2ND ANNIVERSARY OF A JAIL CELL...
...HA!!! STILL TRYING TO SACK A PLACE IN LIFE TO LIVE OUT MY WRITING NEEDS...while the blogging thing on most of my open pages tends to get a little old because strangers will hit you up from nowhere because they like your face, dig your hairstyle, or have an orgasm towards a particular song on your play-list, a lot of them will never quite get a single word you have to say because they have their own petty silence to digest...
...ANYWHO...today isn't quite like yesterday...there are very few underground presses in existence today...the read word spoken is either caught on a glimpse of sound-bytes or on the shelves of Wal-mart's display of best-sellers, and like i keep telling some of my best friends: America is no longer a democracy, but a CORPACRACY...maybe it's different outside the states...i dunno...
...but, some decades back ago, a young writer like i once was, was able to get a contract through a small press magazine...ha! Stephen King got himself published through Playboy magazine, and Hunter S. Thompson was allowed to be speak his mind before Rolling Stone became a hit upon popular culture...
...THESE DAYS...the big writers tend to come with words like "fashion" in magazines...finally ended my subscription to Rolling Stone at the beginning of this year when a friend of mine simply pointed out the advertisement interruptions displayed on each page...how browsing about a pop-culture magazine these days feels no different than watching TV...to think that my only goal in life once was to become a music critic for that wasted squeeze at the toilet...
...ANYWAYS...all these thoughts of mine come to me tonight after i realize my life hasn't really gone anywhere since yesterday...
...AND...it is the two year anniversary of the first time i served time over something completely stupid as me threatening to take my own life because i went on this stupid camping trip where i got a little bit too wasted and found myself trapped with a date that was more interested in her ex-boyfriend, so much so that she decided to invite the schmuck to the party...
...three days under frigid temperatures, stuck on a rubber mat for simply wanting to escape from a situation where i simply felt trapped over something so innocent as wanting to return back home to my own warm bed didn't seem right me...
...freaked out a little...kicked out the back window of that sheriff's cruiser trying to escape...was faced with felony charges when i offered the next cruiser money to simply drop me off at home...
...EITHER WAY...it is the two year anniversary of my crime "to do harm" upon myself...skipped a party and a date happening out of town tonite because i was too afraid to go out...
...WHAT DOES ALL THIS SHIT HAVE TO WITH MY WRITING ANYWHO?
...well, really, it was a relapse in my style of writing...i wrote some of the best shit ever when i was in fear of appearing before the court and simply wanted to get out of a situation that wasn't much needed in my life...
...ha! had i been a rapist, a serial killer, a spouse abuser/wife beater...i would have understood...BUT, I WAS SIMPLY A VICTIM OF WANTING TO ESCAPE A SITUATION INSTEAD...
...three days in the slammer was enough for me...three months of numb hands from the hand-cuffs and a couple weeks of back-aches...
...A BETTER WRITER?!? I don't know...maybe all that paranoia of remaining innocent over a "crime" that was only intended to hurt myself was worth it...sadly enough that "threat to myself" was only made so i could find somebody sympathetic enough to drive me home...
...HELL...i got to see how this justice system finally works after i spent five thousand bucks on my attorney...
...and damn...how three days in the slammer truly gave my life another flavor...
...INJUSTICE???
...after my three days of sleeping on a plastic mat...i truly hope that the "true criminals" get what they deserve.
...HA!!! STILL TRYING TO SACK A PLACE IN LIFE TO LIVE OUT MY WRITING NEEDS...while the blogging thing on most of my open pages tends to get a little old because strangers will hit you up from nowhere because they like your face, dig your hairstyle, or have an orgasm towards a particular song on your play-list, a lot of them will never quite get a single word you have to say because they have their own petty silence to digest...
...ANYWHO...today isn't quite like yesterday...there are very few underground presses in existence today...the read word spoken is either caught on a glimpse of sound-bytes or on the shelves of Wal-mart's display of best-sellers, and like i keep telling some of my best friends: America is no longer a democracy, but a CORPACRACY...maybe it's different outside the states...i dunno...
...but, some decades back ago, a young writer like i once was, was able to get a contract through a small press magazine...ha! Stephen King got himself published through Playboy magazine, and Hunter S. Thompson was allowed to be speak his mind before Rolling Stone became a hit upon popular culture...
...THESE DAYS...the big writers tend to come with words like "fashion" in magazines...finally ended my subscription to Rolling Stone at the beginning of this year when a friend of mine simply pointed out the advertisement interruptions displayed on each page...how browsing about a pop-culture magazine these days feels no different than watching TV...to think that my only goal in life once was to become a music critic for that wasted squeeze at the toilet...
...ANYWAYS...all these thoughts of mine come to me tonight after i realize my life hasn't really gone anywhere since yesterday...
...AND...it is the two year anniversary of the first time i served time over something completely stupid as me threatening to take my own life because i went on this stupid camping trip where i got a little bit too wasted and found myself trapped with a date that was more interested in her ex-boyfriend, so much so that she decided to invite the schmuck to the party...
...three days under frigid temperatures, stuck on a rubber mat for simply wanting to escape from a situation where i simply felt trapped over something so innocent as wanting to return back home to my own warm bed didn't seem right me...
...freaked out a little...kicked out the back window of that sheriff's cruiser trying to escape...was faced with felony charges when i offered the next cruiser money to simply drop me off at home...
...EITHER WAY...it is the two year anniversary of my crime "to do harm" upon myself...skipped a party and a date happening out of town tonite because i was too afraid to go out...
...WHAT DOES ALL THIS SHIT HAVE TO WITH MY WRITING ANYWHO?
...well, really, it was a relapse in my style of writing...i wrote some of the best shit ever when i was in fear of appearing before the court and simply wanted to get out of a situation that wasn't much needed in my life...
...ha! had i been a rapist, a serial killer, a spouse abuser/wife beater...i would have understood...BUT, I WAS SIMPLY A VICTIM OF WANTING TO ESCAPE A SITUATION INSTEAD...
...three days in the slammer was enough for me...three months of numb hands from the hand-cuffs and a couple weeks of back-aches...
...A BETTER WRITER?!? I don't know...maybe all that paranoia of remaining innocent over a "crime" that was only intended to hurt myself was worth it...sadly enough that "threat to myself" was only made so i could find somebody sympathetic enough to drive me home...
...HELL...i got to see how this justice system finally works after i spent five thousand bucks on my attorney...
...and damn...how three days in the slammer truly gave my life another flavor...
...INJUSTICE???
...after my three days of sleeping on a plastic mat...i truly hope that the "true criminals" get what they deserve.