Re: Lister Hill
Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2014 8:16 am
To begin, sorry Zireael for burying your post. Dizzy inspired me to continue... 
The Swindle and the Lost Jewel
------------------------------
In spite of the bullshit, there have always been times of peace and blessings. The summer of 2004 was no exception. My grandfather Howard (my dad's dad) moved to Albuqeurque about a year earlier after having been a widower since 1996. This was a very nice change, as it was the first time a grandparent had lived so close. Sadly though, we lost him in the summer of 2004. Although this was a very sad time for me, at least I was keeping busy.
I had come into a new TV, and could finally get rid of the rather old thing I was using (although it too was a box of a TV). Anyway, I decided since I really don't use TV much except for 'alternative' media, I thought I'd give the old one away. Anyone that has been to Albuquerque for any amount of time has probably found themselves in the 'University ghetto', south of Central Ave. and UNM. Anyone that has spent time here also knows that one can put things out on the curb to give away, and they will find a good home within an hour. So, I decided I would put the TV out at the curb with the words 'Gratis / Free' written with a yellow grease pencil (a great tool in the tile trade). Well, as it turns out, I had put the TV outside 'late' in the night (probably about 12am). About an hour later I went back out to the front porch for cigarette. Just minding my own business, enjoying my smoke, this beautiful young lady comes walking over from across the street. Now, I had always admired all the young ladies living in the '1800 house', but this one in particular had always captivated me.
So we talked for a long time that night. This would not be the last time that we would hang out. A few nights later, she brought over 'Run Lola Run', and we smiled at each other throughout. When I looked into her eyes, I saw not only the eyes of the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but also the eyes of our beautiful children. I have never before or since had such an experience. Those few weeks were some of the happiest of my life. But it was not to be. I was still involved with not only one woman, but two women at the time I met 'Linda'. One night I went to the local mart for cigarettes, when the stupid thought came across my head to buy some rubbers - not that I needed them at that point - I should have forgotten the others. But I was trying to be the responsible boy scout - 'always be prepared', as they say.
Well, I'm done paying for the cigs and rubbers and turn around, and who should be waiting in line behind me? Why Linda. I knew it was over. I knew the night she first came over to my house that she was a virgin. She was 19, and I was 26. How could that possibly work out? She had had the courage to come to my house in the middle of the night, but I had scared her off with one stupid mistake. We lost contact not long after.
And so life went and took another turn again. In 2005 my grandma died. I did not know it at the time, but the trip there to Riverside to bury her would be the last time I would be in Chicago. Not a very fun trip I might add, being a pall-bearer for your grandmother (recall I had been to her wedding). The fucked up thing is, it was supposed to be a more or less regular visit, but she had taken a sudden turn for the worse, and died a week before we even arrived.
As you can imagine, these things wrecked havoc on my life and business. Put on top of that a neighbourhood going to crack shyte, and you have a recipe for disaster. I lost my home, after having $2000 of tools stolen. When I tried to fight the eviction that inevitably came in court, the judge would not look at anything I brought in preparation of my defense. Incidentally, at least half a dozen people who saw this piece of shit judge before me lost their homes that day.
Luckily, a friend named 'Cody' [ ] had an apartment I could rent. Luckily, too, that there was a storage shed on the premises that I could use for my tools. I made the place work. It was a definite step down from where I was living before (not that I was living like king, but it sure beat the hotel room studio apartment). As nice as all this was, it wasn't long before tragedy would strike again. This time it was my step grandfather. Oddly, I wasn't 'invited' for the service. We will find out that that was not James' wishes - not that I suspected that to be his wishes.
As if all this wasn't enough, my truck was breaking down. Work was getting hard to come by. So I started working for Cody remodeling units installing tile, which was fine, because he is trustworthy. However, he had some land that he wanted to buy back in Mexico. So he sold the apartments to a private owner who had a management company conduct their affairs. The dude I started working then was not so trustworthy. In a silly attempt to finagle me, he tried to double talk our agreement, which I had stupidly left as a verbal agreement. And who did I get to see again when it was time to see the judge? The same exact piece of shit I saw the previous time. I didn't even bother trying to fight it. I just started to get things together to flee the United States altogether.
There is more to the part of the story as to how I came to the conclusion to flee, but I will leave that for another story - perahps 'The Swindle and the Lost Jewel - a Deeper Look', or more directly, 'A Sachel of Mushrooms'. For now though, we will continue to the next act.
Systematic Psychosis
--------------------
This is where I made my greatest mistake. I should have just let myself fall off my family's radar. Instead I headed right back to the lion's den again. I thought I could use the opportunity to sell my truck, tools, and crap belongings and just get the fuck out. I was getting my passport ready to head to Éire. I could almost taste the sea air - but then what? My stupid little brother, John, decides it's time for him to get married. The trip to Philly would be interesting to say the least. It was the only time I ever landed in Chicago and didn't disembark. In fact, it was the first and only time so far to have flown into Midway airport (that's an unnerving feeling if you've never landed there - it is right in the middle of the city, and you literally come in over rooftops). Anyway, my brother acted like a bitch the whole time; I'm actually surprised the whole thing went through, but it did.
By the time that fiasco had passed, I was having second thoughts. Of course, the folks wanted me to get a J-O-B, so I did just that, in my own way. I produced an album of my music. I had to use the money I was going to use to leave to record the music, but I figured, 'why not.' The only problem then was as it is now, I'm conflicted, to say the least, by the idea of making money off of my music. While it took a year and some change to get it finished, it was worth it. Again, a blessing in a sea of shit. And the shit was pretty deep while I was back in the den. I'm grateful I found a good woman, an older woman, named 'Beverly', during this time.
Now, I should mention that as early as third grade, I had been in and out of psychologist, counselor and therapist offices. You might imagine that this period was a time where I was actually the one to choose to go back to these, as we shall hereinafter refer to them, 'docs'. I have always suspected, and now believe, that I am dyslexic. But the docs were more concerned with having me try their 'medicines'. You can bet your ass I wasn't interested in their cornucopia of alphabet soup 'miracles in a bottle'. And the dyslexia issue continued to go unresolved.
So basically, it went like this, seeing the docs, composing, and spending as much time as possible with Beverly for about two years (2006-2008). I lived mostly at Beverly's, but it was an odd situation, essentially being homeless at the worst perspective, and certainly not independent at the most optimistic perspective. I worked as a cashier for a drycleaner and moved out at the beginning of '08.
The Clown College
-----------------
It took a while to get things figured and sorted out, but I started back at school in the fall of '08. I should mention, I say 'back' because I had not only gone to the community college, CNM, but also Texas Tech University, right after graduating high school. So anyway, it did feel good to be back in a structured learning envirnment after learning on my own for so long (which did become disciplined in its own right, and that very much helped me going back). I have always been blessed with good English teachers, and the one semester I took at CNM was no exception. The class focused on avoiding a lot of bad habits that writers get in to doing, particularly with verbs. (I will look the book up, if requested).
Earlier I alluded to some mushrooms - I know an 'odd' elephant in the room of this story. Well, I will say this, a friend and I had ourselves a 'shroomcapade' back in 2005. We listened to a lot of psychodelic musc, but in particular, we listened to a LOT of Mr. Bungle. We would both laugh our asses off, but I would laugh even harder, because that music is an important message to me, I truly believe that. It does sound a little off the hook, but hell, this whole story really is off the hook. So anyway, that is where this act gets its name. I was the clown going to the clown college (UNM), studying music and physics.
And studying physics for a brighter future is what I was doing until I was financially forced out of school last fall (2013). Even while I was trying to fight to stay in, they were using the same piece of paper with the same numbers as the day I started. But no matter who I talked to it didn't matter that the amount of money I had borrow was $53000, while the piece of paper essentially states that students have $75000 available to them. They all just spit a bunch of bullshit. In fact I hadn't seen so much bullshit since the day we put exlax on the cattle's salt lick. Just a bunch of double talk.
This is the part of the story where I met many of you from the Oolite forums. I wanted to find a new space game to 'space out' on, and I found the best fucking one out there!
Edit to add the last part:
The Ass Kicking
---------------
For the last semester in school (fall '13), one of my courses was a high-level intro to thermodynamics. In about October or November I emailed my thermodynamics teacher to ask him what he thought of the 9/11 disaster, in particular, WTC 7, since that building went down without a plane hitting it. His response was to recap the NIST story, to the 'tee'. Needless to say, this dude was the first in a series of ass kickings which as still taking place. I have slapped him around with truth. I have made a vow that he will not teach any longer, nor will UNM continue to teach physics, if I have anything to do about it.
There are three key players in the stupidity from my immediate family. They are my 'dad', Bill, a despicable character, lawyer, and false spiritual leader. He has read the book on child grooming. Next in line is my sister, Jennifer. She was groomed initially to be a fighter pilot, but since her eyesight sucks, the plan changed to engineering. She has worked in weapons manufacturing her entire adult life, working for the likes of Lockheed Martin and Ball Aerospace. Lastly is my kid brother, John. He was groomed to be a false spiritual leader, not unlike the role my 'dad' plays. I have used the word dad throughout this story, but really, I use that term very loosely. He has certainly never been any kind of role model for me at any rate. Unlike my dad, my brother is fully ordaned. A true wolf in sheep's clothing.
So anyway, my dad and sister were instrumental in denying me what my grandparents left me: the house in Riverside. I only just figured this all out. But his refusal at first to address the issue before I even realized the entire scope of things convicts him (I had thought for a short period of time that I'd only been left a share). As I have been slapping people around with words of truth (and sending funny songs that make me think of the situation, like Weird Al's song 'Albuquerque'), odd things happen. The weapons sister sent the police to my home to 'check' on my wife, in one last futile attempt to discredit me. I do have another sister, who is really just about as much a victim as myself, by the way, but I only mention her since the other sister came up. I have essentially sued my dad for the entire value of the house, plus interest. It comes out to about $4.0 million - a particularly large sum because I spanked him on interest (25%, compounded quarterly over a ten year period). This is where things stand now. I have not heard back from him yet.
It isn't only my family and teacher that I'm calling out either. I've been calling out all the round table groups, particularly the Council of Foreign Relations, or CFR. They are some of the most evil people on the face of the planet - I know that too sounds extreme, but it is true.
The Swindle and the Lost Jewel
------------------------------
In spite of the bullshit, there have always been times of peace and blessings. The summer of 2004 was no exception. My grandfather Howard (my dad's dad) moved to Albuqeurque about a year earlier after having been a widower since 1996. This was a very nice change, as it was the first time a grandparent had lived so close. Sadly though, we lost him in the summer of 2004. Although this was a very sad time for me, at least I was keeping busy.
I had come into a new TV, and could finally get rid of the rather old thing I was using (although it too was a box of a TV). Anyway, I decided since I really don't use TV much except for 'alternative' media, I thought I'd give the old one away. Anyone that has been to Albuquerque for any amount of time has probably found themselves in the 'University ghetto', south of Central Ave. and UNM. Anyone that has spent time here also knows that one can put things out on the curb to give away, and they will find a good home within an hour. So, I decided I would put the TV out at the curb with the words 'Gratis / Free' written with a yellow grease pencil (a great tool in the tile trade). Well, as it turns out, I had put the TV outside 'late' in the night (probably about 12am). About an hour later I went back out to the front porch for cigarette. Just minding my own business, enjoying my smoke, this beautiful young lady comes walking over from across the street. Now, I had always admired all the young ladies living in the '1800 house', but this one in particular had always captivated me.
So we talked for a long time that night. This would not be the last time that we would hang out. A few nights later, she brought over 'Run Lola Run', and we smiled at each other throughout. When I looked into her eyes, I saw not only the eyes of the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but also the eyes of our beautiful children. I have never before or since had such an experience. Those few weeks were some of the happiest of my life. But it was not to be. I was still involved with not only one woman, but two women at the time I met 'Linda'. One night I went to the local mart for cigarettes, when the stupid thought came across my head to buy some rubbers - not that I needed them at that point - I should have forgotten the others. But I was trying to be the responsible boy scout - 'always be prepared', as they say.
Well, I'm done paying for the cigs and rubbers and turn around, and who should be waiting in line behind me? Why Linda. I knew it was over. I knew the night she first came over to my house that she was a virgin. She was 19, and I was 26. How could that possibly work out? She had had the courage to come to my house in the middle of the night, but I had scared her off with one stupid mistake. We lost contact not long after.
And so life went and took another turn again. In 2005 my grandma died. I did not know it at the time, but the trip there to Riverside to bury her would be the last time I would be in Chicago. Not a very fun trip I might add, being a pall-bearer for your grandmother (recall I had been to her wedding). The fucked up thing is, it was supposed to be a more or less regular visit, but she had taken a sudden turn for the worse, and died a week before we even arrived.
As you can imagine, these things wrecked havoc on my life and business. Put on top of that a neighbourhood going to crack shyte, and you have a recipe for disaster. I lost my home, after having $2000 of tools stolen. When I tried to fight the eviction that inevitably came in court, the judge would not look at anything I brought in preparation of my defense. Incidentally, at least half a dozen people who saw this piece of shit judge before me lost their homes that day.
Luckily, a friend named 'Cody' [
] had an apartment I could rent. Luckily, too, that there was a storage shed on the premises that I could use for my tools. I made the place work. It was a definite step down from where I was living before (not that I was living like king, but it sure beat the hotel room studio apartment). As nice as all this was, it wasn't long before tragedy would strike again. This time it was my step grandfather. Oddly, I wasn't 'invited' for the service. We will find out that that was not James' wishes - not that I suspected that to be his wishes.As if all this wasn't enough, my truck was breaking down. Work was getting hard to come by. So I started working for Cody remodeling units installing tile, which was fine, because he is trustworthy. However, he had some land that he wanted to buy back in Mexico. So he sold the apartments to a private owner who had a management company conduct their affairs. The dude I started working then was not so trustworthy. In a silly attempt to finagle me, he tried to double talk our agreement, which I had stupidly left as a verbal agreement. And who did I get to see again when it was time to see the judge? The same exact piece of shit I saw the previous time. I didn't even bother trying to fight it. I just started to get things together to flee the United States altogether.
There is more to the part of the story as to how I came to the conclusion to flee, but I will leave that for another story - perahps 'The Swindle and the Lost Jewel - a Deeper Look', or more directly, 'A Sachel of Mushrooms'. For now though, we will continue to the next act.
Systematic Psychosis
--------------------
This is where I made my greatest mistake. I should have just let myself fall off my family's radar. Instead I headed right back to the lion's den again. I thought I could use the opportunity to sell my truck, tools, and crap belongings and just get the fuck out. I was getting my passport ready to head to Éire. I could almost taste the sea air - but then what? My stupid little brother, John, decides it's time for him to get married. The trip to Philly would be interesting to say the least. It was the only time I ever landed in Chicago and didn't disembark. In fact, it was the first and only time so far to have flown into Midway airport (that's an unnerving feeling if you've never landed there - it is right in the middle of the city, and you literally come in over rooftops). Anyway, my brother acted like a bitch the whole time; I'm actually surprised the whole thing went through, but it did.
By the time that fiasco had passed, I was having second thoughts. Of course, the folks wanted me to get a J-O-B, so I did just that, in my own way. I produced an album of my music. I had to use the money I was going to use to leave to record the music, but I figured, 'why not.' The only problem then was as it is now, I'm conflicted, to say the least, by the idea of making money off of my music. While it took a year and some change to get it finished, it was worth it. Again, a blessing in a sea of shit. And the shit was pretty deep while I was back in the den. I'm grateful I found a good woman, an older woman, named 'Beverly', during this time.
Now, I should mention that as early as third grade, I had been in and out of psychologist, counselor and therapist offices. You might imagine that this period was a time where I was actually the one to choose to go back to these, as we shall hereinafter refer to them, 'docs'. I have always suspected, and now believe, that I am dyslexic. But the docs were more concerned with having me try their 'medicines'. You can bet your ass I wasn't interested in their cornucopia of alphabet soup 'miracles in a bottle'. And the dyslexia issue continued to go unresolved.
So basically, it went like this, seeing the docs, composing, and spending as much time as possible with Beverly for about two years (2006-2008). I lived mostly at Beverly's, but it was an odd situation, essentially being homeless at the worst perspective, and certainly not independent at the most optimistic perspective. I worked as a cashier for a drycleaner and moved out at the beginning of '08.
The Clown College
-----------------
It took a while to get things figured and sorted out, but I started back at school in the fall of '08. I should mention, I say 'back' because I had not only gone to the community college, CNM, but also Texas Tech University, right after graduating high school. So anyway, it did feel good to be back in a structured learning envirnment after learning on my own for so long (which did become disciplined in its own right, and that very much helped me going back). I have always been blessed with good English teachers, and the one semester I took at CNM was no exception. The class focused on avoiding a lot of bad habits that writers get in to doing, particularly with verbs. (I will look the book up, if requested
).Earlier I alluded to some mushrooms - I know an 'odd' elephant in the room of this story. Well, I will say this, a friend and I had ourselves a 'shroomcapade' back in 2005. We listened to a lot of psychodelic musc, but in particular, we listened to a LOT of Mr. Bungle. We would both laugh our asses off, but I would laugh even harder, because that music is an important message to me, I truly believe that. It does sound a little off the hook, but hell, this whole story really is off the hook. So anyway, that is where this act gets its name. I was the clown going to the clown college (UNM), studying music and physics.
And studying physics for a brighter future is what I was doing until I was financially forced out of school last fall (2013). Even while I was trying to fight to stay in, they were using the same piece of paper with the same numbers as the day I started. But no matter who I talked to it didn't matter that the amount of money I had borrow was $53000, while the piece of paper essentially states that students have $75000 available to them. They all just spit a bunch of bullshit. In fact I hadn't seen so much bullshit since the day we put exlax on the cattle's salt lick. Just a bunch of double talk.
This is the part of the story where I met many of you from the Oolite forums. I wanted to find a new space game to 'space out' on, and I found the best fucking one out there!
Edit to add the last part:
The Ass Kicking
---------------
For the last semester in school (fall '13), one of my courses was a high-level intro to thermodynamics. In about October or November I emailed my thermodynamics teacher to ask him what he thought of the 9/11 disaster, in particular, WTC 7, since that building went down without a plane hitting it. His response was to recap the NIST story, to the 'tee'. Needless to say, this dude was the first in a series of ass kickings which as still taking place. I have slapped him around with truth. I have made a vow that he will not teach any longer, nor will UNM continue to teach physics, if I have anything to do about it.
There are three key players in the stupidity from my immediate family. They are my 'dad', Bill, a despicable character, lawyer, and false spiritual leader. He has read the book on child grooming. Next in line is my sister, Jennifer. She was groomed initially to be a fighter pilot, but since her eyesight sucks, the plan changed to engineering. She has worked in weapons manufacturing her entire adult life, working for the likes of Lockheed Martin and Ball Aerospace. Lastly is my kid brother, John. He was groomed to be a false spiritual leader, not unlike the role my 'dad' plays. I have used the word dad throughout this story, but really, I use that term very loosely. He has certainly never been any kind of role model for me at any rate. Unlike my dad, my brother is fully ordaned. A true wolf in sheep's clothing.
So anyway, my dad and sister were instrumental in denying me what my grandparents left me: the house in Riverside. I only just figured this all out. But his refusal at first to address the issue before I even realized the entire scope of things convicts him (I had thought for a short period of time that I'd only been left a share). As I have been slapping people around with words of truth (and sending funny songs that make me think of the situation, like Weird Al's song 'Albuquerque'), odd things happen. The weapons sister sent the police to my home to 'check' on my wife, in one last futile attempt to discredit me. I do have another sister, who is really just about as much a victim as myself, by the way, but I only mention her since the other sister came up. I have essentially sued my dad for the entire value of the house, plus interest. It comes out to about $4.0 million - a particularly large sum because I spanked him on interest (25%, compounded quarterly over a ten year period). This is where things stand now. I have not heard back from him yet.
It isn't only my family and teacher that I'm calling out either. I've been calling out all the round table groups, particularly the Council of Foreign Relations, or CFR. They are some of the most evil people on the face of the planet - I know that too sounds extreme, but it is true.
.