! I've been clean fifteen years now! It's just a fucking picture, and posting it is not gonna turn someone into a heroin addict or cause someone to run out and OD. Reality is reality, and if someone goes out and accidently, or even purposely kills themself on that shit, that's on them, not me. Our decisions are our own. I made the conscious decision twenty around years ago to start and the barely-conscious decision fifteen years ago to stop. Probably one of my smarter choices in life, cause believe me, I've made a lot of bad ones.
...and like anyone's prowling around my Facebook page anyway, hahaha!

Musical Crisis

I admit, I don't look all that favorably these days on music based "scenes" i.e. the "punk"; "goth" ;"rockabilly";"metal" scenes in particular even though I spent nearly three decades of my life involved in the punk scene with close ties to the goth scene in Albuquerque and the Bay Area with connections all over the country and a few overseas as well. I've played in a few bands over the years, but the most accomplished one was the most recent that I was a part of here in Albuquerque called, A.P.D. It was a male/female vocal fronted hardcore punk band, in which I played guitar and did the male vocals. We never recorded a proper record or CD but there's some decent free downloadable tracks available on the bands reverbnation page. The band's currently on "indefinite hiatus" but will likely never perform again. And thing is... I don't even care. I guess stranger things have happened though.

I really and truly hate to admit this, but I feel like I have to. It seems that lately, I seem to have a really a hard time enjoying music. This is gonna be very difficult to articulate, I can already tell, but these days when the subject is brought up as a topic of conversation, I find myself literally cringing and almost loathing the participants in said topic. It's not that I dislike or hate music, it's more like it's just not exciting, interesting or even fun anymore. In other words, it's gotten so fucking boring to me. It seems that no matter what the genre, it doesn't matter if it's rock, metal, electronica, rap/hip hop, country, industrial, whatever, etc, etc... it's all been done, before and then it's been recycled, crossed-over, cross-bred, infused with this and/or that and created into a sub-genre of this and/or that and you got something-core this and/or that...it get's really fucking hard to keep up with and ya know what? It's still boring, generic and to pit it simply, it sucks. I almost get a fucking headache just thinking about it...

I know, one could come at me, and attack me for these words in so many directions, and not only am I okay with that, I feel completely comfortable with my stance on it, as well and totally prepared to back up my words and opinions as well if need be. I also know that in everyone's defense, it's extremely difficult to be original and I can't really fault anyone for it. However, I'm not so sure that's the real issue in this case. I think it might be something bigger than all of us... 

Back in the 1970's when punk happened, those that were a part of that claimed it was a reaction or response to what was going on with music at the time, what with the big decadent arena rock shit of the sixties and early seventies dominating everything, and disco ruling the airwaves, I suppose I can see how something new like punk would be a breath of fresh air, or a slap in the face and a shock to the status quo. Makes complete sense when you really think about it.
Me personally, I was six or seven years old I think when punk first came out, much too young to participate in something like that, not to mention I was living in Albuquerque, NM so yeah...

Anyway, fast forward to the decade of the 2010's. Some of those old bands are still around, sure, but thing is, some of what was punk, evolved into "hardcore", some became, "goth" or "post-punk" which is rather loosely defined, others evolved and became mainstream and a lot just faded into obscurity. 
The post punk thing that birthed goth created some truly remarkable and amazing artists and bands from it's era, and the thing that sets them, and will always set them apart from the "goth" bands that came after them is those bands (Bauhaus; Sisters Of Mercy; Siouxsie & The Banshees;etc) weren't trying to be "goth", they were just musicians that came out of the original punk scene that were just trying to make a new and different style of music and managed to get the "goth" label slapped on them. Since then, there's been a "goth" genre of music with bands trying to sound "goth" and I cannot think of one since the early 80's that has achieved that kinda level of respectability in that sense. Sure one can argue Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails, but to me those two acts are the what Green Day and Blink 182 are to punk. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid if you don't understand that point then you never will. 

Even though I may have been born too late to catch The Ramones at CBGB's, I was still a teenager in the 1980's and a twenty-something throughout the 1990's so I got to see a lot of great shows and bands. For example, as far as punk, the first time I saw Social Distortion it was only $8, nowadays it's a $45 dollar ticket. I got to see the Descendents in 1987 at a local all ages venue that was attended by primarily the ABQ punk scene (friends and peers) with local support bands. Nowadays, the only way you're gonna see The Descendents is in a festival type environment surrounded by tens of thousands of strangers in the hot sun, for an outrageous ticket price and having to weed through a bunch of other shitty bands while waiting to see them, and paying $4 for a fucking bottle of water. I hear you can shell out an extra $10-20 for a "VIP Pass" which if I understand correctly, means you can hang out in the shade and get served alcohol. Yeah, that's real "punk rock"! It's not just The Descendents and Social D. either it's a lot of those old bands, they still sound great live, but for me, I've pretty much seen everyone I've realistically wanted to see, and I've gotten to see them when they were young and full of zeal, in smaller venues for cheaper prices surrounded by mostly friends and like minded people. 
This newer generation and younger batch of fans really has no idea. What really gets me, is you can't mention any of this to them because they get mad and act like you're lying or laugh it off like you're just some "old stick in the mud" that doesn't know how or like to have fun, but hey, I'm not the stick in the mud that's paying $50-$70 a ticket to see bands that are even older than me! Even more so if you're into attending those lame-ass festivals! What bugs me the most is when the younger generation tries to take credit for inventing this shit too, but I admit, it's funny watching them get their panties in a wad when evidence is shown to them otherwise. 

I guess these days I just don't really see or hear anything really new that can possibly stir anything in me and make me excited when it comes to music. Admittedly the last time that happened, as far as something truly "new" for me, was when Eminem first came out to be completely honest. At that time, I didn't even like rap, and the irony of that, was the person that turned me on to his music was my friend Lizard, who was this pretty goth chick! Go figure... Anyway, I thought that was some of the most creative, original, not to mention funniest, music I'd heard in a long time! I couldn't get enough of it. I enjoyed his follow up LP just as much too, after that, I lost interest though. 
It was kinda cool at the time though to have something different and new in my musical repertoire, I was so used to listening to mostly mostly hardcore punk and goth, I guess I had all but forgotten there was a whole world of music out there to explore which actually inspired me to check out what was out there when it came to rap and hip hop and I actually found some stuff that I actually really liked (There's also a lot of narcissistic, posturing bullshit out there too though). It also reminded me there was other stuff out there that I used to love as well, which since then I've reacquainted myself with, and in the process I discovered some really rare, "old timey" gems, particularly the kinda stuff that's become more and more obscure with each passing year. Actually, that's the stuff I still find pleasing, unfortunately, there seems to be very few that know who or what the fuck I'm talking about whenever it's brought up.

Briefly, I'm gonna touch on a few genres and scenes that I simply just do not like and I don't give a flying fuck what kind of argument or selling point you come at me with when it comes to them. 
With VERY few exceptions, I don't like metal. I'm cool with metalheads for the most part, but the music, post-1987-88 pretty much sucks. I love Slayer, Venom, Metallica back when they were circa early mid 80's but don't acknowledge them much past that. Basically I got bored with metal around '85 and pretty much stopped listening to it completely after '86
I cannot stand rockabilly or psychobilly and I hate those fucking scenes! The music all pretty much sounds the exactly the same and all the bands are basically carbon copies of one another. The guys are all a bunch of douches and the girls are a bunch of catty bitches and that whole scene in general is the the epitome of cliche, for example, go to any rockabilly show and you stand a more than 50% chance of hearing a generic cover of Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues". It's truly mind boggling disgusting how people really take that scene so seriously, particularly the 1950's nostalgic aspect of it. Fuck the "billy scenes" Often referred to as the scene where old punks, skins and goths go to die... 
And I just can't get in to the "noise" genre" I've never been able to be around that crowd or that music for an extended amount of time. They have a tendency to be an odd kind of pretentious and the music pretty much sucks. Their gatherings and night spots tend to be rather boring as well.

Now this is the funniest part of this blog... To walk into my room, you would be lead to believe that I'm absolutely obsessed with music! I mean every wall, including my ceiling, is covered with posters and flyers from punk shows and music events, I have an electric guitar on a stand and a small practice amp in one corner of my room and to my immediate right (where I'm currently typing this) that I can literally touch with my elbow is a 120 watt amp head resting atop of a 4X12 slant cab speaker cabinet (although I've been trying to sell it on craigslist for a couple weeks, I've had few offers), plus a few other stickers and knick-knacks here and there that suggest that "hey, this guy's a music fan!". Actually, I've been thinking about redecorating for a while, I do have an idea in mind, but I don't have all the materials on hand to make it happen so I'm procrastinating and now because of these words now living in a room full of contradiction... See how I am!

BTW, in case any possible readers of this blog out there are  wondering why there was no mention of the Justin Beiber's, Katy Perry's, U2's, Linkin Parks and never ending list of "mainstream" music business garbage and nonsense that is spoonfed to the masses and swallowed whole... Well c'mon, lets get real, that would be just too fucking easy! :D

A Self-Imposed Exile and Reasoning

As of this point in time, I've been in what I describe as a "self imposed-exile" for nearly three months now. I suppose that sounds a bit melodramatic, but it's the best way I've come up with to easily explain my suddenly and completely "going off the radar". Not that I expected anyone to make a fuss or send out a search party or anything, just trying to make myself clear. I'm also gonna point out that it's not like I was "Mr. Popular" or a man about town by any means, but I pretty much knew everyone in all the local music scenes and was a co-frontman in an established local hardcore punk band and was pretty well known as well. Basically, for the sake of humility, what I'm trying to say, is I know a lot of people and a lot of people know me and I'll leave it at that...

The deal was I got fed up and disgusted with all the petty, shallow, self-absorbed, narcissistic, know-it-all(know nothing) fucking losers that make up every music based scene in this city as well as what appeared to be most everywhere else around the country, but since I live here in Albuquerque, this is where I was being immediately affected, therefore this is where the "eye of the storm" was, so-to-speak and that includes them all, be it punk, skin, goth, metal, rockabilly, etc. 
I'd grown so tired of everyone's fucking drama and listening to and observing their non-stop back-stabbing and constant and needless cruelty to one another. I would log on to Facebook everyday and read their posts and find myself constantly asking myself , "Why the fuck am I friends with these people?!?"

All these assholes were just a bunch of fucking "chumps and nobodys" with over-inflated egos based on half-assed bullshit and from my observations, seemed to be attempting to take credit for "pioneering" ideas that had been done by folks at least a couple decades prior. Also, their personalities and self-worth are based on how much drugs and alcohol they have in their bloodstreams, but once that starts that fade away I couldn't help but notice how many of them would be reduced to the crashing bores or the pathetic, insecure, whiny bitches that they really are until someone gave them more... Then at the same time they (the goth crowd) had the nerve to refer to themselves as such ridiculous things things like "hot messes", which was laughable at best considering they were buried under caked on makeup, usually flabby (if not just fat, nothing against fat people, but it's the truth) and usually either still drunk from the prior evening or delusional from the logic that comes from methamphetamine. Pathetic indeed...

For me, my problem with the local punk scene was the upsurge of needless violence and bonehead-like behavior that was suddenly reemerging due to the presence of a newly transplanted, internationally known band that became a local. I don't have a problem with skinheads in general and get along fine with them as a whole, as I go back with a number of the local old timers but I was not liking what I was seeing over the past several months at shows, including some sketchy shit I witnessed on the dance floor at one show that I promoted that my band played in May and a very violent show headlined by The Business a few weeks later, which that one I believe was pretty much the final straw for me. All the bullshit I saw and heard that night, if it wasn't for the fact that my band had one more show commitment that was a month away, I likely would have started this exile thing much sooner. I find it rather appalling the way selective people at particular venues are pretty much allowed to get away with fucked up and douchebag behavior while others are beaten down and tossed out, all depending on if you're connected to, or friends with the staff at that venue... And if you are connected, they stand around with their beers and joke about starting shit about chasing touring bands out of town "back in the day", or some small minded skinhead talks shit about how much he hates punk rockers at a fucking punk show and starts shit with people every five minutes and yet, doesn't get tossed out cause he goes back a few years with the staff while an unknown does for a minor infraction... yeah, awesome "scene" we have here. It seems that I'm just at odds with the entire scene in this fucking city in terms of what's acceptable and what's not, and it appears that's it's a losing battle that's simply not worth my time anymore. And if that's the way it is, then fuck it, fuck them and their pathetic, loser fucking "scene", they can have it. I'm done.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not just some sniveling crybaby that sits around bitching about shit. Since I've been back in this city, I've been putting on shows here and there around town, helping out out other bands(local and touring)get gigs, I've created a contact list that's proven to be quite useful in securing gigs for both locals and touring bands alike, not to mention my own band as well that has established itself and played numerous shows around town over the last two and a half years. I feel that I've definitely gone above and beyond and I've done it out of love for the what I do without asking for anything in return other than hoping everyone involved that shows up and participates enjoys themselves, has fun and respects all that goes into it. I've never done any of it for profit, but if I made a few bucks, cool, and if not, no worries either. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that was understood.

It's all pretty much bullshit. Fuck them all. I'm serious, it was driving me nuts! I was getting so aggravated and depressed by the day to the point to where I wanted to either cave someone's fucking skull in or put a fucking bullet through my head. So the next best solution was to simply remove myself from it all. My band, A.P.D played our last show on July 11th, that night after the show, I came home, deleted my old Facebook account and severed all contact and ties with everyone but a select few in this city, but even with them I only communicate with virally and I see no one. It's actually been working out great. After nearly three months, I'm finally getting some sort of peace of mind.
I've also noticed that time seems to have slowed down as well. Maybe that's the secret to it, when you stop paying attention to what everyone else is doing and all the drama and bullshit going on around comes with it and just focusing inward and doing your own thing. I mean REALLY doing your own thing.

To be completely honest, the first month was pretty rough. I was pretty depressed, I mean I didn't really have much going on or any outlets left after that. I wasn't working, I no longer had a band, didn't have any friends (Still don't really, but no worries...) or anyone to talk to. I pretty much just sat in my room all day surfing the web, watching movies or just sulking. I'm not gonna lie, the pistol that I keep under one of my pillows, I spent a lot of time thinking of some pretty elaborate ways and scenarios to turn it on myself. I'm not sure the exact time frame, but one day I just snapped out of it and decided I'm not gonna let any of those fucks drive me to such extremes, and just keep on keeping on. Self pity to that extreme has never really been my style anyway and I guess I just had to ride it out, pretty much like kicking dope in a way. I feel like I've made great strides at this point and things seem to be definitely looking up. My state of mind has vastly improved, and I'll be starting a new job in about three weeks as well if I can stay out of trouble between now and then. Anyway, that's the pretty much the scenario of what lead up this "exile". I do have a new Facebook page, but I have less that 80 friends, all selectively chosen, only a small handful reside in Albuquerque, the rest are old and dear friends that live in other cities and states that I rarely get to see and may never get to see again that I want to stay in touch with.

As for everyone else that I've left behind and washed my hands of, it's not so much that I hate them, but I don't need to be friends with them on the computer, I figure if they have my phone number, and are actually interested in my friendship or concerned about how I'm doing or what I'm up to, they can make the effort, otherwise whatever, I'm not losing any sleep over it. And that pretty much works for me.

Dark Secrets and Hypocricy

Thinking back to that drug addled time period of the mid to late 1990's in Oakland with all its drama, scorn and social stigma directed toward me from that particular crowd of individuals that I spoke of in my previous blog I felt the need to put together this one because I had a lot more to say about it, but before I get into all that I want to make some things clear first:
First of all, although I was indeed what one would call, a "low-life" and a "shady character",it doesn't mean I didn't have any friends or people that cared about me. Sure, as my addiction grew deeper and further out of my control and I began alienating and putting people off, and chasing people out of my life as well, the numbers dwindled, but those that I referred to in my previous blog were the ones that either A)Expressed, implied and/or threatened physical harm on me. or B) Often justified their disdain for me based on some hypocritical moralistic higher ground.  "B" was often the case.

As I mentioned, in my previous post, there was definitely the girls. Their role, for the most part was in the first couple years, like the first half of that time period. I mentioned Mo and Amy, and to a lesser degree, Erin. All of their boyfriends, with the exception of Amy's, grew up together and had come to the east bay from a small town up north called Vacaville, so they had this dopey punk rock "bro-dude" bond trip going that I just couldn't get into, but the girls were cute, and Amy was a knock out, not to mention she was about my age so we bonded pretty quickly. When I started getting into drugs, starting with meth, the guys, who were often belligerent shitheads when they drank, didn't seem to have any qualms about voicing disapproval about mine and Bucks use of it. Mo and Erin's boyfriends both being from Vacaville would usually go back there for a few days once a month to get money from their families to pitch in on rent and whatever else, and when they were away, Mo and Erin were both always very eager to partake on mine and Bucks "activities" with us, although they would half the time get themselves into shit about with the boyfriends after they returned cause either they came down badly or someone would tell on them.(I suspect Joey O., one of the guys that lived there, also fron Vacaville) the dummies... Erin was the more mature one and eventually gave her boyfriend his walking papers. (Erin also lived at the 47th St house at the same time me and Mo did, although she didn't stay for the drama. I think she dated Micheal for a bit after he and Rachel broke up. There was never any bad blood between us. She identifies as a "Conservative Republican" these days and is a horse trainer ( I think) in affluent Benicia, CA, and we're actually still somewhat in touch)
Mo, LOVED drugs. It drove her boyfriend nuts. I'm not sure exactly how he felt about about me in general, I think that he respected that I was an "old school" punk, but was uneasy about the relationship that me and Mo had with one another, and as far as the drugs, realistically, I can't really fault him for that. He should have actually kicked my ass or at least came to me and spoke up and said, "Look dude, I don't wan't you giving drugs to my girlfriend, it's fucking her up, and blah blah..." I mean , who knows, I might have even respected him enough to have actually said, "Sure man, no problem", But he never did...  There was one night at a party where I was drunk, and I'm not sure exactly what brought it on but I guess things had gotten "weird" or something between me and Mo and she decided to lecture me and the only thing I recall her saying was, "...ever since you started doing speed you.." and that's when I interrupted her and said something like, "Okay, stop! I don't need to hear this shit! Like who the fuck are you to lecture ME about something like that?" and I just walked away from her, she ran off, I assume crying. I mean seriously, every time she and I were alone together, she was practically begging me for the shit, and now she wants to fucking lecture me, what the fuck was that?!? Anyway, about a minute later, there's her boyfriend yelling in my face about how much she loves me and cares about me and how could I treat her like that and other horseshit, and I just looked at him and calmly said, "So are you gonna hit me now?" It seemed to throw him off a bit but he continued his "lecture/yelling fit" calling me a tweaker/asshole and other shit. I ended up just saying "fuck this" and leaving. I walked all the way back to Kara's from there, smashing a storefront window along the way. I got into heroin less than a year later.
With Amy, it wasn't quite as often, cause her boyfriend kept her on a pretty short leash, so she always had to be really sneaky about it, so if there was ever any problems that followed, it never got back to me.
Basically, with the girls, not just these three, cause there was more that came into the picture, was they loved the drugs, they liked me and their boyfriends couldn't stand it!
But the boyfriends weren't so innocent either...
(Before I move on, last time I saw Mo she showed up at "The Rat Cage", this crazy punk house where I lived. She seemed like she'd matured quite a bit and seemed rather taken aback by what she saw from me. (I really was a trainwreck at that time). I believe these days, she's living up in Eugene, OR raising a couple kids. I've made no attempt to contact her as I'm pretty sure she wants nothing to do with me. As for Amy, I have no clue of her whereabouts. last time I saw her was in 1999 when she visited us in Oakland. She had moved to Canada and had gotten married if I remember correctly)
Mo's boyfriend's name was Aaron. He was always known a hard drinking, brawling, rowdy individual. One night on 2006 or '07 he left a bar very drunk and wrecked on his motorcycle and was in a coma for a couple months. He's since recovered but has never fully gained all his senses and is a shell of the person he once was. Last I heard, he was was working, scooping ice cream

I'm not totally sure about the time frame, but I'm guessing probably 1996, some new characters came into the mix, these guys had more of a skinhead (not the white power "bonehead" variety) background. There was John and Matt from Chicago. Matt was a complete lunatic, cool guy, but creepy and intimidating. John, aka "Lonely John" (Kara gave him that moniker), who ended up going Punk. Then there was Dennis, who had a mohawk when he first showed up then went skin, he was quiet, but a pretty violent douchebag. He was pretty hard to read, but I always got a bad vibe off him. Then there was Bill Jackson, who'd been around the Bay Area for a while, but suddenly started hanging around, Bill was an ugly cockeyed fucker, but a damn good drummer, that took an almost instant dislike to me. He in particular attempted to use one of those moralistic approaches to defend his dislike toward me as reasoning toward my habits. In fact, I'll start with him.

When I first met Bill, he seemed vaguely familiar, like I'd seen him around. I think to Bill, I was just one of those people that no matter what, he was always gonna take issue with me in some way, and the fact that I was much better looking, his new friends had issues with me and that I was strung out on drugs that he despised gave him all the excuses and fuel he needed to justify his dislike. Only problem was as long as I was in the east bay, I was connected to that group of people cause I was there before him and living with Buck, Kara and Lilia(who happened to be my girlfriend at the time), not to mention I was still good friends with Amy and still on good terms with various members of his household, so like me or not, Bill was just gonna have to deal with it, but I did make an effort to not antagonize him and be friendly.
Bill took issue about me dealing high grade meth, quite successfully, I might add, so I always had money, and he saw me as a "scumbag" because of that. He worked at LaVal's Pizza in North Berkeley and had gotten everyone jobs there, including Buck, but interestingly enough, Bill himself was also dealing weed on the side. Here's the hypocrisy... Bill would find and recruit homeless gutter punks that would beg for change on Telegraph and Shattuck Avenues in Berkeley to sell his weed for him! He'd usually end up giving them a tiny bit of "chump change" (maybe) and kick them down some buds for their trouble. However, usually what would eventually happen is his "employees" would end up ripping him off at some point, saying fuck this, and just take off with both whatever weed and profits Bill gave them. Truth is, for all his bullshit posturing, Bill wasn't much of a fighter. For a skinhead, Bill was kind of a chump and a joke. Actually, I recall Bill got the living shit beat out of him by Dennis and this "Dennis-worshipping" skin named Mark when Dennis accused Bill of stealing money or something...(Back in 2008 I actually talked to Bill and he admitted that he "just didn't like me" which was fine. We continued to chat a bit, I told him that I had met his girlfriend, Ali, that she had visited me at my house in Santa Cruz a couple years prior with Cindy and Lilia. He just looked at me funny and nodded. )

Erin's former boyfriend from the early day's name was Joe. He was a complete idiot. Although he came from Vacaville, he was originally from Rhode Island where Dennis was from as well, so there was a connection of some sort that I wasn't clear on, but whatever. Anyway, they too used that uppity moralistic high ground as part of their reasoning to dislike me as well. Honestly, I could really care less, if you want to hate me, just fucking hate, you don't need a reason... Anyway, when someone hates or doesn't like you, when you're in their presence, you definitely know it. At least I do, I'm a pretty perceptive motherfucker though, but that's me. Anyway, I don't recall ever giving him my pager number(yes pager!), but I got a page from Joe late one afternoon. I was quite surprised it was him but even more surprised by what they(him and Dennis) wanted. They were looking for $40 worth of Heroin, which was no problem, I easily procured(I pinched a little for myself of course, Fuck them!Actually, I don't think I even bought $40 worth, my dealer would sell me any dollar amount I wanted so I probably kept a few bucks now that I think about it) it for them and even gave them both a couple of clean syringes. I was so amused by the scenario, how uncomfortable they both looked, knowing how much they despised me, yet having to go through me to get the stuff, and then asking me not to mention this to anyone and then having to trust me to keep their secret. I got a kick out of seeing them squirm! And I never told anyone either. (As far as know, Joe's still around, not sure if he's still in the east bay or back in Vacaville though. I know that back in the early 2000's the Vacaville guys  formed this pyschobilly "club" called the BP Pychos in Oakland that has since evolved into some sort of biker club that might even be a feeder club for The Hells Angels, but I'm not 100% sure about that. As for Dennis, I have no idea, he just kinda faded away)

Then there's the Chicago guys, Matt and Lonely John. Those dudes were actually alright, in fact much to the dismay of the others, they actually bought drugs from me and were fairly regular customers! I'm not sure how open Matt was about it with the the others but what were they gonna say or do, everyone both respected him and was not about to fuck with him cause Matt was one bad ass motherfucker! Even Dennis didn't want to cross Matt. And thing is, Matt was a pretty laid back, easy going guy for the most part, but he was a skinhead to the bone, in attitude, appearance and beliefs. He liked taking drugs though, he wasn't into needles or anything, but he loved to do speed, he liked smoking weed, he was down to take acid(even though he got weird and creepy on the shit) and he definitely loved to drink. Matt was also rather unsettling at times. He was extremely homophobic and would get pretty weirded out around goths or punks that had makeup on, his mind automatically perceived them as "gay" and he would get a bit wound up about it. Other than that, he was cool.
John was a skin when he first came to the east bay but decided to go punk for whatever reason. Matt used to give him shit about it, John was a pretty nice guy, but you can tell he had something going on beneath the surface. He disappeared for a while I remember, turned out, he'd been in rehab. First thing he did when he got out was page me and buy some shit... (I know that Matt was part of that BP Psycho thing for a while but eventually moved to Texas and got married. Not sure of his whereabouts these days. I have no idea what ever became of John.)

There was this rich kid punker that went by the name JP, that went skinhead soon after I met him. He was kind of a dipshit in my opinion simply cause he was a "follower". He used to hang out with Dennis and Matt. His girlfriend was this chick named Nikki who was one of my regular customers. JP was always looking at me funny. I know he obviously didn't like me, as he rarely spoke to me, but like I said, his girlfriend frequently bought a lot of drugs off me as well as Matt, who was one of his friends as well. JP was never any real threat to me, his girlfriend was a good source of income for a while, though potential trouble, and his connection to Dennis was a little sketchy but that's about it.(JP coming from an affluent background, I can only assume he settled into some sort of easy lifestyle unless he fucked up somewhere down the line. I can't imagine him marrying Nikki cause I know his family absolutely despised her. They were an odd looking couple actually, He was actually pretty young and she was much older. She was a tallish, overweight Mexican girl from a questionable background not very attractive at all, but still a nice person, while he was a strapping, young, fairly good looking white kid from a very affluent background with a seemingly bright future. Yet he was into her. Very odd couple indeed...
As for Nikki, I can only imagine what became of her, unless JP foolishly knocked her up, I don't see how things would have panned out in any way all that positive for her, unless she got her act together and educated herself, but who knows...)

To sum this all up, these are the main characters that come to mind as far as the ones that never owned up to their role in any of this particular drama from that time period or simply stepped away and acted like they never had any part in it is a better way to put it. At this point, none of it really matter now anyway, it's just something to look back and reflect upon now. It was a whole other life for me in a way, definitely a whole different world compared to the one I live in now. I have a few pictures from that time and surprisingly, a whole lot of memories! Do I hold any grudges or resentments? Truth? Not really... Despite how by saying that make all my words prior to saying that come off completely contradictory, it's true!

Setting The Record Straight: Missed Chances & How I Break It All Down

There was a time, back in a another life when I my mere presence and in some cases, mention of my name used to bring out the worst in certain people. The time I'm, speaking of was around mostly between late 1996 to late 1999, the place, the east bay, Oakland, CA.
At the the time, I was heavily in the thralls of drugs and addiction and had fallen out of the favor of most the crowd of people that me and my good friend Buck had originally linked up with when we first moved to the Bay Area.

Before I get into this post, I wanna mention the reason for it is that recently, Buck, who now lives in Portland, OR, recently spent a few days out in Oakland visiting "the old pals" and he posted on his Facebook page while he was there, these rather cryptic words, "Why didn't you beat his ass when you had the chance".
I don't really know for sure if he was actually referring to me, but at the same time, knowing the character of certain individuals out there, I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, it got me to thinking about that question as well as Buck's ties to those people.

First, or all, Buck and I go back a long way, we've been good friends as of this moment, about 24 years now. Despite the disdain and hard feelings between myself and some of those people in Oakland that may linger, Buck has maintained friendships and close ties and to this day, holds them in high esteem. I don't hold it against him and I try to hold my tongue when they are brought up in our conversations. Which they're usually not. (When I said "some", it used to be "all" but I did make a sort of peace with some of them here and there over the period of years after I got clean)

The thing about those days, I will freely admit and take full accountability for my part in all of it, and I will to this day, even after fifteen fucking years of clean time, still stand by my convictions from that time period, which is more than I can say for most of those fucks, and honestly, at this point, I can care less about any sort of forgiveness or friendship from any of them as well.

See, back in the beginning when we all first met, I was older than most of them by a few years, no biggie really, I wasn't a creeper or anything about it, just the way it was. Buck and I lived in this back garage that was separated from a main house that these goth chicks lived in over in north Oakland.
So one night we went to a show at Gilman where we met this particular crowd of people and over the course of the next few months they slowly began to move in with us in that garage space. Thing about me and Buck that differentiated us from those people is we had goth/death rock leanings, we enjoyed decking ourselves out and going to the goth clubs in San Francisco with the girls in the front house and by ourselves as well, which the guys in the garage didn't really quite get, but were still amused by, but the girls secretly and not-so secretly dug about us! And hey, we looked fucking good!
I would go a little more often than Buck and would occasionally bring home or some goth chick-hottie would come pick me up at the house, not to mention when I would go with the folks in the garage to the Gilman shows, I was picking up girls there too, so I was starting to get a rep among them as one of the girls referred to (I later found out) as a "mack". For the record, I never hooked up with any of the girls that lived there as they were all taken, but I do know that a couple of them did have crushes on me because 1) they privately admitted it to me and 2) looking back, it couldn't have been anymore fucking obvious. Whatever though, nothing ever happened...
Regardless, as time went on, I began to feel a little tension beneath the surface coming from a couple of the guys but nothing to get too alarmed about for the most part, it was mainly from a guy that didn't actually live there but was there constantly. Anyway, when I started doing speed on a regular basis was when things started to get a little "awkward" for lack of a better word. Buck was doing it too, but we were all still drinking, doing acid and hanging out together still so it wasn't that big of an issue yet.
See this is actually what the actual root of it all is/was. The girls. The secret crushes on us. At the time, I guess you can say it was sort of innocent in a way, but these girls, two in particular, actually there was three, altogether, but one of them (Erin)would only do it when it was both me and Buck, but the two I'm speaking of, would come and hang out in my little room with me and one of them, Mo, almost every time, would want a line or two which I had no problem giving her. She and I were actually pretty close for a while but her boyfriend was a big thick headed, beer swilling punk that couldn't stand her doing drugs and would get furious when he found out. He threatened me a couple times yet never did anything, and yes, he could easily have beaten me down. Wouldn't have changed anything and likely would have worked against him. I'll get back to that
The other girl, Amy, was closer to my age, gorgeous, also had a boyfriend, the one I mentioned that didn't live at the garage but was there constantly(for the record, he turned out to be a good guy in the long run), but he was really hot tempered, basically sponging off her(though she allowed it), and somewhat sketchy. Anyway, she admitted to me that she had feelings for me and on a few different occasions asked me for drugs, which I happily obliged. (I guess in retrospect, maybe these crushes weren't so "innocent", since all these shenanigans were taking place when the boyfriends weren't around...)
I guess the real problems began in early 1995 when I brought needles into the mix. Shortly thereafter,  I turned Buck onto them too, which in turn, more or less turned a majority of that crowd against me, it was like I corrupted "poor innocent Buck"! Please, if those fucking idiots only knew how Buck grew up and where he came from... Anyway, the garage went under and we all moved out and went our own ways, but me and Buck, along with our old friend Josh had moved into a soon to be notorious apartment off Telegraph & 58th. but that's another story for another blog, this one's about "missed chances". So my relationship with said people continued to sour, although I still remained close with Mo.

Fast forward several months ahead after the chaos of the Telegraph apartment period and I ended up being roomies with Mo in the basement of a house off MLK & 47th for a bit later on. I admit I allowed her to cause a lot of preventable bullshit for me, but I was so clouded with dope by that point I didn't really give a fuck. I'd shoot my dope and if I had enough and she asked I was always more than happy to share it with her, not to mention the couple who lived upstairs, Micheal and Rachel, seemed to find it rather "cool" in their own wacked sorta way. Seriously, at first, they actually thought it was rather novel having a junkie living down in the basement. Micheal in fact dug heroin and he and I shot it together a few times, and I gave Rachel her first real shot cause Micheal kept fucking it up (I still remember all the bruises on her arms from his fuck ups)and was too scared about her ODing that he didn't give her enough to get off. The problem with Mo and drugs is she was one of those people that when she came down, she came down badly! She was one of those types that would get depressed, cry, mope and just get pathetic, and that's when her boyfriend would always come around and pretty much catch on and then as you could guess, hell would break loose, and he was basically a drama queen as well and had no problem talking shit to his buddies about me. He made a few threats toward me as well but nothing ever came of it. I didn't last too long in that house, as I brought some shady characters around and left them unattended and I guess things upstairs started disappearing  plus there was stuff in bags down stairs that I foolishly thought were junk that I gave away to friends that turned out to be valuable that ended up creating a massive shitstorm so my relationship with Micheal and Rachel ended badly. Funny thing about those two, with all the threats and shit talking those two did, Micheal's opportunity for "vengeance", he had to be mega-piss drunk to act on it. He showed up at Kara's apartment, where I had taken refuge after being kicked out of the 47th St house, with his buddy with the intention of "beating my ass", but Jason Powerhouse happened to be hanging outside by his truck smirking at them and his buddy looked at Jason and wisely grabbed Micheal and they both took their leave. Next time Micheal saw me I was sitting in front of Mars Merchantile in Berkeley and all he did was give me a dirty look and half-assly flicked his cigarette at me...ooh yikes!
Rachel on the other hand, had seen me in person on a few different occasions but best she got was rounding up a posse (that included her dad)at a show in late 1999 to jump me several on one. I think the humiliation factor hurt more than the actual beating. The sucker punch to the jaw from daddy and the bruises on my arms received from the kicks from the four others while covering my head while I was on the ground were the worst of it physically. (I should also mention, I was strung out as fuck at that time, and that night was actually one of the last times I ever shot up, I got clean pretty much right after that night). I did happen to see a blog of hers online about five years later where she claimed that "She" beat the shit out of me. Hah! yeah right. She gave me a few worthless kicks while talking shit with slurred words while I was on the ground after the fact, but whatever, if it makes her feel better to believe that nonsense, fuck it, she can have that little victory.

As for the others, yeah I know they would have loved to see me beaten to a pulp, but it never happened. For the longest time, I was pretty resentful toward them because I thought I was given an unfair rap in all of it, because why was I such a villain and Buck still revered in high standing, afterall, he was doing and shooting dope too, not to mention an annoyingly obnoxious drunk to boot? But the truth is, it was the fucking girls... Also my big mouth as well. Thing is, my being older might have, I'm not totally sure, but might have played somewhat of a role, but it's also possible that Mo had a lot of pull with her boyfriend, that if he would have so much as laid a hand on me, that probably would have been it for them. Maybe maybe not. It's really hard to say with that particular group, they definitely subscribed to that "bro's before ho's" mentality. Then with Amy, she basically turned on me but that was my fault, because in a moment of bad judgment, I foolishly told one of those guys about one of mine and Amy's "moments" and I'm guessing he went and ratted her out to her boyfriend and that group and my guess is that they gave her hell about it. I recall, there was a point in time where Amy was suddenly not as warm toward me as she usually was anymore and around mid 1999 after she had since moved on and moved out of the Bay Area and was there visiting, we were at Cindy's house partying, Amy was drunk and being kind of a bitch and she, out of nowhere said to me that I told "somebody that she and I hooked up". Not her exact words, but something along those lines, so that explained the coldness on her part and and gave me some perspective I guess... But no ass kicking by their hands other than that shit from Rachel's stupid "posse" ever came my way, and I could tell that a couple of them would have loved to, and believe me, they had plenty of opportunities. I guess it was just timing and the fact that of those who wanted to, I had some dirt and secrets on them. Fucking losers...

So here we are now, a decade and half later. Naturally there's a lot more details to this rant/story and it's not something I really speak of cause to put it simply, why bother? All the characters in it, with the exception of Amy who I have no clue of her whereabouts or what she's up to, I have somewhat of an idea what they're doing and where they're at. When Buck made that post, I honestly could not help but wonder if that was about me. I've never bothered to ask Buck if he'd ever felt caught in the middle, at the same time, I'm not so sure how I'd feel about Buck if the answer was yes. I'm just being honest with that one. However, I'm not about to play tug-of-war either with those people over him.
As for those people... Well, if that really was about me, then well, yeah, I suppose that's a pretty valid question. There might have been other factors too though. I think they knew I was packing a gun. When I was living at "The Rat Cage" (another story for another blog) to try and come after me there, you can bet your fucking ass you would have had a fight on your hands.
But anyway, if they really want me now, they gotta come to me, and they're definitely going to be out of their elements and comfort zones. I'll just leave it at that. You fuckers had your chances.

By the way, for the record, I DO understand now why Buck wasn't looked at as the total "pariah" that I was back then. He may have been a fuck up, but despite it all, he still got a job and paid his share of the rent and was worthy of a degree of respectability. Me on the other hand, I was a lying, cheating, pistol packing, drug slanging, dope shooting, low life fucking junkie. That's the honest fucking truth. I did a lot a fucked up things and went to some dark and vile places, both literally and figuratively. I wronged a lot of good people and I consider myself very lucky to have gotten this far and to have earned the life I have now even if it isn't as good as it could be. Buck's done well for himself, and I have much love and respect for him. Most of the other's I've mentioned in this blog, I feel for the most part, indifferent to, just a big "whatever", but there's a couple people from those days that can go eat a big fat dick for all I care...

The Bettie Bandwagon, Models & Her Bday: A Historical Reaction

I never did jump on "The Bettie Bandwagon" myself, and not denying she was gorgeous and is still one of the longer running symbols of modern pop culture even in this present time. Personally though, with millions of young ladies out there these days calling themselves "models"... Whatever, sorry girls, get over yourselves, you're a dime, hell, maybe even a nickle a dozen, and you're aging fast and all of you, insecure, neurotic little tarts with your deep-seated daddy issues had best figure that out and come to terms with that soon, cause time is NOT on your side, and reality and nature hits hard, my dears... With that said, I love history more than I like pin up models. Don't get me wrong, I still like pin up models, vintage ones too, and that includes Bettie! Well, here's some a little bit of both: Bettie Page’s mugshot from October 29th 1972. Many of Bettie’s fans don’t seem to know that she left the pinup world and became a religious fanatic. Years later she was diagnosed as schizophrenic and eventually spent over 11 years in a state mental institution because she stabbed three people. A husband and wife the first time, and her 66 year old roommate the second time because she said “God inspired her to do it”.

I decided to throw in a young Bettie pin up to be fair, I mean it IS her birthday and all!

Sobriety Dilemmas

"Congratulating a man for staying sober is like congratulating a man for running out of a burning building" Anonymous 

Being sober is kinda "my thing" these days, in other words, I'm digging it! However, like everything else, it does come with it's own set of, for lack of a better word, "dilemmas". Living and maintaining a sober lifestyle isn't exactly easy in this day and age, particularly in my circles. Hell, in any circles for that matter, people drink and do drugs from all walks of life, from the skid row bums looking down on you  while laying in the gutter, to the rich and powerful CEO's looking down on you from their high rise office towers, and all those other types and walks of life in between.

I've been through this before, and in less than a month I'll be once again approaching that "18 month mile stone", which, other than making mention of it in this blog and a select few, I will be keeping it to myself for the most part, due to a particular dilemma that I've blogged about before regarding the "congratulations" thing that I take great issue with. My attitude about that still hasn't changed, in fact my resolve has only strengthened as far as that goes.
There's also the dilemma of the 12 step group AA. When I decided to get sober back in 2001, I was a hopeless mess of a pariah and it was really helpful and pulling me from the dank pit I had fallen into. However, everything has a dark side, and I began feeling alienated to the point that I couldn't stand to be around most of those people before I left and eventually picked that "rock 'n roll lifestyle" minus the dope shooting. When I came back to AA the second time around in 2012, instead a few years, it only took me a few months to get those feelings of disgust and alienation that I felt back then. The difference is this time around I'm able walk into the rooms confidently and knowing what's up, instead of freaked out, shell shocked, insecure and shy like the first couple years in the early 2000's. I still occasionally go to a meeting, but halfway through tend to struggle to not get up and leave. When I reached my one year anniversary I went to three that week, and kept silent even though there was a few people in the rooms that were aware of my milestone. Another dilemma I have with AA is I have friends that are struggling with their own alcoholism that occasionally contact me asking about AA, and if I go/went to meetings. Most of these friends live out of town, but I'm not going to lie to them and if they were here and wanted to utilize AA and wanted my help, I would most definitely go with them, Hell, I would even sponsor them, at least temporarily if need be, regardless of my attitudes. I stick with the basic concept of one alcoholic helping another one day at a time.

I guess another dilemma would be trying to not come off self righteous about the whole sober thing, which believe it or not, I do try to be sensitive to. Well, not with everyone, cause well, fuck everyone, just certain people. Truth be told, since I've sobered up nearly 18 months ago, my social life, as well as my social circles, have decreased dramatically, which isn't really a bad thing, and I'm not by any means crying over, it's just something I felt was pertinent to this topic of discussion. It's not so much that I've lost friends over it, if anything I've gained, and in some cases, regained the respect of some of them, and those times when I do get out to a show or party where the booze is flowing, I can get a certain degree of inspiration from them by watching their insecurities fade and their personalities blossom in the early part of the festivities till it peaks and slowly or rapidly begins to unravel and conversation gets sloppy, judgement fails, tempers flair, stomachs churn, consciousness goes, etc. I don't miss any of that, The hangovers and DT's, the embarrassment and confusion, the mystery bruises, the regrettable hookups and those are just the basics! I went way beyond the basics, but I've written, discussed and blogged plenty about that already. Regardless, I believe I have a pretty healthy attitude about being sober. I have no problem being around people that drink, feel completely comfortable in bars so I'm all good in all that aspect.

Then there that silly little label called "straight edge"... I'll say right here that there's no fucking way in hell I would ever identify as "straight edge". In fact, fuck straight edge, that's something that started off with good intentions but evolved into some serious bullshit that I want no part of, I actually take offense when someone refers to me as straight edge, but they're lucky I'm sober, cause if I was drunk I'd probably punch them in the mouth for calling me that, instead I rationally explain the difference... even though they're complete fucking morons. Oh well. Dilemmas....