Probably gonna keep this one a little shorter than normal. Pretty tired and just ate dinner. Watch a movie or two and drift away to sleep. I recorded for a few hours and got another 2 songs done today. Four down, six more to go. It was really quiet and nice out. It usually is around here but it rained which I love. Pretty soon I can start working on merch ideas (stickers and t-shirts, record cover, all that fun shit). I love designing that crap. One step at a time. I need the music done first. Moving at a good pace though. Getting there quick. Sent the book off to be edited yesterday and even sold a couple of my pieces online. I tell you what, putting down Ol' Grandpappy's Cough Syrup works wonders. I am finally back to myself again and it feels great. I wasted years of my life hooked on that fucking sauce. Years, all day and night. I wanted to do all of the things I am doing now but I had no drive at all. I would start drinking in the morning, every morning and just sit around like a fucking sack of skin and bones. I was always a drinker but mostly at night. Then I spent an entire decade as the skin sack bones. All day, every day. In all honesty. I wanted to die. I was tired of feeling let down tired of myself. Severe depression. Booze don't help that shit. None of that shit helps. It's a temporary remedy.
All day I thought about that. I WANTED TO DIE MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THE WORLD. Literally. At least that's what I believed. Today I thought about how I tried and tried to drink myself to death over and over again. Over and over and over again. Always woke up and started trying again. Sometimes in the lobby of the apartment building that I lived in. Sometimes on the floor of my apartment naked in a pool of my own piss and vomit, sometimes blood and destroyed things. I woke up on the roof of the building like that a couple times. I must have not been able to get in my own apartment so I climbed the fire escape.. Then I would just spend the day, sometimes days without a shower and naked, wouldn't eat anything or brush my teeth. I would stay locked in my place doing it all over again. Man, Io weeks without eating just drinking booze and water. and puking it right back up...for days on end. Sometimes I would eat fruit or something but not very often. I would just order fruit, Cliff Bars and more booze. I would have it delivered so I didn't have to put on clothes or go anywhere. It was always just straight, whiskey or vodka. I had a tequila spell for a while too. Same results. I always woke up. Usually, the way I described before (puke, piss, blood, broken furniture and other things). Never any "real" drugs though. Never appealed to me. Just a never ending booze drip. Empty bottles all over the place. Obviously it didn't work.
I even sort of got busted once try to off myself. That was in like November 2017 I want to say...something like that. I was sitting on the little porch, had my .38, the fields of sugarcane surrounding were high. I think it was November, maybe October. The fields go on for miles around there. Even just fields in general and wooded areas. Miles. I had it all planned out. I was gonna get fucking wasted which I did, walk deep into the cane and blow my brains out. Easy. No one would hear it and no one would find me or smell decay for a while if I went far enough in. Maybe a plow would just run me over while cutting the cane and not even know it ran over my decomposed body. That would be clean up.
I was just about to walk into that shit and our neighbor came walking up. She needed to borrow something. I hurried up and hid my weapon. Whatever it was, she didn't see but I could tell she sensed something weird. I was hammered. After that I just passed out again. I remember it being really fucking hot that day. Then I woke up and started drinking again.
Glad I never got to pull it off now. I am actually doing everything I have wanted to do for years and it is fulfilling. Don't get me wrong, I still got shit done when I was behaving like a train wreck but not at this rate. Anyway, I ain't ready to die yet anymore. So there.
The detoxing basically alone is what almost did me in. I really thought I was a goner. I remember laying on the floor then embracing the toilet puking up bile and sweating like a whore in church, half naked asking myself, "Now you're gonna do it? Great job asshole". Still didn't happen.
~THE END~
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Friday, May 25, 2018
El Borracho...
All bullshit aside, I am by far the worse drunkard that I know. I mean that with all sincerity. My eyes would open and I would start until they closed. That went on for many years. The word alcoholic is a fucking joke compared to what I am talking about. I've been an alcoholic for 20 years at least, The last 8 is when I became a full blown drunk. A straight up drunkard. Plain and simple. Never any hard drugs. Never even tried any. I wouldn't even know what any of that shit feels like. Never impressed me. Smoked weed, that's about it. I think weed is great for people who enjoy that stuff. Ain't my bag though. Hate it. I just like my liquor, not beer or wine, the real shit and straight. I live, breathe, collect change that I find on the ground just to make sure and have a back-up plan to buy little $2 nips (half pints) if that is all I can can get. I wake up periodically throughout the night just for a shot to shut off the nightmares and shakes. My loved ones know how bad it can be and are terrified by it to the the point that they will even buy me cheap vodka just so they don't have to see me die. I have had more seizures than I can count because of it. Absolutely no idea. I keep a handful of friends and immediate family very close. They have all seen the seizures first hand, hence the reason they give me booze. Again, they do it because they are fucking terrified. Let's see... I have had seizures in parking lots, bathtubs, airports, people's homes, restaurants, social events, jobs, probably in my sleep and don't even know it, you name it and I probably had one in that environment. I normally don't have a clock-in type of job, I fly under the radar mainly. In November of 2017 I got a "normal" job in as a line cook. That was the first time in years and I was proud of myself. The people I worked with with were really cool and the pay was good. I was making enough to get my shit together and still had plenty of time to drink. Of course not even two weeks into it I had a fucking seizure on the line. Got some pretty lovely grease burns up and down my right side ribs and my right arm. I don't know what degree the burns were, never asked, but they were bad. Got big brown, hard scars all over from that. Shit is still fucked up and that was 6/7 months ago.
After a few years of tolerating a very abusive and toxic relationship I found myself homeless. That was fall of 2016. It would be unfair to put all of the blame on her. I was crazy, but never violent towards her or cheating shit. She has a lot of hidden demons, I am not afraid to show mine. She is. Many secrets that hurt me came out after I was already neck deep and drowning. Never any of that on my end. I have nothing to hide. It really isn't worth talking about anymore as I am already over cooked on the subject as is. To put it in simplest form, it was like mixing oil and water, adding fuel to a fire. Two alcoholics don't work well together. Especially when the extremely bipolar one enjoys watching others suffer. I tried to pry the demons out of her, even brought up therapy upon admitting my demons on repeat. Fell to my knees. Nothing. I wasn't even attracted to her at all. The whole thing was a disaster from the start. Like I mentioned it's not worth even thinking about anymore. Done.
So, back to being homeless. Literally. You learn who your real friends are fast. I would find places to crash out with some and family here and there as I traveled around the country, but many, many a night I spent sleeping in alleys or parks, wooded areas and shit like that. I lost everything, had nothing but a terrible addiction in tow. After roaming all over this great land in squalor, I wound up in Detroit with my friend. He has duplex of sorts which he is in the process of rebuilding and buying. From the outside it is one house but on the inside it is two separate, stacked apartments if that makes any sense. It looks like a 2 small two story house but in reality it is two completely different apartments I guess is a better way to describe it. One on top of the other. He has his own kitchen and bathroom, washer dryer set up and a all that like a single apartment. I live on the bottom floor with the same set up. There is a stairway in the house to get to each other's apartments as we please. Mine is on the bottom and his is upstairs. That's about the best I can explain it. He got fucked over pretty hard, well very hard by his ex and lives here alone now so he told to me nicely to quit being a fucking idiot and just come live here rather than die in the streets of Hollywood. Useless. We are both artists so that makes it fun. We get along really well too. He is like the Big Brother I never had. It's cool. Throw in a few bucks here and there for bills and such, do my chores ~ lawn keep and other things. Groceries. I like to cook. Poison for the weeds and insects. We live in a wooded area so to speak so we get a lot of ants (big, black ones) not the ones that are nasty, no roaches or anything but wasps, centipedes and shit like that.A wasp stung me the other day in the shed. Grabbed that fucker and threw his ass. Surprised he didn't sting my hand too.
Thinking about it, I don't know what I was looking for wandering them Hollywood streets. Happiness maybe? Filthy fucking city. It has a place in my dirty little heart though. It definitely wasn't love. The only love you'll get out there is herpes or the clap and that's if you're lucky. I know a lot of drug addicts and alcoholics and most of them are very sweet people. Most are my pals and somehow I weeded through the mess perfectly to the point where I don't associate myself with the junkie thieving types. I hate thieves and liars. Just tell the truth when you mess up. Own it. Everyone fucks up here and there. It's inevitable. That is one quality I have that I am very proud of. I can read a piece of shit human being in 2 seconds flat. Even before they open their mouths. Then I usually vanish. Ain't got no time for all that dumb bullshit. Probably from being raised by all of them perverted, fucking maggots. Pals and friends are totally different entities in my book. I keep them separate. I don't mix that shit at all but I also don't hang hang out with trouble makers either. That just makes you a fucking fool. What people do on their own time is their fucking business as far as I am concerned. My motto is "Just be fucking nice". It's easier that way but if you got to be mean then don't hold back at all. Rip it apart and burn it down. You have to to go to blows then don't stop until either you or it is broken. That is the fair way. Like I said though, just being nice is way easier. Usually.
Go figure, the Sun just came up again. Pulled another all nighter. Watched a lot of TV tonight but did get some painting done. My stuff takes a long time to dry and the other pieces were still a little wet so I let them rest to dry more then I will proceed. I like to layer my work so that you can actually feel it when you touch it. I ain't no fucking Bob Ross but you can feel my art. I like to touch it and feel the hardened paint. Substance.
Painted for a while tonight. Wasn't coming... It happens. Stained a couple things and called it a night down there. Can't force shit like that. Sucks because I like hanging out in the basement. Came back up to the kitchen and prepped some vegetables for a stir-fry tomorrow. That'll be my lunch. Gonna draw a diet and watch some TV. Mellow out and try to call it a night rather than a morning.
Shit, I ain't had a sip of booze in 11 days. No seizures either. Look at that. Well I'll be. Feels pretty good.
After a few years of tolerating a very abusive and toxic relationship I found myself homeless. That was fall of 2016. It would be unfair to put all of the blame on her. I was crazy, but never violent towards her or cheating shit. She has a lot of hidden demons, I am not afraid to show mine. She is. Many secrets that hurt me came out after I was already neck deep and drowning. Never any of that on my end. I have nothing to hide. It really isn't worth talking about anymore as I am already over cooked on the subject as is. To put it in simplest form, it was like mixing oil and water, adding fuel to a fire. Two alcoholics don't work well together. Especially when the extremely bipolar one enjoys watching others suffer. I tried to pry the demons out of her, even brought up therapy upon admitting my demons on repeat. Fell to my knees. Nothing. I wasn't even attracted to her at all. The whole thing was a disaster from the start. Like I mentioned it's not worth even thinking about anymore. Done.
So, back to being homeless. Literally. You learn who your real friends are fast. I would find places to crash out with some and family here and there as I traveled around the country, but many, many a night I spent sleeping in alleys or parks, wooded areas and shit like that. I lost everything, had nothing but a terrible addiction in tow. After roaming all over this great land in squalor, I wound up in Detroit with my friend. He has duplex of sorts which he is in the process of rebuilding and buying. From the outside it is one house but on the inside it is two separate, stacked apartments if that makes any sense. It looks like a 2 small two story house but in reality it is two completely different apartments I guess is a better way to describe it. One on top of the other. He has his own kitchen and bathroom, washer dryer set up and a all that like a single apartment. I live on the bottom floor with the same set up. There is a stairway in the house to get to each other's apartments as we please. Mine is on the bottom and his is upstairs. That's about the best I can explain it. He got fucked over pretty hard, well very hard by his ex and lives here alone now so he told to me nicely to quit being a fucking idiot and just come live here rather than die in the streets of Hollywood. Useless. We are both artists so that makes it fun. We get along really well too. He is like the Big Brother I never had. It's cool. Throw in a few bucks here and there for bills and such, do my chores ~ lawn keep and other things. Groceries. I like to cook. Poison for the weeds and insects. We live in a wooded area so to speak so we get a lot of ants (big, black ones) not the ones that are nasty, no roaches or anything but wasps, centipedes and shit like that.A wasp stung me the other day in the shed. Grabbed that fucker and threw his ass. Surprised he didn't sting my hand too.
Thinking about it, I don't know what I was looking for wandering them Hollywood streets. Happiness maybe? Filthy fucking city. It has a place in my dirty little heart though. It definitely wasn't love. The only love you'll get out there is herpes or the clap and that's if you're lucky. I know a lot of drug addicts and alcoholics and most of them are very sweet people. Most are my pals and somehow I weeded through the mess perfectly to the point where I don't associate myself with the junkie thieving types. I hate thieves and liars. Just tell the truth when you mess up. Own it. Everyone fucks up here and there. It's inevitable. That is one quality I have that I am very proud of. I can read a piece of shit human being in 2 seconds flat. Even before they open their mouths. Then I usually vanish. Ain't got no time for all that dumb bullshit. Probably from being raised by all of them perverted, fucking maggots. Pals and friends are totally different entities in my book. I keep them separate. I don't mix that shit at all but I also don't hang hang out with trouble makers either. That just makes you a fucking fool. What people do on their own time is their fucking business as far as I am concerned. My motto is "Just be fucking nice". It's easier that way but if you got to be mean then don't hold back at all. Rip it apart and burn it down. You have to to go to blows then don't stop until either you or it is broken. That is the fair way. Like I said though, just being nice is way easier. Usually.
Go figure, the Sun just came up again. Pulled another all nighter. Watched a lot of TV tonight but did get some painting done. My stuff takes a long time to dry and the other pieces were still a little wet so I let them rest to dry more then I will proceed. I like to layer my work so that you can actually feel it when you touch it. I ain't no fucking Bob Ross but you can feel my art. I like to touch it and feel the hardened paint. Substance.
Painted for a while tonight. Wasn't coming... It happens. Stained a couple things and called it a night down there. Can't force shit like that. Sucks because I like hanging out in the basement. Came back up to the kitchen and prepped some vegetables for a stir-fry tomorrow. That'll be my lunch. Gonna draw a diet and watch some TV. Mellow out and try to call it a night rather than a morning.
Shit, I ain't had a sip of booze in 11 days. No seizures either. Look at that. Well I'll be. Feels pretty good.
Thursday, May 24, 2018
The Sun...
Spent all night painting and drawing. I don't know what time I went to bed but the sun was coming up when I did. Woke up at 8:32 AM. So I squeezed in about 2 1/2 hours of sleep or something like that. I guess. Then I went out and and mowed the lawn. I like to get all the shit I don't feel like doing done first when I can. Then I get to enjoy the rest of the day while I wait for the night to return.
A friend of mine gave me an opportunity to stay with him and get my shit together which drug me out to Detroit. Got my own little apartment again. It's minimal and nice. We will get to all that shit later. I hadn't seen him him in a long time and he found out about my current situation, which we will get to later. I have a record to make and my my mind is a machine that doesn't turn off. It has no organization what so ever though. Everything is always firing at once. Best way to describe it is thinking about my songs and how to approach them. I tried working with different producers and all that bullshit that comes along with that territory. They mean well but always fuck it up. They don't hear what I hear. Nor do they even want to. Robots. I will just do it myself. Then I can I can only blame myself, which I prefer. I don't like big computer recordings. Honestly, it makes me sad to sit in control rooms at big studios. I usually just go outside. Music is supposed to be heard and listened to, not looked at as wave lengths or patterns on a big computer screen. I want mistakes and raw sounds. I mean not mistakes that sound like shit but that give a beautiful song flavor rather than a dead, contrived heartbeat. True noises. I want to really record those trains, etc., and really beat the shit out of things to capture the sounds ~not look them up online and punch it in on some track. To me that is cheating it, I want the real shit. Get out of your air conditioned comfort zone, off your fat ass and record that fucking shit. Still, that is just how they do it these days. Not for me. I can't be a part of that which in this day and age will probably be what ruins my process. In my opinion one can't feel music that way as far as I am concerned. It is lazy. When music first started being captured on recordings those artists and producer/engineers had to actually do it. That is where the beauty came from. Now these geeks use computers to mimic what those people used to sweat to create. Then they order food delivery and whatever else. What a fucking joke. I've been there. I can't do it again. It's goes against everything I believe in. Probably my downfall. We'll see I suppose.
Anyway, while all that is going on up there I am also thinking about paintings and drawings I want to make. Writings and lyrics. My friend is helping me create a mental file cabinet to slow down and take one thing at a time. He sees something there and is patient in his trust in me. I am a very stubborn and hard headed man. He understands that which is refreshing. Which is also why when he found out my situation he stepped in, again we will get to that soon. I promise.
It was getting dark so I came back inside and started writing thoughts here. Funny, I went to bed with the sun rising this morning, and just a few hours earlier I was sitting outside watching the sun go down through the trees. It was beautiful. Alone. That is how I prefer to be most of the time. It's better that way. Gonna go fucking paint or something.
Here is a link to some music I made with my old band THE DOGMEN. You can download it here if you like. It's only $5 or some shit. Do or don't. I'll never see a dime from it so it ain't about that.
https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/45-ep/id1301639036
A friend of mine gave me an opportunity to stay with him and get my shit together which drug me out to Detroit. Got my own little apartment again. It's minimal and nice. We will get to all that shit later. I hadn't seen him him in a long time and he found out about my current situation, which we will get to later. I have a record to make and my my mind is a machine that doesn't turn off. It has no organization what so ever though. Everything is always firing at once. Best way to describe it is thinking about my songs and how to approach them. I tried working with different producers and all that bullshit that comes along with that territory. They mean well but always fuck it up. They don't hear what I hear. Nor do they even want to. Robots. I will just do it myself. Then I can I can only blame myself, which I prefer. I don't like big computer recordings. Honestly, it makes me sad to sit in control rooms at big studios. I usually just go outside. Music is supposed to be heard and listened to, not looked at as wave lengths or patterns on a big computer screen. I want mistakes and raw sounds. I mean not mistakes that sound like shit but that give a beautiful song flavor rather than a dead, contrived heartbeat. True noises. I want to really record those trains, etc., and really beat the shit out of things to capture the sounds ~not look them up online and punch it in on some track. To me that is cheating it, I want the real shit. Get out of your air conditioned comfort zone, off your fat ass and record that fucking shit. Still, that is just how they do it these days. Not for me. I can't be a part of that which in this day and age will probably be what ruins my process. In my opinion one can't feel music that way as far as I am concerned. It is lazy. When music first started being captured on recordings those artists and producer/engineers had to actually do it. That is where the beauty came from. Now these geeks use computers to mimic what those people used to sweat to create. Then they order food delivery and whatever else. What a fucking joke. I've been there. I can't do it again. It's goes against everything I believe in. Probably my downfall. We'll see I suppose.
Anyway, while all that is going on up there I am also thinking about paintings and drawings I want to make. Writings and lyrics. My friend is helping me create a mental file cabinet to slow down and take one thing at a time. He sees something there and is patient in his trust in me. I am a very stubborn and hard headed man. He understands that which is refreshing. Which is also why when he found out my situation he stepped in, again we will get to that soon. I promise.
It was getting dark so I came back inside and started writing thoughts here. Funny, I went to bed with the sun rising this morning, and just a few hours earlier I was sitting outside watching the sun go down through the trees. It was beautiful. Alone. That is how I prefer to be most of the time. It's better that way. Gonna go fucking paint or something.
Here is a link to some music I made with my old band THE DOGMEN. You can download it here if you like. It's only $5 or some shit. Do or don't. I'll never see a dime from it so it ain't about that.
https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/45-ep/id1301639036
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