the ride down the hill was so fast that i got speed wobbles. i knew that i was going to fall. My skating career was my life. I woke up everyday wanting to skate. My life was skateboarding.

 

This morning my girlfriend told me she would see how fast i could go down this hill by following me in her Camero. I said, "no problem." I pumped up some speed and sped off.

 

The hill i was going down turned, so i couldn't see where the road I was on ended. I picked up speed and made the turn. Then i saw that the road dead-ended at the bottom with a barbed-wire fence at the end. I was going too fast to slow down now, so i rode out the rest of the hill. Then i had about 100 yards to slow myself. I jumped off the board about 100 feet from the end. I jumped when i made every step, as to slow myself. I thought i was going to die. I could feel the pain already. But to my amazement i slowed and i didn't fall. Thank God, if one exists.

 

My girlfriend was laughing at my demise. I said, "Yea, ha, ha, what a joke." I asked how fast i was going, and she said, "about 35mph to 40mph."

 

I laughed in the end, and that was the last damn time i did anything my girlfriend suggested, on a skateboard atleast. Sex was something different. lol

My house smelled of marijuana, i had just awoke. Someone was tapping at my door. This seemed to happen every ten minutes or so. The guy at the door was looking for a place to smoke a joint. I let him in and he rolled a fat hooter, and we blazed. Then he said he had to leave.

 

Five minutes later, i heard a knock at the door. I opened it with out looking through the peephole. As I opened the door I regrettedly realised that it was my manager. I had forgotten that it is was inspection week. She walked into the living room and asked, "Thomas, is that marijuana I smell?" "No," I replied, "it must be my cigarettes." "Are those marijuana butts in your ashtray?" Again I replied, "No they are cigarettes."

 

She didn't buy it; I got thrown out of my apartment.

 

I guess the stoner logic in this is that if you have just smoked a joint remember to look through the peekhole and see who is at the door before you open it. lol.

 

 I got her drunk, and we ended up at a squat we had next to the university. Me and the girl were having sex and the cops showed up. They took us to juvinile hall, where i sat until i went back to a group home. The girl wanted me to marry her. That was not on my mind though. But she was cool. She ended up getting sent up north where her mother lived. And we never seen each other again. I think of her sometimes, wondering what happened to her. I heard she married a black man? But that is just a rumor. I guess i should of treated my little girlfriends alittle better. But i was too into using girls at that age. I now know how woman are to be treated.

it was Winter in Southern California. The skies were cloudy, and it was raining. The year was 1981. I was in seventh grade.

 

We were in the gym because we couldn't go outdoors during physical education period. I was sitting with some friends, and we were talking. About what? I can't remember. This kid I didn't know was looking at what I called a magazine. But he refered to it as a Fanzine. I asked what the difference was, and he said this one dealt with LA hard-core punk. I found it interesting, and I think i read an article about the band Fear.

 

I had never seen such things in magazines that were in this one. There was cussing, which i found hilarous. The kid I was talking to was named Kenny. He said if I was interested that I could come over to his house and hear some of the bands that were in the Fanzine. I agreed. Besides, I had nothing better to do.

 

At his house we listened to The Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Germs, GBH, etc. I instantly fell in love with this music. It sounded like how I felt at the time. Aggressive and raw. I borrowed a couple of the albums he had, and played them over and over. It was so cool. I was in heaven.

 

It wasn't long before i shaved my head, and started dressing in punk attire. We went all the way to Hollywood to a shop called Posuers on Melrose Ave. Even though I couldn't afford the clothes, I loved them. There were all kind of silk-screened t-shirts, bondage pants, creepers, and of course boots, lots and lots of boots.

 

About three weeks after I met Kenny, I was invited to my first punk rock party. It was awesome. There were punks from all over the IE. I learned how to skank and slam dance at the party. I thought I was something special. There was a local band called the Fuckheads playing. And when a punk named Belson got hit over the head with a 40 bottle, they sang "There's a fight in the backyard, there's a fight in the backyard."

 

I met some people that I ended up getting really close to in years to follow. Jules, Belson, Bently, Keno, etc.

 

I continued going to parties like this for the duration of my teenage years. And I had some up and downs. I did alot of drugs, and overdrank every weekend. I had really found who I was, and it was nice to have a group to belong to. I was on the top of the world. These experiences formed who I would be for many years to come. Actually, I am still that 12 year old little kid going to my first punk rock party. I can't seem to get over it, even now at the age of 37.

 

 

She was so indebted to society, that all her life was dark and sinister. She dressed in black, used black eyeliner, and fake eyelashes. She used to mutilate herself with razorblades. And she was thinking of doing it again. She hated the world. And wished the world would die. Fuck off, I am insane, she thought. She hated dogs, men, work, rent, all the usual things that young people fuck off. Her credit was shit, her house was a mess, with graffitte on the walls. Her toilet stunk of shit, as did her breath. She hadn't tidied up in over a year, she had dishes to the ceiling, and her dirty laundry was up to the sky. She had so much food that she had turned to gluttony, as a way of life. She consumed like a pig in a sty. She produced nothing but obsence gestures, and she was still hungry, and her thrist had grown. She was the fattest ugliest bitch i had ever saw. But she was mine, and I still loved her to death. I would stand up for my gothic bitch, no matter what happened. And don't say you don't know this bitch that I am talking about, because we all do. Her name is the United States. And damn if she is not gay.

Knock, Knock, who's there? Someone you don't want at your house. This was my existance living in my last apt. I hated it, and now that i am away from the situation. I see how stupid living in the pjs can be.

 

As a white kid, i wanted the blacks in my community To Know that i wasn't racist, or full of hate for thier race. But if i would of known what was in store for me. I wouldn't have ever let the blacks in my apt.

 

They showed me no respect, and acted like they were the ones paying the rent.

 

Never again. No matter how superficial and unsophisicated it may seem i will never let other races in my house. Reason being...

 

They are disrespectful.

 

They are loud.

 

They think they are the shit.

 

They take things for granted.

 

They believe YOU owe them something.

 

They steal.

 

They make themselves at home. Such as...

 

Eating your food.

 

Making messes.

 

Yell at you if you disagree with them.

 

Are always talking thier White Boy shit....

 

and FINALLY.....

 

IT NEVER FUCKN' ENDS.

 

WELL FOR ME IT DOES!!!

 

NOW!!!

Just heard a country song hip-hopping about some rocknroll that should of died.

 

Some punk went pop without a gothic ryhme he tried

 

A little new wave went to a pyschobilly club, and tranced the night away.

 

I heard about some jazz that rythum and blued his life astray.

 

Some rockabilly kid with a grunge hair-do tried to hide in some Oi brigade.

 

Did you hear about the salsa that mascaraded in a techo trade?

 

HOw bout the bluegrass that polkaed in a big band way?

 

What about the metal that was hard rock and bubblegumed into something that couldn't stay?

 I was walking in the California sun. i was hitch-hiking my way back to my former home. I was missing it in a big way. I had always considered myself a mystic. And I had a vision that my family needed me. So there i was walking the 100 miles home. My legs ached and I was drinking achohol to subdue the pain. It wasn't working though. I had cramps.

 

I stopped in a truck stop and almost spent the whole day there. I was flirting with the waitresses, but I knew I wouldn't score. But I loved the conversation anyway. I decided it was time to leave just as the sun was going down.

 

So here I am on a desert road walking in the dark. I watched bats fluttering through the night sky. It was nice just taking in nature, and my mood was improving. I was being careful on my journey to say on the paved road. I knew that what might seem like a shortcut may be longer in the end.

 

A car pulled up besides me and the man driving asked if I would like a ride. I said yes, and jumped in the old rattling Ford. The man started up a conversation. But I didn't find any of it interesting. It was just small talk. He told me of his family and asked where I was headed. I told him that I was going back to my family's house and told him the city it was in. He said he would get me there. I said great and smiled.

 

The man and I got to my house in a couple of hours, he said goodbye and left, and I drew a breath to strengthen myself for what I was about to do. I hadn't been home for 15 years, and it was hard going back. But I drew my strength and made my way to the door.

 

My mom opened the door, and she was pleased to see me. That was a big relief. I thought I would have a problem with her because sometimes we didn't see eye to eye.

 

I told her of my vision I had seen on the highway. She just laughed about it trying to push the truth aside. I told her it was serious. But, she said she wasn't worried.

 

My mom died the next day. The last thing she said to me was that she knew I had become a man, and that she trusted I would do the right thing, and as She whispered her last words to me I didn't know it would come so soon. I love you son. That was the last words I heard coming from my mother's mouth.

 

I attended the funeral delivering the eulogy. I cried as I read it to the packed mortuary. Everyone loved my mom, and so did I. I miss her, but I know she died at exactly the time she was suppose to.

 

signed, a big believer in fate.

I looked in, drawn like a vacuum. I wanted to clean the dusty untidy things of her life. I knew this would take all day. i cycloned as i become under her smell. Rancid cadavors and undigested food rose above the swell of her tide. I lived as she did, and had needed a cleaner habitate myself. But it was so much easier cleaning up someone elses place. I was the kind of child that disobeyed and raised hell with my own parents but obeyed others parents. I started with the dishes. Man they were grimy. So much leftover platters, burnt pans, and loads of glassware. After I soaked them for an hour I added bleach to the water. The water was steamy and turned my hands red then white with its heat. I then wiped up all the spilt achoholic beverages and beer stains on her counters. The floor was last. It was so sticky with ideas of sex and betrayal that it took a scrubbing that only Cinderella herself could clean. I used all the power in my arms to scrub.

 

After I was done with the kitchen, I headed off to the bedroom. The bed was all in disarray. Sheets on the floors with stains of lovers lain covered them. I put them in the laundry and washed them twice. I then vacuumed all the tobacco and ashes on the ground. Then i went into the bathroom. The scouring of the tub itself took all my free time away. I scoured and scoured, bleached and bleached, and wiped the mirror off.

 

Her house stayed clean for about a day, then it was all dirty again. But this time I had to refuse to clean. So I lost my job that my stormy eyed woman gave me.

fear in the eyes of hobbits take me to never again land. I have lost and regained all. It takes to long to take the shortcut. I will never again love. Nor will i examine family for friends. I will bend not over but again and again. Sin takes place on a Monday, after the services there will be biscuits and brothe. Coffee takes my headache away. I will serve the fort. I shall watch before i die. i need but don't want. i am a soldier on a desk dreaming of the front. my wife has died in a car wreck, what is there, nothing to suspect. I dream of being a writing drawn up easily precisely my point. i am jealous of them again. I am waiting and they cry. And also do i mean anything to you? Are you mine or do you just jest around? I feel and then i am out of conciousness again. I look to the typing bold and colorful as the counting crows murdering scavaging doing their time. i love life. i hate myself, for i am you. i look to tomorrow and miss today. I love life and it knows it so it takes the pain away. i hear there will always be love. but i still doubt. I know i am just a tommie playing socialist no commie shit for me dumbass. A brothers bday today no party plan. just a skill and time. put in time they say and say running their mouths all day. I have been writing since i don't know when . a friend awakes me and i have drool on my pillow once again. I need but you don't want me. I hate what i have to do without. No money at the end of the month, only charity food. rice and fuckn beans. immigrant conspiracy. we kneed the slaves to do the labor that we forget to do. the ettes on cd, no lp? what the heck. i love you and i love you and i love you. does anyone remember romper room and that stupid mirror calling everyone but me. not a magic kid but a california man. feeling mist on a drizzle. have you popped thistle? are you a miricle? no i am smokey, not the bear, the implant of detroit city rock. eminem on his face. not yet they answer, i wonder where wonder is? it seems she cares. she fucks large and i can't fill her up to the brim with a bottle of hymn. i am now ending this free writing experiment. try it yourself . just start writing typing and don't let things get you our of your head.

 

 

You got me thinking / thinking i do / about the truth / and the real you.

 

you got me drinking / drinking i do / to pass the time /and pass over you.

 

you got me wanting / wanting i do / craving is nothing but the cost.

 

you got me needing / needing i do / to love my life / and also you.

 

in your eyes / eyes that held fire / fire for me / in your bruises / i got closer than i wanted to.

 

in your ears / I force fed you / all my theories / some godly / some untrue.

 

I smell shit now when i reflect / my mind tries to deflate / the pressure in my head / am i liven now / or am i dead?

 

I find joy at your disposal / rubbish collected and shifted through/ you got me guessing that you don't do what you said you do.