Stay High

14 02 2016

mc5I wrote “stay high” in one of my stoner girlfriends’ yearbooks in my Jr. year of high school. And she left her yearbook behind in class one day and the teacher opened it and started reading the comments.  So dude called my parents and said we needed to do a drug intervention with me, just because I told her to stay high.

I didn’t do drugs like those chicks.  They were way more mature and older than me.  I started school a year earlier than I should have so I was always with older kids in the same class and I witnessed things earlier than I should have.

They would come to school on Monday, after the weekend talking about taking LSD and Cocaine and having sex with their older boyfriends.  I just listened and let it roll off my back because I knew I was way too young for that business.  But they liked me a lot so they would travail me with these stories of slutty-hood and debauchery.

So I knew they liked to party and they were my friends in school so I wrote, “stay high” in her yearbook and the adults all freaked out on me.  And her too, but she laughed it off because her parents allowed her these luxuries.

But not mine, and not that I would have wanted to do that stuff at such a young age, I wouldn’t have.  They would tell me that I needed to take LSD with them and then they would “take advantage” of me in the bedroom.

Sounds about what every high school boy dreams of, it actually happened to me but I just put it out of my mind because I knew I was going on a mission for Jesus Christ when I was 19 and I had to remain pure as I could.  But I smoked a lot of weed, and drank alcohol and made out with a lot of chicks…I just never went all the way like those crazy chicas wanted me too.

And after the discovery of “stay high” in the yearbook, I was grounded for two months by my parents.  Man, that sucked.  I got grounded a lot, and for long times too because I did some stuff I should not have done, but it was never as severe as my parents imagined, and during lecture time I never said anything, just listened to them tell me what kind of trouble I was getting into for coming home smelling like smoke.

Man, I must have driven my parents nuts in my latter high school years.  They have no idea I was merely the celibate stoner.  I just liked my brain escape from the harshness of home, but I wasn’t out womanizing or anything like my other buddies were.





The Frayed Ends of Sanity

16 04 2011

This drawing has a lot of meaning to me.  I posted a photo of part of it in my previous bloggage after tweaking it in Photoshop a little bit for effect; but this is the original.  I love it for several reasons.  I drew this in the early winter of 1993 while working at a mental hospital.  Yup, I worked at the loony bin.  Makes sense if you think about it.  I call it The Frayed Ends of Sanity. And I was completely and totally 100% sober, no mind or mood altering substances partaken of during this time.

(drawn with ball point pen on typing paper)





All Amazed!

28 07 2010

I’ve been to hell and back. I’m so grateful for every little thing right now. It seems that my whole life I have lived with some sort of anxiety engine running in my chest producing worry and doubt to constantly sabotage any chance of lasting success or happiness. It’s gone.

Where did it go? What happened? How is it possible that this negative force that has kept me so enslaved to worry and fear can just be gone from my life? It didn’t just go away, it was a process. It was agonizing and painful and it was the most intense soul searching self discovery that can be imagined. But for any great triumph to take place there must be trials, obstacles and great opposition to overcome. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and it cost me my life.

There will be more detailed expositions of my story in other forms but for now I’ll keep it short.

Anger will destroy a man quicker than a bullet to the brain. I let the bitterness and anger of the divorce experience overcome me and drag me down with chains into the despair of hell. I was hopeless and suicidal and had abandoned all regard for myself and what I cared about. The only reason I did not take my own life is because I have children that I could not give that experience to.

[BRUTAL HONESTY AHEAD]

I found myself completely alone in a dark and dreary world void of purpose or direction. I sought comfort from things that only satisfied immediate desires. Nothing lasted. Nothing mattered. Nothing was real anymore. I existed as a persona on the Internet and as a shell of what I once was in the business world. I could barely muster up enough energy to get through a day at the office and would rarely give any sort of effort other than just to get through the next thirty seconds. I lived like this for well over a year. It was dank, dark and a scary time although while I was going through it I told myself I had a grip on things and that I was doing OK.

I was addicted to drugs. Dextromethorphan was the queen mother of them all. Marijuana and alcohol were frequent companions and occasionally mushrooms, cocaine or LSD to send things into overdrive. All of these things were done in combination, of course to maximize the effects and to disassociate myself to the ultimate degree from the bitter lonliness that stirred in my angry and broken heart.

Deep down we all need something greater than ourselves to identify with. Even if we are unaware of our yearnings or that we are searching, and grasping, we are making connections. Music is something I have always found consolation in. It provides me with a connection beyond myself, a connection with the vibrations that are up there and out there.

Now I’m starting to sound like a spaced out fruit cake, but that’s what music is. Music and sound are vibrations that resonate with the powers that control our world and the universe and everything that exists. Music has a powerful effect on everything around us and most especially, music has an effect on what goes on within us.

Below are the lyrics to an amazing and beautiful song by an artist named John Frusciante. This song relates much of what I feel.

I’ve got a million to choose from
A million ways things could be
In dull moments I feel like
There’s a million options I see
The trouble is choosing one
The trouble is doing one
A slave in the fields one night
He’s running along
Gets far enough to be a free man
And he’s feeling so strong
That’s how actions should be
Freeing
Step after step is our only choice in a walk
When we run at the mouth we jump back and forth
There’s only one place I’m going
There’s only one destiny
And if my mind tells me otherwise
Then it’s a poor guide for me
All of the energy in life
Is nothing more than a spark in a fire
The whole course of time is the blink of an eye
Rain in the slums
Ah Yom
Into the cards
Ahm Yum
Rain in the slums
Ah Yom
Into another world
Ahm Yum

…to be continued //





It’s the tattoo horror show!

26 04 2010

So I’m taking pictures around the Rose Quarter and I run into this fine young fellow who I remember as Adam. That might not be his name but that’s what I remember him telling me. We talked about music and other things and he let me take pictures of his tattoos.
















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