Each and every one of us had to be created. None of us arrive fully formed. Throughout our lives we are shaped by our experiences. We are chiseled and chipped away at bit-by-bit through all of our pain, suffering, joy and happiness as we slowly become the thing that we will one day be.
It doesn't end there either. I think if you're doin it right then you will find yourself continuously changing and reforming throughout your days. Each new branch of knowledge that knocks down yet another barrier in our minds builds evolutionary cellular restructures in our bodies and spirits.
It's probably safe to say that pretty much everyone of us spent their youth on this brave journey. Exploring, discovering, and reinventing the wheel. We've all been through rough patches while sewing our roots. We test our limits often. Constantly bouncing off the walls we perceive to be in front of us to see how far we can push it. To see how far we can go before everything collapses or we just get into way too much trouble.
I was a massive handful growing up. At 2 or 3 years old I got into my grandfather's pills. I slugged off when no one was looking and found my way to pop pops room. When it was noticed i was gone they found me sitting in a spread of my grandfathers pills. I don't recall what they were for but I know that a baby wasn't supposed to eat em and I had at least one in my mouth. Now here's one of those moments where memory can be a bitch. I'm pretty sure I got my stomach pumped over that possible snafu. But that could very well be a false memory. I know that they took me to a man in white. That much I know. Hopefully it wasn't just a relative in a bright white outfit. But regardless of the pumping I had ruined my first mother's day. I say first cause there are 2 more full blown ruinings and a light hearted pooping of ruin yet to come at 14, 17, and 25.
As I've said in the previous episodes of "husky boy chases musical dreams", I got in a lot of trouble. I was mischievous and had to be watched at all times. I was known for wondering off. I was a foolishly fearless person. That didn't really change until kids were involved (not my own, but ones I watch and or love and am related to). I was found in different stores when I wondered away whilst my parent or parents were walking down a street. I would wonder away from home. One time I wondered off during a baseball game my father had taken me too.
I had to be in the area of 4 or 5 at that time. He looked up to see me glaring up into the face of a man 4 times my size as if he spit on my ice cream cone. He saw me swing back and punch the guy right in his nuts. Why you ask. I have no idea. A lot of my early early stories are handed to me through years of repetition with snippets of memory and mind photos thrown in. He was surprised "Oh shit my boys in hot water again!" And he said he knew that man was gonna hit me back. He tried to get up and get to me but he wasn't fast enough. That adult said "fuck this kid" and he hit my little punk ass right in the face. But of course, I'm a little fucker right. So I stand back up and hit him again smiling. At that point my father swept me up and explained us away. But man it must of been a hell of thing for them. Ya never knew what to expect with me. I was and sadly mostly still am a creature of inspiration.
I rarely thought before I lept I rarely questioned an act. I just did what came to mind without fear of consequence of retribution. I was a stupid kid with a lot of lessons to learn. "Would you jump off a bridge just cause your friend did?" Of course I would, I have. I literally have. I mean, if they jump first and they make it, that makes it seem pretty safe for me right.
So, so far we have seen my musical awakenings in K, 1st, and 2nd grades. I have tried to keep the trouble some story side of things away as to just focus on where my passion for music came from. In this installment I didn't so much worry about that. Because while the early years had their fill of problems, there seemed to be a lot in 3rd grade.
Turn back now if you don't want to know waaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy to fuckin much!!!
to name a FEW (and this was just at school, imagine home life)
- told stories to hungry audiences of children (about "sex" and death mostly)
- caught kissing a girl (i convinced to join me for exploration)
- went to principals office for fighting
- threw blocks at teachers head
- used to trip over things to look up skirts
- teachers continuously asked parents to have me medicated and held back
- began drawing monsters/creatures/demons
- first time a knife was pulled on me
- tried and failed to get in talent show (johnny b goode)
- spanked on multiple occasions by teacher
- sent to principal for multiple fights
- began writing stories (still have some of the journals)
- continued to try and kiss girls (succeeded)
- repeated trouble with walking guards (cause I don't listen if your not my mom)
- repeated teacher conferences about my inability to focus and troublesomeness
- got into talent show (johnny b goode) didn't win but kicked fuckin ass
- spanked on multiple occasions by teachers
- sent to principal's office for threatening teacher
- sent to principal for multiple fights
- still with the girls (but still don't know why)
- cont. writing stories
- even more monsters etc
- cont. conferences of the same ilk
- got into talent show (couldn't sleep at all last night) didn't win still kicked ass
- toured local schools with other top 5 kids (kickin ass everywhere)
3rd (here comes just a handful of too much shit)
Well now. Third grade was a big explosion of issues. I had already been approached for the first time for "special" testing. I apparently did well. Not for the last time, I was asked to go to a gifted school/program. I was not at all interested. I didn't want to be different. I felt apart from my brothers and sisters and my family as it was. I never really felt a part of this world. I had some low times because of it, but I always felt on the outside even when I was right in the middle. Point being, I never took anyone up on a chance to split paths from the normal herd. Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have honed my skills and abilities bringing me down a brighter path. But who gives a fuck. Hindsight is 20/20 sure, but its also based on "too fuckin late" philosophies. "Maybe" a lot of things in life, right.
In third grade I had a lot of doors opened in my head for a little chubby kid of 9 years old. Before then I had suspected abuse took place with kids I knew and went to school with. But I didn't fully understand it and somethings became frighteningly clear that year. I almost don't even know how to unwrap what I have to say. Maybe if I remembered it chronologically I could do a better job.
I knew that kids I knew were beaten by their parents in a way that I was not. As a kid I kinda thought I was beat. But in reality I wasn't at all. When I was little I got my assed faned by hand and belt. I got slapped in the face and head often enough. And I got a lot of cursing and you little fucker or stories about how I was gonna burn in hell as the years went on but I never got punched in the face. I never got kicked in the stomach. I never endoured what I heard coming out of the mouths of kids I knew. And sweet fuckin christ did it get worse. Obsviously tonight i'm in a bleed the page mood. But I don't know if things are coming out coherently.
At some point that year I had come home to a very serious looking mother. My mother is and has always been a sweet lady who blushes at the slightest thing cutesy or kissy kissy. She sat me down to explain to me that my friend (no name given((but he was one of 10 or so close buds)) had been taken away to be locked up. It turns out that he had been abusing his 2 little sisters (friends of my little sister) both physically and sexually. After one was found in a running dryer the police were called. The boy was approached, asked, and unabashedly admitted.
Can you imagine what that did to me. I can't. I have no memory of my sadness or confusion or anything. I remember anger. I remember hurt and my first taste of betrayal. I just recall wanting to kill him for what he did. The ironic thing is that had something else not taken place that year I might not have known as well what had really happened. I don't remember all of what my mother said but I'm sure she didn't try to hard to go into detail. Christ imagine explaining that to your fuckin kid. Or that being your kid or nephew or what have you. Sadly I would hear many many more stories like that as the years went by.
It was a very full year.
At some point that year I had my first cigerette. It was a little town and even though I'm not that old, it was a different time. We used to go the giant and say we were getting marlboros or newports for our dads. Or the local news stand or the little video store where you could get porn etc. We went often enough for some of the kids dads that when we did it for ourselves we were never questioned. That was my introduction into drugs.
Many people like to say that pot is "the" gateway drug. But I'd put dollars to donuts that most folks have a cigarette before they do most things including alcohol or pot. Its the first high I knew. And I liked it for exactly that reason. It made me feel floaty and also a little older I suppose. That same year I tasted (but never REALLY drank) my first liquor too.
It was also the year I saw my first porn. Which sadly enough was far more inclusive than you could ever imagine. I had a friend who's father was the oddest thinking man ever. I can only guess that when he hid his porn it was in an effort to keep it from his wife. But the man didn't put too much thought into it or he just gave us kids too much credit. Because he hid the shit in disney vhs cases. So I go one of my close friends house and he's like you wanna watch a movie. But its not dumbo. Its gang bang 4 or some shit like that. It was FUCKING MIND BLOWING. Again, I was nine.
Of course it wasn't just your regular old missionary doggystyle porn. It had a boxing match in which I saw my first fluffers and sword fighting (perhaps gayish now that I think about it((not that that bothers me lol)). It also had what seemed to be a really hot scene where two twins were making out. I was quite enjoying it till the camera dropped down and I saw the big ass dick hangin off one of the twins. I litterally flipped backwards off the bed and yelped. I learned a lot that year. Or atleast I received the seeds for many growths of knowledge. It may go without saying that that year was also the first year I take real "notice" of myself. I get the understanding, after talking to guys and gals for years, that I started way younger than the average dude. Who knows maybe that's why I can't have kids. The doctors told me that shouldn't matter. But who knows.
I also saw my first real life pudendum that year. I was at one of my girly friends houses and she had to change and told me to go around the corner. With my new understanding of the female form I wanted to know what the boobs of girls my age looked like. I didn't realize she was changing her bottoms not her tops and I saw her naked downstairs. It was weird. Real weird.
So as you can see i had a very eye opening year. I have no idea what order things happened in. I can remember a lot but it is amazing how much I"m unsure of. So you could say it was the year I became sexually aware. In a myriad of chaotic ways.
Many other things remained the same. I still got in trouble at school a lot. I still liked to fight. But I should point something out. I was by no means a bully. I was the kid who fucked with the kid that fucked with you. I picked on the older kid that picked on you. I fought and bled cause I like pain. I liked the look of a black eye and the feel of my fist splitting on something.
I also still continued to have trouble focusing in school. I could do the work well enough but It didn't keep my interest. I would rather draw or read or chat or something. And one day when my creative self was bored I created a telescope out of the perfectly removed wrappings of 5 crayons. When one creates something they must test it to see how it works. I was lookin through the spyglass in my own little world when I suddenly crash to the floor. I was confused at first then quickly realized I was slapped into this position by the teacher who was yelling some nonsense at me. I began to cry as the fire in my cheek took over. It was a harder hit than I'd ever taken from another kid fighting. I was fucked up.
The best part is I was used to being in trouble and getting punished. I accepted that this was my fault. I wasn't happy of course but I was just waiting to get my ass kicked at home for what happened. The most amazing thing happened though. I guess I should have seen it coming when the teacher apologized to me throughout the day and even found me at the end of the day to do so again. But it was a pretty bad hit. The hand was still on my face when I got home and it happened early in the day. I was waiting for my mom to flip and she did. But not on me.
She shot right down to the school and kicked its ass. It was the one and only time my mom had my back. No offense to her I rarely deserved it. But it was amazing.
Odd boy I was. I been workin on myself for fuckin years. And I've come a long way but there's a long way yet to go. That year I did "you an't nothin but a hound dog" by Elvis. It was at the request of a teacher and I said sure. I did well. The crowd loved it. But of course I didn't win.
I will leave you with one last tale from 3rd grade. Every year everyone does class photos. I think everyone does anyway. But that year our class was to make a big H for Hanover elementary school. So we all gathered in the cafeteria and the they hired a photographer with a 20 foot ladder and he went up to take our pics. I turned to my boy and said check this out. He thought it was funny and I thought nothing more of it. What did I do to make him laugh.
Well, I flicked off the camera. I guess I figured since I was behind someone, and no one said anything that I had gotten away with my class clownery. But then my parents receive a phone call. I had to go in to explain why their very expense photos have my fat ass in em flicking off the camera. The school spent 500 dollars getting them airbrushed but you could still kinda tell. Priceless...
You see that year had too much happen to focus solely on the music. I was going to make all of these about music and me. But I don't think I do myself or that year justice without providing you with a way to see some of my chisel scars. My form was starting to take. But there were so many strikes left.
4th grade saw my first musical, another talent show of excellent proportions, the KKK and race riots