Tag: personal experiences

The Many Faced Spacedog

Everyday when I wake up and look at myself in the mirror, I’m not really sure who I am viewing. Sure it is me but I’ve lived so many distinct lives with no connection to one another it is absurd.

Like everyone else I started off innocent. Then I got a dose of that good old Catholic guilt. Hated the parents from ten years old because of this. Why would they lie to me about something so important?

It finally came to a head when I had to smash out multiple windows in their home. I was indeed very serious about not attending church.

Around the same time I came to terms with being a homosexual. Not one of those cheesy Hollywood gay teen portrayals. I knew what I wanted and usually got it. Sure I pulled a bit of a Hard Candy situation and threatened an older man into sleeping with me or else, but what else would you expect? At my best I was Sebastian from Cruel Intentions plus a bit of Regina George (Mean Girls). I was terrifying.

I faked mental illness for many years to the point that I have fooled nearly everyone to this day. Sure I had a few suicide attempts, most illegitimate barring one. These were all caused by medication which was supposed to help. I will get to this in another blog.

I tried my hardest to be an extrovert but discovered I did not relate to very many others. I tried drug dealing, prostitution, and even attempted being a mail order bride. Sadly the guilt never let me be a bride even though I had many offers.

Then a foot injury came. 20 years ago. It led to opiate abuse and then eventually heroin abuse because I was abadoned by friends who were only there when I had a vehicle. The only one left just happened to be a heroin addict and down the rabbit hole I went.

Sometimes I feel like the original Oxycontin victim because I lived the story you hear all too often in today’s news. It was a dark and solitary several years because frankly I did not want to be around other users. It was a gross habit.

Then there were some lost years. I do not remember much of them. I drank heavily at first. This led to 80 pounds of weight gain in a year. It came off almost as rapidly. I was obsessed with someone who I clearly thought was obsessed with me. This was not real as that person completely bought into the lies about mental illness big pharma wants us to believe.

As I struggled with substances I also struggled with who I was. Most people I’ve met seem to have some issue with me because I’m straight acting. It’s not an act though it’s just me. I love sports, divas, queens, bros, most forms of tv (except true crime and cop shows), all music (just not the bs playing in 90% of gay clubs) and everything in between. Still the queens think I’m too masculine and the gay bros say I’m too fem. Apparently being naturally well rounded is not a quality others tend to believe in.

So the point to all this is that while I am all of the things I’ve ever been I am also none of them. Sure I’ve made countless mistakes along the way. I have no regrets. Yes, I could have handled things better with the handful of my friends who now live in graveyards. Regrets though never. I just had to stay in the darkness a bit longer before I knew where he the dark ended and the light began.

The only thing that truly matters though is today and tomorrow. I finally have a clear vision of what it is I want. The veil has been lifted for me.

What do I want you ask? It is a secret. Everyone is a naysayer. I’ve shared far too many secrets with all the wrong people. There is way too much ambition within me and I’d love to finally be able to use it.

But it’s all just for today. That’s the only slogan I have ever found useful in a 12 step program. Some days I go old and sit around and do nothing watching game shows like I’m 90. Other days I challenge myself to 2 hours at the gym or 20,000 steps. Some days I go young and binge teen dramas. I really don’t care what you think. I do me. You do you.

Still while I know who I will be tomorrow beyond that remains a mystery. All the vexations of my spirit have been cast away in some long forgotten martini glass. Something massive is growing inside my soul. I hope it’s love and not some tumor. Fuck tumors.

You aren’t who you were. You are who you dream. I am living the dream. I hope you do one day too.

by Spacedog

Part 2 The Forgotten

The lady had arrived at the final destination. She did not know how final it was or if she would be happy with the person next to her or the person inside of her in the morning, but she saw a shimmer in those eyes, like alpenglow cresting forth before the dawn.

There was no rhyme or reason. There was no great parade, no grand procession as she was accustomed to seeing. And so forth she went.

Well that lady is me. It is you. It is everyone of us. We all forget things that should not be forgotten. I personally have about five years of my life that I have blocked out due to PTSD. I treated myself deplorably and lived as such in almost every single facet of my being. I have difficulty distinguishing up or down, wrong or right, nearly every moment of those five years is a complete blur.

It is like it almost never happened but unfortunately it did. I sometimes tend to forget the year I am in, the age I may be, etc. at the given moment.

Several of my friends have gone through ECT, so I can relate with some degree of empathy with the lost thoughts, days, months, places. Except mine are in a more accessible place, a place I frankly choose not to access and which my conscious mind does not allow me to bring forth.

A lot of people I talk to think I am crazy. They do not wish to see the optimism I see in things to the point that I almost do not believe in it anymore. I have not forgotten that the world we live in is not a place of innocence, it is not a place of the nice guy never finishes last and the asshole never wins. It is opposite.

So as I sit here trying to break some kind of bread with Anne Frank, swastika emblazoned on my forehead. As I sit here wondering if all of my causes are noble or whether certain rocks should never be turned there is one thing I do not forget.

That there is still some kind of love, some kind of hope in this world. What brings me hope in the closest sense of the word is rather private but there are always rocks which need to overturned. Some should never have been touched but I touch. I feel, I learn. It has taken me a very long time to believe something I had forgotten for many, many years.

Luckily yesterday going to see a Pearl Jam concert on Halloween returned some of that lost innocence just a little bit more. Probably only for a little bit, but that’s a little bit more life in me then I had yesterday or the day before.

 By SpaceDog

Not All Swings Are For Children…

One of My Dearest Friends Mr. Matt (who died far too young) who wasn’t just a incredible Story Teller he also had some of the best Stories I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing.

I found Myself the other evening indulging in a few too many Beers and reminiscing about My time with Mr. Matt when I realized I could help immortalize Mr. Matt’s insane Stories by Posting them.

I then realized that since its been much longer than I can comprehend since the World Lost Mr. Matt and that I’m only getting Older if I was going to help preserve Mr. Matt’s Wonderful Tales I better start soon as possible.

Thats the only malfunction of Memory is that while it helps us remember our friends and Family etc. its designed to Fade, and I can’t in good conscience let these Terrific Tales fall by the wayside to be forgotten.

Mr. Matt and I shared a common confusion when it came to kids and communication. Thats to say We both liked kids its just when it comes to talking to kids it was an exercise in awkwardness.

I think its because kids have several behavioral/emotional/intellectual stages pertaining to their age, and its hard for me to tell what phase the child is in thus how to exactly relate to it. Let me explain a bit here.

The Stages as I understand them are basically this. First the kid is a “Newborn” then it transitions into an Infant. From there Kids evolve into Toddlers, and then the kid hits some shit called “The Terrible 2s” (which means your kid is going to be a real asshole so heads up)

Then the kid hits double digits turning 10, and I have no fucking clue what so fucking ever what the fuck the “Tween Years” are or about.

Then Puberty hits the Kid like a freight fucking Train and all hell started breaking loose like a real Shit Storm. I fully believe NO ONE can actually communicate with a Teenager THEIR RAGING ASSHOLES.

So without Further A do Here is Mr. Matt’s “Not All Swings Are For Children”

It was a fine fucking day in the sweltering Great Southern Swamp and Mr. Matt and His Partner were lounging about lazily sipping cocktails as they milled idly about the house.

Now there was at the time a little girl around the age of 5 or so who lived a few houses down the street from Mr.Matt who had become utterly infatuated by Mr. Matt and His Partner. She had started a habit of leaving little tokens and presents (like little crafts, a drawing so on and so forth) on their Welcome matt outside the front door.

Well apparently the Father of said Little Girl has decided to walk over to Mr. Matt’s house with his young daughter in tow. He wanted to see if the Neighbors were ok with his kid leaving presents outside their door daily (like a fucking Cat leaving you a dead mouse to help really make your morning.)

Mr. Matt and His Partner answered the door and invited the two inside for a quick social bullshit chat. The adults were standing around in a loose triangle formation discussing the topic of the Child’s obsessive present giving.

Things were going fine as the mundane chitchat rambled on until Mr. Matt looked down and noticed the Daughter was missing having wondered off to explore the rest of his house. Mr. Matt panicked though he hid it well.

You see Mr. Matt and His Partner had a “Adults Only” room in their house shall we say, and Mr. Matt realized instantly that the normally secured door to the “Adults Only” room had been carelessly left open.

Mr. Matt raced around the house as fast as he could without raising suspicion that is, and as one would imagine he found the Child inevitably in the “Adults Only” Room looking around all wide eyed and innocent.

Mr. Matt quickly collected the Little Girl and returned with her to the Living Room were Mr. Matt continued to chat all the while wondering what the fuck the kid might say or do since her brief adventure behind the curtain as it were.

Right as the conversation is winding down and the Father and his Young Daughter get ready to leave the kid announced excitedly

“Hey Daddy, They have a SWING in Their HOUSE!!!”

The moment of silence that followed was beyond awkward as I’m sure everyone there was scrambling around in their skulls trying to think of what possibly could they say or do about this surprise situation.

At last the Father looked down at his Young Daughter and replied

“Well Lets get you home and Bleached Off.”

And that was the last time Mr. Matt or His Partner ever saw either the Father nor His Daughter ever again.

The Presents Continued until the Family finally moved out of the area 2 years later.

Thanks for Reading,

 Les Sober

Conflicting Karma Continues

As some Reader’s may be aware July was a real fucker, but for those who don’t heres a quick summation.

My 10 year old plus Vehicle took a huge shit returning from a rather kick ass road trip. It was asshole of an Alternator so. Next day the Check Transmission light came on, after a waste of my time transmission was fixed. That didn’t happen, a part within the transmission “blew” (the Transmission Guy’s words interpret as you will), and We had to cancel a Birthday Road trip for my Wife.l. Thank Fuck for WARRANTIES! All good Now.

Meanwhile my Wife’s  10 year old Car was at the point where We weren’t going to put another fucking nickel into it. It be an utter waste to invest anymore money in a car that was showing its age, had some minor issues, and some mysterious electrical problem (Toyota Dealer Mechanics couldn’t figure out what exactly it was). We went online like assholes and discovered the electrical issues more than likely was the for warning of a Failing Fuel Pump. The Fuel Pump would cost $1,800 alone so it be $2,000 and change by the end of it for Labor, Taxes, and extraneous bullshit.

So my Wife felt unsafe driving her car anymore so it was the next step is trade this thing in before it takes a total shit on us leaving us out one car. It sucked like nothing else on this planet, it is a truly unique suck. Overtime you had to turn her car on you prayed it fucking start, and then while your driving the son of a bitch you were praying it wouldn’t break down for the last fucking time.

After We had to cancel my Wife’s awesome Birthday Road Trip do to emergency transmission issue reoccurrence. Luckily my Wife had already jumped on the new car train and thoroughly researched various cars she was interested in. And since she knew what she had a top 5 list we decided to check out Dealerships that had one, some or all of the her said choices.

Now to get to any actual real Dealership (Podunk Mitch’s Auto Super Sales holds no water whatsoever.) were all an hour away in the Shitty City. So off we went to check out some possible options for a new car for My Wife. The road to the Shitty City sucks King Kong Cock to drive on. Its currently 2 lanes of heavy traffic bumper to pumper type shit, but they are also doing what seems to be a 1,000 year construction project. This apparently never ending road work requires a wall of cement barricades be lined up like a poor man’s Great Wall preventing all traffic from turning right even say in an emergency attempt to avoid being hit by some jack ass driver.

With that fucking said about half way down the road to the Shitty City to go car shop for my Wife we were spectacularly hit by one of those previously mentioned Jack Ass Drivers.

As We were driving in the left lane next to the cement barriers that went on for fucking miles upon miles when I hear my Wife say something. Now it was;t what she said that got my attention it was the tone of voice she was using. It was the “Oh fuck this shit isn’t gonna be good” type of tone. So I looked over to see her looking over right before the Jack Ass Driver took the fucking rearview mirror of in an explosive fashion.

The Jack Ass Driver pulled into the median and we followed suit. For obvious safety reasons I exited through the Drivers Door to avoid the very real risk of getting plastered by any one of the millfucktillion speeding motherfuckers.

When my Wife got out god bless her she was rattled as the Snake, but overtly concerned about the overall well being of the Jack Ass that just side wiped the holy hell out of us. I scramble out of the drivers side like a baby calf being born and immediately go fucking Nuclear. I started screaming “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”, “FUCK WHERE YOU DOING?!!”, and “YOU TOTALLY FUCKED UP OUR CAR WHAT THE FUCK?!”

It turned out the Jack Ass Driver was in fact a young girl about or around 17 or 18 who was driving her father’s fucking massive SUV so there was no damage to her vehicle not a single fucking scratch. She was quite upset as this was her first accident ever apparently.

Now this wasn’t my first accident by far, but man it was a doozy. The Girl had first hit the Drivers side rear quarter panel. Then her dad’s SUV scrapped across the rear driver’s side door shredding the god living shit out of it. Next the same deal with the driver’s door, and ending with the rearview mirror being completely amputated.

I contacted our insurance people, My Wife called the Cops, and the Girl was Calling Her Parents then Insurance company.

All the while all I could think was that while I did under  my anger I did feel bad for this girl it was totally fucked how different our realities were. For her she would return home shaken but safe, possibly have to pay her Dad back for the fucking hefty ticket, and perhaps lose her driving privileges for I dunno couple weeks to a month?!

Meanwhile for my Wife and I it meant whole lot more. It meant that this crappy kid driver (who was fucking with her phone more than not) had absolutely fucked us out of the last thing we had going (the trade in value) in the “Battle of the Old Ass Cars” because we could live without one, BUT that meant we still needed one safe and reliable car for work to pay the fucking bills.

We then spent the next fucking hour or so baking in the median while again trying not to get fucking killed by the mad ass drivers on the highway. Finally a fucking Cop shows the hell up. This dick gets both my Wife’s and the Girls licenses and announces we’re going to drive to the next exit to a gas station (if you decided not to show he had all the info needed to issue a warrant mind you), and sort things out because and I quote ‘We don’t want to get killed out here.” Now while that makes perfect fucking sense the reality of it is He knew it was dangerous. YET he had no fucking issue leaving us stranded out there for an hour. Fucking Cops.

We drove to the gas station where the Cop ticketed the Girl, the Girl’s goddamn parents show up, My Wife is way too nice, I continued  aggressively venting about how fucked up all this fucked up shit is, and we all went our separate ways.

In the End: We got my Wife a fucking AWESOME NEW CAR the next day, and (My Vehicle has remained issue free as well) thanks to the accident the Girl’s insurance cut us a check for couple thousand and change (plus we did manage to get some cash for the trade in but it barely beat the Junk Yard) so we end up coming out ahead. Can’t argue when life throws you a bone rather than a bastard.

Thanks for Reading, Les Sober.

(P.S. THIS IS THE LAST POST ABOUT FUCKING CARS.)

A Longstanding Joke Goes From Funny To Fubar* In Seconds.

When I was growing up there where two eccentric’s if you will. One I have already written about in a previous post who was known as Smiley Jesus among the neighborhood kids. This post pertains to the second.

She was a woman in here mid to late fifties with long mostly white hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a full length goose down style winter coat no matter what time of year it was. She was always sporting  Jackie O. like sunglasses the ones with the huge circular frames. She also had applied so much rouge that it fully covered both of her cheeks in giant clown like circles. Her uncommon attire also included a Golf Visor, and lastly a pair of cheap white velcro sneakers. This may have well been her official uniform because it NEVER changed EVER.

Aside from her bizarre sense of fashion the other key aspect about Her was she never spoke. Not a single word. At most she might have flashed a quick smile as she walked by with her hands in her jacket pockets. Come to think of it I don’t think I ever saw her hands out of her jacket pockets.

Now we fast forward a bit and I’m now 16 or so and dating my first real Girlfriend/High School Sweetheart who lived in the neighborhood adjacent to mine. I asked her one day if she had seen this odd woman walking around in her neighborhood as well growing up. Not only did she yes she had, but she went on to tell me that the Woman in question actually lived somewhere  in her neighborhood.

We tried half assed measure in lame attempts to locate the weird Woman’s house to no avail. We had all but lost interest when we got some additional information pertaining to the peculiar Woman’s back story.

The information came from my Girlfriend’s Mother. It turned out that her Mom grew up at the same time, in the same town, and went to the same school as the strange Woman. Apparently the Woman was not what you would call popular by any means. In fact she was bullied pretty brutally from the few stories we were told by my Girlfriend’s Mother, and she was as guilty as the rest when it came to relentlessly tormenting the Woman as a Girl.

The one story I remember was my Girlfriend’s Mother telling us she and her gang of friends from school lured the Woman then just a girl to some near by woods. They then tied her to a tree and berated the shit out of her non stop for over an hour. Once they got tired of teasing her to the point of tears they up and left her there tied to a tree. No one knows the exact details but obviously someone heard her crying for help or passed by and cut her free.

Needless to say as the story got darker the more I found myself fascinated by the morbidity of it all. A months or so after hearing the tortured tale of the Woman’s unhappy childhood (on no day in particular) my Girlfriend and I decided to go for a late day walk. It was the middle of July so we hid inside clinging to the Air Conditioning until dusk when it was cool enough to venture outside.

We had only gone about 5 or 6 blocks when all of a sudden we became aware of a extremely heated argument. This wasn’t surprising since being Summer many people left the front door open optimizing their screen doors to enjoy the cool Summer evenings.

The chaotic commotion was coming from a house to our right that stood atop a small hill. The front door was indeed wide open allowing anyone passing buy to hear the insanity inside, and I do mean insanity. We heard a lady screaming at the top of her lungs, and we knew that we had accidentally stumbled across the Weird Woman’s house. We both turned and stared at one another in shear shock and awe at first, and then we returned our attention back to the madness raging inside of this otherwise absolutely normal looking suburban home.

The sounds emulating from the front door where like none I had never heard before in my life, and have rarely heard since. The Woman was in the middle of what seemed to be an argument that was spiraling out of control. The Woman was intensely enraged and her blood curdling screams in were purely primal.

I couldn’t tell you what the fuck the argument was about, but that is more than likely because we only heard one side of the argument. This was due to the fact that whoever the Woman was yelling at so savagely DIDN’T EXIST. They weren’t imaginary either like a hallucination (though now that I’m mulling it over she could have been hallucinating, but not because of Drugs but due to Mental Illness of some sort.) Anyway for all intensive purposes it appeared that the Woman  having a knock- down-drag- out fight with her Dead Husband.

We stood there for several minutes completely mesmerized by the madness we were witnessing. It was quite clear that this Woman was just an eccentric  she was legitimately batshit crazy. Once the terrible trance wore off my Girlfriend and I hightailed the hell out of there, and didn’t even pause for a brief second to look back.

And ever since that fateful evening We have  never passed by that house again even though the psychotic Woman passed away many, many years ago.

(*FUBAR stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober