wolves gnawing at my feet
whoreofbabylon
About Me
Bio: Age: 43 Gender: F Location: Camp Hill, PA:
Music: Jazz, blues, classical, bluegrass, celtic, and many more
movies: dawn of the dead, meet the robinsons, rent, keeping the faith, corpse bride, spiderman 1,2,3. xmen 1,2, iron giant. kids and adult stuf mixed pretty well
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| clothes and peas |
Would you like a cup of tea? No? Well alright then let us just sit here by the fire and I’ll tell you how it happened. It’s a bit different that what the bards tell, but no less a good story. I’m not sure really where to start though my friend. The beginning is always a good place, but what beginning should I start off with. No no, not mine dear. I am just a side line in this story, an observer for all finer points and purposes. No, the story is my husband’s. Or rather it is my late husband’s story to be precise. My husband, Harold, was a leader among men. He had single handedly turned the kingdom from a backwater, a slovenly place, to a thriving city. At its height the city was a very wonderful place. Scholars from all over the land traveled to our libraries, and merchants to our stores. Both learning and physical beauty were of the up most importance then. Yes, I laugh now too when I mention it, but at the time that was the case. Now in my case I was married to the king by my father. He was also the king of a neighboring place and as in most royal marriages, saw my birth as a chance for an alliance with some future benefits for himself. Of course had he not already had my brother, he might not have been so enlightened to sell me into slavery by marriage and instead had me drowned at birth. Fortunately, I was not born first. I used to wonder if it wasn’t a better fate, but now as I sit by your lovely fire I realize that I was able to live, truly live, if only for a short time. That, my friend, is a wonderful thing. Now where was I, oh yes, my marriage. Well when I was thirteen, just after my bleeding had started, I was informed that I was going to be married. I had been groomed for marriage to a prince since I was a girl, but this was not going to be so easy. You see I was imagining a handsome prince, loving, kind, and romantic. What I got was a man that was already a king and forty years my senior. He was a foppish, pseudo-intellectual that had little interest in marriage and even littler interest in the mechanics that went with it. I was relived to hear that last bit, but more than upset to be married off to someone who didn’t even want me there. I heard from my servant, that his father had just died and he became king. Under their laws though, a king had to have a bride within two months of the crowning or it would go to the next heir. I heard many other things about him, most of all about his pride, and how I must never do anything to step on it or damage it in any way. I had no idea what they were talking about at the time but soon enough I found out. My wedding was a sight to see. I was covered head to toe in the most ridiculously expansive gown I had ever seen. Yards and yards of fabric made up this wedding cake of a dress. Every layer had shining beads and sparkling embroidery. I was utterly lost in it. My groom was similarly dressed in an elaborate mantle, cloak, tunic, and leggings. Everything wrought with the most intricate needlework I had ever seen. All the guests oohed and ahhed over our clothing, especially the King’s and he preened like the peacock he was. The wedding was a blur, and after the ceremony was over we went up to the bridal chamber and our guests shut us in. I stood there shivering as my servant undressed me. Layer after layer of that awful dress came off until I was standing there in my shift, barefoot on the cold floor. Both my servant and my new husband’s servant left then, leaving us alone. I could see through the door as they did they crowd of drunken guests awaiting some proof of consummation. I turned to my husband then and walked slowly over to where he was standing. I expected him to take me in his arms or at the very least go over to the bed, but he stood there looking as panicked as I did. He took me then, or attempted to, but his cock stayed soft and heavy between his legs. We tried again after a bit, him saying that it was my nervousness that was bothering him. It became obvious, even to me that it wasn’t my nervousness that was the problem. Soon after I said as much he began to use his hands. Almost immediately a host of small bruises appeared on my stomach and ribcage. More across my buttocks and lower back. I was left in a ball on the bed as the King left the room by a small trap door in the floor. All night I lay there alternately dozing and sobbing quietly to myself. I knew that there was nothing I could do. I was the Queen, and therefore had no recourse to return to my family. I was in for the long haul, but I vowed I would do something to make that night memorable to more than just me. In the morning my servant woke me; I grabbed her collar and pulled her close to me. I whispered to her what I wanted said then and she looked at me, taking in my puffy face and sore body, she agreed at once. After the King entered I informed him that I had everything under control. He looked at me then, hair tousled from his night spent with his catamite, and I explained to him that I had figured out the answer to our problem, at least for the time being. Soon after the chancellor came up to our rooms with my servant in tow. He was a learned man, and I suspect knew exactly the tastes of his king. Still he went along with my ruse and announced after examining my bruises quite extensively, that I was indeed of royal birth and fit to bed the king. You see I had convinced the entire kingdom by nightfall that since lovers were frequently taken in a royal marriage in my kingdom, that the offspring had to be tested before they could consummate a marriage. In the case of a princess it must be with dried peas placed under a marriage bed. A woman of true royal blood would bruise and be unable to get rest, because of the lumps in the bed only she could feel. Of course this wouldn’t affect the king, since a man would have toughened skin from battle. Never mind that a battle hadn’t been seen by this kingdom since years past. Yes, my friend, they swallowed it. They had to. After all who wants to admit that their reigning monarch is a whoopsy. The next night I was prepared. I slipped a small dinner knife into my sleeve and carried it upstairs with me. The female servants that were posted outside the door that night heard loud noises from my husband and myself and were shortly presented with a sheet spotted with enough blood to make a huge celebration and securely tied the two kingdoms together. Now that that was done I was mostly left alone. Guarded enough to keep me from running away, but loose enough to where I could go riding on the grounds and shopping with a small group of maids. Once a month my husband came to be and we attempted to do what we were meant to do and time after time he was unable. Without the pressure he never beat me again. Partially because I made it known the night I brought the knife up with me, that if he did, it would be his blood on the sheet instead of mine. Years passed and the kingdom began to talk though. They were saying that the king spent too much time on his books and clothes and not enough trying to produce an heir for the kingdom. Soon word got back to the King and he came to me in the night. His catamite was with him this time, as was our alchemist. I was forced to drink a goblet of something that made me immobile, and my husband was as well, although he was not paralyzed as I was. To the contrary he was more aroused than I had ever seen him, which of course wasn’t saying much. What happened then you ask? Well I won’t go into details, but suffice it to say he made a valiant effort to both rape and impregnate me. With the help of his assistants he was able to do one of the two. As you well know I have no child. I vowed then and there to be rid of this burden of a marriage under all costs. I mentioned before that my husband had a fondness for clothes. Not just any clothes, but the most exquisite, the finest, the most beautiful clothes he could find. He had merchants and tailors from across all the lands come to fit him and create for him. So it was no surprise that when the two men bragging about their amazing talents came to town, they were shown immediately into the palace. Speaking with the king they informed him that they could back him the envy of not just his kingdom, but of all the surrounding kingdoms as well. Not only would they make the most becoming suit of clothes for him, but it was a test as well. You see they were alchemists as well as tailors and had been able to design a fabric that was so light and beautiful that to a liars eye it was invisible. The king was taken in and agreed to supply his new Royal Tailors with the materials and monies they needed to complete this task. Months they toiled over this fabric, and as they worked there were many who looked in on them. The chancellor, the King’s own alchemist, and even the king himself. Of course they couldn’t see anything, there wasn’t anything there. I alone was brave enough to say I didn’t see anything. Of course this was to be expected. All women lie you know. How could a little liar like myself see anything that was meant for the pure. After it was finished the king was dressed in his imaginary finery for a banquet. It was our wedding anniversary. Ten years it marked, and the king was long past his prime. He strutted out like a banty rooster in front of his guests. Eager to see who was as honest as he claimed to be. To his shock no one said a word. They complimented him on such a beautiful suit of clothes. Each person more elaborate in this phrasing then the one before. The more he heard the praise the more he was assured of surrounding himself with the right people. Forgetting that he himself couldn’t see a thing and had lied about it as well. His cock stood hard, proud, and red. It jutted out in front of him, bouncing as he walked in procession. I took a moment to whisper an aside to one of people in the crowd. “It must be a beautiful outfit, but frankly I can’t see a thing.” My whisper caught like wildfire. Soon everyone was whispering behind the procession as it passed. My husband, the King, tried to pretend that he heard nothing of it, but all you had to do was look at his flagging pecker to know the truth. I ran that night, away from that kingdom with the bit of money and goods, leaving the poor tailors to their fate. All the men in that kingdom tried to use me for their own gain. Be it a kingdom or just petty riches. I managed to obtain the herbs from the alchemist’s chambers before I left to put into the King, and the Alchemists drinks. The very same that I had. As a final farewell I let the others in the party have the very same as the King had that night. I knew then as I left that the entire kingdom, that could turn a blind eye to what was right in front of them, deserved no less that a king that couldn’t admit the truth. A frightening tale sister, not really. I have no desire to harm you in any way. After all, you would never do anything dishonest. Would you? |
| Posted: 1/24/2008 1:59:17 PM |
| More Fairy Tale Ideas-imput please |
| OK There are a couple of ideas I have been kicking around. I was thinking about doing something with Hans Christian Anderson Tales for a bit. Maybe Thumbelina, or Little Match Girl, Little Mermaid???? And I'm not sure if I want a horror, comedy or romance bent to my next one either. I have quite a few directions for each one. I will happily take suggestions of things they might want to read..... |
| Posted: 1/21/2008 8:52:25 PM |
| Big Hair |
| The funny thing about a self-narrated or first person story is the reader always knows how it ended. That no matter the horrors that happen or the peril the author was in he, or she in my case, survived. Therefore, before you skip to the end of my tale to “see what happens” how about you enjoy the meat of the story and know that no matter what, in the end, I survived to tell it. My mother, from what I was told about her, had a terrible hunger. This of course was no normal hunger, but rather the furious cravings of a half mad pregnant woman. We all go a little mad when there is another life inside us. A parasite if you will. A life solely dependant on leaching your food, blood, energy and a emotions is growing inside you how can you not go a bit mad. This something a man will never understand, although god knows I would love to give one a sentient tapeworm and see what he thinks. Nevertheless, back to my mother, where was I. Oh yes, her hunger, it was for salad, did I mention that? Hey, there have been stranger cravings. Some women crave for dirt, or starch, she simply wanted something green. Of course, this was a particular type of salad, lettuce really. This particular type grew, quite lush and fine, in a neighbors garden. My story starts this garden, and this garden starts my story. There are some that say, the woman that lived next door was no ordinary woman; and the garden that she kept was not ordinary either. About the garden, I cannot say, but about the woman, my Gran, I guess I can admit that she was indeed a witch. No, she was not the evil type, though a bit selfish when it came to her wants. She taught me many things before she died, one of which was being able to read and write. To some this may not be a wondrous thing, but for a girl of my station it was. She taught me about plants and their healing properties, and which were dangerous. Oh, tons of things I learned from her, and I am sure had she lived longer I would have gotten even more. But she died when I was fourteen and I was left alone to fend for myself. One day as I was hanging my wash among the clucking chickens, I heard a voice. A beautiful man’s voice carrying a song with it through the trees. I sang back an answer and he called out startled. He came through the trees and saw me. I watched as his eyes took on the ruins of the tower, my thatched hut, and then me. His eyes drank me in. I finished pinning up the sheet I was holding and ran my hands through my cropped hair and went to him. He was tall, hair dark and in need of a trim. He had a festering wound over his right eye. As I came closer to him, he stumbled and fell face first on the dirt in my yard. My god he was heavy. I was glad I saved the litter from when Gran died and I had to carry her to her grave. I fetched it, and rolled him onto it. Dragged him back to the house then and started my work. He slept though most of it. The cleaning and healing took two days. He woke briefly raving with fever when I sewed up his wound. Finally, he opened his eyes. I was dozing lightly in Gran’s rocking chair that I had pulled next to the bed. “You were the one singing in the forest.” He said. It was not a question. I went to him and put my hand on his brow, feeling his head for the fever. He was cooler than before, but not completely better. “I remember you.” He persisted. “What am I doing here?” “You were hurt, and fell at my feet burning with fever two days ago.” I replied. “Carried you here and have been trying to make you well again, but I only know so much.” His eyes started to close again then, heavy with sleep. Before he drifted off, he took my hand and kissed it. Right on the back as if I was a Lady and he a courtly gentlemen that I had read about in the few books I had. I tended to him for the rest of the night, and in the morning, he woke for good. That day he felt well enough to get out of bed and follow me as I did my chores, telling me about him as I worked. He was the son of a king, but not being the eldest, he thought it best to leave the kingdom and join the service of his father’s army. His father was one that loved the romantic stories told around a fire, so he let his son go and told him to find his fortune, but that he was to be back to marry his betrothed in a matter of three months. The son, whose name was Gareth, did not speak of his betrothed with love however. He said the woman was a shrew with a black temper and he dreaded marrying her. He did not see a way to avoid, his father, the King’s demand. After a bit, he asked me about myself. I told him my name to start and he laughed. “Like the lettuce?” he laughed. “Exactly the same,” I said with a smile. “My mother had a craving for it when she was pregnant and my father, feeling overwhelmed I imagine, with her demands, stole it from his neighbor’s garden. She raised me here. After I was born, she demanded payment from my parents, saying that she allowed him the theft and much worse she could do if they didn’t give her what she wanted.” “A witch she was then!” he exclaimed. I laughed knowing that he might never fully understand. “No, I doubt she could have really done anything except maybe give him the squitters from food she fed him. Nevertheless, to people in that town, an old woman who knows her herbs and lives alone is a witch. Unless of course they need her favor. So my parents, who already had a few children from what Gran told me, let her take me. I always wondered if she didn’t somehow foster that craving my mother had so she could get me, but I never asked.” “Well,”he said, “I cannot simply call you after a vegetable. I’ll call you Grace, while I’m here. If you don’t mind that is.” “So you’re planning to stay then?” He lifted his hand and skimmed it across my cropped hair before bringing it down to touch my cheek.” Would you like me to go?” I took his hand then and led him back to my cottage. A year passed and he was part of my life. His old home, the King, his betrothed, everything had been forgotten by him. He dressed like a peasant now, and helped me around my little farm, going to the market and caring for our twins. One day however a small brigade came crashing through our woods hailing him. The called out his name and came onto my land. They explained that his father, the king had heard he was in this town and they were to bring him back with them. He talked to them briefly, wrote a long note to his father, and sent them away. Then he came to me. “We have to go to him.” He said looking miserable. “I have an idea though.” He explained to me his father’s romantic nature, but at the same time that he expected his sons to “do the right thing” He said that he would bring the babies and me to the castle with him, but that he was going to tell the king a story, a lie really, about what had happened. I agreed to go through with it, and soon we had set off. I learned on the way that he had wrote to his father and asked for a few weeks. He said he wrote that an extraordinary series of events had happened and he had been detained. He would explain everything when he came to see the king in person. Finally, we arrived and kissing the children and me he bade us to wait and he went inside. I knew what was going to happen and in my minds eye I could see it unfold. He strode into the banquet hall where they were waiting for him. His father sat in the center of the high table, with his brother and his brother’s wife on one side and his betrothed on the other. Her full lips smiled at him, but her eyes glowered with an anger as black as pitch. As he began to speak however, she began to grow paler, and by the time, he was done, she looked kindly and sadly at him before wishing him well and leaving the table. He stood there before his father and told of the beautiful voice he heard through the woods that day he disappeared. How the very sound of it bewitched him. That he followed it through the trees and came upon a tower and a beautiful girl leaning out of it singing wistfully. Before he broke cover from the trees though, a haggard crone came out of a hut nearby. She went to the tower and shouted for the girl to let down her hair. As if by magic, a cascade of the most lustrous golden locks flowed out of the tower and the witch seemed to climb up them. He told them that the hair was no ordinary hair. It seemed to glow with an unearthly light as if the creature that climbed it witched it. He told them of waiting until nightfall after that horrid thing had left and saying the same words she had said he had the girl in the tower let her hair down for him. He spoke of her surprise at seeing him, then of her astonishing beauty. Of the pure love that they shared, night after night until finally they consummated it. He spoke of the crone finding them and casting him down into a bramble bush, which pierced his eyes and made him blind. At this, he pointed at his scar above his eye. Then he told them of being left in the desert to die by the witch. Blind and unable to help himself in any way he had resigned himself to death when he heard it, her singing. Sightless he crawled to her across burning sand and she took him. She pulled his head into her lap heavy with child, and cried her tears of love so pure they restored his sight. Once it was regained, she said that the witch was dead and they went back to the cottage next to the tower to live. After his tale was over, he looked at the King. His eyes, like everyone’s at the table, were streaming with their own tears. Gareth called out then. “Rapunzel,” he cried, “come in and show yourself.” I entered then, carrying the babies in my arms and the room gasped. “She has shorn her hair, my King.” He said. “She wants no more of the tower and no more of that life. We are in love and would like your blessing to continue on as we were.” The King of course agreed and though we go back several times a year to visit, we still live here in my forest. I knew he would have to make Gran out to be evil, and himself out to be a hero saving the innocent maiden. I was all right with that. They still tell our story when we come for banquet, and I still remind Gareth, from time to time, that it was I who did the saving |
| Posted: 1/17/2008 9:18:11 PM |
| A mother's love-not a farie tale |
| She was a circus performer, part of a large troupe if not a particularly notable one. "A Fairie Beauty," her act touted, "Our beautiful Finella." Her act was one of acrobatics, or contortion really. She was the star, but with her there were seven diminutive persons, interchangeable and usually male but they were never featured on the posters and rarely seen outside the act. On a rather unremarkable day, her troupe of motley performers came to town and with them came the whispers of Her. Of all the acts that were featured, the fierce lions, the motorcycle riders, the odd and fearsome clowns and noble aerialists, she stood alone. I looked at the posters of Finella and saw they did her no justice. Her hair the color of pitch did not gleam as I remembered. Her skin, so smooth and pale like cold stones looked fair, but commonplace. Lips painted a garish blush, yet I knew the true color that lay beneath. Still I could be wrong. It had been many years since the last time I saw her. Time could have stolen the perfect memory of those awful days when I could still call her daughter. I went into the tent breathing deep the smells of stale popcorn, animals and cheep greasepaint. I bought my ticket like everyone else and found an empty seat. I scanned the arena looking for her and caught a glimpse of one of those ugly misshapen men she worked with. In costume he dressed in stained and ragged coveralls, face blackened with makeup to look like dirt. Even if she told him about me, both the crowds and the changes I had been though hid me. Still I dropped lower into my seat and let my mind go for a bit. I remembered the past, our past, painful as it was. I was sixteen and had run away from home into the big bad city from my little town. I knew how pretty I was and was going to find my fortune. I did find, as it turned out, a career path of sorts. Not in front of a camera as I imagined, but on my back. Within a year, I was pregnant with a baby. I had no idea who the father was. It could have been almost any male in that lousy city. Still I did not care. I had you anyway, and worked up until about a month before you were born. There are all sorts of kinks out there and the bigger I got the more, refined I will say, my clientele became. After you were born, I became more motherly. Not to you of course, but to the men who desired a bit of a maternal thing. As you grew, you became more beautiful in the garden of flesh than even me. I was not ill used, but still time, and childbirth had changed me. You were fourteen when I came into our rooms to find some man on you. The fright on your face was plain, but I figured it was what you deserved, for stealing my clients. When he was through, he came to me. Holding the sheet with and unmistakable blood stain in the center. I paid him as I had promised and went inside. You were gone, the window opened as wide as it would go. Silently I wished you luck in the forest of people and buildings. Years passed and I figured you gone. My beauty stayed, though harder and colder than before. I became the mistress of the house and very renown in my small world. That is until this circus came to town. All they talked about was this raven-haired beauty. How nimble she was. Like and angel or a fairie princess they said. One of my oldest customers even remarked about how much she looked like me. “So much younger though” he said wistfully. Well he is not talking much any more. They are seldom missed, the men that visit my establishment. Although most other customers learn quickly to hold their tongues, when speaking to me, there are always one or two that have to deal with my displeasure. Suddenly my mind returned to the present as the barker announced her act. Dressed in a spangled leotard of red, black and white, she was carried out on the shoulders of her little men. Using them as props the contorted her body into different shapes and sizes. Becoming fluid and sinuous, she moved like nothing I had ever seen. I, a woman who dealt in flesh, was astonished at what she did. I knew now why the men who saw here were lost. A normal woman would let this little show play out, but I had never been such a creature. After her part in the show was over, I left my chair. Pulling my old coat tight around me and hefting my stuffed purse, I waddled towards the backstage area. Lying and bribing the security guards, I went back to her. I crept into her dressing room where she was and spoke to her. Feigning admiration, I asked for her autograph. Blind to anyone that was not helpful to her, she did not recognize me though my disguise. She signed her name with a flourish, and turned her back to me. As she did, I pulled from my bag a lace ribbon and an apple. Covered with an undetectable poison that I had discovered, I knew her vanity would let her play with the ribbon, and her greed would make her eat that apple. The apple in particular I chose with care. It’s skin the same blood red as her lips, and the tender meat as fair as her white white skin. I left, wishing a silent goodbye to my Finella. Now some of you are reading this and you may notice some similarities to another story. Some call it a nursery story or a fairy tale. I saw this as well, which was one of the reasons I chose her demise as I did. Remember I always wanted to be an actor, and what better role to play. A villainess is more challenging than the damsel and more fun to play as well. There is one notable difference however. This is reality. There is no handsome prince, and no absent, yet loving father. There is no worshiping the dead. She received a pauper’s burial and not a soul remembered me there. The only thing that lingers is some small footsteps outside my door and seven dwarven shadows on my wall. |
| Posted: 1/12/2008 7:46:43 PM |
| Happy Observance of Religious or Community Celebrations |
| I'm up all night, folks. Not really. I will undoubtedly go to sleep within the next two hours or so. First and foremost, I wanted to wish you all a very happy holiday season. I will throw out the traditional, "Merry Christmas," but I also want to make sure that I wish well all of my friends who celebrate Hannukah, Yule, Solstice, Festivus, Kwanzaa and any other community "Kwanzaa-esque" celebrations (which I assure you, is much less racist than it sounds.) This is always the time of year that we dwell on everything bad in our lives. We think about the holidays that we spent with people who are no longer with us. I do this too. I remember the Christmases with Mom. But Mom has never really left. Yeah, she's not here to help, but just thinking about her makes me smile (and cry.) But also thinking of her reminds me to call my brothers and tell them I love them. And yes, by that I mean "text" rather than call, and say, "Take off my shoes," rather than, "I love you." But they know what I mean. Many of us dwell on how cold and dreary this season is. It's hard. I admit that to you. Being affected by nature lets us know we're alive. It's tiring, But I have a solution. Orange Juice. Be awake during the day. Live life. Sleep Deeply. Sleep Darkly. Sleep well. But wake up bright. See you soon. |
| Posted: 12/26/2007 6:01:11 AM |
| House of Wax |
| I’m not really the sort To fear self abuse: As a child I yanked out My own loose tooth I’ve pierced my own ears And I’ve done my own taxes I rep for a company That deals in home waxes Not the kind that you use on your tables and chairs But the kind that’s quite good at removing stray hairs. They sent me some carstock (that’s goodies in sales talk) And I knew I should try it To make sure my customers Would all want to buy it- And of course, I must learn Each technique perfectly To make sure all their questions Will be answered correctly. So I figured, how hard could it possibly be To do a Brazilian? Let’s try it and see. So folks go to school for this. Big Deal. School, school. I think I can do it. I’m not such a fool. I called up my contact And she answered my questions. Still feeling quite nervous, About.com beckoned. “you can do it yourself,” The world shouted at me. “Put the wax on that stove girl, And set yourself free!” So, without getting too detailed, Let’s just say that I tried And it’s something I don’t think I can ever describe Let’s sum up this gory Little process discreetly Since there’s no way this story Can be narrated sweetly There were tears and fears Swears in all the languages I know how to curse in And bloodcurdling shrieks And me asking myself “WHY WHY WHY” And facing the mortifying possibility that I could go down in medical history to provide some entertainment for all the new residents and then, vertigo, nearly passing out in my basement and considering leaving the shit on as a fashion statement- so ladies ( and some fellows) please learn from this confessional: there are some things it’s better to just pay a professional! |
| Posted: 11/19/2007 8:39:28 AM |
| Bending of Light: Dead Letters |
| **While I was cleaning out some old boxes over Christmas, I ventured upon a package that an old university friend, Samantha, had sent me years ago. At the time she sent it to me, she'd just taken a job for Australia Post, working in a dead letter office in Sydney, and her main task was to try and locate the individuals who had failed to address their mail correctly. They get thousands of these letters daily, either from across the nation or interationally, and those that are missing any return address or lack any name assigned to them are classified as officially dead after six months. Their are 237 letters, cards, and postcards in total. When I sat down to read a few I got lost within them - in the end I spent the best part of twelve hours locked into the lives and outpourings of people who will remain unknown to me forever. I think that if you have a read of the ones that I post here, you'll understand why I didn't use them as my own story ideas...these people needed to be given their own voice, and have their own hearts on display. Many of them are love letters, many are from lonely, troubled people and are addressed to nobody in particular, and many are written in the uneven, tentative hand of children, asking or hoping for something that is missing in their lives. I'm not sure what to do with the collection yet, but it's a treasure that I think deserves to be shared. Samantha says it best: Dear Je, Here's the letters that I told you about. These are the things I have to call dead every day, but just take a look at them and you will see that the language in the ones that I have sent you is positively alive. My colleagues and I have our hearts broken daily by these writings. Most of that which we open is mundane - gossip and such - but some of them are just overflowing with emotion and have wonderful stories of longing within their lines. They are all too good to throw away...perhaps you could gather some story lines from them, or turn these people into characters. I know how superhuman these letters are...it's as though the authors could "bend light" (you'll understand what I mean by this once you read them) to make language appear different, and is something you would appreciate. Do what you want with them...they are officially dead, and can't be traced to anyone that we can find. I'd hate to see them burnt when they have such heart in them. Have a great Easter...hope the bunny finds you! With love, Sam I hope that you love them as much as I do. Take care, keep safe, and stay beautiful, Amor y Paz, Je To my future lover, I don't even know who you are, but by the time my heartbeat falls silent in this life I know I will have met you. Who knows how long I'll have known you for by that time? They say that some souls have known each other forever, even before they meet in this life. I think that's the case between you and I, but just how long do I have to wait until I know you again? When I was a small boy, I climbed Mt. Kosciusko* with my father. We went up there in the middle of summer - it was shortly before dawn and it was still sweltering heat - but the top of the mountain was still capped with snow. We caught a chair-lift up the foothills, but walked for most of the way along a gully that had been cut into the mountainside by the melts of several thousand years. My little legs got tired a third of the way into the walk, and my father hoisted me onto his shoulders where I dozed from time to time, in between looking at wildflowers and birds. There was life everywhere, and I was right in the middle of it. The memory is still as clear as the day that I lived it. When the first blue shadow of the sky was creeping over the horizon, we arrived at the foot of Kosciusko. It was really just a small hill on top of a huge movement of dirt and rock thrust up by the earth, but the size to me when I was such a small child was north of my wildest dreams. We came to the top of the hill in a short time, and before you knew it, I, perched on my father's shoulders, was the highest point in the land. That view from the top was brilliant. As far as the eye could see was an undulating serpent of mountaintops, known as the Great Dividing Range. They snaked their way up the coast, beyond vision, and Mt. Kosciusko was right in the middle of that serpent's back. After a few minutes of being there, the sun had begun to make it's journey across the sky, chasing time, and it unfolded the most spectatular sight I have ever had the glory of witnessing. I could see the whole world! Plains that went on forever laid themselves bare to the west, and the mountains that snaked their way down into other states took on shapely, rounder forms in that soft light. It was so big...everything was so big...I wasn't sure whether it was just me as a kid, but on that day I got the first malformed sense of how small it is that we really are. I felt struck by the volume of things, and was a litle frightened by it all. What hope do we have of being seen amongst all of this vastness? Now, as I move about through all this beautiful mess of daily life, I still can't help but feel the smallness of who I am. Long after that journey I made as a child, I am still climbing mountains, although most of them I have thrust up out of the earth of my own self. I still feel that I need to become bigger, but find that the daily rigours of my job and my life keep me from being who I want to be. I want you to hurry up so that this can all change. I need to know what sort of mountains love can throw up before me, and I want to climb them willfully. You are like that day, this I know. You are like all of the wildlife and flowers I saw, like the life in the essence of everything. You are in the earth and the water, in light and in the height of mountains, and I know that one day I will climb to see the vastness of you, and that you will be the sunrise in my heart, showing me how small the world is with you in it - how you will crowd out everything that there has ever been. That day up the mountain will pale in comparison to the sight of you. So wherever you are, and wherever you are rising from, come soon. I need to see your light, as if for the first time. I love you already, and I always have. When does the sunrise of forever begin? Come soon, love, Donny xxxx **This is again a work of fiction |
| Posted: 10/22/2007 8:08:13 AM |
| Something new |
| Just a word of warning to those who tuned in for my last story. The time is upon me again to purge prose out of my head like so much poison. I'll try to make it as entertaining as I can, but seeing as it is my life, while I might find it relevent, you might find it boring. So I'll give a few options. Pure fiction, or fact what do you want to hear? |
| Posted: 8/30/2007 6:04:41 AM |
| Long Time Ago-Final Part |
For a time I made the blessings home, my home. I had Halloween, a Birthday, Thanksgiving, and then Christmas there. I became a part of the circle there, and soon enough Phil and I became less then mortal enemies. We spent any free time we had at the local Wafflehouse. Jester, who by this time I had started to call Chuck with everyone else, hadn’t found work and so had a lot more free time than I did. I managed to get a horrendous Job in the local mall at a clothing store,  and funneled whatever I made either to the Blessings for feeding us or spent it at Wafflehouse sucking up countless cups of coffee. Jester by this time was starting to loose some of his charm. He started to get stranger and stranger, or maybe he was always that way. It was hard for me to tell really. It’s amazing how your perspective on people changes when you aren’t doing crank and acid every goddamned day. Even the fire eating didn’t thrill me when I couldn’t chace the trails that weren’t there anymore. On the other hand I was spending a lot of time hanging with Joe, Josh and Phil over at Phil’s house. Our sarcastic give and take which bothered me so much at the beginning became the only refuge I had from being annoyed with Jester. Taking a page from Ron and Airalee’s book I began a physical relationship with him, while still being with Jester. It worked for a time, but as the months passed and my eighteenth birthday approached I started to pull away even more from Jester. Him not working and constantly asking for money started to bother me more and more, and I felt my desire for him ebb. Phil and I never had a large love affair like Jester and I did, it was more of a physical comfort. My birthday arrived and Ron, Airalee, and everyone had a little party. Nothing big, but we all got kinda buzzed and everyone was dancing around the living room. It really made me realize how lucky I was, and for the first time in a while I thought of my family. I missed my mother in an abstract way, and thought I might giver her a call soon to let her know I was still alive. Later that night I was on the patio outside of our room sitting and talking with the guys. I had my eyes closed and was listening to their back and forth feeling the cool November breeze wind its way under my shirt. I thought that I was happy here in a way, but I knew deep down that my journey was coming to an end. It was almost like I cound here the wind play a funeral dirge for who I had been these past few months. This fearless, careless, reckless girl that had jumped headlong into a life she hadn’t even known existed from her previous suburban world. Know here I was again, living in a house, working at a mall, and basically becoming who I was before, but with my demons burnt out of me. I knew I could go home. I stayed for Thanksgiving and Christmas, helping out as much as I could, and finding little gifts with as much personality and originality as I could afford on my meager pay. Airalee in the mean time started to have problems. I found out from Ron that she has bouts of depression and unless she has medication she becomes almost violent towards herself at times. She was taking pills, but apparently not with any regularity and when she did they weren’t working the way they should. The day before Christmas I cam home form work late, it was a mad house there, and after we cleaned up it was almost eleven. I walked in to a silent and dark house. The Christmas tree being the only thing that gave me a way to see.  I heard something in the kitchen and went in to see who was awake. It was Airalee, sitting alone in the dark eating something. When I went over to say hello, and I realized she was quietly sobbing and eating great handfuls of some kind of white paste. It was Crisco and flour mixed together. She was just sitting there scooping some up with her fingers and shoving it into her mouth, chewing for a bit and then swallowing. How she was even able to get a little down her throat was a mystery, but I realized that she was having increasing trouble doing it. I, as gently as I could, took her hands, and pulled her away from the table, and walked her upstairs. She followed me like a child and I managed to get her into her room. I let Ron know what was happening and went down to clean up her mess. He came down a brief time later and told me that she was sleeping. Then almost fell into my arms crying. He was going to have her hospitalized right after Christmas. I let him know then that I was leaving too the day after and going home if I could. We just sat and held each other for a while, wordlessly giving comfort and strength. I went to bed after that and slept dreamlessly. The next day everything seemed normal, and there was no evidence of what happened the night before. We had our gift exchange and a wonderful dinner. Everyone was in great spirits including Airalee. Still I slipped away from the family to go call my own, for the first time since I had left all those months ago. I dialed my number and my mom answered on the first ring. A tearful exchange followed and I told her I was coming home. All of our bad feelings were gone in the joy of just speaking to one another again. I went back downstairs and let everyone know that I was going home. There were tears, but in general everyone seemed happy for me. Jester and I took a walk outside. It was so cold I could see my breath, but not quite cold enough to snow. He asked me why I was leaving, and I unloaded everything. From what had happened and was happening to Airalee, to why I was upset with him. He was silent for a bit, and then looked up at me. His eyes sad, but clear. “I love you.” He said very simply. “I’m not going to argue, or try to change your mind. You’re to strong for that.” I opened my mouth, but before I could he hugged me. “I want you to do what you have to do, or what you think you have to do at least.” I saw the man I had fell for. He may not have fit in here, and while this was close to my world, it would never really be his. He was a street performer, and fire eater. He had no desire to get a real job and wear a name tag or put on a tie. I knew this, but ignored it because he didn’t fit into where we were. I know I loved him, but also that he wasn’t for me anymore. We went upstairs soon after and made love for the last time. I fell asleep in his arms, and woke up a few hours later. Taking my bag I walked through the silent house to the front door, and put a note on the table next to it. I had already said my goodby’s but this was just my final thank yous to everyone. I opened the door quietly and walked out. By the time I hit the highway the sun was coming up, and the frost on the grass would be melting soon. I caught a ride within minutes and I was on my way home. That’s it for this story, my journey that spanned close to a year of my life. Obviously I left quite a bit out, but nothing really that would have added to the story. Or maybe it would have, I’ll never know. Jester and I did see each other again, and in fact he was the one that introduced me to my now ex husband. The rest I never did see again. Airalee went into the hospital, and was admitted for about four months. After that I lost touch with them. As for me, well here I am, living each day like it’s a gift. Because it is one. |
| Posted: 7/2/2007 11:41:16 AM |
| Long Time Ago pt 18 |
| The bus ride was indefinate Years passed by my window as I stared out at the flat land of Texas, the desolate dusty hellishness of Oklahoma, and the rabid, rampet Bubba's of Arkansas. About the second day I had come fully out of my acid trip and was yearning for something. I knew full well what I wanted but tried to ignore it. "Wanting it would do no good!" I told myself. "I couldn't get it anyhow" "I'm stuck on a bus, so just forget it." Well yes all of those things could be true, but this was me. If I wanted something bad enough, I got it. This is still true today! So there I was looking at this at least an ounce worth of bud I had and my mind went. The next rest stop I was behind the bus station in Atlanta having a smoke and talking to some of the other bus riders I had become aquanted with. Jester was sitting on the curb furtively rolling a joint we were going to pass around. Of course one of the guys wasnted to buy some so I sold him a good chunk for about fifty bucks. A rip off really, but supply and demand being what it was when we only had a twenty minute layover he bought it. I ducked into the bathroom with the cash and within about 5 minutes found a nickle of speed. I had some tin foil in the duffle bag of the giant bud so I proceded to chase the dragon right there in the bathroom.  After that I hurried back out and managed to catch a puff off the roach. They smoked it quick, and I was lucky to get anything to take the edge off. We climbed back on the bus, and away we went. About ten the next morning we arrived, and were met at the bus station by Jester's friend/mom/whatever. She was no relation to him, but had kinda adopted him. We got alog fairly well right away and soon we had pulled into this beautiful neighborhood. They were like the houses I grew up around. Large and fairly smelling of money. Jester and I set ourselfs up in a large room upstairs with a private patio entrance. The only thing it was lacking was it's own bathroom. God after sleeping rough for months it was heaven. The families name was, get this, The Blessings. Ron, Airalee, and their daughter Airron. They were a quirky bunch, and to have adopted Jester and I they would have to be. Their entire living room was lined wth builtin bookshelves and covered from floor to celing with the most obscure and often somewhat obscene books. Some was fiction, some was art, most were about sex and drugs odly enough. I soon found out the strangeness of their relationship. Ron and Airalee weren;t what you would consider swingers, but they were polyamourus. I had no idea what that was, and had never come up against something like that before. Airalee had a boyfrend that her husband knew about, and not only that, but they did things together. Not sexual things, but they would all hang out, or go to dinner and movies together. The harmony was amazing. There was no jealousy and there was no pettiness. No one in that household lied to one another, and it was the most amazing and loving marriage that I had ever seen. There relationship opened my eyes and I would later start living my life, or trying to, in a somewhat simaler manner. Our first night there Jester, who;s real name was Chuck, got in touch with some old friends and we met them at wafflehouse.  The friends of his were Phil, Joe, and Josh. Phil I hated from the moment I met him. Something about that smarmy sarcastic way he had rubbed me the wrong way. I was pretty sure he felt the same way. Within an hour we were throwing snarky comments back and forth to one another, hoping the other would slip up, stutter or something. By the end of the night we had to call a draw, and apparently we had highly amused not only everyone else at the table but the waitress informed us that we made her night. |
| Posted: 6/25/2007 7:40:06 PM |
| Long Time Ago pt 18 |
| I woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Or rather something woke me. There was someone in bed with me and it wasn't a smell I was used to. I had read somewhere that love was directly connected to scent, and that each individual carries their own that is both sexually and emotionally pleaseing to only certian people. Jester had a scent I could roll myself in, but this wasn't him. As I was coming awake realizing this, the arm belonging to this entity circled my waist and cupped my bear breast. The thumb and forefinger pinched my nipple slightly and it caused an unwecome frission of pleasure. I could feel my body respond, as I turned to see who I was responding to. In the shadows of the room I could only see a sillouette of a head and torso, but that was enough. "Larry?"I said it questioningly, but I knew it was him. "You should be with me." he mumbled into the back of my neck. I could smell the gin wafting out of his mouth and tickling the small hairs there. "He's not good enough for you. You don't even know where he is right now, and when you're in trouble who do you come to. Me." "Larry," I said again."I know it seems like he's not there for me, but he is in the ways I need him to be." "You need a man, Nic. A man, not some crazy kid with wingnuts on his hat." "I'm the only one who can say what I need right now Larry." I started to get up and he grabbed me, pulling me onto my back on the bed. " It's past time, Nic. I've been sitting here watching you for months now and I am getting what I want." He grabbed my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head. His legs were heavy above mine and I couldn't move. With his free hand he continued to touch and fondle my tits, then covered my mouth kissing me. The taste was foul, I can still remember how sour it was. His free hand now was travling south, and reached my clit. He found it unerringly in the dark, and to this day I wonder. Why was he able to find it without assistance. Again I responded, his touch sent a jolt through my legs and they spread. He took advantage of this and forced his way between them. My saving grace was the fact that he was only half hard. Maybe because of the boose, maybe becase he knew this was rape. I'll never know, but I thank God every time I remember. I used this and started to move against him. I softened my lips and started to kiss him. Allowing my arms to relax, and grinding my pussy against him. He moaned then releasing my arms and I could feel him starting to grow harder. I reahed down like I was going to help him in, and he lifted up so I could. He mumbled something like I knew, or I know, but I didnlt let him finish. I stroked my hand down the length of his cock, untilI reached his balls. He lifted up a bit more allowing me to cup them in my hand. I squeezed then. I gripped them with all the strength I could managed and squeezed, the twisted until he howled. "FUCK!" He screamed as his sprang back. I went with him still holding on. "LET GO OF MY NUTS YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs, then smashed his hand into my cheak. I fell to the side, still holding an he crashed over half on me half on the floor. I let go then and jumped up. I stood over him bare ass naked breathing hard. My cheak and eye felt like they were on fire. "You numb fuck." I said, trying my damndest to be calm. "You lousy sack of shit what gives you the right to touch me." I Looked down at him doubled over on the ground cupping his swelling balls and I just turned then. I scooped my clothes off of the floor and walked over to the door, opened it and walked out. I dressed as I was walking into the living room and grabbed my bag. My eye was already swelling shut,  and seeing was an effort. Turbo was in the kitchen staring at me with his mouth half open. I noded at him, and he back at me and I walked out.I found Jester a few hours later and told him what happened. He was pissed and made some meaningless threats to go there and "take care of him". I realised then that Jester, was just what Larry said. A crazy kid. That didn't matter to me thoug, because if a man was what Larry was, then I would be better of alone, and keeping company with crazy kids. I said then that I wanted to go to South Carolina if he could make it happen. He said he could, and if I wanted to we could go to the welfare department today and try to get the process going. Now I won't bore you withthe details of sitting in the most depresing office in the world. Nor with the endless paperwork we filled out, nor the horribly dead inside beuracrat that delt with me in the process. But I will say that within two days we both had tickets to Aiken, South Carolina. and were ready to get on a bus.  We got to the greyhound station station, the morning we were set to leave. Each of us had a bag of clothes and a spare amount of food. It was a 3 day trip, so I knew I'd probably be hungry alot, but I couldn;t afford to take more. I had about fifty bucks on me, and was hopeing I wouldn;t have to spend anything. I was also not taking any speed with me, and haden't done anything that morning. To combat the enevitable withdrawls I'd have I got a friend to thumbprint my with some LSD and I was starting to trip as the bus pulled away from the station. Jester and I had gotten the triple seat in the back of the bus by the bathrooms, and I strached out on his lap and fell into a light dose. When I woke up we were stopping for a break and to pick up some passengers. I was tripping pretty hard by then and decided to stay on the bus. There was a guy who was catty courner from us with a huge dufflebag that had gotten off at the rest stop, but when we started up and pulled out he hadn't goten back on. It was then that my sense of smell kicked in. I had smelt it before, but now the sent invaded my head, not leaving me alone. I pulled the dufflebag over to me and opened it up. Not much was inside. Some clothes, and a few snacks, but at the bottom there it was. The sorce of the scunky smell was a bud about the sixeof my fist, maybe even bigger.  I gigled then, knowing that I'd be able to make at least a few bucks on the ride. |
| Posted: 6/17/2007 8:09:13 PM |
| Long Time Ago pt 17 |
| Processing takes a long time, I found out. I was printed, photographed, and "counseled" by the people doing intake. It all amounted to a bad pickup line "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" they asked over and over. Worded differently of course, but it all sounded the same. My wits were about and knowing that I wasn't 18 yet they would more than likely contact my parents. I coulnd't have that so I lied. I lied andgave them a fake name, and said I didn't know my social. Since I had never been arrested before I had no fingerprints on file. So I was booked and printed under a now Legal Alias. I was shown to a cell that was packed with women after surrendering all my possessions. They missed a copper braclet I had on my wrist though, and I wondered if anyone would notice. I lay down on the bunk that was the furthest away from the women milling around the cell and buried my face in my arm. I lay there tense waiting for someone to come up to me and say something or try to touch me in any way. Time crept by, and after a few hours they had a call for people that wanted showers to go get them. I feigned sleep and amazingly no one said anything. I did manage to sleep for a bit since most everyone was gone, and after they came back the mood was alot more somber. Hours passed on the backs of snails and all of a sudden I hear someoone shouting. "Ducky" someone called. Over and over they called until it registered with me that that was the name I used. I laughed inside for a moment thinking of the kids in San Fran whose real names where as strange or stranger and allowed me to be able to use this. "Here" I shouted, and watched as a guard walked up to the front of the cell door. It opened and she motioned for me to follow him. They haden't taken my clothes yet so there I was dressed in a tight striped shirt and black cords. My hair in god awful pigtails. I walked the length of the hall looking in at everyone sitting and laying there waiting for time to pass as I did. Then I was out. I went into a room following the guard and sat down at a desk. I was told to wait a moment and someone would be over to ask me a few questions. A cop came, almost immediatly, the quickest thing that happened since I woke up that morning. He told be I would be allowed to goo, and had to be at a court date by nine thirty the next morning. I went down and was able to collect my things and was sent on my way.  I searched through the garbage bag they had handed me with my things in it and located the bit of cash I had. I was happy it was still there, 'cause I didn;t get so much as a bus token when I was let go. I found a bus stop and asked a person walking by the time. It was seven at night. I had been arrested less than fourteen hours before. I couldn't believe that I was outside again and that they actualy expected me to show up for a court date. I laughed to myslef a bit after getting on the bus and heading back to the haight. I finally got "home" at around nine and went to where I had camped. The place was ransacked by either the cops or the others living in the park. Now I had the vclothes I was wearing and the few things I had in my bag. I had no clue where I was going to sleep, since even my bed roll was gone. I didn't know if Jester was in too, or if he even knew I was gone. I ended up in front of Cafe Cole sitting on the pavement and nursing a cup of coffee. One of the local Hare Krishnas was there and sat next to me for a time. He wanted me to come to the local Parade  thing they were going to do the next day. I agreed mainly becaus ethey would have foor and the Krishnas were always entertaining to watch. I finished my coffee and went to Larry's hoping I coud crash there again. Fortunatly I was able to cathc Larry before he bailed for a gig he had that night, and he stuck me into his room before I left. I was asleep again in minutes and more soundly then I would have outside. I was scared to sleep out there now that I hadn't just been waved away with a warning. Maybe it was time for another change. This small world I was in was getting smalled and chocking me. I was trapped in drugs and the streets. I knew I didn't have to be, but didn't want to go to a shelter and certianly couln't go home. Then like a flash I knew I had an out. I had to find Jester. As soon as I could I was gone and onto the wilds of South Carolina. I was ready to travel again. |
| Posted: 6/10/2007 8:59:28 PM |
| Long time Ago pt 16 |
| I ran out of the clinic as soon as I could, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. My eyes were burning and my head felt like it was being pounded with a sledgehammer. I kept rubbing my hands over the crooks of my arms and down my thighs. It was all I could do to keep from tearing my fingernails across them. My nose started to run so I ducked into a doorway of a closed down shop and rummaged through my bag. I pulled out the remains of what I had and upended it into my mouth. The taste was foul and gagging I almost lost it, but I clamped my lips together and swallowed. I sat and ran my tounge around my lips trying to see of I had missed any crumbs but I hadn't. I let the crank work it's was into my system as I made my self comfortable. A woman passed by with her heels clacking against the pavement and without glancing down at me see tossed a small bit of change at my feet. "Look at me!" I wanted to stand and scream. "I am not like them," I muttered quietly "am I?" I don't even know who I was talking about. This society of beggers I tried to both be a part of, and best at their game. The legion of homeless that lived in doorways and under tarps. I was like them though. Just like them. I looked at my reflection in the window and someone peered back at me in mismatched clothes. A purple paisley button up shirt, gray wife beater, army pants. My hair was sweaty and matted to my face from running, and my nose red.    They were me and I was them. Every sad, lost, addicted girl in the city were me. I shook my head to clear it and left where I was, scooping the change up without a seconds hesitation, and went to larry's for a shower. On the way I hit up everyone I passed not bothering with lines. "Spare change" "Spare some change" "Change" "Spare any change" No more was it a question, but a litany in my mind. I felt mindless, but I kept going. By the time I reached larrys I was weighed down and dragging. I showered for a good 45 minutes and when I was done I rummaged through my bag for some reasonably clean jeans and a teeshirt that was decently fitted. Brushed my hair and used some of my remaining stores of makeup. By the time I was done I looked not just normal, but human again. I left the house after finding out that Jester was heading down to the polo fields for the Jerry Garcia memorial so I started walking. I had made about Thirty bucks in change in my walk fromthe clinic back to larrys so I went into a store and picked up a couple of drinks for the walk. It was a few miles to get there and by the time I arrived in the late morning edging to noon the place was packed and the music had started.  I would be suprised to see Jester among the throng, but I figured I had come all this way, I might was well see what was going on. There was a large stage set up and some bluegrass band was playing so I tossed my bag onto the grass and lay back to listen. a small crowd began to spread across the field to the stage, and then they passed by my way, one of them looked over my way from the middle of the crowd and I recognized it was the Grateful Dead's bassist Phil Lesh. The first time I ever saw a Grateful Dead band member live! I was only a spectator, I watched as he remorsefully drifted on across the field with the crowd towards another gathering. Some of the band members were gathering to go around to the front side of the Polo Grounds, up on the horse track where a Mardi Gras style parade with floats was getting together to bring all the remaining Grateful Dead band members around the field to the stage, when it was all ready for the Memorial to begin. The parade would bring two coffins full of snow white doves. I looked in time to see two white rectangular flocks of birds like two cards in a high wind flip over together side by side and fly away high over the trees. Then an airplane flew over dropping thousands of roses in cones that first all blew over the trees in the wind. I imagine I will never see anything like that again in my life and watching this celebration of his life gave me a new perspective. I left the fields after darkness fell and found a small circle of trees. I puled out my jacket since it was bound to get really cold and lay down using my bag as a pillow. I must have been exhausted because it was well after dawn when I woke up, or rather something woke me up. It was the nacker of a hourse and as I opened my eyes I realied I was being looked down on by three cops on horseback. They rousted me and gave me a warning, and I booked out of there as fast as I could. After I got closer to my end of the park I ran into someone I knew enough to score a dime off of and borrow a pipe. I was determined enough to not use a needle, but I still wanted to get high. One thing at a time I suppose. Jester found me later that day sitting on my part of the street spanging "Bad jokes for your spare change..." "Spam-filled gefilte-fish Twinkies..." "Spare change for a pot habit..." On and on I went until he walked up. I had made a decent take so far, and still had about ten from yesterday so I qiut then and we went into the park to hang out. We passed the pipe for a while and lay back and talked. I told him what happened at the clinic. Again he mentioned getting out and going to his friends in South Carolina. He said he wanted a change to have a real life with me if I would. I promised I would really consider it this time, and slowly we drifted off to sleep. I woke up in complete darkness, or as dark as it gets in the park with the lamps lit and the glow from the city. I was being kicked in the leg and when I looked up I was being glared at my yet another cop. I could tell that this one wasn't going to be a warning. We were rousted and asked if we had money and ID. I was able to produce the cash, but had no ID at all. I was stood up then and my hands were ziptie handcuffed behind my back. I was walked out to the nearest car path and loaded into the back of a van. In there was another woman, and seperated by mesh was about seven guys including Jester. I guessed I was going to jail and the only thing I could say was, "Damn I want a cigerette." |
| Posted: 6/3/2007 8:52:02 PM |
| Long time ago pt 15 |
I walked numbly for the rest of the night. Not in the park, but I went to the streets, neighborhoods really. Behind the safeway on Fulton the nicer houses started. I wandered among them looking up at the few lighted windows,  the cars in the driveways. Realizing that people lived there, and at the same time realizing what I had set out to do I was failing at. I went out to see and experience a small part of the world, namely my country and ended up suck in a circle of drugs and sex. I just watched one of the girls I considered to be my friends OD, and I barely felt anything. I stopped at one of the houses that looked to be under construction. I went up to the windows of the garage and saw that there was no car inside, then knocked on the door. No answer. I went around back after that and found the back porch door lock could easily be forced. After I got inside I noticed that the owners of the house had been there recently. There was a half bottle of wine corked and with a very slight chill sitting on the table and the takeout containers from their meals were still there as well. I didn't figure that they would be back that night so I grabbed the bottle and went to look around the house. I found that they had running water, but no electricity and that they had a few battery operated lanterns in the area behind the garage. I took the lantern into one of the bathrooms and ran the shower. The tile wasn;t in yet so it was a shower with wooden walls at the very top of it and a wood floor to boot. Normally I wouldn't have done any of this but I figured I was in there anyway and I wanted to wash the last few hours off of me. I have no idea how long I stood under the spray but finally I climbed out. I lay down on a few carpet remnets and passed out. I woke at first light and fixed before anything else. I had dreams about Laura all night and wanted them gone with the day. I finished the bottle of wine, warm now, and left the house the same way I came in. I had no cash on me that morning and didn;t have the slightest intrest in spanging so I decided to see if I could get a front and sling some pot on the corner. Unfortunatly it was a weird day and everyone seemed to be going somewhere. Either over to Berkley, a bunch were going to Santa Cruz, and I was invited to both places, but just had no motivation. I saw Mama Cat and she shouted something at me. She didn't sound real happy so I figured that's who Babs ran to last night when she bailed on me. I walked over if anything to let them all know that Laura was taken to the hospital, and she might be ok. Before I even finished closing the distance Cat started screaching at me. "POISON!" the squaling echoed around the park and all of a sudden everything got quiet. My brain flashed to The Princess Bride anf the old woman. My mmind started to play tricks and I heard "So bow to her if you like. Bow to her. Bow to the queen of slime, the queen of filth, the queen of putresence! Boo! Boo! Rubish! Filth! Slime! Muck! Boo! Boo! BOO!!" God knows what she was saying but I turned and ran, I ran from what I was doing, and the people I associated with. I ran until I hit the house on Lyon where Larry lived. I burst in and he was in his kitchen playing guitar and humming. Jester was there with him as well as some of his roomates. I couldn;t stop breathing hard and was unable to explain what was wrong for quite a bit. Larry and his roomate Turbo got some pot out and loaded up a bowl. After a few hits I let everything out from the night before up until the incident with Mama Cat. After a bit of verbal abuse directed towards that bitch they brought me into one of the bedrooms and made me relax. I vegged out and watched some TV for a bit then passed out again. I woke up to Jester laying next to me rubbing my back. I rolled into him and more as a comfort rather than for pleasue we had sex. When we were finished I lay there with him and he asked if I wanted to go back to South Carolina with him. The welfare department would give you a one way bus ticket to get the fuck out of their town to anywhere in the country as long as you could prove there was someone that wanted you there. We talked about it for a while, but I decided not to. I didn't want to say it, but I wasn;t ready to leave. No matter what happened and what I had realised the nightbefore I was just as addicted to the city as I was to the rest of my habits. I did however want to get tested. I was worried that I might have something. I had never shared a needle immediatly, prefering to use bleach in the tip if I didn't have a point of my own, but I was still a bit nervous. Also knowing where I had put my hand the night before and wondering if there was any abrasions or cuts on my hand or in her ass made me more than a little freaked. Now back then I didn;t know that it took a bit for anything to show in blood tests so we agreed that the next day I would go to the free clinic. We got up then and went into the kitchen and they were all still there. We passed around a splif and everyone started to play.  We had guitars and harmonicas, even a triangle and I kept giggling at that rediculousness. Who has a triangle for gods sake. I either hummed or sang along. It was an easy evening, not like my usual, and for once I didn't feel the need to get high. We sat up until the early hours of the morning and jester and I found out way into the extra bedroom again. I slept again for a few hours and when I woke I felt like me again. Less crazed and frantic then I had in a while. We went to Food not Bombs and grabbed a bunch of bagels then on to the free clinic. It wasn't open yet, and already there was a line out front. I knew there wasn;t much wait for the blood tests, it was the Dr. that they were all waiting to see. Some with the shakes so bad they couldn't hold a cup of coffee without spilling it all over themelves. Most of them there to try to con their way into another pain script of some sort, and most of them would fail. Finally the doors opened and I put my name on the list and sat down. I figured I would get some people watching in while I waited, and sure enough the parade of human misery was everywhere. AFter about an hour my name was called and I went back. I sat in a sterile room at what looked like a school desk, the kind with the desk attached to the seat by a bar  I waited for another couple minutes and the nurse came in. She readied the needle and the vials for my blood, then swabbed my arm. I saw here glance at me when she saw the obvious needle marks there. I thought to my self that it was good she didn't see the backs of my legs. I did the fist pump for the vein to come out like rote and then she slid the needle in. My body rushed. It was the strangest thing, but even though she was withdrawing blood not putting anything in I felt a rush. "God," I thought," it's not just the crank. I love the needle too." I held back until she was done then as soon as she pulled the last bit of the needle out I leaned over and vomited into the trashcan. |
| Posted: 5/28/2007 7:49:52 PM |
| A Brief interlude followed by Part 14 |
I started writing this blast into the past as an exercises. I had an incident that made me have not precisely writers block, but almost a frustration of having to create things out of the cloth. I had no idea what I'd be undertaking. I figured this might be all written out in 5 or 6 parts and then I could move on. It seemed when I started that every piece of my past was clamoring for it's part of the story. I am enjoying writing and have quite a bit more to tell, so for those who are my constant readers( and I thank you for your interest into my fucked up life) hang in there a little more and we'll go back to San Francisco August 9,1995 to the death of Jerry Garcia. |
| Posted: 5/23/2007 8:40:17 AM |
the boy hippie said and they continued to slouch over to hippie hill where the drumming was coming from. | Long Time Ago pt 13 |
I left Berkley that afternoon and went back across to Frisco. I didn't worry about seeing Jester again, because I knew he would figure it out. Sure enough, within the next couple of hours I saw him again. I had gotten off the buss further down than usual so I had to walk up the long hill that was the bottom of Haight St. I passed Buena Vista park and was waved over by a few people I knew. I sat on the hilly grass at the front of the park and proceded to get stoned again. The pot was not the sticky green I had come to expect, but a mexican brown full of seeds and stems. I started to get a bit of a headache and so I said my goodbyes and started walking back to my park. I passed Cafe COle, and realized that it was open mike night again. I wondered in and saw another guy I kind of knew. His name was Larry. A dredlocked black guy who perpetually had his guitar. We had teamed up a few times with me singing and him playing and I new if he was up for open mike I would be in for a good show. Sure enough he got up and was about to start playing when he paused and motioned to me. He wanted me to come up there and sing with him. We had fooled around with a duet of Summertime and it had sounded pretty good. He said he wanted to do that for his song, and I was feeling ballsy enough to give it a go. We started off soft, and midway though the first verse I really let go. Throwing my head make I let the song pour from me. My eyes closed but I could hear that the room was silent. Normally even during what ever was going on on stage there was light chatter, orders, glasses clinking. This time complete and total quiet. I let the last nite fall from my throat and opened my eyes. Every eye in the place was on me and I glanced to the door. There he was, silly hat and all, staring at me with his lips so slightly parted. I grinned then and they started to clap. Normal talk resumed and the vaccuum I felt like I was in was broken. I stped off of the little stage and went back to my seat. A minute later Jester was there at my elbow, chai tea in his hand. I must have looked at him questionably. "The guy at the counter said this is what you drink." He mumbled. "yeah. Why are you being quiet all of a sudden?" " Why did you leave Berkley without saying anything?" he asked back. I grinned and dropped a wink. "It's not like you didn't know where to find me." "Hey I lucked out coming in here. I've only been in here once before, and I was hurrying to get back to the park to find you." "So what made you stop?" I said rolling my eyes. I didn;t want to hear anything romantic. All I wanted out of him was a good bang, but I had to admit I was curious. "I don't know what it was. I decided to get off of the bus here instaed of the next stop up and grab a coffee, and there you were." He leaned over and kissed me then. Brushing his lips over mine lightly then pulling away. I knew then that he was hooked, but no more than I was. All of a sudden it wasn't a game. I wanted him, more than any other thing at that moment. More than the dope I had been thinking about during the better part of the day, more than anything I had been casually thinking about for most of our brief conversation. I stood up then and took his hand. Without saying anything we rose and we walked out the door. We talked nonsense until we got back to where my camp was. I lay my bedroll out and unzipped it so there would be pleanty of room and we nelt together. This time I inclined my head and kissed him. No light gentleness now, fierce and passionate we kissed, our clothes falling off as we groped and pawed at each other. Then he was beneath he, inside me, an unknown time passed. Finally we fell apart panting. I sat up and started rummaging in my bag. Now that the physical need of that had passed I found my self fiercely wanting my hit. I could feel my head starting to pound already and my nose had started to drip. I sniffed a fingernail full straight out of the bag before anything and proceded to fix. Jester watched me without a word. I glanced over at him when I was ready. I wish I could say that my conscience bothered me but it didn't. My life was based on needs and wants. I wanted him, but I needed the drug. He held a flashlight trained on the back of my knee where I had started to hit my slef so I wouldn't be thought of as a junkie while I was begging. After I finished he asked if I had any more. "a bit." I told him. He pulled out a pipe  and tapped in what I gave him and smoked his. There was an understanding between us and we both smiled. The rest of the nght we stayed up, alternatly talking and have bouts of sex, draining eachother over and over. I didn;t know what tomorrow would bring, but tonight everything was golden. |
| Posted: 5/20/2007 8:10:20 PM |
| Long Time Ago pt 12 |
I found a seat quickly on BART in a virtually empty train car. There was an older woman snoozing, and other than that I was alone. I waited for it to pull out and in the meantime pulled out a copy of the SF Gate I had found to pass the time. Just as the doors were closing a group of people came in to sit down. Oddly enough I had seen a few of them around, and so I greeted them briefly and went back to my paper. One of the guys in the group really stood out among the rest. Dressed in almost motley he wore a jester’s hat with wing nuts tied to the ends, a tight black shirt, loud striped pants, and a Guatemalan Jacket. He was tall, with long black hair and very thin. The rest were the normal hippies and locals, not one of them I can still remember. After a while the guy in the hat came over and asked if I wanted to join them. When I shrugged indifferently he mentioned that they were going to get some microdot in Berkley. Since that was where I was headed anyway I said sure, and figured maybe I could trip around for a while. |
| Posted: 5/17/2007 5:08:28 PM |
| Long Time Ago pt 11 |
Weeks went by and my days seemed to form a pattern. Get up, go to the local Food not Bombs |
| Posted: 5/15/2007 3:31:57 PM |
I didn’t know where I wanted to go, so I just picked a location. I chose Berkley and away I went.| Long Time Ago pt 10 |
| For those of you that are wondering why people started calling me Ducky, here’s a bit of a background. The name Anne that I had been going by I mentioned came from a girl I knew in school. Her full name was Anne Nicole Duckworth-hence Ducky. I sat down next to Roy, and for a while just made idle chatter as I watched him work. It was getting dusky out and the light was too poor for him to start a new carving so after he finished he started to clean the few tools he had out. He was living in the park as well, and I thought it funny that everyone I had met so far was homeless. I remembered what I had been told before about the price of rent, and figured that during these months that’s about all I would meet, especially if I stayed in the park as much as I had been. When Roy was done he asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee. We walked back out of the park and onto Haight. There was a coffee house called Café Cole,  inside was appropriately funky, and an open mike night was going on. I was all set to order my standard cup of black, but Roy persuaded me to try something called Chai Tea. I was immediately in love with this drink. We sat for a while and I started grilling him about life around here. So far he seemed to be the only one not on any drugs, so I figured I might actually get a bit of a feel for the place. He started telling me about different things that went on in the park, like the concerts and about the carrousel, the Polo Grounds and down at the other end of the park was the beach. As he was talking, open mike night started. It was a mix of spoken word, acapella and unplugged instruments. Some was really beautiful and very well done, but like all there was a lot of God awful as well.It was full dark outside by now, so we went and sat on a stone wall at the side of a path leading into the park. It had been a pretty good evening by any standards, but I had to ask a few questions that I wasn’t sure how to bring up. Finally I blurted out “Do you do drugs” I felt like the four words plopped out and landed with a thud on the sidewalk. Roy laughed and said he does drink a lot, but that was about it. I looked sharply at him just to see if that was the truth. He looked back at me, with the light from the streetlamps highlighting his olive complexion. I couldn’t see his eyes, but it was just enough light to see a sardonic grin on his face. I decided to let it go and believe him for now, but I was starting to be a bit more wary. The strange thing was, that I was mildly disappointed. I had already begun liking the speed and the effects it had on me. The next question was did he know how I could make money. I internally winced as I waited for the answer. There was one thing I figured he would suggest, something I would never do. Amazingly enough he did not suggest anything to do with prostitution. What he did suggest doing the day labor thing. Unfortunately I had no ID. The next suggestion was that I do like the rest of the kids when they first get there and beg. I thought about it for a while, and it really seemed to be the lesser of two evils, at least until I could find some under the table work. We parted ways a bit after that, and I said I would meet him back on hippie hill tomorrow. I strolled back to Babs’ camp looking at all the people settling in for the night, and figured I would try my hand at it tomorrow. The next day came fast, even though I didn’t get much sleep. I had another interesting night with babs, basically drugs and sex, but the time did fly. I ran into Roy on the hill again, and he kinda walked me through the finer points of spanging, which seemed to be the slang there for begging for spare change. He walked me up to the height again, and I found a spot that was well away from the others doing the same thing. I didn’t know if they would be territorial or not, and wasn’t up to finding out. I started out asking simply “Spare change for some food?” I was slightly successful, and after an hour I saw that I had about 5 dollars worth of quarters, nickels and dimes. I decided to stop for a time and actually get something to eat. As I passed the others I saw that they were making quite a bit more than I was. There seemed to be two tactics, either being gruff and kind of nasty in appearance, or sitting in a group of younger kids and looking pathetic like street urchins  . I knew I could do something different. I thought about it for the entire time I was eating lunch and over hearing a few pot heads that were next to me munching fries it came to me. “Spare change for my pot habit” I called sitting on the side of the street. I only asked the yippies walking around. You know, the ones that dress raggity, but you can see from their shoes and the pants they wear that they live around there or they’re tourists. The ones that buy their pants with the holes in them, and the faded spots. Easy marks they all are. Damn near everyone loved the line, and not only did I have about forty dollars, but had managed to get stoned three different times. As I walked back to Babs again I figured today I would treat, and so I went in search of Jack, knowing that he could find a bag for me. |
| Posted: 5/11/2007 1:32:40 PM |
| Long Time Ago pt 9 |
Laura. My first stop was to go back to Hippie hill. There was a small drum circle going on, but nothing like it was that first day. There were several people scattered all along the hill in groups and apart. Most sitting and talking, reading or just kicked back and relaxed. One guy though was sitting on a blanket surrounded by sticks. When I say sticks I don't mean small things either. These were the size of walking sticks. Four to Five feet long and a decent thickness. He had one in this hand and was wittling away onit. I allowed my curiousity to get the better of me and walked over to take a look. He was carving the most intricate and sinuous designs into the wood. Faces peared out at me  , flowers blossomed. They were beautiful.He introduced himself as Roy, and since Babs and Jack had christened me Ducky the night before, that's how I introduced myself. |
| Posted: 5/8/2007 7:53:51 PM |
| Long Time Ago pt 8 |
| Words of warning, the next few parts to this story can get a bit graphic. There will be high drug content and some unsavory actions by both myself and the people around me. If you have delicate sensibilities please do not read any further I took a look around at the enclosed space, the mattress on the ground, and the streaks of dirt on her face in such clarity that everything seemed foreign. Monsterous almost. I took a deep breath to calm myself and the world settled back into place. |