Meh…
I get up this morning and just go meh. Not sad, happy or anything. I don’t really care today. Got up, feed the cat, got dressed, had some coffee and just went meh. I’ve lost the ability to care at work. It pays the bills and I have plenty of free time when I’m there to do whatever, but I feel like I’m wasting away here. I’m turning 37 in a few weeks, too late to start looking for something else. I don’t want to start at the bottom again. I don’t want some 25 year old kid just out of college telling what to do.
Don was the first person I met when I moved to Ridgecrest. I was taking a machine shop class up at the college. I didn’t want to be a machinist or anything; it just seemed like an interesting class. I thought Don was one of the instructors. He seemed to know a lot about the work we were doing. If anyone needed help he was always there and he was able to fix the problem.
I started talking to the guy and realized that he was only two years older then me. He was just out of the army and trying to start over. He drove a flat bed truck that was usually loaded with hay. Don would give me a ride from the campus back to the high school. Time went on and Don and I grew to be pretty good friends. It turned out that our families had known each other since the sixties. My father dated his step mom in high school.
It started getting really crowded at my grandmother’s place. My grandpa had Alzheimer’s and was bed ridden. My aunt was a hardcore drug addict and her kids were living there. My dad and I shared a room. Don suggested that I move to his place. His parents had a ranch out in the middle of nowhere. I helped out around the place, feed the animals, and chopped wood. I became a half assed ranch-hand. I dug it. At night we would throw on our black trench coats, find whatever vehicle we could get running and go to town. We didn’t really do much. We mostly sat around Denny’s drinking coffee and eating French fries till we were kicked out.
Terrance came up to me in class and said “I bet you sit around and listen to music.”
Actually yes I do was my response. We spent the rest of the day talking music and comparing briefcases’. We both carried briefcases’ to class. We made plans to hang out on Friday. Don and I would pick him. We went to his house, met his parents and left. After a half hour of wandering aimlessly around the desert we ran into a group of Terrance’s friends. He told us he is going to go hang out with them now and split. Don and I ended up back at Denny’s.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
How to make a first impression
I had been stationed in Alaska for three months before I met anybody to hang around with. It seems that an indie rock listening to idiot from California is not exactly prime friend material. I had met a few people, but they were the party boys of the dorm. I went to their parties a few times and hung around on base with them. But that’s it. They had no desire to leave the base. I didn’t have a car yet, so I was kind of stuck there. They were my friends for convince purposes more then anything. They tried to get me to dress differently, buy designer clothes, and listen to popular music. Still, we got along and I did have fun with them.
When you don’t hunt or fish, there is not a hell of a lot to do in Alaska. We mostly sat around watching movies and drink beer. I still wanted more. I saved up and bought a used car. While walking through the halls one day I ran into a guy named Jon. I had a Nine Inch Nails cd in my hands. Jon saw it and asked if it was any good. I told him I hadn’t listened to it yet. We decided to go to his room and give it a listen. We threw the disc on and talked for the next hour or so about music. Jon asked why he hadn’t seen me around. I told him how I had just gotten there and had been hanging out the other guys. He suggested I tag a long to a party of base with him and some friends.
Later that night Jon knocked on my door. With him were Ben, Mike and Blaine. I had the biggest car so we decided to take mine. We piled in and drove to Fairbanks. They were shocked that I had never been off base. Before the party they directed me around town, pointing out cool things I should go check out. I saw the Northern Lights for the first time. To me they looked like red glowing curtains blowing in the breeze.
We went to the party and I met all of their friends. They were all very nice and accepting. We drank a lot of beer and talked till about two in the morning. We decided to call it a night.
We started driving back to the base. I had to pee. Badly. We drove around looking for a place to stop. We gave up and stopped at a vacant lot. I got out and started.
I heard Jon say “Jim! Cops!” Again with the Jim, I hated that name. I figured they were fucking with me. I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Stop what you’re doing.”
“I can’t, I’m pissing.”
I turn around and this big Fairbanks cop is standing there.
“We just don’t piss wherever we feel like in this state. Next time I suggest you take a leak before you leave. ”
He wrote me a ticket for public urination. He told me he could get me for indecent exposure. I could hear everyone laughing in the car.
I went to court and had to pay $300 bucks for taking a piss outside.
When you don’t hunt or fish, there is not a hell of a lot to do in Alaska. We mostly sat around watching movies and drink beer. I still wanted more. I saved up and bought a used car. While walking through the halls one day I ran into a guy named Jon. I had a Nine Inch Nails cd in my hands. Jon saw it and asked if it was any good. I told him I hadn’t listened to it yet. We decided to go to his room and give it a listen. We threw the disc on and talked for the next hour or so about music. Jon asked why he hadn’t seen me around. I told him how I had just gotten there and had been hanging out the other guys. He suggested I tag a long to a party of base with him and some friends.
Later that night Jon knocked on my door. With him were Ben, Mike and Blaine. I had the biggest car so we decided to take mine. We piled in and drove to Fairbanks. They were shocked that I had never been off base. Before the party they directed me around town, pointing out cool things I should go check out. I saw the Northern Lights for the first time. To me they looked like red glowing curtains blowing in the breeze.
We went to the party and I met all of their friends. They were all very nice and accepting. We drank a lot of beer and talked till about two in the morning. We decided to call it a night.
We started driving back to the base. I had to pee. Badly. We drove around looking for a place to stop. We gave up and stopped at a vacant lot. I got out and started.
I heard Jon say “Jim! Cops!” Again with the Jim, I hated that name. I figured they were fucking with me. I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“Stop what you’re doing.”
“I can’t, I’m pissing.”
I turn around and this big Fairbanks cop is standing there.
“We just don’t piss wherever we feel like in this state. Next time I suggest you take a leak before you leave. ”
He wrote me a ticket for public urination. He told me he could get me for indecent exposure. I could hear everyone laughing in the car.
I went to court and had to pay $300 bucks for taking a piss outside.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Your Academy
When I was in the Air Force I had a roommate named Charles. I absolutely hated him. He was the anti-James. He was a hard core Christian. He was always going through my crap. I'd wake up and he would be standing by my bed praying. When my friends would come over to visit, He would take out his knives and start sharpening them mumbling loud enough for us to hear about “Taking out any dumb sumbitch that crossed him”. Very Christian of him.
He told me he roomed with me because god wanted him to watch over me. His half of the room was covered in Reba McIntire posters. Mine was covered in Hubcaps, Christmas lights, bike parts and whatever else I could attach to the walls. I didn’t have any girlfriends. He would ask if I was a “fag”. Being from California and not having a girlfriend automatically made me gay in his eyes.
Chuck would invite his church group over for bible study. He ended each meeting with “Let’s pray for Jim.” He called me Jim, another reason to hate him.
I decided I needed to get rid of him. We couldn't just move out without all this paperwork bullshit. So I decided to scare him into moving out. I started collecting Serial killer/Mass murder books. I had trading cards. I started a correspondence with a couple. I gave my number to Richard Hanson and told him to go ahead and call collect. After about two months Ole’ Chuck split. He moved out to some Christian housing thing. I feel shitty about it, but he was an asshole.
Look up Academy Fight Song by Mission of Burma. It fit the situation perfectly.
He told me he roomed with me because god wanted him to watch over me. His half of the room was covered in Reba McIntire posters. Mine was covered in Hubcaps, Christmas lights, bike parts and whatever else I could attach to the walls. I didn’t have any girlfriends. He would ask if I was a “fag”. Being from California and not having a girlfriend automatically made me gay in his eyes.
Chuck would invite his church group over for bible study. He ended each meeting with “Let’s pray for Jim.” He called me Jim, another reason to hate him.
I decided I needed to get rid of him. We couldn't just move out without all this paperwork bullshit. So I decided to scare him into moving out. I started collecting Serial killer/Mass murder books. I had trading cards. I started a correspondence with a couple. I gave my number to Richard Hanson and told him to go ahead and call collect. After about two months Ole’ Chuck split. He moved out to some Christian housing thing. I feel shitty about it, but he was an asshole.
Look up Academy Fight Song by Mission of Burma. It fit the situation perfectly.
Scattered thoughts, or Please don't take me by the hand.
Woke up sad again this morning, that’s twice this week. Am I going backwards? I thought I was starting to get better. I guess not.
Molly II the cat is sick. I got out of bed and stepped in cat puke. Nothing starts the morning like warm, wet, smelly cat food between you toes. I had my coffee and sat for a minute and watched the news.
Before I left I grabbed a CD book to grab some music for the drive in. More cat vomit. I don’t know how she did it, but it was everywhere. I scrubbed it out grabbed a disc and split. I hope she’s ok.
I had a dream last night about this girl from my past. We sat on the bed and watched movies. We kissed each other and went to sleep. It’s strange, I’ve never thought this way about her before. I woke thinking that it was nice.
Am I really ready to start moving on? Is that what the dream was telling me? Do I just want someone next to me, or do I actually want another relationship? The truth is I’m scared to death about the whole thing. I’m scared to talk to anyone, scared to let my guard down. Scared to allow my self to go through it all over again. I’m scared I’ll just mess up a whole new relationship. Will there be someone out there that can take the fact that I’m basically a cynical bastard who uses sarcasm as a second language because after thirty six years I’m still a sacred thirteen year old when it comes to women.
Do I just say fuck it and be by myself for awhile and try and enjoy it?
I really don’t know what to do. Part of me says, yes be alone. Another part of me wants someone, anyone to notice me, take me by the hand and make me feel loved again.
So, I’ll go on each day living. If something happens something happens. I’m not going to try and force anything to happen. You can’t change the person you are and someone somewhere will like me just as I am.
Molly II the cat is sick. I got out of bed and stepped in cat puke. Nothing starts the morning like warm, wet, smelly cat food between you toes. I had my coffee and sat for a minute and watched the news.
Before I left I grabbed a CD book to grab some music for the drive in. More cat vomit. I don’t know how she did it, but it was everywhere. I scrubbed it out grabbed a disc and split. I hope she’s ok.
I had a dream last night about this girl from my past. We sat on the bed and watched movies. We kissed each other and went to sleep. It’s strange, I’ve never thought this way about her before. I woke thinking that it was nice.
Am I really ready to start moving on? Is that what the dream was telling me? Do I just want someone next to me, or do I actually want another relationship? The truth is I’m scared to death about the whole thing. I’m scared to talk to anyone, scared to let my guard down. Scared to allow my self to go through it all over again. I’m scared I’ll just mess up a whole new relationship. Will there be someone out there that can take the fact that I’m basically a cynical bastard who uses sarcasm as a second language because after thirty six years I’m still a sacred thirteen year old when it comes to women.
Do I just say fuck it and be by myself for awhile and try and enjoy it?
I really don’t know what to do. Part of me says, yes be alone. Another part of me wants someone, anyone to notice me, take me by the hand and make me feel loved again.
So, I’ll go on each day living. If something happens something happens. I’m not going to try and force anything to happen. You can’t change the person you are and someone somewhere will like me just as I am.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
A bunch of savages in this town.
Living in San Pedro there wasn’t a lot of places to play. We played in an old cemetery and construction sites. It was the 70’s and there wasn’t a whole lot of security at the sites. Once the crew was done for the day, we would invade. We would run around the half built structures and play Hide and Seek.
When I was five we had our choice of two sites to play on. The first one was on 24th street. Every kid in the neighbor hood knew that was our site. No one else could play there but us. The other was on some street that intersected 23rd and 24th. We didn’t play there much, a bunch of teenagers hung out at that one.
We decided we wanted to claim it as our own. We walked up to the teenagers and told them we were going to play there. “Fuck you babies” was the response. They said they will beat us up if we stayed. We turned and ran.
WHAM! Something smacked the back of my head. I fell face first in the street.
“Shit man you hit him!”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before he tells on us.”
Hal and Joey G. (The same Joey G. from the Noel incident) picked me up. My back was all wet. I put my hand on the back of my head. I looked at my hand. It was covered in matted hair and blood. There was a broken beer bottle next to my feet. The bastard threw a beer bottle at a five year old kid. Hal yelled out to the teenagers that we are going to kill them. I started crying. Hal and Joey G. walked me home. My mom threw me in the back seat and we drove to the emergency room. The nurse shaved the back of my head and comforted me. The Dr. came in and cleaned the cut out. He kept squirting water into and spreading it open looking for glass. It hurt like hell. He stitched me up and I was on my way home. I got sit in the library for recess for the next couple days.
We never told anyone who actually hit me. As far as the parents know, clutzy old Verne fell down and sliced his head open.
When I was five we had our choice of two sites to play on. The first one was on 24th street. Every kid in the neighbor hood knew that was our site. No one else could play there but us. The other was on some street that intersected 23rd and 24th. We didn’t play there much, a bunch of teenagers hung out at that one.
We decided we wanted to claim it as our own. We walked up to the teenagers and told them we were going to play there. “Fuck you babies” was the response. They said they will beat us up if we stayed. We turned and ran.
WHAM! Something smacked the back of my head. I fell face first in the street.
“Shit man you hit him!”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before he tells on us.”
Hal and Joey G. (The same Joey G. from the Noel incident) picked me up. My back was all wet. I put my hand on the back of my head. I looked at my hand. It was covered in matted hair and blood. There was a broken beer bottle next to my feet. The bastard threw a beer bottle at a five year old kid. Hal yelled out to the teenagers that we are going to kill them. I started crying. Hal and Joey G. walked me home. My mom threw me in the back seat and we drove to the emergency room. The nurse shaved the back of my head and comforted me. The Dr. came in and cleaned the cut out. He kept squirting water into and spreading it open looking for glass. It hurt like hell. He stitched me up and I was on my way home. I got sit in the library for recess for the next couple days.
We never told anyone who actually hit me. As far as the parents know, clutzy old Verne fell down and sliced his head open.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Deborah Ann
Age nine and ten I had to share a bed with my mom. We were living with another family. My sister got her own bed. I wasn’t allowed to sleep on the floor. I had to sleep with her. She didn’t molest me or anything; she would just cuddle up next to me. I didn’t like it. I wanted my own bed. I wanted to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor. She would play the radio and sing when we were in bed. She would sing the songs that would come on. She made me go to bed at the same time as her. I would lie next to her and she would read and drink her wine sometimes rubbing my head. My dad was gone by that point and I guess she just wanted to have somebody next to her.
We moved out to our own place and I had my own room. She would get drunk and sing sad country songs and call out my dads’ name. Sometimes when she was drunk she would come into my room and get in bed with me. Breathing her horrible wine breath in my face as she tried to make he hold her. I would push away and that would piss her off. “Fine then no one loves me I guess.”
That room became my prison. I was not allowed out of my room unless I had to use the bathroom. All my meals were eaten in the room. I could go to school, but after school I had to back in my room. I would read and listen to music. They became my salvation.
As I got older she got worse. She would walk into my room and tell me things like if I ever had a girlfriend I would be going to hell because it was a sin to touch girls. She told me she knew everything I did because she had microphones hidden around the house.
I had to keep my door so I wouldn’t beat off like my father.
After awhile the yelling and paranoia weren’t enough. She started hitting me. First it was just a slap then a wooden spoon, it moved on to fist and kicking. Hell, she even hit me with a blender once.
She would tell me to get out, that she couldn’t afford to feed me anymore. I’d leave and walk around and be picked up by the police after a few hours. She would call them and say that I had run away.
The worst was in ninth grade. I had gotten a D in some class. I had a ten gallon aquarium with two newts. When she got the report card she stormed in my room picked up the tank and threw it at me. It missed my head and shattered against the wall. Glass, rocks, water and the two dead newts were on my bed. “Clean up your fucking mess you god damned dummy!” was all she said.
The next day it was like nothing happened. She asked where the aquarium went.
We moved out to our own place and I had my own room. She would get drunk and sing sad country songs and call out my dads’ name. Sometimes when she was drunk she would come into my room and get in bed with me. Breathing her horrible wine breath in my face as she tried to make he hold her. I would push away and that would piss her off. “Fine then no one loves me I guess.”
That room became my prison. I was not allowed out of my room unless I had to use the bathroom. All my meals were eaten in the room. I could go to school, but after school I had to back in my room. I would read and listen to music. They became my salvation.
As I got older she got worse. She would walk into my room and tell me things like if I ever had a girlfriend I would be going to hell because it was a sin to touch girls. She told me she knew everything I did because she had microphones hidden around the house.
I had to keep my door so I wouldn’t beat off like my father.
After awhile the yelling and paranoia weren’t enough. She started hitting me. First it was just a slap then a wooden spoon, it moved on to fist and kicking. Hell, she even hit me with a blender once.
She would tell me to get out, that she couldn’t afford to feed me anymore. I’d leave and walk around and be picked up by the police after a few hours. She would call them and say that I had run away.
The worst was in ninth grade. I had gotten a D in some class. I had a ten gallon aquarium with two newts. When she got the report card she stormed in my room picked up the tank and threw it at me. It missed my head and shattered against the wall. Glass, rocks, water and the two dead newts were on my bed. “Clean up your fucking mess you god damned dummy!” was all she said.
The next day it was like nothing happened. She asked where the aquarium went.
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