HotEL caLifornia (revisited)

Treasure Island

I took today off.  I feel like a bum, but I think it was a good idea.  I have actually been working one way or another every day, including today really, for a while now.  I have not worked as much today.  I have also been moving - for like two months!  I went to a recovery meeting at noon today.  I had to.  I will go to another tonight.  I've been neglecting them a bit.  I've been going to them, but not every day.  It's said that anything put in front of recovery will be lost.  I can attest to this.  If I use, I will lose everything.  I've worked too hard for this to happen.

What I do is very demanding.  I love it a lot, but it is demanding.  When I say I work 5 days a week, that's not really true, because I have to work on my "off" days.  Don't get me wrong, I love every part about what I do, but it can be hard.  I like this kind of hard.  I was so tired last night.

I found myself resorting to old addict behavior.  Let's just leave it at that.  Old addict behavior had me wanting to shoot up pretty badly.  

When I was looking for my own place, I purposefully avoided certain neighborhoods because of all the drugs that would be present.  My second "drug" of choice is very present all over this neighborhood.  It's the suggestion that get's to me a little.  I tried to get a place in Chinatown, but could not.  It's not like sex isn't all over Chinatown too.

I didn't use drugs and that matters.  I need to refocus on my recovery.  I get lonely in my little room.  I should probably stay out of the neighborhood bars.  I'll be glad when I get approved to stay in my new place and I can get internet access.  That will help a lot.  For now, I found a nice little and more affordable coffee shop in the neighborhood.  It's called Brioche Bakery.  It's safe for me.  They are really nice to me here also.

The beautiful thing about this recovery stuff is I get my life back.  The hard part about this recovery stuff is I get my life back.  I am who I am.  I have my vices.  I went to sleep at 9:00 last night and slept until almost 11:00 today!  That's long for me.  One thing I'm grateful for is I can sleep these days.  That old addict behavior had me feeling a little hung over last night and today I must admit.  I woke up feeling sick this morning and decided It'd be best to rest.  I think it was those strong cravings that created such mental, physical and emotional stress that exhausted me.  That feeling of tunnel vision was coming on again last night.  Plus, my working hard lately had me tired.  I push that heavy cart about two miles a day.  I'm glad because I like the exercise, but I guess I was getting a little tired. 

Something I was able to do today in my room that really helped me was pick up my guitar.  The first song I played without even thinking about it was a song I have been playing with these guys I play with every Wednesday night.  I really love the song a lot.  It is beautiful.  However, when I really listen to it's words, they are kind of haunting to me.  I wrote a blog years ago about this song.  It's words speak so true to where my using takes me.  It felt like that's where I was heading last night in a place that was starting to feel like my own little HotEL CaLifornia.   

"And still those voices were calling from far away."

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
"This could be Heaven or this could be Hell"
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (Any time of year)
You can find it here

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

So I called up the Captain,
"Please bring me my wine"
He said, "We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine"
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said "We are all just prisoners here, of our own device"
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
"Relax, " said the night man,
"We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! "

Batman - Under the Bridge

I was going to write. Then, I wasn't going to write. Then, I decided I needed to take care of some of my work, which I did. Then, I went to see if I could run into my new friend, lets call her Erotic Russia. I guess I'm back to nicknames. Can they really hurt?

I'm having trouble typing this. I was so excited to write about all the good things that have been happening in my life. I decided I would start using nicknames again because I have met so many new cool people the past few days and I thought they all deserved cool nicknames. I also thought this might keep this blog less confusing. Most of them happen to be women – go figure. Good looking women – go figure. Is there a woman of any other type of woman in this city? Not really.

I went to that program I was in for a recovery meeting tonight (9/17). I'm going to call that program Soul Assistance. There is a reason of course. Even more than the obvious. It was written in this blog months ago. I'm pretty sure I wrote about it in Charlie and the Hot Chocolate Kids. Basically, the night before I decided to see if Soul Assistance would take me into the program, I found a book called Soul Assistance and inside the cover was the actual name of the program. Seeing this was my sign to try to get into the program - of course. I'm so glad I did. This actually happened six months ago. I know this because I have six months clean today. That's pretty amazing. I wish I were happier today.

My friend died. I'm so tired of people dying. I loved this guy. He gave me so much hope in people. He spent some of his life in prison. I remember when they let him back into Soul Assistance. I didn't yet know him, but some guys in the program said he was a real hot head and I learned he got kicked out before for fighting. At the time there were some hot heads in the program who were constantly giving me grief so I thought, “Oh great, just what we need – another hot head.” I still tried not to pass any type of judgment based on what I had heard of him or his past. I'd rather form my own opinion and even if it were true, which in some ways it was, people can change. Even I felt like a hot head in that program sometimes. I had to put up for myself sometimes.

That man was one of the kindest, gentlest souls to me I had ever met. He always called me “brother.” His wife left him because of his drinking at some point in his life. There were some who were sympathetic to what I was going through, but no one like him. He always caught me when I was stuck in my head and would call out from across the room asking, “Are you alright brother?” He always let me know he knew how I felt and that he was there for me and that he loved me.

You get close to people when your fighting to get out of hell together. He was so many good things. He lost to this fucking darkness of addiction. It pisses me off.

He had strong beliefs. For him it was Jesus. I have faith that this is a good thing for him. I've talked about people bothering me with their, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” talk, (I'm sorry Jesus.) but, not this guy. This guy was real.  He really tried to be "Christ-like".  This guy was honest – even about his brokenness.  I believe that is exactly why he changed so much – honesty. I admire him a lot.

I could tell lots of good stories about this kind man. The first time we actually hung out, he was still on restriction but was allowed to walk with me to post this flier at YWAM (I'm just going to use their name – They really saved my life!). We were walking and I was talking – of course. He said, “You talk a lot brother.” I thought, “Oh great.”  I do.  (I talk a lot less these days by the way)  So I, of course, said nothing. A few minutes later he said, “Now you're not going to say anything are you.” We both laughed. It was the beginning of a good friendship.

I also remember the last time I saw him. He had relapsed and was of course exited and would not be getting another chance. I wasn't there when It happened, (I was probably at Brainwash) but, I heard the event had a little drama to it.  Don't our relapses always? I was upset that he would not be there anymore. The next day, he was sitting in the alley halfway between Soul Assistance and Susan's (not everyone goes by nickname I guess). He had no way to get home to San Jose. I asked Susan for $5.00 to get him on a train. She of course agreed to help as that angel of a woman always did. I made him promise me he would get on that train to get to his family. He did promise and I'm pretty sure he did. I hugged him and told him to take care of himself, get clean and come visit - knowing I may never see him again. I can still see his smile.

It is what it is.

I have another friend from Soul Assistance who's not doing so well and I'm worried about him. I talked to him today because I'm his neighbor now (He lives about two blocks away). There is hope for this kid. San Francisco is no joke for people like us. I have told him this and told him this. I think he's learning this now. For people who have taken it as far as we have, it is life or death. Literally.  Even when we are alive we are not really living.  I will try to make a difference in this young mans life. He made one in mine. He spoke of his using out of loneliness. I get that. Especially now that I have my own place. (I'll get to that.) Addiction can be such a lonely disease – especially when we got and drove away the ones who loved us. Many have loved me recently. For that I am grateful.

While at Soul Assistance tonight, I learned another graduate took his own life. I hate to sound selfish, but at least I didn't actually know him personally. Addiction is a dark disease.

I have my own place now! I have six months clean today. I live on Broadway in North Beach. North Beach is a really cool neighborhood. It is San Francisco's Little Italy and I am also a block away from Chinatown. It's going to be interesting for me to live on the street I do. I live above The Garden of Eden. 

“They say the neon lights are bright, on Broadway!”

How ironic is that. While it was probably more about this blog than anything it was my taking a bite of that "forbidden fruit" that is what really got the ball rolling for me to get exited from that Christian program. It was my decision to be with My Little Dark Angel (I changed her nickname. I actually like Dark Angels.) that led to the other chain of events that led me to where I am today – Shangri-La?

I have to finish this tomorrow. I'm tired. I think I'll sleep naked – because I can. Too much information? You have no idea what's it's like to have privacy after a year and and half of living on the street or with people. You'd probably want to sleep naked too. Perhaps I'm inspired to do so by all the strip clubs and Exotic Russia's photos. I met another photographer in North Beach last night. I thought about writing earlier but decided I should look for her instead. I found her.

I'll write about her tomorrow. I'm going to bed – clean again! 6 months clean! Thank you God. Now I feel like I need to keep my clothes on.

(TWO DAYS LATER - 9/19)

So it's Wednesday now. I'm at the laundry mat. I love my new neighborhood. I live at the corner of Columbus and Broadway. Columbus and Broadway is where Chinatown ends and North Beach begins. North Beach is San Francisco's Little Italy. If it wasn't obvious from the above photos, I live in the red light district. I was never really in to going to strip clubs. There is a private theater around corner I used to go into to shoot up I guess. They also have booths with live women, but they were more expensive and I couldn't shoot up in them. I sometimes went into them afterward. There were much cheaper places in my old hood. I rarely made it over here. It's very touristy. I still felt a little pull into that place the other day. It has a lot to do with that drug.

Where to begin? I guess I'll start with my work. It's good. Not great, but good. Times are slow, but I'll make it. I'll have some good days. I will keep my life simple. I love what I do. I also get great exercise pushing my heavy cart about a mile everyday. It's hard. I'm so glad I I did all that running and exercising the past few months while at Soul Assistance. It makes doing what I have to do today possible. And, I get to get stronger! I'm trying to be a superhero you know! I like Batman - he's dark.

Like I said, last week was pretty good. I had quite a few friends visit me already! The person who has showed up for me over and over is my friend who I am making the film with, lets call him Richard because that's his name. When I called and ask him about a nickname, he said, just use my name. Wow, that makes sense. Not for everyone I guess. Richard has fed me, let me stay with him, helped me move a few times, found my new cart, given me things I really need, he was my first customer, and he ask me to help him with that cool film project!

Then there was my new friend, I'm just going to call her hippie chick for now, because that's what she is. She was my first customer to ever pay me in sand dollars!  Actually, I ask her for some sand dollars. She is a professional beach comber. She has the coolest collections. My friend Good Fella from Soul Assistance ask me the other day if I knew where to get a sand dollar. I did! Hippie Chick had said she would stop and visit me someday so I made her a deal. One of my photos for some sand dollars. She brought lots of cool sand dollars and even some crystals she mined. Somewhere in San Francisco she manages to mine crystals! She said she'd take me but she'd have to blind fold me. Sounds like fun! I love the photo she bought for herself with the sand dollars!  It was perfect for her!

Saturday was my best day. I even sold something from online to my Fun Friend. She is so nice. She even made me lunch when I delivered her photo to her on Sunday. I met here at Brainwash a couple of months ago. I'm looking for a new Brainwash.  Saturday, one of the new street artists ask me if I would trade him my photo of the tagged Muni bus for a shirt. He knew I loved his shirts! He has so many cool ones, but I had to pick this one!

This is the photo I traded.

I made my best money on Saturday as usual. I got myself a new place on Sunday. The landlord said he only has it for 3 to 4 weeks but that seems to be the game they play to feel you out. After 29 days your on rent control.  I will be a good tenant. I think once he sees that, I'm in. I like my little room a lot. It feels so nice to have my own place. Actually, living above strip joints keeps the street kind of sane because the bouncers don't put up with any crap. They are very friendly too. So are the strippers. One asked if I would photograph her and then told me I had a cute butt. I bet she says that to all the guys.  I told her I lived upstairs! There will be some punks here on the weekends raising hell. I've seen it in the past. I kind of avoided this area because of that when tweaking. Overall, it is really a cool neighborhood.

My little castle!

North Beach, being San Francisco's little Italy, has a lot of Italian restaurants and cafe's. It is also the neighborhood where the Beatniks first started hanging out. Right across the street is the Beatnik museum. The Beatniks were the precursor to hippies. They hung out at my favorite book store – City Lights Books. North Beach is also right next door to the Financial District. I'm pretty sure there is a high rise ordinance in the neighborhood because the high rises just kind of begin two blocks from here. They start with my second favorite high rise in the world!

After work Saturday I went to that art event at SOMA Arts. My work didn't end up on display mainly because of timing I think, but it was a great event. One of my two awesome career coaches hooked me up to get in. I'm not against paying, but at the time, I was broke and was trying to get a place.

I think I made a new friend – Sarah Jessica Parker. Guess who she looks like? She was even Sarah Jessica Parker for Halloween one time. She makes a good one. She said she wore the outfit Sarah Jessica Parker wore at the beginning of Sex in the City. The too-too dress. She was fun to talk to. She really was nice. She is Richards neighbor. They both live by the Roxie Theater. I told her about how he and I were going to make a documentary film and how his original film will be showing at the Roxie in December. She suggested we go together. Would that be a date? Oh I hope so! Either way, she's cool. My male career coach, Oh hell, his name is Dale ( now that were using names – hope this okay Dale), asked me “We're you hitting on her?” in his Singaporean accent. My answer, “Of course.” I mean she does look like Sarah Jessica Parker. He then said, “Don't you have issues?” My answer, “Yes.” Yes, but this is different. It is. I guess I've become flirtatious, but I do make a lot of friends that way – which is what really matters. If that's what I am even being. I don't even know really. I really just love people and it's okay to make friends!

The best part about all that – whatever it was, was the whole time we talked, the director of Soul Assistance was sitting right next to us. That sounds - not so nice.  Actually, it was very nice to see the man I called Grace. I do love that guy. We got to tell each other we loved each other and I told him I'd like to volunteer there some day. I also got to meet his beautiful wife. I just thought it to be ironic that I was chatting it up with this good looking blond most of the time – two if you count my other career coach Anna! Don't worry, I know she's my career coach. It's not like that. I'm not hitting on everyone, I promise! I just like to give credit where credit is do. She is a cute person and she is really sweet too.  She has really inspired me!

I was kind of flirting with this woman the other night.  I'll call her Desperate Housewife. I think I was flirting. I wasn't even sure. She is hot. But I learned she's married. I will always respect that once I learn that. Well, maybe not if I was shooting up but I didn't have much respect for anything when I did that - including my own marriage. I will always be clean from now on though – so I will be a man of respect!

Desperate Housewife and I had a blast together for about an hour, maybe more – talking. Actually, we spent a lot of time laughing. She was such a trip. I ran into her on Market Street. I was dragging my suitcase with a broken wheel Sunday night while moving to my new place and we started talking. She helped me drag it to California Street where we would eventually have to split ways. Her and I hung out and talked for about an hour outside of Bank of America headquarters with the Occupy people. She was from Myrtle Beach. She had four kids and a really good husband back home. She was a lot like me. Perhaps that's why we hit it off. She said she'd read my blog. She also said she would have dumped me a long time ago if she were my wife! I liked her. She was spunky. She was also a runner. We compared stomachs – neither of us were satisfied with our own. Hers looked fine to me. I love a good stomach.  Does that matter?  I love meeting people like that more.

I must add that this really good looking girl told me just now at the laundry mat. “I love the shirt.” Da da da da da da da da...... Oh wait, I haven't gotten to that part yet have I? I think I told half the story. I'm wearing my new batman shirt.  (I wore it again last night (9/22) and got compliments from 3 good looking girls!  It is a cool shirt.  I wonder why I keep wearing it?)

I was looking for my new “Brainwash” and found Adler's Museum Cafe. It's a little more bar like, but I had been in there years ago and remembered there being art. The other night I was bored and a little lonely and I wondered in there. That's where I met Erotic Russia. She is a photographer who sells photos of the strippers in the neighborhood.  I'm not sure if she used to be one or not. Her photos are behind the scenes photos. They are actually pretty interesting. What I saw was a struggling artist – no more. Yeah right. That is in fact what she is. So I helped her. I gave her all my old photo mattes for her photos. The really look good with the mattes. I hope it helps her sell some. (I saw her the next night and she sold one. The one with her in it. I kind of liked that one too.) She is struggling to come up with rent for the hostel every night. I did tell her if she ever didn't come up with the money, she could stay with me – on the floor of course.  (Hey I'm nice, but I want my bed!)  She's actually trying to get back to Moscow. She's nice, but I really just want to help her out. She's fun to talk to. I love it when she doesn't understand one of my words and she ask, “What iz dis (INSERT WORD HERE)?”

My friend Gina, who I guess I'll continue to call Gina is always trying to be the voice of reason to me. She's pretty good at it too – party pooper! I'm just teasing – she does give good advice when I go astray in lady department. She's actually been a really good friend to me through all this insanity of mine over the years, but especially lately. And, she doesn't seem to judge me for my messed up ways. She does says, “Oh Geez” a lot! She's the one who said, “Sex could lead to drugs, drugs could lead to death!” It sure sounds less fun that way.

So when I text her that I had six months clean on Monday, She said, “Your a super hero!” I loved that of course! It went straight to my head. That's what I'm shooting for. In fact, the other night, when I was feeeeeling loooonlely” Poor thing. I went to Adler's Museum Cafe to see if Erotic Russia was there – she was. She's always there. Right as I walked in the door with my batman shirt on the batman song came on the jukebox! I felt way to cool to be me. It made me laugh. I'm such a dork really.

 

So last night I went to my favorite recovery meeting and collected my 6 month chip.

I was looking forward to picking up that chip from that meeting. I did feel like a super hero! I've been the secretary of that meeting for the past few weeks because the secretary has been away. Perhaps I'll be the permanent secretary someday! I'd like that. Now that I have six months clean, that is possible. I have never stayed clean this long since I was twelve years old. Prior to this, 4 months was all I could ever get.

Normally, we'd have band practice but right before I walked out the door to that meeting, I heard on KFOG that the Red Hot Chili Peppers were playing at the Civic Center for free. If you were part of the Saleforce conference at Moscone Center you could get closer, but I got pretty close for free. Plus they had these big screens and a great sound system. The Civic Center looked so cool! And, I ran into four of my friends from Soul Assistance and we hung out during most of it! I ran into Good Fella, James Dean, Hip Hop and Mellow (That's a new nickname).

The Civic Center looked really cool.  They also projected them live onto it!

These shots were on the big screens.

These were not on the big screens.

I can't remember if I gave my friend from Soul Assistance who died a nickname. He really was a big part of my recovery. He is a really good soul. His name is Timothy. That many deserves credit for being a good soul.  I'll never forget seeing him on street that day. I knew exactly how he felt which is why wanted to help him get to his family. 

Hearing the Chile Peppers play Under the Bridge, the other night, hanging out with my friends and losing my friend helped remind me to never go back to that sickness.   I had this song in my head wondering alone around the streets of San Francisco many times. I've spent a lot of time "drawing some blood" under some bridges.  I still feel this way sometimes, but at least I'm clean.  Addiction is such a lonely disease.

Sometimes I feel
Like I don't have a partner
Sometimes I feel
Like my only friend
Is the city I live in
The city of Angels
Lonely as I am
Together we cry

I drive on her streets
'Cause she's my companion
I walk through her hills
'Cause she knows who I am
She sees my good deeds and
She kisses me windy and
I never worry
Now that is a lie

I don't ever wanna feel
Like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way
I don't ever want to feel
Like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all that way (yeah yeah yeah)

It's hard to believe
That there's nobody out there
It's hard to believe
That I'm all alone
At least I have her love
The city she loves me

Lonely as I am
Together we cry

I don't ever wanna feel
Like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way
I don't ever want to feel
Like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way (yeah yeah yeah)
Ooh no (no no yeah yeah)
Love me I say yeah yeah

Under the bridge downtown
Is where I drew some blood
Under the bridge "
I could not get enough
Under the bridge "
Forgot about my love
Under the bridge "
I gave my life away (yeah yeah yeah)
Ooh no (no no yeah yeah)
Here I stay yeah yeah

Here I stay...

(9/21)

I was going to end it there, but since I'm sitting at my place waiting for...I don't even know what really, I'll write a little more. My last couple of days have been kind of hard at times. I made nothing yesterday. NOTHING! That's only the second time that's ever happened – EVER! And, Tuesday sucked too. I think I made $22.00! Two bad days in a row are hard to take. It will be okay though. I have faith in that. It just does that sometimes. It's still hard. I thought to myself, “Well, at least it can't get any worse than today”. Now why would I be so stupid as to think such a thing? I broke one of my tables while packing up. It got worse!

Also, I couldn't work on Friday, because I thought I had a doctors appointment to get all those test results back. I thought it was at 11:30. It turns out it's next Wednesday – the day I take off anyway because it's so slow! I still had to get my things from friends home at Bernal Heights though – especially my printer. We were unable to get together on Wednesday as we had originally tried to plan. 

I borrowed my friends car while she was in school to get the last of my things. I ran it out of gas! I didn't even think to look. Bicycles don't take gas. It's now sitting around the corner. At least I got it parked at a meter this close, but there are no gas stations for a long way. It's basically sitting downtown. Sitting in standstill crosstown traffic for 45 minutes probably didn't help, but I really didn't think to look! 

At least I had my camera....

We'll figure it out. Anything I can do to make life just a little harder! I am laughing about all this by the way. What else can I do at this point? Shooting up crossed my mind a few times recently, but that won't happen. I know this.

I did get a constellation prize this morning. Since I thought I had a doctors appointment at 11:30, I decided I'd take a bike ride this morning to see if I could get a good shot of this:

That's a money maker. I wanted to see the last shuttle take off back in 2011. I talked of planning this when I was clean in 2010 when I believed I would remain that way. I have a lot of friends and family in Florida and thought that would be a nice trip and a cool thing to see – and photograph I guess. Obviously, that never happened. I always wanted to see the shuttle ride piggy back on that 747 also. I never dreamed I would. I didn't even know they still transported it that way. I guess they did so because they are putting it on display in a museum in Southern California.

While out there this morning, I realized I had not been out by the Golden Gate Bridge for over six months – since back when I was using out there all the time. The sounds of the waves, the sounds of the seagulls and the smells triggered me quite a bit. It really made me want to get high. That kind of sucked, but I was glad I got to create a new memory.  I'll have to create them one at a time!  I don't want that area to remain tainted by that darkness for me. All this recent stress and having my own place has also triggered me some. The addict in my says, “You know how to make EVERTHING feel good. You got your own place, money...” I'd lose everything I've worked so hard to get – fast! Including my sanity and possibly my life. I love my little palace here. I don't want to lose it. I won't. Life is too good right now. I'm so grateful. It's not like I won't ever have thoughts and cravings. It's how I handle them that count.

AND, I would have never seen that amazing sight I saw this morning. It sent chills down my spine and brought tears to my eyes. I was so grateful to be alive and to have six months clean. It was a beautiful morning. Thank You God. I mean that.

SHUTTLE

(9/23)

Okay I need to end this and at least catch the last half of the Bengals game.  I got a busy day ahead!  I just wanted to add that yesterday was such a great day.  Out of 150 street artists, I drew my lucky number 7 in the lottery yesterday.  This means I got a great space.  I printed as many shuttle photos as possible the night before.  I was sold out by noon and even took some orders to mail to people!  Erotic Russia even came to visit me.

As long as I continue to work hard and have faith, everything will be okay.  Even making honest mistakes when I'm trying trying to do the right thing pay off!  Yesterday gave me lots of hope.  I even scaled down my display to one table which lightened my load a little and definitely simplified things a bit for me.  Everything will work out.  My life is kind of hard, but nothing feels better than reaping the rewards from hard work.  The rewards are coming.  I am so grateful to be alive.

Drive - New York Groove

I need to make this a pretty quick blog.  Readership seems to be up again, but I think some people have to go back to my last blog more than once to finish it so that's probably why.  I'm not sure why I even care really?

I know some good friends have told me it helps them and that's all that really matters.  I'm clean.  I know I can credit this blog for some of that actually - and President Obama.  I try not to be too political, but Beaty's Babbling Brain Blog endorses President Obama.  That should put him over the top.  It was seeing him one morning that I decided I should write about that fact and this blog was reborn.  I think my tackling the God subject is enough for people so I try to stay away from politics.

I was talking to my friend - the one I said that I like it when she says "Geez".  We were discussing how I write about God.  I was saying how I don't want to be preachy.  She is very hippie like in her ways and actually kind of thinks of things more along the lines of an Eastern Philosophy.   Also, she is probably the most environmentally conscious person I have ever met.  She makes Susan look like the Exxon Valdez and that says a lot!

She's probably too young to even know what the Exxon Valdez is!  I'm getting back at her for calling me an "old fart" after I told her my favorite movie was Casablanca.  Hey, it's about World War II, Good vs. evil and it's a classic!  Kids these days!  She's been a good friend.

I had a point here.  Oh yeah, we were chatting on the computer the other day and she said, "Thank Buddha!".  I thought that was clever and perfect for her.  Whatever works!  So later, I said, "Thank Me!"  She said, "Oh Geez!"

Poor Susan get's her name smeared all over this blog.  What's the point here?  I wanted to write about something.  That first sentence seems counter productive. 

I've been hanging out at this bar lately.  I do so to watch sports.  I haven't drank in ten years and it doesn't even appeal to me.  I really just needed ESPN.  The Bearcat's beating Pitt was awesome.  Peyton beating the Squealers was awesome.  Monday Night Football made me want to drink.  Not really, but it sucked.  It's a really mellow bar and I got a burrito from next door and a diet coke from the bar and sat at a table.  Drinking alcohol doesn't appeal to me at all anymore.  I am an alcoholic and can never drink again, but it is no where near my drug of choice.  It was probably my first drug of choice however.   Some would say I shouldn't be hanging out in bars.  It is definitely more like a bar than Brainwash.  

I'll probably watch Bengals games at Jillian's if I move to Chinatown.  Or, actually, there is this bar called the Bus Stop in The Marina that Bengals fans go to and bring food, so I'll probably go there.  The Marina is way to nice for it to be a real bar.  Yeah right.  In fact, isn't that the bar that all those cops got busted at for fighting or something like that a few years ago? 

I met some really cool people at this recent bar.  One guy was from the "hood" right next to the one I grew up in Cincinnati. He was from Indian Hill.  Jerry Garcia's wife lived in Indian Hill.  Jerry lived there for while too.  It's said he used to shop at Madeira Kroger's.  Indian Hill is frequently voted one of th top "neighborhoods" in the country.  It's all mansions.  Loveland - not so many.  There were a lot of Bengals fans at that bar.  I guess everybody likes an underdog.  Then, there was the drunk girl at the other end of the bar who made lots of eye contact and smiled a lot.  There's where I might need to be careful.

I ran (literally) back to where I was staying on Sunday night -  by myself of course.  I started feeling kind of lonely.  I even felt a little worried about my health.  I guess it was because I had all those tests scheduled for Monday.  I had my headphones set on the radio - KFOG as usual.  I was really contemplating the reality of my health and being alone and as KFOG often does, it played a song that just kind of summed up how I happened to be feeling at that particular moment.

Who's gonna tell you when,
It's too late,
Who's gonna tell you things,
Aren't so great.

You can't go on, thinkin',
Nothings' wrong, but bye,
Who's gonna drive you home,
Tonight.?

Who's gonna pick you up,
When You fall?
Who's gonna hang it up,
When you call?

Who's gonna pay attention,
To your dreams?
And who's gonna plug their ears,
When you scream?

You can't go on, thinkin'
Nothings wrong,
Who's gonna drive you home, tonight?

(bye baby)
(bye baby)
(bye baby)
(bye baby)

Who's gonna hold you down,
When you shake?
Who's gonna come around,
When you break?

You can't go on, thinkin',
Nothin's wrong,
Who's gonna drive you home, tonight? 

Oh, you know you can't go on, thinkin',
Nothin's wrong,
Who's gonna drive you home, tonight?

(bye baby)
(bye baby)
(bye baby)

Addiction can be such a lonely self-pitying disease.  Not that I don't have some reason to feel a little lonely.  I had someone who was there for me for so many years evertime I fell.  I never wanted to fall and I don't ever want to fall again.  It also had me thinking about my health.  I guess I do have some valid reasons to be concerned.   When I reached the peak of the hill, I did something I hadn't really done for a while.  I broke down.  I realized as I had my hands on my knees and my head down, I was staring at one of those messages in the sidewalk.

For reference sake, this is the top of the hill.  The message was on the sidewalk to the left.  And now you know.

This message pretty much reminded me what I had already decided and wrote about in my last blog earlier that day - to live and love life.  Enjoy every single moment.  It also presented that bigger word on the right - Revolution.  It's a big word that starts in small places, but that's probably a blog unto itself.

I haven't gotten all my tests back, but I'm pretty sure it's not heart issues.  I'll find out more on the 21st.  I spent about 4 hours at SF General on Monday getting lots of tests.  The best part was the X-Ray part.  She was hot!  It was also interesting to me.  It was kind of like she set me up for portrait photos.  I, of course, told her this.  I liked her touching me.  Hey, I told you I was lonely.  I'm just being silly really.  It was cool.  She had to take so many X-Rays.  She also had to physically move my body into so many different positions.  That's exactly what I was thinking.   Seriously though, these weird positions caused my spine to open up so they could all parts of it in the X-rays.  It was interesting.  It took her about and hour to take them all.

I could have bought a CD with the X-rays on it for $10, but I knew money was tight.  She let me look at them all however. They were cool.  So was she really.  She said she loved what she did and it really showed.  It's nice to be around people like that.

Another thing that reminded me to be grateful while at SF General was two of my fellow patients sitting next to me.  They were both in shackles and hand cuffs.  One was a juvenile.  He was a big kid!  When my hot x-ray tech told me I could sit down while she got things ready, the only seat open was next to him so she quietly said to me, "if you want to."  She was cute.  I really have no problem with guys like this.  I felt sorry for the kid especially.  I do believe justice occurs one way or another.  I was just glad I wasn't the one wearing hand cuffs. 

As far as people like my nice x-ray tech, I really do just like people.  I probably annoy some people, but I try not to.   I'm pretty happy these days really.  I think we actually hit it off nicely.  Her personality matched mine.  ....falling - In Love!  

I'm still on an emotional roller coaster, but even when I get sad I remember to be grateful.  And when I get happy, I usually get sad.  See how messed up I am.  I'm getting better.  How can't I be grateful and happy for every waking moment I get to exist?  At the same time, how can't I be sad for losing the person who I still believe in many ways to be my soul mate the way I lost her.  Sometimes when I do feel happy, I feel guilty. Knowing it's over makes it feel like a bigger loss, but at the same time, I know I can let go.  Or, I try to anyway.  I guess it's just mourning the loss of relationship.  I do feel that she will be happy and this makes me happy. Just to be sure, I just text her:  "Are u happy?"  She instantly text me back, "Are you being silly?"  This made me laugh.  I don't know even what I'm being sometimes or what she means.  I'm not being silly though.  I know one thing.  I'm back!

So much is lost in text and chat and probably even my writing.  I can't even explain how funny our text conversation got.  Basically, I ended up calling her a whore and she asked if I was drunk.  I was laughing so hard.  I was really serious when I sent the first text asking her if she was happy.  But she thought I was making a joke about her response to this photo of a black cocker spaniel that lives here that I text her or something, I don't even really know.  She said something about "a black cocker" and I knew what she meant but, she thought I was teasing her because my "Are u happy?" question came way after the text about her now having"a black cocker" and had nothing to do with and....wow this really went south.  We always made each other laugh. I still haven't gotten a straight answer out of her, but I think she's going to be happy.  Apparently she also has "a black cocker" where she lives and she thought I was asking if it made her happy.

Okay, that was probably all very inappropriate.  

(She finally called about a half hour later and we kind of straightened it all out.  Text conversations can be confusing.  She said, "That was such a deep question for a text."  And, it came after she commented on the black cocker.  I'll stop digging.  I think she'll be happy.  It is complicated.)

Now where was I?  Perhaps it's what am I?  I'm back!  Life really is returning.  Sometimes I don't even understand my emotions.  It's like happiness feels sad.  I don't get it.  I am grateful.  I got something today I never thought I'd have again not all that long ago.  I figured I'd be dead or homeless.

I am going to start work tomorrow.  Now I'm having one of those confusing emotions.  There is more to it than just tears of happiness too.  My street artist life always involved Susan.  It's back to loneliness and sadness.  Happiness and gratitude far outweigh those feelings however.

I really got just enough to get back everything I need.  About a month ago, I got $1000.00 (It came from our deposit nine years ago, so I guess it was kind of mine since I did work back then.  Still I know I owe Susan more than that!).  It was to help me get back on my feet. Today, I bought my last item to get back on my feet.  My check book balance  - $1.02!  I'm working on a tight margin here!  I'll start making money tomorrow.  I have to pay my cell phone bill of $40.oo by Thursday.  I hope I make $40.00 the next two days!  I have faith it's all going to work out because it will.

And all that health stuff - I'll be fine.  If my MRSA becomes an infection - I'll beat it.  If I die.  I die.  With all that in mind,  I thought about just how beautiful my day was all day.  I had to go to the State Board of Equalization (which is in a cool highrise), The Civic Center (which is beautiful building), The Arts Commission (which is in a beautiful building) and I also met this nice little Hispanic family who sold  me their cart I'm going to use to push my display from my new storage unit to Justin Herman Plaza.  Then I went to FoodsCo and bought some groceries for lunch.  I still get $141.00 worth of food stamps per month.  I am very grateful for that. 

All these good things are happening!  I got my street artists license back.  I'm going to have at least one photo displayed at SOMA Arts this weekend.  I'm in a band!  I'm probably in the best shape of my life.  I'm even helping my friend make a movie!  Life is really, really good.  Thank Allah or Buddah or God or Me!  Probably not me!  Well I did have to do the footwork, but it really has everything to do with God.  That I am sure of.

So I was feeling pretty good today riding by bike all over this beautiful City on this beautiful day.  I mean it was perfect.  I was also thinking about my other favorite city today - New York City.  We all knew New York would come back after 9/11.  Susan emailed me some photos I took back in 98.  They are photos of photos and they were emailed to me so they are not great images.  I hope I can find the negatives.  It was cool to see these photos from one of our many New York trips.  

I forgot to charge my mp3 player last night so everyone I passed today had to suffer through my singing the song that was stuck in my head all day.  I'm not a big KISS fan, but I always loved this one.  And, I love that Ace Frehley sings it.

Many years since I was here, on the street I was passin' my time away
To the left and to the right, buildings towering to the sky
It's outta sight in the dead of night
Here I am, again in this city, with a fistful of dollars
And baby, you'd better believe

Chorus:
I'm back, back in the New York Groove
I'm back, back in the New York Groove
I'm back, back in the New York Groove
Back in the New York Groove, in the New York Groove

In the back of my Cadillac
A wicked lady, sittin' by my side, sayin' 'Where are we?'
Stop at Third and Forty-three, exit to the night
It's gonna be ecstacy, this place was meant for me

Feels so good tonight, who cares about tomorrow
So baby, you'd better believe

Chorus

I'm back, back in the New York Groove (repeats out)

Wake Me Up When September Ends....

Exodus 3:1-6

Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. ² There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. ³ So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”  ⁴ When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!”  And Moses said, “Here I am.”⁵ “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” ⁶ Then he said, “I am the God of your father,the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.

I have been wanting to write this blog for a while now.  I mentioned it a couple of blogs ago.  It's September now.  I'll get to that.  I've been staying at three different peoples homes in three different beautiful San Francisco neighborhoods.  The latest was The Mission.  I love the Mission.  It's about as crazy as The Tenderloin or SOMA, but some how has a lot more "normal" people hanging out.  It is also a very Hispanic neighborhood, but it's very artistically cultural as well.  I may live in The Mission someday.  

I kind of have my sights set on Chinatown right now.  It has cheap SRO's (Single Room Occupancies) like the Tenderloin, SOMA and The Mission without as much drug drama.  Or, if there is it's in Chinese, so that might help.  It would kind of be like I used to hang out in the Mission because everyone spoke Spanish.  I do have a thing for Asian women....  I definitely won't go into the Asian massage parlors that offer a "happy endings!"  Chinatown is close to where I will soon be selling my art - Justin Herman Plaza.  In fact, of all of the cheap hoods with SRO's, Chinatown is the closest and seems it would be the safest for my addiction.  I've never seen anyone shooting up in the streets of Chinatown.  I'm sure I will now.  I'll figure it out as it happens.

Speaking of women, the frequent offers to hook up have subsided.  I figured they would.  I'm glad.  I was telling my good friend via this computer about that married woman flirting with me and her comical behavior as it occurred the other day at Brainwash.  She said, "Geez!"  I love when she says, "Geez!"  I then told her about how these type of offers and flirtations had been going on for me for a few days.  She said, "You must be menstrual."  I can't  believe she would say such a thing!  That really made me moody.  I was telling my friend I am living with how I don't sleep very well and she suggested it might be menopause.  Okay girlfriend? 

I talked to my beautiful "girlfriend" from 2400 miles away this morning.  The one I "fell in love" with.  I still love her and always will.  She really was somehow there for me when I really needed someone on a few occasions.   Like I said many blogs ago, she was way to many amazing things to stay single.  And, she is far away.  It never really made sense and I knew that.  It was still nice to have her help me out the ways she actually did and gain a new friend.  When she started seeing this lucky guy, I was a little heart broken, but if you love someone you'll be happy if they are happy and that's what she seems to be.  Knowing that, so am I.   I mean that.  I'm an emotional screwed up mess anyway who falls in love with....  It felt a little more to me.  It seems nothing happens by accident.  She's a good person.  Anyway, she said something like, "You're not blogging as much, you must be enjoying life...."  She is right, but I am also so busy.  Busy in a good way.  So many exciting things are happening in my life.  

I am so lucky to have so many help me.  I am trying to spread myself out as much as possible.  That's why I bounce around to different neighborhoods.  It seems all of my friends are creative in one way or another.  My last friend I stayed with and I are planning on collaborating on a pretty exciting project.  Actually it's his project and he's asked me to help out, but I'll get to that later. I gotta get to this blog!  This is all just.....not what I wanted to write about.  Perhaps that's why I have been also writing less - planned blog content.  This one isn't so bad, but I started writing the Long Road to Ruin one the other day and I had to stop.  The subject of the devil just brings me down.  A lot.

Let me finish this recent stuff really quick.  I had one friend tell me that once I got one year clean, I could stay with him in his bed as long as I was willing to be bottom.  Hey, he cares more about my recovery than I do.  If an attractive woman  made such an offer (hint, hint), I'd probably take her up on that today with only 5 1/2 months clean.  She'd have to be bottom, of course.

It's a good thing I went to church yesterday.  I told my friend I was staying with in The Mission how there were beautiful women at my church and he said, "Now I see why you go."  That's really not it.  It's just a fact.  The real reason is the undeniable message every week that coincides with my life.  I started writing this blog before yesterday's church service (space-time).  This sermon was based around the scriptures that talk about Moses and the burning bush.  I think I've seen enough burning bushes over the past nine or so years to believe in God.  I'm pretty sure that the reason I stood at the gates of hell and met the devil himself is because I did see that proof and still chose to do the things I did.  God did not like this.  I read this in a copy of the Qur'an I found on the street just before I got clean.  Talk about scaring the crap out of me.  The devil didn't seem to like my disobedience either.  That guy is really hard to get a long with.  Not impossible.  Is salvation possible for the entire universe?  I'd like to believe so.  I bet God agrees.

I got to see two of my old buddies from my program at church also.  One said he read my blog when I was exited and he thought I was "crazy."  I wonder why?  The other one was an usher at church.  The one who was an usher is one of the guys who helped Susan and I pack her shipping crate.  He's the one Susan said she felt like she had known forever.  It does feel that way for some reason.  It's probably that friendly East Coast personality of his.  That's sarcasm, but I do love East Coast attitudes.  More importantly, I love this guy.  He told me he was reading my blog before church.  This blog....I need to keep it up.  It actually kind of started to help me keep up with all my friends.  I'm so popular don't you know.

Then, my other friend who said I was crazy and I went to lunch with my career coach, her dad who was visiting from LA and this young woman who has an absolute angelic voice.  (My career coach I went to lunch with is a book editor - I bet that was a run-on sentence!)  She (the woman with the angelic voice) sings for the church sometimes.   Her (angelic voice woman's) sister  was also in town from DC.  We went to this pizza place on Valencia.  I can't remember the name and I'd look it up,  but I'd hate to give them bad publicity by praising what a great place it is.  Aren't I just....  I'm not all bubbles and sunshine.  I am grateful for those who helped me and who have saved my life.  And that pizza place probably raised my cholesterol - see, I am a loose canon.  

My friend from the program and I were walking afterwards and he said, "I read your blog when you left and man, you're like -  crazy."  He compared my mind to that of Steven Kings.  Wow.  If I ever manage to get the blog written I am going to call Long Road to Ruin, it should really read like a horror novel.  I can't even write the thing.  I know I can't talk about everything.  I just can't.  The really, really creepy thing about all that happened to me is - it happened to me.  I still like to call it meth psychosis and it kind of was, but something inside of me knows it was more.  That alone should keep me clean, but I will always have to work to stay that way.

I guess my whole point about mentioning my three friends mentioning something about my blog that morning is I don't want to slack off on it.  I like that people read it.  My readership is down as a result of my writing fewer blogs!  I was in the newspaper business years ago and I still can't have that!  My most popular one recently was the one I wrote after I got kicked out of that program -  Please Forgive Me.  It actually had TWICE the normal readership for some reason.  I guess people love drama.  Come to think of it, isn't that what this blog is all about - the drama surrounding sex, drugs and rock-n-roll!  No Dave, it's supposed to be about God!  It is, but my being has a tendency to wanna slip into my old ways.  That's why I need God.  That is what this blog is about.

Okay, now the let me get to blog I wanted to write:

September has frequently been an "interesting" month for me.  Lot's of things have happened to me personally and to the world it seems.  Football starts in September!  That's huge.  It was especially huge when I played.  I really loved playing football.  We sucked my senior year, but I personally got a lot of recognition for being so small - and good I guess.  I was featured in the Cincinnati Enquirer, The Cleveland Plain Dealer and was on some sports show with George Vogal  and Chris Collinsworth on Channel 5.  

I won the "Tiger Award" my senior year.  I guess it was the biggest award given at the end.  I basically won it because I was the smallest player with the biggest heart.  Back during the holidays when I was homeless, I used to wonder how someone like me, with such a big heart could be panhandling and shooting up on the streets of San Francisco.  I felt like a heartless piece of crap for all I put Susan through.  I also felt pretty unsuccessful in life for obvious reasons.

I remembered the words my coach said when I won that award.  "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog."  It all started to get really confusing to me also, because we spoke a lot about Pride back then.  I did have to fight my way out of that mess in a lot of ways, but it was still surrender and losing my Pride that seems to have helped.   Perhaps I am fighting for something bigger now.  Surrendering is learning to fight for Good I believe.  It's complicated!  Let's move on. 

I met Susan in September of 1989.  She was the best thing that ever happened to me.  She made me a better person in so many ways.  She changed me for the better and challenged me to think of the world in such a better way.  She saved my life - many times.  I miss her.  I will always love her at a deeper level.  I want her to be happy with her new life and believe she will be.  I believe I will also.  Life is becoming very beautiful for me.  This makes me smile.

September 11th 2001, I was in a meeting with my boss on the 31st floor of The Carew Tower in downtown Cincinnati.  My dad called and said to turn on the TV.  We all of course no what happened.  Like so many, this event effected me deeply.  Back then, at 49 stories, the Carew Tower was the tallest building in Cincinnati.  I remember Susan called and suggested I get out of that building.  She thinks that way.  I never did, but I just couldn't concentrate on work anyway so I did leave.  

At church on Sunday, after reading that bible verse the pastor pointed out how God has a way of calling us out onto grand journeys.  The events of 9/11 had nothing to do with me personally, yet in some ways they did.  I took it very personal.  The people who died, well, that was hard not to take personal even if you didn't know any of them.  Actually, I had a cousin who worked in the Pentagon at the time.  Years later, just few years ago, he would in fact die flying a plane in Afghanistan.  

I even took the buildings personal.  If it's not obvious, I love skyscrapers.  Sometimes I feel like I took them more personal back then.  I could see they were gone.  It was all they represented.   That's of course why they were targeted.  Back when it first happened, I didn't know or personally love anyone who actually died, but I did know and love those buildings.  I was fortunate enough to get to go to the top of the World Trade Centers a couple of times.  One of these days, I'll find the photos I took back then.  I think Susan has them.  I'm sure she'll find them once she unpacks.  Anyway, the whole thing affected me.  I decided I needed to move. 

   

We loved New York and we loved San Francisco.  I decided after 9/11 that I had to get out of Cincinnati.  Life was just too short.  I loved visiting big cities, but I figured it would be much different to actually live in one.  Was I ever right about that.  I felt the tense climate (as a result of 9/11) in New York might be to hard to live in so I set my sights on San Francisco.  For years prior to our moving here, I had said my dream job would be at the San Francisco Chronicle.  Susan and I loved San Francisco.  

We got engaged at Coit Tower.  We spent part of our honeymoon in San Francisco.  We visited at least ten times.  I really wanted to live here.  I got that job of my dreams.  I recently wrote about this, but on my way to take the drug test for The Chronicle once back in Cincinnati, I did something I rarely did back then - I prayed to God.  I really wanted that job.  I had to do a lot to get the marijuana out of my system back then because I smoked it every day.  I also asked, "God, please give me a sign."  About five minutes later I passed a church.  Out front on their sign was written, "You asked for a sign?"  Was I ever in for some signs to come!

We moved here around the end of August or early September.  I'm not really sure of the exact date.  San Francisco is beautiful in September.  Because of the maritime continental climate, we always get and Indian Summer here.   When I first moved here, everyday pretty much felt like spring for the first couple of years - without the rain (except in the winter - it does actually rain for a few months.)  It still does feel like Spring to me everyday really.

My job at The Chronicle lasted for almost two years.  I did great at first, but I was eventually fired.  I was frequently smoking $400.00 worth of crack a night and going to work.  I think that they started to suspect something.  Every time they gave me a big chance, I'd blow it in a big way.  What is it about addicts that we love to do that?

Once I got fired, I was introduced to recovery for the first time.   I was really excited about the idea of recovery, but I was a little embarrassed that I had reached that point and had already started losing things - like my job.  I thought that was bad.  It was at the time.  I was in a financial mess.  Like so many times, I tried to rush to get my life back together and get back to work.  I relapsed.  I worked at SF Weekly for a very short time.  It think I got nearly 90 days clean my first attempt and relapsed - in September. 

Crack just didn't work for me anymore.  I wanted to be high so bad.  All I could think about before taking my first hit of crack was my next hit of crack.  I was broke and sat on a street corner one night - miserable.  It was the corner of Larkin and O'Farrell in Little Saigon.  I sometimes refer to that corner as my center of hell.  I later realized I had also messed up near this corner years before - when I didn't even live here yet.  

I met this prostitute on that corner that night.  She invited me into her room.  I had nothing, but she got me high.  I really didn't even want to be with her either.  She asked me if I ever shot speed.  I said I had not.  She ask if I wanted to.  I said I did.  Let me just say that changed EVERYTHING about my entire EVERYTHING in a way I cannot never fully explain.  Just thinking about that day makes me want to get high.  It always has.  It is so twisted how much doing that drug that way took from me and yet I still lust for it sometimes.  I get a warm sensation in my heart and short of breath just thinking about it.  It's sick.

I was introduced to the most messed up scene of IV drug use and sex one could possibly imagine.  I don't really want to talk about the details because they are so dark and so seductive to me at the same time.  I feel it in my chest right now so I'd rather stop.  It's evil.....

Things were so confusing to me back then.  Why did I keep going back to this sick scene of sex, hardcore drugs and known diseases.  I didn't care.  I just showed up, put my head down and rolled up my sleeve and then......

Again, I need to move on.  It gets me in the heart.  Speaking of, I just got back from the clinic and I have to have a bunch of tests run at General Hospital Monday.  I've been avoiding this one.  I always thought things went away if you swept them under the rug.  Since I had my 'relapse' with her almost a month ago, I went today to get HIV and STD tests and thought I should bring up some other issues.  

After telling the doctor what we did, she seemed very unconcerned about my possibilities of catching HIV or Hep C but was very concerned about my heart.  My left arm is pretty much always numb and I was having chest pains near where my heart is when I ran about a month ago.  The volunteer doctor from SF General who came into my program kept telling me I needed to get tests, but I kept putting it off.  I still have severe pains in my chest and arm, but I think those are more about stress or nerve damage.  My left hand is almost always numb or feels like it has needles and pins in it.  Since I'm right handed, I shot up in my left arm most of the time so I guess that may have something to do with it. I know I hit some nerves some times.  I hated missing!

I have faith it will be okay.  I was really hard on myself for a long time. That drug hits you in the heart and that's why I loved it.  She told me I looked and seemed very healthy.  I wanted to tell her she looked very cute because she was but I'm not inappropriate like that in person!  All the nurses were also cute.  I was half naked having lots of cute nurses put these sticky EKG monitors all over my body.  One kept breathing on her fingers to warm them for me and saying, "Are my hands warm enough?"  One called me "Hairy" Potter.  I didn't think I was that hairy, but I guess as I get older it moves from my head to my chest.  It felt like it just might be the beginning of a porno movie.  Man I'm twisted.  Speaking of those little sticky EKG monitor things, they put them everywhere!   I thought we got them all before I left the doctor, but I was finding them on me all night.

One more thing.  Let me just say this - Thank God for Healthy San Francisco!  What an amazing city I live that someone like me gets such caring free healthcare - with hot health care providers I might add!  In all seriousness, the doctor was very nice and really was concerned about my well being.  I think my parents history of addiction and both of them dying from "heart failure" had something to do with it.  I'll be fine though.  It's just precautionary.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, when I left the clinic this morning, someone had stolen my bike seat.  That sucked.  Capp Street!  It's just life in The City I guess.  I was riding next to this woman today afterward and told her what happened.  She said that happened to her in New York.  I said, "Life in The City."  She said, "I hope someone got a meal out of it."  I said, "Yeah, me too."  That's just kind of the way we think around here.

Now, seriously, where was I?  I found my way to this dark scene that I'm going to try to avoid thinking too much about.  Basically, after I would get high and do "whatever" within this scene of people, I would b-line to Lands End, The Presidio or Ocean Beach.  I didn't want to be around people.  I began seeing things out there.  I also saw things at these shooting galleries.  It wasn't just me either.  I remember being with that prostitute one time and right after I shot up, something caught my eye.  Something else seemed to have joined us in the room.  This was not the first time I had seen such a thing.  However, there were other real people there and I looked over at this guy and he said, "We're not alone!"  and started laughing.  

The other things I noticed was when I was walking down the street is that the street lights would blink on and off as I passed under them.  It was as if something was trying to get my attention.  Then there were the passer by's whose words always seemed to fit into my existence or whatever I was thinking even though they didn't necessarily seem to be talking to me.  Then there was the timely songs that would come on the radio at just the right time.  I began to wonder if something really incredible could be going on. 

I started to realize that perhaps we really weren't alone in this Universe.  Besides these ominous entities that seemed to be hanging out in these sick shooting galleries, I used to see these things in other places too.  Especially out at Lands End.  I frequently saw them in trees.  I began referring to them as shadow people.  I'm sure I had heard that term somewhere before.  I told my older brother about the "shadow people" and when I did, he asked, "Shadow People?"  He went on to remind me of his experience with Shadow People when we were young and living way out in the country in Morrow, Ohio.  I had forgotten all about that.  

A lot of strange things happened out in Morrow I never fully understood.  I still don't.  I do know more now than I did, but I will likely never tell it all.  It's not all about me.  Let me simply say that something or someone did not want us there.  Many dark things happened.  There was this black van that always came around also.  There was a lot more, but I want to point the black van out because it seems to have started coming around again later at another dark time in my life.

This is Beaty's Babbling Brain Blog so lets jump around a bit.  The first time I was in recovery, my counselor asked me if I had told my dad or my older brother.  "Of course not."  Was he crazy?  I had lot's of secrets that were going to my grave.  Didn't everyone?  I wasn't even telling him everything.  Basically, what I am saying here is - this transparency you're reading didn't happen overnight.  I didn't even want to tell my family.  I only told my wife of my crack addiction when I was losing "everything".  Back when I thought those "everything's" were everything.  Don't get me wrong - job and financial security are pretty big things to lose.  And, I heard something back then that I wish I would have understood, "You hit bottom when you stop digging."

I would eventually tell my family of my addiction issues.  Eventually however, I started digging again.  Things got worse.  Instead of smoking crack - I was shooting meth - and worse.  My family used to wonder where I would go for days and how I would get high.    I told them half the story.  People got me high back then.  I was in this "scene".  I also sold meth on the streets sometimes.  I told Susan and my family some of the parts where I would be out in the remote areas of San Francisco - seeing crazy things and hanging out with wild life.  My dad hated the story of the fox I used to hang out with near Baker Beach.  He would have really hated the whole truth!  Overall he was pretty understanding and he never actually told me he hated the fox story - someone else did.  He was genuinely concerned.  Sometimes, Susan would file missing person's reports on me.  The San Francisco Police used to tell her since I was a meth addict, she needed to let me go.  It seems they knew something we didn't just yet.

My dad was having a lot of troubles of his own with his health back then.  He was unable to work because of it.  This only made his alcoholism worse.  I've told some of the crazy details before and recently re-posted that blot, Contrails because I didn't really want to have to rewrite the details or relive them really.  It basically seems my dad was willing to tell everyone what I was doing but not what he was doing.  This was hard for me because I always lied for him.  I didn't even want him to lie for me but if your going to tell everyone my truth then please tell them yours too.  I'm not trying to be resentful about this anymore and I love my dad and he really was concerned.  I don't deny he drank more because he worried about me - I get that.  But, what came first, the chicken or the egg?  Addiction.  

I knew one of us would die.  I tried to save him but didn't care about myself.  My little brother who was dealing with the same things as me when I was young told me that he kept seeing this black van driving around.  There's a lot more I can't really say so I don't know how useful that statement is.  I just care about people and see everything for what it truly was - addicts who love each other.  Still, since my dad refused to get help, I dropped him off at a hotel room with his oxygen tank.  He refused to look at me the last time I saw him as I left.  We didn't speak for 3 months.  We were both killing ourselves.  One day we finally spoke.  He told me he was ready to die.  I told him I knew how he felt but it was ultimately up to us.  I told him I loved him but that I couldn't keep doing this.

My dad died 3 days later.  It was June.  I almost didn't make it home for the funeral because I was once again out on one of my binges.  I did make it and despite the uncomfortable circumstances I delivered his eulogy.

I remember flying back into San Francisco.  I looked out at this beautiful city as we landed but I was scared.  I knew I was landing in hell. 

All I wanted was to get to that hell as soon as possible.  I found my "friends".  My dad's death was not going to save my life.  I used so hard for a few months.  Finally, in September I was so messed up one night.  I was also very sick.  I just wanted to get high.   I was losing my mind.  I had not yet started hearing voices.  The voices really freaked me out at first.  Actually at first, before the voices, it was these coincidences and occasionally these "shadow people" that I would see.

That night, I saw a dark figure in our living room.  It scared me.  I didn't know what it was.  I say that, but I kind of did. I even told Susan, "This one scares me."  I should have headed the warning.  I ended up leaving and buying meth.  Once Susan found out, she told me to get out and not come back until I got clean.  The speed I had wasn't very good.  I was so sick.  Somehow shooting speed made everything feel better.  I remember I shit my pants that night.  That was a first.  I was telling a friend about my situation the other day and kind of laughing about something.  He said it sounded like I was glorifying it.  I told him that if he wanted to here the true hell of what I had been through, I could gladly share that.  I just don't know how to explain, "Where I've been" to people without sounding like a complete downer all the time.  I just try to make a little light of things and stay positive.  There is nothing light about shitting your pants kids.  There's nothing light about what happens next either.  Still, these things are like a day in candy land compared to the hell I would end up experiencing in "the parallel universe" I had yet to cross over into.  Well, maybe not candy land, but things got a lot creepier.  At least this kind of thing I could make sense of.

Susan eventually let me in to "clean up".  Perhaps I should have given up on getting high at that point.  I was desperate and determined  to change the way I felt.  I was out of money, but I had some marijuana.  By now, it was 4:00 in the morning.  I should have waited until daylight and I should have went to The Haight to sell it.  However, again, I was desperate and tried to sell it to the first person I ran into on 6th Street that night.  There were actually three of them.  One had a gun.  Long story short:

I know I've showed this a couple of times recently, but it's a nice reminder that there is nothing glamorous about my drug use.  This happened six years ago!  I had to lose just about everything.  I almost lost my life many times. I still may.

I wouldn't go to the hospital at first.  By the time I did, it was too late for stitches.  I think Susan took this once I finally fell asleep in case there was a need for some kind of police report or something.  I never filed one.    

I could thank that guy for a couple of things.  I got almost four months clean after this.  I also started writing Beaty's Babbling Brain Blog.  I did it for a couple of reasons.  I wanted The Truth about me to come from the horses mouth.  I also felt it might be my responsibility to share all that I had been experiencing.  I felt that those who live a normal daily existence may not see the things I was seeing.  It seems I found evil.  That's what I decided.  However, if evil existed, God existed.  I used to think it was The New World Order and the Illuminati.  It could be to some degree.  However, I do know that it is more about God than anything.  I believe God will find a way to us all.  Perhaps God is a little more subtle in his approach.  Thank God.  I thought perhaps I should be a messenger of sorts.  I promise you I am no one special.   In fact, if anything I was a bad person who God is utilizing to help get his message across to show just how much Grace he gives.  I hope that's the case.

After my pistol whipping, I was pretty miserable.  Now I was not only having to deal with the feelings I had over losing my dad.  I had to deal with the pain and shame of what had happened to me.  Not using drugs meant I had to feel everything and there was just so much to feel.  I just wanted it all to go away.  I needed and outlet.  I wasn't really believing in recovery at that time, so I started writing.  

I started listening to a lot of music too.  I frequently heard the song, Wake me up when September Ends.  I didn't completely know what it was about.  All I knew is it was exactly how I felt.  Before those days, I used to think it was written about September 11th.  I'm sure some heard that song and could relate it to that.  I didn't really listen to all the lyric, but I certainly heard the chorus, "Wake me up, when September Ends."   I've had some hard days, but I do remember those to be very hard.  I needed it all to end.

It seemed my writing really helped.  Susan was so good to me through it all.  Unfortunately it also gave her reason to believe that when I would eventually start using again, it would be much safer for me to do so at home and safer for her to give me money.  A monster was being created out of love and compassion.  This can turn into something known as co-dependence.  Addiction is so ridiculously confusing.  For almost four months however, I was clean and we were became pretty happy.  How could I ever use again after what happened to me?

I'd like to jump to yesterday really quickly - which is when I was writing the above paragraph.  I had on old friend from  my from hometown ask me to contact her because she was going through a very similar situation as the one you just read with someone she loved.  I called and talked to her.  It was all very timely.  Addiction can be so hard on so many.  I think just being someone who could relate helped, however, I tried to take it a step further and got some real information for her  about where her loved one could actually seek help.  I got this information from one of Susan's family members in Cincinnati who I have always respected for the caring work she has done throughout her life.  

I'm no one special, I promise you that, but this is just what doing the next right thing can do and how the Universe can unfold.  I hope it may at least be an opportunity to consider.  Ultimately it is up to the person who needs help however.  That can be the hardest part with all this.  They have been in my prayers.  Sorry to be so vague, but I really do care about people and totally get the need for privacy in these cases.

I remember I relapsed the day my family left San Francisco just after the first of the year.  I guess it was 2007.  That was my kind of day to relapse.  I really started losing my mind.  I had not started hearing voices yet.  However, I knew "something" was going on.  I was seeing all kinds of crazy things.  I was also starting to read these messages written on places like the sidewalk and noticed peoples words would seem to be for me as they passed by.  It seemed I was getting "messages" from all over the place.  I spent so much time at Lands End and the Presido watching "the boats" do there experiments.  They were creating land slides and doing weather control experiments.  I was certain of this. I was even in a slow moving landslide myself one night that they created.  I saw them do it, of course. I used to tell Susan of all this insanity.  She thought I was insane.  I'd tell her, They are up to something!  She didn't care.  She just wanted me to stop using and stop leaving her.  They would eventually become The New World Order.  I was certain of it.  There were just too many people involved.  

Strange things continued to happen.  One night, while using at an old bunker built during World War II that are located all along the coast, I found this bag of something on this concrete slab which was kind of like table.  I carried it down to the beach so I could see what was in it.  When I opened it, it was full of internal organs from "something".  This kind of freaked me out.  It was always creepy out there but sometimes I loved the creepiness.  That creepy satanic seeming stuff was not the kind of creepiness I loved however.

I would climb all up and down the cliffs in the middle of the night, tweaking with no lights.  In some places the rocks were very loose and it could be hundreds of feet down sometimes to the ocean.  It was insane.  I have no idea what I was doing.  My friend and I would later "joke" that I was in super soldier training.  I thought that perhaps I was part of the mind control going on.  They of course have mind control equipment at the top of the original San Francisco Federal Building - the building I referred to as Old World Order Headquarters.  There are these huge vents at the top of that building in the middle of the Tenderloin of all places.  I lived in the shadow of New World Order Headquarter (The new San Francisco Federal Building) or the building I referred to as "The Death Star".  It too has grated vents on the roof to house mind control equiptment.

 As insane as I was, this stuff is actually documented.  It was even something that went before the Senate or was a US Court Case back in the late 70's.  I can't really remember the facts now a days and don't really have time to look it up.  All I know is the things I "figured out" back then - I figured out before I found information online about it all.  It also had to do with all the GWEN Towers that were all around - of course.  I don't want to get into all that craziness again.  I was crazy.  I think. 

One day, I was creeped out by "something" and decided, I needed to get out of New World Order Headquarters - The Presidio.  I was on foot, but I had ridden my bike there the day before and I knew how hard it was to navigate my bike in the sand.  As I was going up this steep hill, I saw bicycle tracks in the sand.  I thought, "someone could flip over".  Just then I looked up and two kids were speeding down the sandy hill.  I wanted to say something but did not.  I was imagining how easy it could be to flip over.  As I got to the top of a hill, I came to a road by and old abandoned hospital.  I heard a bunch of mopeds whining over the top of this hill.   A group flew by me.  Then one came by itself.  Right as I looked up, this woman for no apparent reason flipped over the handlebars and slid across the pavement stopping right in front of me!  It really freaked me out.  I said to her, "Are you okay?", but she just lied there.  Moments later another group of mopeds came whining over the hill and stopped to help her.  Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, but she seemed pretty messed up.  I remember thinking,"What the F___ is this place?  There is more than just people involved here.  This is evil!"    As I was leaving the gates of the Presidio vowing to never come back to that place again on that drug and vowing to fight for good,  I remember letting whatever it was know. "I'd be back on the Good side!"  Once I got to the gates, I turned to look back one more time and it seems it had a message for me too.

If you can't read it, it says, "Good as... Dead."  I of course believed this message was for me.

Before long, I'd end up doing exactly what I said I wouldn't do - get high and go back.  It was never about that really.  Well in some ways, I did think I was on to something out there and could only really figure it out while high.  However, my craving was for the rush and the sex.  Not The Truth.  It seems I'd discover the Anti-Truth every time. 

A year must have past since the pistol whipping and it was back to September.  I had been getting these horrible staff infections.  I learned I had something called MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus).  It's a horrible infection people sometimes get at hospitals.  It is very resistant to antibiotics.  IV drug users get it.   One has to have contact in an open cut with the infection.  The infection can live on surfaces for some time.  That's why people get them at hospitals.

I'm not sure exactly how I would get it, but those infections were the most painful thing I think I've ever experienced.  They made that black eye in the above photo feel like a tickle.  It is very contagious to the touch if it is gotten into an open wound.  You know when someone has one!  However, it can also live on dirty sheets of piss in the sink hotels.  So if the person from the night before had one and one lays on those sheets with an open wound, which is common for addicts, it possible to get it that way.  I'm quite sure that's how it happened to me sometimes.   

Everytime someone gets one, it gets stronger and more resistant to antibiotics.  I used to have to go to urgent care every day to get an antibiotic shot.  They give it in your rear end and it hurt so bad.   Plus, you have to drain the infection and stick antibiotics inside the open wound they cut for you to let it drain.  It's so discusting.  It's like a pimple times one million that can last for a couple of months.  I hate to show this discuting image but if this blog is to discourage drug use and share reality than here it is.  This is not one of mine by the way.  I've had so much worse.  I have one scar on my pelvic area that is over 2 inches wide.

Glamerous

Please if you have never used drugs - don't.  And, if your at any stage of addiction - stop now.  I promise it gets worse.  I promise.  

I have reached the point that if I do get another, I will lose the limb it is on or I will die if it's somewhere besides a limb.  I would have a slight chance, I guess, but my doctor told me years ago that there are no antibiotics that can treat it anymore.   I played Russian roulette every time I used.   I never liked to admit that she told me that.  I kind of still don't.  As long as I never use, I should never get one again.  I don't think it lives in me.  (unfortunately, I learned after I wrote this, it does.)  I think my body just can't fight it anymore. Trust me, I know when I have one.   Getting these infections used to clean me up for a while.  They are so painful.

(I have to add that I went to church today (9/9) and ran into the Doctor who originally wanted me to get the heart tests.  I told her I was finally getting the tests tomorrow and she was very glad.  She assured me it was of course precautionary.  Since that made me feel a little better, I mentioned my MRSA situation.  I don't want to elaborate until I know a little more myself, but it actually sounds more grim than I have been willing to admit to myself.  It's important I remain healthy and injury free.  Staying clean will increase those odds.  It's important I try to be grateful for every waking moment I have.  Every day is a gift and is beautiful to me.  I must never forget that.)

One day I was wondering around The Presidio near the shore by the Golden Gate Bridge and met this old black man.  He was 80 years old.  He called himself, "Jack the Bean Stalk."  He had just gotten to San Francisco.  He told me had never been there or in The Presidio.  He had just gotten out of prison.  He was in prison for 50 years.  

He was nice enough, but something about him didn't make sense.  He told me he was from New Orleans.  But he said, "I just had to get out of New Orleans."  He made a point of telling me this many times.  To such a degree,  I took notice of his reiterated comments.  He'd look me in the eye and say, "I had to get out of New Orleans."  It was strange to me.  

He then asked me if I wanted to do some meth.  I of course did.  Most of my time at The Presidio was spent in this very private remote cove that was very hard to find.  One could only reach it during very low tide or by a very hard climb down to it.  It was surrounded by at least a hundred feet of cliffs on three sides and the waterway known as the Golden Gate on the other.  It was very near the mouth to the Pacific Ocean and huge waves would break in that little cove.   Jack the Bean Stalk who said he had never been there before walked us down this windy path right to it.  It was very low tide.  In tide cycles, I learned from being around them, that there are two high tides and two low tides.  One is very high and one is very low - the other two are in between.  It was very low so we ran around to the little cove as no wave was coming in.  He sm0ked some meth with me. I really wanted to shoot some, but not with him of course and something just didn't feel right to me.  I finally said I had to go.

When I got home, I told Susan about this strange old man who, "Just had to get out of New Orleans."  She just thought I was crazy as usual.  A week later I was at Ocean Beach.  I felt a staph infection coming on.  I was at a very dark secluded part of the beach by the sand dunes.  Two strangers walked up and said, "Did you know the New Orleans is getting hit by a huge hurricane?"  I had no idea.  It was Hurricane Katrina.  I didn't think much of it.  

I was starting to be in lot of pain.   I knew I was getting a bad staph infection on my right front pelvic area.  It got to where I could hardly walk.  It was about size of a softball.  I hobbled to Baker Beach, near my private cove.  I built a fire, took out my knife, cut a 7-Up can in half and filled it with water.  I boiled the water. I put a hot cloth on the infection and began cutting it open with my knife.  It was so painful, but I had to open it up.  I did have some success, but would ultimately have to call Susan to come get me and take me to urgent care.  That is where that 2 inch scar is today where the doctors had to finish opening it up for me.  It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced.  It just wouldn't get numb no matter how much they tried to numb it with a local anesthetic.  Everywhere they stuck a needle in the tender infection it would shoot blood and puss.  So Romantic.

I ended up being laid up on the couch for a long time.  All that was on television was the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.  I was so miserable and it was a miserable thing to watch.  Then I remembered Jack the Bean Stock and how he said over and over, "I just had to get out of New Orleans."  I called Susan and asked her, "Do you remember how I told you something wasn't right about this guy?  Do you remember where I told you he kept telling me he he had to get out of?"  She recalled, "New Orleans."  That storm didn't even exist yet.

I had no idea what all that was about.  I still don't.  Something I thought -something bigger.  I have no idea who Jack the Bean stalk was.  I also forgot to write above that he seemed to know a lot about me.  He told me if I ever needed something to eat, to come find him at Carl's Junior at 7th and Market.  I lived a block away.   It seemed many have tried to help me over the years.

If I recall correctly, it was not long after all this, I started hearing voices.  Talk about scaring me.  I used to run like hell in the early days of hearing voices.  The voices were those of my friends and family - alive and dead.  They were of strangers.   Police.  Actually, they were originally that of neighbors - and Police.  Then came the devil.  Then there was of course - God.  It was all so real to me.  I heard things and saw things.  It seemed I was existing in a parallel universe at times.  I still think that is truly possible.

In the beginning, there were so may voices trying to guide me in the right direction.  They were really trying to help me get clean.  They told me so many things about how the universe actually worked and what we had to do to get to the right place - I guess one would call Heaven.  There seems to be multiple paths to get there.  Many of my friends and family would try to persuade me to follow them in their path back then.  They really wanted to help me.  It also seems as though we're not going to get there and play harps in our mansions.  It seems there's work to do.  That makes sense to me actually.  It seems we will have to help Good perhaps forever.  I remember it sounded amazing.  I recall even receiving Heavenly glimpses.   I used to talk to these voices for days.  They stayed with me for a long time after I used.  They got really frustrated that I would keep using.  I was suppose to quit coming to them that way and have faith that one day, it would all make sense.  I just had to keep doing the next right thing.

So many people here and "where ever" have tried to help me.  I think that anyone who has ever read this blog understands that.  People are beautiful.  I consider many of them to be my angels and my saints.  Even the dark ones.  I like to believe that we all have a chance to make it to a good place some day.  I'm pretty sure that's what God would like to happen also.

That said, it's tough to imagine for everyone all the time.  I talk about his guy I have called, "the devil".  I saw him at the GA office yesterday.  He was raising hell - go figure.  I just hoped he wouldn't see me.  Thankfully he didn't.  The thing about "the devil", is he really tried to help me for years.  The advice he gave was not wrong.  His life was almost a mirror image of mine.  His story so closely matched mine.  It would get really dark with this guy and I may try to finsish writing about all that some day, but I would simply like to say that in some ways, he helped me.

GA was a waste of time by the way.  I knew in my gut it would be.  I'm just a little nervous about getting back on my own two feet.  I do have faith everything is going to be okay and I will pay my own way.  Anyone who thinks welfare is anything but totally hard to deal with is wrong.  I know I put myself in that situation.  Some people have a hard time getting out of that situation.  I am completely honest which is why I won't get any.  However, it doesn't mean many people don't deserve and need it.  And those who are dishonest, will pay one way or another - that I'm sure of.  God still gives a lot of Grace to all.

The GA Office is a Good place, but it is no fun.  I mean, after all - the devil was there yesterday!  There was also a guy there from my program  I got kicked out of who loved to "hold me accountable" all the time.  I did my best to get along with him while there but....  Then there was this woman passed out in the kids play area and a San Francisco cop had to wake her up.  If you look close, you can see her feet.

Then there's the bathrooms.

My reasoning to share all this is so people realize all this "easy welfare living" is no picnic.  I'm not denying responsibility for my actions, but some people aren't as lucky as me in their ability to get out of this situation as I believe I will.  It has a lot to do with social economics but I won't get into all that. 

I used to shoot up in GA's bathrooms so I was defiantly not part of the solution all the time.  However, some never gave up on me.  I'm doing all I can to make a difference in this world - I promise.  If a few can actually do that with the help given than I think it makes it worth it for all.  I'm doing my best to be one of those few.

I'm very busy these days and very tired and I feel like this blog sucks right now, but I have to keep writing it.  Perhaps I'm crazy.  When I left my storage unit yesterday on my bike with my headphones on listening to KFOG, Wake Me Up When September Ends came on.  It reminded me - I need to finish this blog.

I'm in the process of reorganizing my life so I can get back to work.  It's hard, but it beats working hard to lose everything.  I closed two storage units, opened one, and consolidated into one that Susan and I opened 11 years ago.  One that I closed had lots of drug reminders like orange caps and little meth baggies in it.  I threw out all the syringes before I got clean almost 6 months ago because I knew some day I would have to go back in there and would hopefully be clean.  I had a friend there to help me.  He really helped me in so many ways.  He would quickly grab all those little reminders out of my hand as I found them and shove them into his pocket out of my sight.  Susan rented that storage unit for me to have a place to keep my clothes and other things.  It gave me a place to shoot up.  Let me tell you, the voices didn't like that.  Neither did the devil.  Neither did the people who worked there!  I'm so glad to have closed that storage unit.  

Being at that UHaul storage is so emotional for me.  It has memories from so long ago - many which were kind of frozen in time - eleven Septembers ago.

Thank God for all those who have helped me.  So many have from so many different places from all over the world and perhaps The Universe!  It's pretty amazing.  I almost want to say ridiculous!  I really was that messed up out there for a really long time.  I've said it before, if God can give me the Grace I have been given, then it can be given to anyone.  I think believing is important.  I always said, for me to truly believe in God, I had to try get the Good Orderly Direction part down as much as humanly possible.  I was shown things and continued on a dark path and this is why I believe I suffered hell on earth.  It still seems I will end up coming out the other side to a beautiful place in life and perhaps beyond.  Although I am sad about all I lost as a result of my addiction, life is becoming beautiful.  I have faith that everything will remain that way. 

I need to end this blog.  I've been writing it for over a week.  Now I have to go back and read it!  I'm sure there are lots of mistakes.  Hopefully, fewer when you actually read it!  I've been so busy.  It's all been good.  Very good.  

I start work next week.  I get my license back September 11th.  Go figure.  Even the dark times lead to good times it seems.  That was always the case.  Even Susan used to believe my staph infections to be blessings in disguise because they would force me to clean up for over a month if I wanted to live.  They took a long time to get rid of.

I emptied and closed two of my storage units.  I opened one near The Embarcadero where I'll be selling next week.  I thankfully closed the one in SOMA that I used to shoot up in.  That was pretty haunted.  Susan rented it for me pretty much t0 keep me away from her and so I'd have a place to keep my things.  I used it to use in it.  They hated me at that place.  I was such a tweaked out mess. (I'm pretty sure I just repeated myself just now, but I want to keep the next paragraph that flows from this one - in my own babbling way.)

Speaking of tweaked out messes, I kind of feel bad for calling that woman Tweaker Chick.  I only did because she was actually tweaking at the time.  I feel sorry for her.  People called me Tweaker all the time and that is what I am, but I didn't always like it.  I didn't care that much, but I thought it may not be nice to call her that anymore.  She actually has a beautiful and cool hippie like name.  I do hope that woman get's help.  I have been exaclty where she is.  That drug just makes some of us.....that way.  It would be best for me not to run into her again.

Where was I?  Thank God for my friend who helped me clean out my storage bin.  He has also been giving me food lately.  Every since he read my ramen noodle comment on facebook!  I really wasn't fishing for that kind of help.  I was very grateful for all I had.  His contributions have been very helpful though.  He is a great artist.  He is a filmmaker.  I stayed with him last weekend.  I played guitar for him to dub (is that the right word) into some of his videos.

The most exciting thing about our recent collaboration is a project he has asked me to be his assistant.  A few years ago, he made this awesome documentary film called, Sweet Onion Salad.  It's a documentary about the poets and musicians who show up at the 16th and Mission Bart Station in The Mission to perform every Thursday night.  Many of them also perform at my favorite place - Brainwash!  I should fit right into this project.  

This gathering has been going on for nearly ten years now.  He is making a new documentary for the ten year anniversary and has asked me to be The Director of Photography!  How cool is that?  I am very excited to assist him on this project.  He is a very talented filmmaker!  I love the first film, Sweet Onion Salad.  He has only improved over the years and he also has better equipment.  We went out and took some test shots last Thursday night.  

The original film is going to be showing at The Roxy Theater in The Mission in December.  I can't remember the date, but I'll be sure to post it when I find out.

I am also going to be having at least one of my photos on display at an art show this weekend at SOMA Arts.  Hopefully more, but I have been so busy, I haven't had much time to deal with all that.  

Life has really been beautiful.  I guess I am a little concerned about my health but in some ways I am grateful that I get a reminder to appreciate every moment. I know we all forget to do that and it is hard.  To be honest as I guess I should be about everything, I am in a lot of pain right now.  My hand is completely numb and my arm and chest really hurt.  I thinks it's stress because I'm actually thinking about all this health stuff.  It may be nerve damage also.  I guess it won't just go away unfortunately.  I am glad I'm finally going to the hospital for those tests tomorrow.

If I died tomorrow, everything is still amazingly beautiful about all that happened for me.  I don't anticipate that happening, but I want to remember just how lucky I am to even be alive and what a beautiful gift every moment of my life truly is.  Every day is A Beautiful Day.   I appreciate the beautiful view I get to wake up to each morning - The San Francisco Bay.

It turns out that song, Wake me up When September Ends  was about Billy Joe's dad dying.  It turns out the entire album American Idiot,  could really be about my life.  It's about this guy, The Jesus of Suburbia and his girlfriend leaving their hometown for a big city.  He's an addict and meets a bunch of angels and demons.  She finally leaves him to go home.  They both live on.  It's a lot more detailed than that, but that's the gist of it.  It's even a play Jesus of Suburbia on guitar now.

Billy Joe said that the song, Wake me up When September Ends was the song that if any didn't really fit into that album.  It fit perfectly for me.  Regardless of what it was for me, it was a lot for him.  I suspect it was a lot for those at the Superdome and in New Orleans one year after Hurricane Katrina.  And, The Saints went on to kick but that night and eventually win a Superbowl.  There must be a God!  Okay God, the Bengals turn!


Hopefully the lyrics are clear enough on this one and you get the message.  Actually, they didn't change them that much really, they just kind of combined three songs.  The lyrics were really appropriate for the situation despite the fact that they were written about something else years before, Space-Time.  To me it resembles some other bible stories besides the one about Moses I mentioned in the beginning.  It reminded me of Jesus on the boat in the storm.  It also reminded me of Noah and the flood and the bird who goes and gets the leaf in her mouth.  Right?  I'm laughing at my bible story telling.  Basically, Good will always comes from bad.  We must have faith.

They overlapped the lyrics too much on these for me to transcribe this song trio.  And, I'm tired and I want to watch Peyton Manning beat the Squealers!  End it Dave! 

Exodus 19:5-6

⁵ Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, ⁶ you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ These are the words you are to speak to the Israelites.”