My Motive, My Book
By Del Nileppezs and Published by Houston C. Suit III
Distributed at Smashwords
Copyright © 2009 Del Nileppezs. All Rights Reserved.
Del Nileppezs is a fictional name derived from the publisher Houston C. Suit III
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author.
Thank you for your support.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank My Friend. Also, my deepest gratitude goes to (in no particular order): my family (mom, step-dad, sister, and their families); Randy (a clarity salesman), Kim and family; Murray, Melissa and family; Sheilah, Chynna, and family; Leanne and family; all municipal and volunteer fire departments (Billy, David, Kevin, and families); The America Red Cross and their families; Mr. and Mrs. E and the orchard tree and family; the staff at the coffee shop and their families; the people at work and their families; Robert, the postman and family; the staff at the little motel and their families; Jan, Karla (Mary Ann), Joe, Riley, Cason and family;
Houston C. Suit, III (I have a solution) and I.O.U. E.t.sc.SM.
Thanks to everyone. There are really too many names to mention, but thank you again.
Oh! Thanks to all the good tunes!
This is in memory of Houston C. Suit II, Chuck, Jack, Ted, Dwight, and many others.
MY MOTIVE, MY BOOK
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PART 1
FORWARD (A NOTE FROM ROXANNE)
PROLOGUE (PRO LOG)
PREFACE
HOPE I DIE BEFORE I GET OLD…
TIME MAY CHANGE ME…CHA CHA CHA CHANGES
THE CLARITY SALESMAN
SIMPLE MATH
DESPERADO…WHY DON’T YOU COME TO YOU SENSES?
A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING
FIRE HYDRANTS IN SPACE?
A NEW ROOMMATE
THE COMING OF GOOD VIBRATIONS
IT’S NEVER TOO LATE
THE MOVIE OF THE YEAR?
IT’S ACTUALLY A HUGE DIFFERENCE
BLACK TIE OR NOT?
THERE’S EVEN A BONUS!
HHHHERE WE GO, DOMINO!
SHOW ME, DON’T TELL ME
GOOD, GOOD, GOOD…GOOD VIBRATIONS
IT’S NOT CHICKEN SOUP
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE GOT…’TIL IT’S GONE
MORAL OF MY STORY
PART 2
ANOTHER NOTE FROM ROXANNE
FOR LIFE
I’VE FACED
ALLLL ABOARD!
THIRTY DAYS IN THE HOLE
ONE IN MY MOUTH
DO BELLY-BUTTONS HAVE TWO HOLES?
WHAT THE HELL IS BUNNY RABBIT HAIR???
LOOK AT WHO’S MOVING IN
YOU ARE SOOOO BEAUTIFUL…TO MEEEE
I CAN’T GET NO SATISFACTION
WE’RE BACK!
AN APPLICATION FOR A HEALTHY LIFESYLE
I.O.U. E.t.sc.SM
MY DEFINITION OF ACCEPTANCE (MY MOTIVE, 2 YOU)
I WANT TO PAY THIS ONE
F.M. (NO STATIC ALL…)
I’M A POET AND I KNOW IT
A PRETTY COOL DEFINITION
JUST GIVE PEACE A CHANCE…
IS THIS EASY TO UNDERSTAND?
IS THIS EASY TO UNDERSTAND 2?
IT’S A FAMILY AFFAIR…
TRAMPLED UNDERFOOT
WHOPPER JUNIOR
PART 3
THE THIRD NOTE FROM ROXANNE
FOR A LIFE
I’M FACING
DO YOU FEEL LIKE I DO?
TUFF ENOUGH
SECONDS UP!
OOH-OOOOH THAT SMELL… CAN YOU SMELL THAT SMELL?
ANY OBJECTIONS?
MY HAT’S OFF TO YOU!
YEAH, YEAH, YEAH…
THIS EXCELLENT TRIP IS CALLED TRUST
THERE WILL BE AN ANSWER…LET IT BE
SO BE IT
“QUACK-QUACK”
MATH 101
JIVE TALKIN’
THIS IS A NO NO…
AND THE “YES” THING IS GOING TO HAPPEN NOW
I’M ASKING BECAUSE I…NEXT TIME…
CLUTTER AND FLUSTERED = CLUSTERED
THAT WASN’T TOO LONG WAS IT?
JUST A THOUGHT…
R.E.S.P.E.C.T…I FOUND OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO ME
CRYIN’ OVER SPILLED MILK
CHECK MATE
JUST ANOTHER THOUGHT…
PART 4
THE LAST NOTE FROM ROXANNE
FOR A NEW LIFE
I’M FACING A NEW LIFE
PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE
I JUST CALLED TO SAY…
ANSWER: IT CAN LAST A LIFETIME
I WANT TO THANK YOU
RIDING ALONG IN MY AUTOMOBILE
LAST LAP HERE
IT’S A WINNING WORD (HERE’S THE TIP)
AHHHH…NOW THAT I’M REFRESHED
I WANT TO SHARE SOMETHING PERSONAL WITH YOU
NOW
____, A DANG GOOD IMPRESSION
IS “GOODEST” A WORD???
ALL YOU NEED IS ____,____,____ IS ALL YOU NEED
I’LL SAY IT WITH YOU
HMMMM…HERE’S A FAIR THOUGHT
A DEFINITION FOR UNHEALTHY LIFESTYLES
HOW SWEET IT IS…
EPILOGUE (EPI LOG)
ALONG FOR THE NEW LIFE I’M FACING
RELATED MATERIAL FROM THE AUTHOR
USE AND NEVER CEASE
TO THOSE IN DOUBT
TO A FRIEND
IT’S A BAD PLACE TO BE
TO MYSELF
I’VE SAID THAT ONE BEFORE
RELATE IF YOU CAN
A RYHME FOR NO REASON
FOR THE OTHER WHO SUFFERS
I BELIEVE YOU CAN DO IT
A RESPONSE TO A FRIEND
I JUST FIGURED I WOULD SHARE THIS
RELATIONSHIP
A DROP IN THE BUCK-ET
THE HOPEFUL ROMANTIC
A STEP TO REMEMBER
MY CARD
TO TAKE MEANS TO LISTEN
ASK HIM YOURSELF
USE AND NEVER CEASE (REMIX)
Dedicated to the city I live in
FORWARD (A NOTE FROM ROXANNE) PART 1
I first met Del seven or eight years ago when he showed up at the Victorian style house that our company owns and uses for office space. He came looking for a small job to make a few dollars. He was talkative and I was intrigued. So before long, he had sat down and we were having a long chat but he remained somewhat guarded about his current situation. Thus began an interesting and often times, exasperating friendship.
It soon became clear that Del considered me his confidante. In the beginning, he had given me his birth certificate and some other important papers for safekeeping. To this day, he still has his own (ever expanding) file in my desk drawer.
Through the years, I’ve had to draw some very definite boundary lines with Del. If you gave him an inch, he’d take a mile. There were times when I had to tell him to leave the building and not come back. So he’d go away for a while but he always turned up again, eventually. It was very apparent to me that Del had a decent heart, but like many people, it came down to what was in it for him. So I took it all with a grain of salt.
I didn’t pull any punches with Del. Sometimes his feelings were hurt but at least I gave him the respect of pulling him aside and quietly being honest with him because there was always something there that was endearing. He’s very personable and friendly. I genuinely liked something about him and I guess this is why I never banished him forever. Maybe it was because I knew that I might be all that was connecting him to the real world and I didn’t want to pull the plug on that.
I wondered what could be so painful about a person’s life that he could just walk away. Granted, I didn’t really know Del’s complete story…I only had my hunches. But, how complicated was it?
Del continued to survive year after year, living on the edge in one of the roughest areas of our city. I’ve seen him seriously ill and in a good amount of pain. I’ve seen him skin and bones. I’ve seen him walking with a spring in his step, and the next day dragging his ass. I wondered how long he was going to last but I intentionally didn’t allow myself to get so emotionally involved that I would be worrying about him every minute of my day. After all, living this way was his choice. And who was I to question his personal journey?
Back then, I usually saw Del once or twice a week. But, sometimes he’d disappear for a little while. I came to realize that while he knew everyone in our immediate area and even in surrounding zip codes, and they knew him, I was one of the few (if not the only one) who made him feel like maybe somebody cared about him. I was the one he checked in with.
One day, Del disappeared again. Weeks turned into months and I began to seriously worry. Finally, he called the office and left a message with my assistant saying, “Roxanne will know where I am.” Um…okay. I assumed he’d been picked up and thrown in jail and I found out later that I was right. After being gone for several months, he looked clean and healthy. He had some extra weight on him and his eyes were clear and bright. I thought, here we go again! However, two days later, he showed up and said that he needed to talk to me. We went outside to the back porch and smoked cigarettes and talked. He told me that he wanted to change his life and he needed help. He said that he was afraid he would die if he went back to the same life. He was slightly emotional but it was the most emotional I had ever seen him. I told him that for the first time since I’d known him, he was talking honestly and with total clarity. It was amazing to see this person as he truly was meant to be…without the fog and the games. I explained that he now had some good momentum to use and build on…this would be perfect timing for him to start his life moving in a new and better direction. I talked about the power of holding a vision of who you want to be and believing that you are that person. I cautioned him that it would be difficult to stick with it, especially when things got tough. I knew that he might want to give up if he couldn’t get things going soon enough for himself. So, we made a plan which included getting a job (and how he would make that happen), writing in a journal, eating right, getting rest, and finding a decent place to live. Del checked in with me every day, sometimes four or five times a day. I will admit that at the beginning, I fully expected him to go back to his old life. But, every time I saw him, he was still in his healthy mindset and determined to keep working the plan. Little by little, he changed his life. I rarely ever saw him become discouraged. I think he was so relieved and happy to be back in the land of the living that even a bad day in the real world was a good day to him! It was a total transformation!
We are now a good ways down the road. Del’s journals have become the book that you now hold in your hands. I can vouch for the fact that he is being completely honest in his writing.
I agreed to “edit” and type his book. I’ve mainly made improvements on the spelling and grammar and given him advice on direction at times. The words, stories and ideas are strictly all his. He has an interesting and amusing way of looking at things as you will soon see.
I recently said to him, “You are really starting to get on my nerves about this book!” He said, “I’m getting on MY nerves.” I had to laugh. There was a time when he would have been extremely hurt by what I said. He’s come a long way in being able to pop back like that. He’s really learned how to be a friend.
Del has gone through tremendous personal growth. He’s examined his life and understands who he was and why, and who he wants to be today. He’s working hard to maintain the life that he wants to lead. I, along with others, am extremely proud of him.
Roxanne Lee
December, 2008
PROLOGUE (PRO LOG) PART 1
The way I see it is just a little bit different, but I still see it. A prologue is a piece of writing, usually done to introduce a drama. It’s a preliminary discourse (big word), or more simply put, a preparation for a discussion. This is what I was told and I read that too.
A friend of mine mentioned that the way I write and talk in this book could be described as creative non-fiction. With that being said, I asked her to further explain. Well, shit! It’s my first book. She said that I use analogies, parables and wordplays to describe real-life situations. That was enough for me. You could say that I also use figures of speech. Regardless, I do them all I think, and in quite an interesting way. Let me explain a little, (you’ll get used to it).
Here’s your quick warm up course. Analogies are a likeness or show kinship. They relate, most of the time. It’s the choice of the reader or the writer, really. There’s a relation, kind of like cousins (not kissing cousins…well, maybe sometimes). And, a Parable is a story within a story. Yeah, it’s just a perspective of how I look at things. Again, I do find it interesting myself, though still the choice of the reader or writer. Other than those, I do wordplays too. Really, I do. I think I do. Do you think I do? I think you do now. Do you think? What do you think? I do think you do…think, that is. Yes, I think you do. See? Anyway, analogies, parables, wordplays, figures of speech…I use them. In general, it’s really how I write.
So where were we? Oh yes, the prologue, or Pro-log. A discussion to introduce a drama. (Oh! Hold on to that drama part for a second.) Anyway, when I look at the word Pro-log, it makes me think of…well, I think of a tree. A log was a tree. Right? Okay, now a tree makes me think of life…living, growing, and flourishing. But generally speaking, it makes me think of life. And “pro” means “for”. Well, it does. So now we have “for life”. (This is all leading somewhere.) You know, once I read or heard somewhere that a tree was once a nut…like a walnut, acorn, pecan, etc. Let’s just say a nut since that should cover them all. A tree was once a nut that refused to move. This sounds right unless it was planted by hand, of course. But, not all trees were planted by hand. Stay with me on that nut not moving part, okay? If it was meant to be (that the nut wouldn’t move), the tree was meant to grow, I would think. Life, or a human life, is meant to live for however long…to stand firm and flourish. Its time to be. Life, which I am for, is drama regardless of the kind. And like a play on stage, we’re all merely participants. I’m a participant of life, which I am for. And yes, again, life is meant to be…I’m a life.
You know, recently I saw some kids playing in a big pile of leaves. Yes! They were having a blast diving into the pile and jumping around… full of life. The leaves were underneath a gigantic tree. An old, huge tree that is still growing from a nut that refused to move. That was pretty damn cool!
Moving right along, I’ve read a few books. Only a hundred or so and that’s bragging. I mean books, not school books. Hell, you had to read school books! Those were learning books, you know? You had to read those (or at least some of them) to pass a class. You read the other kind of books to enjoy. I guess those could be learning books also. Anyway, this creative non-fiction was, by all means, a learning book for me. That’s why I wrote it. But, back to pro-logs and back to life which I said earlier that I am for. You know, I see that life is born and then it’s born again…and again and again, because birth happens every day. (By the way, Happy Birthday! If it’s not your birthday today then call this an early gift. It’s someone’s birthday somewhere!)
Anyway, this book is an interesting way that I look at my life in dealing with life’s issues…exposing or revealing things that are of utmost importance.
But back to right now! I’m still a little confused about the term “a quick read”. Heads up! This is not remotely close to a quick read. If I could make any suggestions, and I will, I would suggest a slow read. A cigarette smoking, coffee sipping, toe-tapping, thinking, pondering, wondering, and all that other shit that makes you go hmmmm…..yeah, it’s a slow read.
There should probably be a language label on this book which would read “Deal with It,” because I cuss a little as you may have noticed, and occasionally, there will be a lot. I guess there’s a time and place for all words. But you know, some of the words are really too fitting for the situation and sometimes it just happens. Shit! I try not to do it, like when you are speaking in front of an elderly person or a child, or really…in front of anyone. But shit happens and good shit happens too! I like the good shit! But yes, I cuss.
A second ago, I said something about exposing and revealing important things. I think about diversity. Remember that word, “diversity” as you read this book.
I also think about the risk and my motive for changing my life. Well, shit! My life depended on it. But I was risking what’s inside of me, you know? This book in your hands is about me letting out the real shit that is going on inside of me. I’m trying to seek out good today in everything. Really, I am. By letting it all out, I’m free. It also seems like the events that have occurred in my life have made me think about how precious life can be. And, I’ve had quite a few dramatic events as you will soon see. And lots of good shit too! That’s what I’m trying for. And now, the main event is starting so please continue with me. Round one, Ding! I’m standing in the ring, and in this corner, it’s...ME.
PREFACE PART 1
First off, let me say many times, thank God, My Friend, that I was awakened. The one thing that I remember more than anything is the smoke. Damn!!!
A little more than 72 hours ago I was asleep. I’ve been working two jobs…five days a week at one and two days a week at any other side work I could find. I’ve been just really barely making it. I have a small savings account. Not much is a little of nothing but as they say, that’s better than nothing. I had gotten off work and went to the house where I was staying. It wasn’t my house but the owner had let me live there for many years. That was pretty nice of him to do, and it was all I had as far as a place to stay. I did say had.
Anyway, I was asleep. I was worn out from working all day and I was plum tired. You know, up early…late to bed…working a lot…writing a lot…and just trying to do right, by doing things differently today. Trying to “come up” you could say. Make good things happen! So, I was crashed out.
But while I was asleep, someone set fire to my house. The owner of the house calls him a bum, given the neighborhood. But I call him a motherfucker! I was dead-ass asleep on the couch, and real close to that “dead” part. I looked up and it was a little hazy. Shit! I was still asleep. But there was a haze throughout the whole room like a thick mist. (Before we go any further, CHECK YOUR SMOKE DETECTORS! I didn’t even have one.) Anyway, I stay on the top floor. It’s a big historic two-story house that’s probably a hundred years old or more. What happened only took a long minute with maybe some seconds thrown onto the end. So when I woke up and saw the smoke, I jumped up and went to the door and then outside to the stairs to see what the hell was up. I saw a glow at the rear of the house, so I ran down the stairs in my socks. I was freaking out a little bit, not knowing what was going on. I ran down to the yard and along the side of the house toward the glow. Well shit! Now I was really freaking out! It was a fucking FIRE! I froze for a split second and stared at it but I think my feet were already moving! I ran back up the stairs and into the house. I was thinking, I need my pants and shoes. I was wearing sweat pants. I guess I was also thinking about my wallet and yes, my shoes because I was in my socks. So I went back in. I didn’t realize the magnitude of what was going on but I went back in to get my shit! I did! So I was at the couch and all of a sudden I realized that I couldn’t see well at all. I felt around for my stuff because I knew it was beside the couch. I knew that my wallet was in my pants and my shoes were supposed to be right next to them. Damn, I couldn’t see! I was feeling around and I couldn’t find shit! It was weird! My eyes were starting to burn. I stood up and it was pitch black. The Smoke! I turned to leave and I couldn’t see. I made my way to the door, somehow. And as I stepped out, I caught a glimpse of the rear of the house and it was fucking blazing! I froze and remembered this book. No shit, the book! I had been writing and journaling about myself and the changes that I have been making in my life. My book! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It didn’t look good at the moment but I turned and went back in as calmly as I could. Shit! No calm about it! I had to get the book and it was in the backpack and I knew where my backpack was. Yeah, it was beside the couch where my shoes and pants were supposed to be. The shoes and pants that I couldn’t find earlier. By now, the smoke was thick. I ran to the couch and reached down and gripped the backpack, trying to feel for the shoes and pants with my other hand. Unsuccessful again, but now I had the backpack at least. I couldn’t see, but I knew the house well…or so I thought. I ran for the door but it was a wall. Shit! I hit it twice before I realized that it was a wall. But I could feel a draft. Yes, I remember leaving the front door open when I came back inside… I followed the draft and the feel of the wall, past one corner where the wall ends. Feeling the draft again I made it to the door, onto the stairs, and I was OUT!
Later, a fireman found my pants and one of my two pairs of shoes and gave them to me.
I’ve been back to the house three times since the fire. I went the next morning with a friend to get the rest of my clothes. (By the way, I found my other pair of shoes under the couch.) I went a day or so later with this same friend to meet with the American Red Cross emergency service (that’s a damn good group of people). Then a week or so after the fire, I went with another friend and her son to see the house. I haven’t been back since.
Man! The smoke stains! I can still smell that shit on my clothes, so it seems. Maybe it’s just my memory that still smells so fresh. I washed all my clothes. I had to throw a lot of them away. The smell makes me sick! Like a fucking campfire, (but not a fun one) I assure you.
I have talked with numerous people and friends who all say pretty much the same thing: “It wasn’t your time” and “Someone is damn sure looking out for you.” A couple of people have also told me that you are not supposed to wake up from smoke.
Since the fire, I’ve made a list of serious events that have occurred in my life, so far. I‘ve faced some pretty intense shit.
Once, I remember nearly drowning. It was about twenty-five years ago and I was river rafting in a tube with a lot of people. After a little while, I didn’t even struggle. I was floating just under the water and looking up. A hand reached down and into the water. I saw the hand come at me, grab me, and pull me out. (PLEASE WEAR A LIFE VEST!)
Guns. I’ve lived in a pretty rough neighborhood for many years. I’ve had guns put directly to my head, face, or pointed at me. That should indicate that this has happened more than once. I also remember not giving a shit either. It’s true! I think sometimes I didn’t care. I’ve actually turned and walked away. (DO NOT TRY THIS AT…WELL, ANYWHERE!) No shit!
Hospitals. I had some pretty serious car accidents when I was younger. (PLEASE WEAR A SEAT BELT!) And motorcycle wrecks! I had one around the same time as that river rafting episode. Man, it messed me up real bad. (PLEASE WEAR A HELMET!) About six years ago I got frostbite while I was trying to make money by cleaning car windows. The hospital acted like they didn’t want me, really. But, I had to go back because my hand was as big as a damn softball. They took me then! I guess they had to. About ten years ago I overdosed on drugs. I’ve actually done that many times, but this time I was in the ambulance looking up. I was kind of wondering what the hell was going on and then they told me. (DRUGS DON’T DO, SO DON’T DO DRUGS!) It has been my experience that they fucked up my life in the worst way.)
Off-road 4-wheel driving. Nine years ago…yeah, I lost complete control of my jeep in the mountains. It was a small mountain but I was speeding down it at a high rate of speed with some extremely big boulders in my path. (PLEASE HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF A 4-WHEEL DRIVE VEHICLE IF YOU’RE DRIVING ONE!) Miraculously, I came to a stop, completely unharmed although I was a little shaken and stirred. Another time, near these same mountains I was out of pocket in the dessert for two days. Well, I had three flat tires! It wasn’t as damn frightening as careening down a mountain because I was stationary, or definitely sitting still on that one. So I finally drove my jeep to the road and got help. (Just a suggestion…it’s helpful to have water with you!) I can think of a couple of times while off-road 4-wheeling that I came dangerously close to sliding off a cliff. A VERY HIGH CLIFF, that is. Well, shit! I’ve been hit by a car twice. I was just a toddler the first time. Yeah! I was told about it. A car ran over me when I was around three years old. I have no memory of this. (PLEASE LOOK BOTH WAYS BEFORE CROSSING THE STREET! YES, AND LOOK WHILE YOU ARE DRIVING TOO!) The second time I was hit it could have been very serious. It spooked the shit out of me and the driver too. I wasn’t seriously injured and yeah, the driver took off.
I have been thinking about the loss of people in my life. You know, relatives that pass on. My dad was murdered. Yeah! That’s pretty serious and it makes me think of guns again. I owned a gun—probably twenty years ago. I was playing with it by myself. Russian Roulette. It’s not a casino game, I’m quite sure. And I’m glad I lost. Maybe I won, you know? Depends on how you look at it. Regardless, that’s serious shit. (PLEASE! DO NOT PLAY THIS GAME AT HOME OR ANYWHERE!)
Jail. Yes, I’ve been there a bunch of times for little stuff, you know? Forget that! But still, jail is jail, and they’re damn sure needed. I just don’t need them anymore. Not for myself, anyway. I can respect that today. That’s why I say, fuck that! Oh! I went to prison one time for possession. It was about twelve years ago. Fuck that shit! Fuck drugs! Again, they just don’t do! That shit there altogether is no fucking good. Today, I say NO to drugs, alcohol, and jail. And I say YES to healthy things. (Real quickly…I think that prison can be a state of mind also, for whatever reason or situation. Yes, this shit can be serious!)
Girls, girls, girls. I’ve had relationships and some were serious. My fuck up played a part in them all. People say relationships are 50/50, but I believe that each person should give one hundred percent. But here’s one that was very serious. I was in a relationship a long time ago with a woman who had a daughter that was nine or ten at the time. Before I met this woman, the little girl was molested by someone (the little girl’s dad or someone…I don’t know all the details but I knew enough). What a sick motherfucker! Who can think for one damn second that something like this is not a serious crime? Anyone, I repeat, anyone who doesn’t think so, well hell! Something is seriously wrong with them too. You look at a child and tell me anything different. Children are children! No fucking excuses! This affected my life in a huge way, seeing the pain and anger that the girl’s mother was going through and what the child was going through as well. I tried my best to be a father figure, for whatever it was worth, in the child’s recovery and the mother’s coping. And, I have a message for the sick fucks: I.O.U. E.t.sc.SM (It’s. Over. Understand. Even. The. Score.SM) Prevention. I’ve drawn the line and I won’t move. If push comes to shove, I’m pushing and shoving. Believe me, I’m here to help.
Earthquake. Oh, I remember waking up once and seeing the fish tank beside my bed with water sloshing everywhere. The room felt like it was a boat. It was weird as shit! This was just a small earthquake but it could have been serious.
Fights. I’m not big on fighting, but one time I got jumped. Shit! It really took me by surprise. It wasn’t cool the way it all started. There were at least eight or ten guys. Well, that was serious! Yeah, but I came out okay.
Debt. Well, I’m real sure about debt. I put myself mostly into that one. I’m talking some serious debt…mentally, physically, emotionally, financially, and spiritually.
Storms. I don’t know how old I was because I go by height. I’d say I was about four feet tall…I was a little kid. I was visiting family in Florida. Yeah, I was riding my bike and all of a sudden, one of those real high winds and other shit mixed with water came up (you can’t control mother nature, you can only be affected by it…now that I think about it…you can affect mother nature…this is obvious. So give a hoot and don’t pollute!). Anyway, I started back toward the house against the wind. The wind was so strong that I couldn’t ride my bike, so I eventually had to drop it. I was getting close and I could see my uncle at the door, waving and screaming, “HURRY! HURRY”! Suddenly, the wind picked me up and carried me backwards into this little metal shed of some sort. My uncle came out and scooped me up with one arm and that was it.
Nightmares. Around that same height, maybe I was three to six inches taller, but I was still a little boy, I used to have some terrible nightmares. I really don’t know what the heck they were because I was only four foot three inches tall. But they were some intense sons of bitches! (PLEASE TALK TO YOUR KIDS!)
One last thing that comes to mind is that I’m a father. Well, shit! I have a son but I’ve never met him. (Oh! IF YOU DON’T PLAN TO HAVE KIDS, USE CONTRACEPTION or don’t fuck! It takes two to make a kid.) I know my son’s birthday and that’s it. I screwed up my opportunity of being a father. Yeah, I didn’t do my part. I only knew my dad a little bit, so I basically grew up without a father. I had one of those Big Brother guys for many years. Thumbs up to those guys all the way! My mom was single until I was about twelve, I think. I guess I was the man of the house you could say. Then I got a step dad. The dude loved my mom, this I know. Through all of my teenage bullshit he was at the table. Whether it was eating, talking, good times, bad times, you know I’ve had my share. He was there. I really do admire that. I guess all family structures are different. But I’m talking about me and mine, and he had her back. He stepped up and did what he was supposed to do. Like I said, I didn’t even try to be a father. Well, I went to court when my son was an infant and we talked about some sort of custody (she didn’t want that) and child support payments (so I wasn’t going to pay that). I’ve never attempted anything since.
Now, where were we? Oh! The preface. So a preface covers how a book came into being. Roll with me on this. I’ve come face to face with some pretty serious shit! Some of the things or situations that I have faced were because I put myself into them. And some I’ve walked into unintentionally by not knowing. Some, I never had control over…like decisions that other people made. I’ve been hungry, cold, hot, thirsty, and desperate in one form or fashion. No need for details here. Ask me and I’ll tell you about it. Hold up! You know what? There is something I would like to tell you about it. Wait on the questions or comments for now, the opportunity will come…
So…facing shit. Yeah! I’m stepping out (no, I’m not gay) with the pages that you’re going to read. That fire shit is still fresh in my mind. Yeah, it still fucks with me sometimes. Well, if I am supposed to be here, I’m going to tell you why and what I’ve faced recently. It’s called progress. It’s part of life and growing and learning.
I think about all the stuff I’ve just told you and I also think about success. Being afraid of it and what it can do. Yes, being afraid of success. You heard right, and I’ll claim this one a hundred percent. Well, shit! I now know that I made a big mistake. Hear me out. If I’ve always been kind of afraid of success and I’ve made the mistake of stopping it (my own success). Now that I realize it, I no longer have to be afraid of it. Catch that? Yeah, I’m not too proud to say, that’s the best mistake I ever made. What you’re going to read is how and why all of this took place. Oh, I believe I hear something playing…
HOPE I DIE BEFORE I GET OLD…
This one line came from a song, “My Generation”, by a band called The Who. Damn good song, it was. Man the stuff those guys could play. “Good shit” we called it. Well, this particular line seemed to always hang around, though. It was cool! Yeah, cool! And it stuck. Maybe you’ve heard the song before. It still sounds great today, and it’s still a damn good song, really…humming and singing and carrying on…the “in” thing…knowing every line. It’s what was happening. It was COOOOOL! A classic for not just my generation but carried into my generation. Yeah, it stood the test of time and still does today.
Well, shit. Let’s stop for a minute and think about this. This simple phrase, or line, or verse…a figure of speech…was a matter of fact or, better put, a fact of reality in my life. Over time, this phrase lost its cool melody, its great bass, pounding drums, and sensational guitar riffs. It was all lost to silence. It became a phrase with nothing else around it because everything had fallen off. Sadly, I would soon act upon this phrase. I believe I actually meant it. This would show through my lifestyle because, I was literally in an act of slowly dying. Very, very slowly. Sadly and slowly. “Oh, hey look! It’s Sadly and Slowly!” How cute. Strolling hand in hand. Yeah, pretty picture, isn’t it? What a couple. I can only imagine what their kid would look like, and I did. He looked like me. Today though, I am only growing old, you could say. But more important, I’m here to say it! And say it happily, I might add. Slowly still (for I am growing old). Happily and slowly. A much nicer couple to see. And by the way, a great kid.
TIME MAY CHANGE ME…CHA CHA CHA CHANGES
A courage to change. That’s strong language but, shall we? Courage. Yeah, I lacked a lot of it. My tank was empty of this high grade fuel. Scared of change. Scared to change. I was afraid…a pussy, a chicken shit, a wimp, a scaredy cat (is “scaredy” a word?) Call it what you want because the shoe did fit all too well. The mental and physical practices to live this lifestyle were hard chores. Workouts in the lifestyle gym. I exercised myself and others around me every day in the lifestyle gym. Let me emphasize to you that this lifestyle, or the way I lived, was unhealthy in every respect of the word. And, of course, I was gaining none…respect that is. Non-negotiable rules that I gladly followed. Mentally and physically, I was decaying and falling apart. These two parts of me were being erased, but I was left in the middle. Crazy as it may seem, I was taking this fading approach to life without any change over time.
THE CLARITY SALESMAN
Some time ago, I found a courage to change. It’s a choice, and I chose to make that choice. I finally gave myself permission for this change to occur. I also had a very small inkling, a flicker (are “inkling” and “flicker” words?) of clarity. Damn good word there, “clarity”. Yes, clarity was knocking on my door. Here he comes, The Clarity Salesman, going door to door and today I was home. He’s probably been by before. In fact, I’m sure he has, probably thinking to himself, “Shit, I wish this guy would answer.” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. And on this day I did. Good timing, (it always is with these salesman types). I guess this day was my big day.
“Hello sir, I was just in the neighborhood (yeah, right) and thought you might be interested in some clarity…we have a great special today sir…would you like to buy some? Before you decide sir, maybe you would like a free sample.” (Pushy, pushy, these guys always are.) FREE? Hell Yes! I love free stuff! Give me one! (And being me, I’m always wanting more.) Can I have two? It’s free! Free is free, right? (Greedy me, I’ve always been.) As usual, there’s always that nagging line, “One free sample per customer sir.” (That’s bullshit…they always have more.) But, he stood his ground, not budging (is “budging” a word?). So, I took the one sample of clarity, his business card (irritated by this, I was), and slammed the door.
The thing about samples is that they are just that. Samples. Small, bite-size, trial-size. Try it before you buy it, so to speak, and I did. I smelt it (is “smelt” a word?), licked it, and looked at it. It seemed harmless enough. So I tossed it in and chewed. Probably in the past, actually I’m quite sure of it, these bite-sized free samples of clarity were tossed away or forgotten about shortly after I tried them without ever looking back. But on this day, this shit was good! I picked up the phone to call the number on the card. You’ve heard it before, “Don’t delay! Operators are standing by! Call now.” So I did. I was thinking (these guys never answer the phone). I will probably just get a machine, but not this time.
“Moment of Clarity Incorporated…how can I help you?” It was such a pleasant voice. I told them that I only had a few dollars and little sense. I was amazed! It was zero down! My credit was approved! A first time buyer’s plan! Isn’t this something?! Where do I sign? Overnight delivery. Free shipping and handling. It was my first investment.
Today, happily and slowly (for I am growing old) I order these bite-sized treats. I am a regular customer and I pay my bill.
SIMPLE MATH
Simple math is simple, I’ve heard. Not always. Not for me, anyway. For me, my life had been this: 2+2=3. Mathematically this equation is wrong. But in my life, I thought this was right. Actually, I thought I was always right (yeah right). My answer was 3. Me = 3. This would seem easy enough to correct, right? Wrong. As I said, I was always right. However, after a quick snack, my conclusion was that I had been wrong all along! Shit! (A bite-sized snack of clarity goes a long way and they do work fast! Yeah, they’re kind of like Lay’s potato chips…you can’t eat just one. They’re Grrrreat! Oops. Different food. You get my point? Right? Alright!)
To correct something you must change it in some form or fashion. Reevaluate it. Look at it again. Add, subtract, multiply, or divide to eventually get a sane, logical, rational and/or practical answer. (Nice words, these little guys are!) “Hello, I’m Sane and these are my friends, Logical, Rational, and Practical.” Yeah, I met them in the breakroom one day recently while having a quick bite-sized snack (these things are really good). Oh, by the way, I party with these guys all the time now.
DESPERADO…WHY DON’T YOU COME TO YOUR SENSES?
Let’s see…where were we? Oh, I remember. (Did I just say that I remembered? Great!) Me = 3. My actions and outlook were 3. This had always been my answer to the equation. Yeah, these clarity snacks and my four new friends, Sane, Logical, Rational, and Practical, made me realize that I had to change my math. I had to change my life. I had to add, subtract, multiply, or divide to get a reasonable answer of 4 (Oh, Reasonable is another new friend of mine). I had to learn. I had to (come to my senses). I had to go back to school. The “had to” thing was catching on. The correct answer is 4, and as easy as that sounds, it was not. At times, it still isn’t. I’m learning. (Did I say that I’m learning? Good!) I’m learning to change. The number 3 still appears at times. I have to stop instead of continuing along, and look at the equation again. Me, being the equation. These numbers in my life, 2+2=3, had to change. I just could not add 2+2. Such simple math, I am learning. Simple math is not always simple, I’ve heard.
I know people now who are real good with numbers. I listen to them and they teach me how to add, subtract, multiply and divide the equation of my life. Me, being the equation, as I said. An easy equation, I am not.
I’m learning to change. A courage to change. (Why did the chicken cross the road? Because maybe he got tired of being a chicken shit.) I fill my tank daily now, always watching my gauge so as not to let it get low.
Those guys that I party with all the time now…Sane, Logical, Rational, and Practical? Oh, and I must not forget Reasonable, the newest member of our gang. These guys tell me that my answer is 4. Guess what? It is! Me = 4. I like this new kind of arithmetic. It’s new for me, anyway.
So, today, happily and slowly (for I am growing old), I pack my lunchbox with a simple sandwich, chips, a piece of fruit (I like fruit) and a pack of bite-sized snacks of clarity for my breaks that I really enjoy. I top off my tank before going to school to learn about simple math. Such a simple math, I’ve heard.
A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING
I want to tell you about an apology that I made the other day for the first time ever. (To myself, that is.) No shit! It felt a little weird, sort of (is “felt” a word? It may be). It’s kind of difficult to explain but I’ll try. The one thing I’m quite sure of, other than it felt weird, is that it was certainly different. Another odd thing (odd, in a good way) about it is that I meant it. I really and truly meant it. Just a simple, “I’m sorry.” No balloons or flowers. No marching band, not even a parade. No cheers or whistles…none of that shit. Just me, myself, and I. I said, “I’m sorry” to myself and that was it. I may have mumbled (“mumbled” is a word, I think) a few other things or something like, “I can’t believe I’ve done this.” Meaning, the things that I have done to myself for so long. I may seem a little vague in telling you about this so please bear with me.
Like I said, I meant it. Maybe this is why it felt so weird and different. Was it because I was sincere? Yes, that’s it! It was sincere. Now that there is a damn good word. Sincere. No need for definition; self-explanatory on that one. You wanna (“wanna” is for sure not a word) know something? I didn’t even cry when I apologized to myself. That came later. I don’t think that crying is a requirement during an apology. To be honest, I haven’t cried in several, if not many, years. I really haven’t. I know that sounds crazy as shit. As a matter of fact, I found myself more emotional while telling a friend (one of those people I asked to help teach me about math) about this small event and some other things that were recently occurring inside of me. Not really crying but just a little water around the eyes. Like I said earlier, it’s all new math to me…just like crying for real reasons.
FIRE HYDRANTS IN SPACE?
Real quickly (yeah, right…happily and slowly maybe, for I am growing old), before we continue, did you know that the fire department color-codes the caps on fire hydrants? I didn’t do any official research. I just saw some guy painting the caps one day. I’m sure they have important reasons for doing this. (AND THEY DO.) Anyway, he said all of the hydrants are still the original and universal (no hydrants in space) color of red, and the caps are not always that color. The color of the cap depends on the location of the hydrant. Now this color, or color code (shhhh…top secret) indicates the amount of pressure and/or water that is released when the hydrant is turned on. Location, location, location, you’ve heard it before. Now, my fire hydrant did work for its intended purpose during the fire that I described in the preface of this book. But before that incident a most simple question (that’s why I started thinking about it) comes to mind: Does Joe Blow or Jane Blow (I don’t want to discriminate) down the street, up the street, around the corner or block (my theory on blocks is coming right up) have better pressure or better water (or both) than I do? It makes you go, hmmmm… It makes you wonder, or at least it did me (this was during free brain time). Another question: how important is the hydrant where I live, work, walk, drive, etc.? And to be more precise, how important is the hydrant at my house, (we’ll include YOU now) your house, building, camper, tent or box? Well, it’s mighty damned important! It especially better be if I’m there (greedy me, again). Now, I’m not as dumb has a big block. Not now anyway. I have been though, so maybe I am as dumb as a very small square or even a cube. That’s it! I’m a cube. (Here comes the rest.) And finally, after considering all the factors involved, me being the key factor here (it is MY free brain time). I have one final question (the ending has arrived). I ask myself, and you can too if you are not too busy looking out your window at your very important fire hydrant. The question, simply put, is this: isn’t a fire a fire? Not to be a smart ass here but, hey! A fire is a fire! Put the mother out! Give me all the pressure and water I can get! Well, guess what? The firemen did put out the fire. The fire hydrant had all the water and pressure that it needed. But I found out damn near the hard way because of the MOTHERFUCKER that set the house on fire! Fire is a high priority! And, personally speaking, my shit is high priority, buddy. So back the hell up and wait your turn. I hope you never have to go through it just because someone didn’t give a fuck and thought it would be jolly to set a house on fire! Regardless of how run down it may look or appear! YOU CANNOT DO SHIT LIKE THAT! (Bitch, what is your fucking problem, who ever you are?!)
A NEW ROOMMATE
A conscious. Now there’s another damn good word. Yeah, a conscious. In the past, I had little, if any. In its simplest form, I believe a conscious is where good overrides bad. It should. It means this to me. To do the right thing. How about that? I’m not talking about being a Mr. Goody Two-Shoes. I’m just saying that I’m trying to do the right damn thing today. It’s a start, right? And it started inside me. Apologizing to myself is part of having a conscious. I live with mine today. (I guess some people don’t at all!) Mine is here to stay, by the way. Yeah, now we share the same room, 24/7.
Oddly enough, prior to my house catching fire, I had recently put out another kind of fire. An inner fire. I was on fire from all of the pain that was inside of me and the only way I was going to be able to put it out was by apologizing. Yeah. Believe me, that son-of-a-bitch was blazing. Smoke was everywhere, poppin’ and crackin’ (is “crackin” a word?). Sparks and shit were flying all over the place. It was a regular weenie roast. I needed all the pressure and water I could get and that came in the form of an apology to myself. So afterward, my life was in smoldering ruins. I picked through the rubble (“rubble” kind of looks like a word) and started rebuilding. Shit! What a mess! But, I put out the fire. Yeah, it was a hot son-of-a-bitch, I’m telling you. It hurt. I hurt. Does that make any sense?
By apologizing to myself, I realized that I am someone who matters. I had deprived myself of being good to me. Yes, I had treated myself badly for a long time. Hold it! A very, very long time. I hurt myself, inside and out. Both are equal in the worse ways. Well, shit! Good is due, and a lot of it. So, with my new roommate in hand (My Conscious), I make good on this apology that I made to myself. I back it up. I must. I have to be good to myself. I try to do the right damn thing today, starting with me. I’m learning.
THE COMING OF GOOD VIBRATIONS
Real quickly (I know, I know, but this one is quick), this being good to myself has a ripple effect in both directions. Yeah, a friend of mine who I know very well calls it metaphysics (positive and negative energy). Well, shit! It’s a different kind of strange-ass math but she’s right on cue with this one. She’s right! The Ripple Effect Syndrome I call it now. More to come on this ripple effect thing.
IT’S NEVER TOO LATE
Better late than never, they say. Let me assure you that I was late, but I apologized. I was also sincere and I meant it when I put out that inner fire.
So to make good on this apology, I’m rebuilding. I needed help. My Friend and my friends who are teaching me about simple math are on site. They are helping me to rebuild because I asked them to help me help myself, so to speak. I saw how they lived. So, with blueprints in hand, I’m bringing in good materials and healthy things by the truckload. Some are used and some are even re-used. Hell, there’s nothing wrong with recycling or going green, if you want to call it that.
The crying came later, as I said. I believe it comes with forgiveness. Well, shit! I really do. It came when I apologized to myself. It came with My Conscious, (My Friend). Yeah, he was coming along and riding shotgun! My first real cry was not a sobbing, sloppy affair. No boo-hooing and all that other shit. It was just a good old-fashioned cry. By all means, it was sincere and I meant it. And it was damn sure due. Also, if the truth be known, I liked it, seein’s how I’m laying all my cards on the table (“seeins” shouldn’t be a word).
So I’m learning while I’m rebuilding my life. Yeah, rebuilding myself. I’m making good on it. Today, I wake up with My Conscious. My roommate. He’s a bitch sometimes, especially in the mornings, but he means well.
I’m trying to build a good life. Not perfect by any means, but a good one. I’ve seen how to live a healthy life. So, I add some bricks over here and some wood over there and of course some good, fresh dirt (I like playing in dirt for some free fun while I’m rebuilding). Today, happily and slowly (for I am growing old), with hammer in hand, I am learning to build a good life—a good me!
THE MOVIE OF THE YEAR?
For me, making an apology was always difficult. I avoided it if possible. If I had actually gotten the balls up (no discrimination intended) to make one, I dressed it up. I planned it all out, getting ready to play my part for the stage. In the past, more times than not, my apology was an act. I can see it now: “THE APOLOGY”—movie of the year! It has a nice ring to it doesn’t it? Yeah, but it got bad reviews (because I couldn’t back it up). I can just imagine the long lines for this sold out show. All these people with tickets in hand. Some have never seen this one-man (rehearsed) show before. But many others have already viewed this wonderfully self-directed performance more than once and they were outside, trying unsuccessfully to scalp their tickets. Hell, they couldn’t even give them away! They became so aggravated that they tossed them into the nearest gutter or trash can, not wanting to see this one man show again, (AT ALL). What is for certain and holds true is that they are all due an apology. Some of these apologies will never be able to be made. I believe that’s a given. I hope that in these certain circumstances, maybe my actions and outlook (Me = 4 today) can suffice. If possible, I will apologize and I should. It’s the right thing to do.
I still have a lot of fires to put out by apologizing and facing up to the mistakes I made. The wrongs that I have done. The betrayal of family, friends, acquaintances, loved ones. It’s a big ass list for sure.
I remember recently talking to the owner of the house that burned. I was sorry (for him) that it had happened, but like he said, there’s nothing that we can do about it now. But, it affected him in some way. I felt that. Shit, it affected many people—my friends, the community, neighbors, businesses. Damn, the firemen could have been hurt! And yes, I could have died! While I’m on subject, I had a few people in my neighborhood tell me that they thought I died in that fire. That is some eerie ass shit to be told by someone! (Did you know that I was in the house bitch?…whoever you are!)
IT’S ACTUALLY A HUGE DIFFERENCE
I apologized to someone recently that I knew and happened to see while walking. He had pulled into a small convenience store to do something that I guess was convenient for him to do at the time. Our past encounter that required this unplanned (and unrehearsed) apology is not the issue, so we’ll bypass that part. The thing that I am trying to get across to you is that I wanted to make this apology. Remember, today I can, and I should. That’s a big difference compared to how it’s been in the past.
As he exited the store and walked toward his vehicle, I approached him. I said, “Hello,” and called him by name. When he turned around, I reached to shake his hand and said these exact words, “I would like to apologize.” You know, being sorry for an event that takes place that I have no control over, or something that happens because of other people’s decisions, is a lot different than something I caused personally.
Anyway, while looking at each other eye to eye, his only response was, “okay.” Upon releasing our grips we went our separate ways and that was it. I personally believe that his response was his way of forgiving me.
BLACK TIE OR NOT?
I was reading an article in the newspaper the other day that briefly mentioned a formal apology that was to be made before a large group of people. I snickered (is “snickered” a word? I know they’re good to eat!), then chuckled, and eventually laughed out loud. That’s it! Get ‘em all together and get it over with all at once. What a great concept of an unoriginal idea! I hope that this person’s formal apology was well intended. I’m sure it was, but I wasn’t invited so I didn’t get a ticket.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-22 show above.)