04252016
No body was more important to me at this point than my long life friend James Blankinship.
James was just one of those dudes who was a brother and no matter what you said or did, he never once criticized you for it.
When it comes to James, I either hold so much deeply down or I feel like it isn't noteworthy. Not because I can not tell the story, but because there is very little to tell.
He is a real bro. In a lot of ways, more so than my real brother.
My real brother is almost 15 years younger than me. Maybe less. But we have yet to make real stories because stories take time. We haven't had much time.
James is younger than me, but mentally almost 20 years older. He has a lot of experience.
We both grew up, knowing that if we wanted things, we were going to have to get up, go out, and get it. We may have to conform somewhat, but we would never forget who we were in the process.
He came up learning how to be an adult real quick. Had his own apartment by the time he was 15 and started taking care of himself probably before that.
I may have been raised in California, a ward of the state, but by the time we started getting to know each other, he was working for the state, as a prison guard fire chief.
He didn't do drugs. He was clear minded, completely. Although, we partied together, he wasn't into all the stuff we were into. Having a job with the state, he couldn't do a third of the stuff I was into.
He knew what I was into. He never once looked down his nose at me for it.
I never tried to get him to either. He had experience with what I was up to all too well. It didn't bother him and I never had to share. The guy didn't even drink caffeinated drinks. Come on!
I was there every time another bro would let him down, though. I seen a lot of people forget his kindness. Forget to pay him back. Steal from his house. Take advantage of him.
I seen some pretty bad times with family matters and what not.
I'm not here to air that shit out. That's his story.

This guy here? This dude was my Go to bro!
If I was having a good time, I wanted to include him. If I was having a bad time, I wanted to include him.
I maybe had 9 portfolios over those seven years I was in Tucson, and he took up a page in everyone of them.
Hell, he is in everyone of them still.
I don't really have a lot of stories to tell because a majority of our time on this part of the timeline was spent tattooing. Him and his whole family. I became family.
My brother, James is one of the best friends I could have made ever and I still hold him in high regard.
In 2003, Maggie Mayes Tattoo on Grant, owned by Greg and Susan Alexander, needed me to bring some people in for a commercial shoot and the only people I knew I could call on was them. James and Hillary were my only people I knew I could count on to come in and show off their ink.
I had a shit ton of return clientele. But I never got to know any of them outside of the shop. If I did, it was pretty short lived.

James and Hillary were beautiful people back then. Not that they aren't now, these were just different times.
They were the couple that I admired most. I wanted to be in a relationship that was at least, as functional as theirs.
Maybe I lacked a few qualities that could have helped it along. But if I never learned anything at all in life, I can only say, YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO YOURSELF.
Meaning, maybe my partners were lacking some qualities themselves.
They showed up for the commercial shoot. They showed up like real friends would. Dressed the part and people knew where to find me from there on out.
I always told James, pretty girls make guys famous. And they did. His wife in that commercial worked out pretty well.
My boss never believed me when I told them that these peeps don't do drugs.
Greg told me once that he knew I was always lit on something. He was sure that if he told me to quit, that my work was going to go to shit.
That's pretty messed up. I know. But these guys liked me as well and as long as I was making it so they didn't have to work so much, they could count on me.
As time went on though, they became certain that James was way more clearheaded than I was. That maybe some of my friends were actually good for me.
It wouldn't be the last time that my close friends would win newer friends hearts over such matters.
So as my ex and I were split, these guys seen me through some dark stuff and then they watched my steady climb in my own shop.
I don't know if they could see me just treading water acting all ducky or not, but after Mike Ball left the shop, I was surprised every time these guys would stop in just to visit, or check up on me.
Either way, I didn't care. They were my truest friends of the time.
They both took me on as a brother for whatever reason, I never felt like I was alone. They deserve nothing more than my kindest memories in my darkest times.
James floated the bill for me so many times, I couldn't count it.
He would try to take me out of myself when I was deep in it, and take me to the wild cat house. It was the college bar on the edges of the downtown area.

In this place, before it had BBQ, it had young college girls and dancing. It wasn't quite the thing I liked to do but that didn't matter. It was eye candy and liquor and at my very best, an attempt to meet new people.
And I did advertise in the wild cat paper so it was good to put a face to my ad. Although, I may wish to portray myself as a business man in these times, I don't remember any of my attempts to fit in here doing me any good. But I was persistent if nothing else at attracting eyes my way.
They had a huge dance floor. And they had a few gogo cages where sexy girls danced. With their clothes on of course. It was a college bar, not a nudie bar.
Being a local, James knew of all these hot spots. I never really went out too much.
My drugs of choice kind of kept me indoors a lot and I have always been really secretive about most of the things I did, even if most people could see right through me.
After the wild cat house, we would head over to the Waffle House, where I would eat like a horse. I never ate better than when I was with James. That guy fed me. And then if he didn't drop me off to ride home on my skateboard, he gave me a ride all the way there.
He didn't always come in with someone to tattoo. Sometimes he took me out to get away from my tattoo life. Even if he didn't drink, he took me to bars and then out to eat afterwards.
He was my brother. Bound by more than Honor. And I will honor him far beyond what bound me back then.
(You like what I did there?) you know who you are. Jajaja
Thanks for reading. Have a great night.

04262016

  It's funny really.
   When you think about how much time it takes. Real time, to remember any event in your life. You may remember everything done or even just your perception of what was done in a matter of a fraction of a second. The whole thing can pass beyond your minds eye. It can all be recalled in less time than you can think about all this while you're reading it.
  Try.
   Best moment of 2007. Go.
    Care to share?
   Unfortunately for me, I can only see all the happenings. And the conversations, are just not there. As much as I wish, I could recall them. All I get are parts and pieces.
   Oh, and I'm a conversationalist. It's too bad, really. I would have so much more to write.
  We will have to do with bits and pieces.
   One of the best things that happened to me, in 2007, was Jeff Dwight!
   When I met Jeff in 1999, I was about to have a son. He was one of my bosses good friends.
    At this time, he may have been my friend as well. He was partying with this chick I used to work with, and we would step out back during the slower parts of the day and smoke a little weed. Back then, I just smoked weed.
   He went on after the break up and I didn't see him for many years.
   I was skateboarding to work and I hear, "Hey! Slow down!"
   I look over and there is Jeffy in a white truck. His work truck. Jeffy is a do it all kind of guy. A jack of all trades. A king of many suits so to speak.
   He remembered me. And I remembered him, all but his name. And there is this guy that looks so familiar and I'm talking with him as if I knew who he was. Really knew who he was.
   I remembered his light blue eyes. I remembered his voice. And his smile. The rough feel of his hard working hands in the handshake. But I couldn't place him.
   "So, what have you been up to?"
   "Shit man, I've been doing great! Been in my shop now a year and hopefully, gonna make it through the next." I was trying to not give him too much information. He was my ex bosses good friend.

    "Really? You don't look too healthy. You don't really remember me do you?"
   I laughed a little nervously. "Yeah I do. Everything but your name."
   Jeff could see right through me. It was written all over my face. My bullshit mask must of got left behind as I walked out of my front door.
   Jeff had a knack for seeing through me no matter what the occasion.
    "Where's your shop at?"
     "Just down the street over there on the left. Next to the plumbing shop. You know where that is, right?"
    "Oh yeah, that lady knows her stuff down there." He said. The old lady who owned that plumbing shop did know her stuff. The shop was huge and she had anything plumbing. Anything.
    Old stuff and new. Anyone who needed plumbing knew her and if you went in there, you found it. Whatever you were looking for.
   Something tells me that Jeff knew where it was already. But now, he was invited to come in and check me out.
   And he did. Like at the right time.
   Nobody was there and we did a lot of talking about his history after breaking up with Melinda. He got clean and sober after partying with Joan Jett. He got pretty far out there for a bit and he got clean and sober.
   He started working out some of his issues and found the love of his life and was married now.
   I didn't know it then. But he was doing a twelve step call on me. And I didn't even fucking call. Jajaja
    For those of you who don't know the term 12 step call, you can look it up or wait till later in my story.
   My honesty opened up a little. He was sarcastic with his smile and he listened well. And he connected with every thing I was telling him.
   I didn't want to do meth anymore. It wasn't working the way it used too and that was all I wanted to quit.
   He laughed. "I get it man." With a smile and a corner eye he said, " Have you been eating? You look skinny, man."
   "I have a high metabolism. I eat but skating to work and everywhere else, I can't keep any weight. Especially since I got stabbed. Everything has been off."
   "Yeah. Right." He said kind of sarcastically. "Did you drink last night?"
   "Yeah" I said, "what are you getting at?"
   "Did you drink the night before?"
   "Yeah" I said.
   "Maybe you should come over for dinner tonight then." He said. It was like a Jedi mind trick. Get me to say yes a few times and I couldn't say no to dinner.
    So twist my arm. Right?
    It wasn't like that really. He just had a way about him.
    I went through the work day and followed his written directions to his home. It wasn't far away from the shop.
   His house had a wall taller than me surrounding it with one of those chainlink gates that roles through so you could drive into the driveway.
   It had cactus and went all the way through to the back of the house where he had a shop and various other buildings and cars.
   He was waiting for me and helped me through the gate and settled the dogs down so I could walk in.
   Walking into his house wasn't a culture shock really. It was clean but lived in. It felt warm and happy.
   And DeAnna came out of the kitchen.
   "You must be Young Kev! I'm D. Jeffy's wife. I Hope you're your hungry!"

   Mashed potatoes. Fried chicken and gravy with a side of corn.
   We chatted getting to know each other a bit and before I left Jeff made sure to ask me if I was just going to go straight home.
   I said, "yeah man. Straight home."
  "Why?"
   "Who asks that? Come on buddy. I'm going home."
  (Sigh) came from Jeffy. "Alright Kev. What are you going to do tomorrow?"
   "Going to work and doing it all over again." I said, "why do you ask?"
   "You wanna come by for dinner tomorrow?"
   "Yeah," I said, and I headed out the door.
   Jeffy with all his wisdom and life experience knew exactly where I was going. And it wasn't straight home.
   I was a creature of habit. I headed from his house and went to the boondocks. And from the boondocks I headed to Famous Sam's and then from there hours had passed.
   It was eleven o clock by the time I got home. To follow through with a couple pulls from a joint and then to bed.
    The day had been stressful in ways that I had not experienced in awhile. I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.
   I didn't know where Jeff was coming from. I didn't understand where or why he was coming at me with his story or what it was that he was actually offering me.
   He wasn't out right offering me anything. But he didn't want anything from me. He wasn't asking me for tats or wanting me to get him loaded. And it seemed that he actually gave a shit about me. For no reason.
   He didn't have a reason as far as I could tell.
   All he knew about me was that I was having a real hard time living day to day.  That my recent history was pretty dark and didn't have much of a future really.
   I remember trying to see all the angles I could as to why this dude was being so nice to me.
   And maybe Glen, my old boss, sent him.
   I was being paranoid.
   I warmed an oil burner and took a hit of meth and sat it on the table next to
me for when I woke up and fell into the warm darkness of oblivion. To sleep I went.

4272016
Time is always short for those who need it the most.
My days were filled by random friends coming to visit. Not all of them would get high with me but I didn't have much of a shoe box of gold anymore. If I was short on anything it was cash.
I had all the time in the world. Days would go by with visits from Jeffy and D and many dinners.
"I'm thinking, maybe I don't need the twelve steps, Jeffy." I said, "maybe I do need a program. Just not a twelve step one."
He laughed. "Well Kev, what kind of program do you think there is?"
"I dunno." I said, "Maybe I can make one up. It's all about trying to make a better me, right?"
"You think you can make up a good program to live by, eh?" He said, "Do you think it will keep you from drinking and smoking shit?"
I said, "I dunno. I can try, right?"
"Alright then. Tell me about your program today." He said, "I would just love to hear about it.
How Jeffy would find the time to come check on me during lunch and then put up with me during dinner was beyond me. Why would this guy give me his time? Being clean and sober was a tough subject for me to comprehend back then. And even though I was pretty straight when I talked with him, he didn't make me lie to him.
What I mean by that is, I think he would ask every question about what I did except for the question that he knew I did do somehow.
"I will be charitable when I can be."
"Yeah?" He said. "What else?"
"I don't know, maybe I will give ugly girls compliments. Like I like your hair. Or what a nice watch."
He laughed, "Really? Do you think that will help?"
"Yeah," I said."Be of service? Maybe help by opening doors for people. Isn't that what it's all about?"
"It's all about, not running from your problem Kev. Not getting high. Maybe might make you a better person." He said, "Do you think it will work? YOUR PROGRAM?"
"It's a start right?" I said, " I just need to start, right?"
"Alright man," he said. "Have you been drinking already today?"
"Come on, Jeff. It's still early." I said. "I usually don't drink till its night time." I laughed.
"You sure? Have you been popping pills?"
"Fuck naw! You know I don't do pills." I said. I was laughing.
"You gonna come to dinner tonight?"
"Not tonight Jeffy. I got a hot date."
I was already high. Jeffy probably knew what not to ask me about what I was on.
"So. Who you going to hang out with tonight?"
"Probably James and Hillary."
"I'm sure. You think you can stay sober around those guys?"
Jeff was just getting to know me. He wasn't interested in my friends really. He was just looking out for me.
"My bro doesn't do anything man. He doesn't."
"Oh yeah?" Said Jeff, "Sure."
"He doesn't man."
I really was going to hang out with this girl, Samantha. Usually after I tattooed her, we would hang out and get lit. I didn't want to have to show up without an appetite again. And I thought I had a solid alibi with James.
James was working so it was unlikely my story would be checked.
I thought I was Scott free.
The night went as I imagined it would. No sweat really.
The morning came quickly and I was back to work.
Jeffy showed up and brought me a sandwich. "Eat up buddy."
I remember taking it and putting it to the side. "Did you drink last night?"
"No Jeffy."
"How's that program going for you today?" He said.
"Not bad Jeffy."
"What are you going to do to better yourself today, Kevin?"
"I'm thinking, maybe I will stay busy today working on some drawings I've wanted to get done. Maybe I just need to get out of myself today. Just work."
He laughed. "That doesn't sound like the program you were talking yesterday." He said, "maybe that will be just what you need bud. I'll come by later but if I don't, maybe you should come by after you get off."
"Okay, Jeffy."
I wasn't sure if he was on to me. I wasn't sure why I cared but I did. I could see his effort and I felt bad about not being honest.
I knew there was a problem. I wasn't wanting to confront it.

  04282016
  "What's up with that guy" said James.
   "He always thinks you guys are helping get all fucked up. I told him that you guys are clean. That you don't even do caffeine. Jajajaja"
    "He is always looking at me so condescendingly. You know down his nose or something." James said.
   "It's not like that, man. He is just looking out for me. You know that right? Just like you do. But different."
    "Yeah, I get it," said James.
    We were chilling in the shop when Jeffy and in and made some small talk. And then headed out.
   I had not seen Kenny in a couple days. He was about due for a visit.
   There was a good feeling in the shop today. My spider web felt strong. I was sure to have someone walk in.
   James and I were visiting when we looked up to see George Smyth come in and James decided it was time to go.
    George used to work down the street from me at Adrenaline Tattoo Club. I wonder if it's still open.
    He wanted to know if I wanted somebody to work with and I did. I told him it really wasn't busy but if he wanted a job he could have it.
    George is talented. He really has a knack for drawing things in ways that I never really fathomed. He has a graphic design degree and who couldn't use this guy.
    He started that day with the moving in and stuff.
   It was cool to feel a little more traction. And a few friends stopped by and visited with us.
  As time went on, people were becoming accustomed to George. He was a nice guy and carried himself as friendly. I liked him. I could count on him.
   I don't have a lot to tell you about him though. He just came through. Was a good friend for a rough season.
   Alright, here is a story not many people know about.
  So there was this week where I was having a terrible time with congestion. It just wouldn't go away.
   I tried a few different decongestants. But they didn't seem to have any effect.
    Once in awhile, Old Gary would give me rides here and there. We would always pass this church that was by my house. He use to tell me all the time about the girl he married there once.

  Oh yeah, I used to pass this church all the time. There was never anybody there. It was just down the street from the liquor store so I passed it from time to time.
   But there was this one time shortly after George came to work for me when I would take days off and give him the reigns to my shop I would go open the door for him and skate home.
    I had been dealing with this congestion thing and felt like shit. The best thing I could do was take a bunch of meds that weren't working and so I thought maybe a little Whiskey would do the trick.
   Of course I stopped at my usual places all the way there and and then to the liquor store down the street from the church. I don't really remember the name of it.
   Must have been a Wednesday night gathering because behold, there were cars there.
   I'm passing the church on my way home with a spiked 151 and Coke in a 32oz soda. Pushing my skateboard. And I'm passing this church and I hear something that tells me that I should go in.
   "Go in there. Check it out!"

  So. Alright I guess I will go in and check out the inside of this church. Soda and skateboard in hand, probably dirty and smelling of dirty clothes and booze.
  After all, this church was good enough for my good ol man, Gary, right?
   I'm sure it was a beautiful ceremony with both MEXICAN families joining together in a wonderful matrimony.
   Inside the church were high ceilings with wooden beams running across the ceilings. They had wooden pews with the bible and song books in the backs.
   It was carpeted and they had speakers at the top corners of the front walls where the words of senior citizens sang songs in the back of the preacher at his podium.
   I tried to not laugh at some of the thoughts I was having at how many old people there were in the church. And then it happened.
   I started listening to the preacher and I realized how long it's been since I've heard such words. They were exactly what I needed to hear. They struck me as if they were delivered from somewhere else.
  From HIM himself.
   And then my nose started running. My meds started working. It broke. I looked around and as it seemed that my chest started breaking up from all the mucinex.
   I went to the bathroom and blew my nose and hacked up a lung. And it seemed clear enough for me to make my way back to my spot.
   I sat down and got back to listening my Devine message from God. And then it really started to happen.
   The preacher asked everyone to to pray for the person next to them.
   I wasn't sitting next to anyone. And I think that was my cue to leave but I sat there as though I was demobilized by some invisible tank bomb. All the people turned like at once and started making their way to me.
   Leaving their belongings in the pew where they sat. People with canes and walkers, wigs and balding.  Grey haired giants swarming me with their hands out.
   They started laying hands on me and praying.
  I started breaking up. Glen was coming out of my throat and it was so embarrassing. I started choking. I stared to the ceiling like a lost child. My view obscured by hands attached to arms.
   Everyone of these folks were good people and they thought they were doing gods work. I didn't want to take any of that from them but my nose started leaking down to my lip.
   I grabbed my shirt and started wiping mucus away from my lip and that just made it seem like these guys started praying harder.
   "It's working lord." One said.
    "Let's keep praying guys," said the preacher
     "Stop! Let me up!"
     I grabbed my soda and my skateboard and I made my way for the door. I got through the first doors and the Deccan moved and opened the second door for me. And I ran out of the church and landed to my knees on the grass.
   The congestion was like a string that kept coming from my throat. It just kept coming.
   I'm coughing and gagging and spitting and choking.
   I'm still there when they start pouring out the front doors and a very nice lady comes over and gives me some tissues from her purse. And starts slapping me on the back.
   She starts praying for me in the grass.
   I'm freaking out. I get up grab my soda and skateboard and make for the bike path. I drink my soda and spit it out. It doesn't taste as well as it did.
   I'm a neighborhood block from my little bungalow and I b line it.
   I remember getting home and thinking about the whole ordeal. I role up what's left of my weed and I take a big hit.
   It's like trying to smoke after you get out of the pool. It burns a little. It doesn't taste the same.
   I remember, everything.
   Maybe there was some kind of intervention happening. Some spiritual Devine intervention happening.
   I never slept like that in that year. I slept so good. So deep. So well. And when I woke up, I had this cd that played as I got dressed. The first song on it was "the Good Times are killing me" by MODEST MOUSE.

04292016
Is there a God?
At the time, I don't think I was sure. Jeffy and D were sure there was a God. James, well he would always kind of dodge the answer about wether there was a God or not.
"Sure man, maybe there is a god, Kev. I just don't know about any of that religious church type God." He said once.
Me on the other hand had turned completely away from the idea that there was a God or a devil.
Maybe if there was a God, the Devil was or is his, still greatest tool.
After all, God created all the good days! Why shouldn't he be given the bad ones as well? He gives you the bad ones as well as the good ones so that you know the difference between the two. Right?
At this time in my life I didn't like god too much. Trying to be godlike is a lot of work, doing the things that take much effort. I enjoyed my life as a meth using, pot smoking, drunken fuckhead. And being a religious person would make me a complete hypocrite.
So I wasn't ready to return as the "prodigal son" just yet.
My life and my my mind were in separate directions and balance would have been key, but my feet were taking me further than I ever knew they would.
My ex had her hooks in me deep and every time I cut a string, I would find that she already replaced an old one. I was a puppet and she was my marionette. She probably wasn't even trying really. It was so easy.
She would set me off early in the day, and I would be torqued throughout the rest of it. I would spend the day angry and it seemed to work for me.
Being angry with her focused me at work. I could hide all of that most of the time and escape within the confines of my four walls and put the anger into motivation. Pull customers and pour myself into my work with them.
Sometimes I would need it so much, I would start that shit. I will own my part.
One day I started some shit, and I went through the day and made a bit of money. I turned it over to my investor, Mike and kept my tips plus 50 bucks for food, I told him.
I had no power on at my house. I should have got my bill payed so I could see at night, but instead, I told Jeffy I was going to skip out on dinner and just head home.
I started pushing my way home except, while I was on my regular route, I stopped at my usual places and for some reason, people were unusually generous. I must have had that whole social drinking thing down because people were getting me wasted!
My two drink usual became a four drink to five drink stop and I was having such a good time. Before I knew it, it was already midnight and I was at my third bar, Famous Sam's.
Karaoke night was funny. Everybody was a rapper! It seemed that even a few people were rapping to weird shit like blue oyster cult and fleet wood Mac. I was truly entertained and if I gave compliment, I got a free drink!
Pretty rad night but it had to end. I grabbed my board and made for home. North up First Ave. and stop at Circle K. Purchased a fifth of Jack and began pushing East on Limberlost and then I saw it.
There it was, under a street light.
It was screaming at me.
"TAKE ME HOME! TAKE ME WITH YOU. DONT LEAVE ME HERE! Take me."
It was almost a haiku chanting in my ear as I got closer to it.
It was a golden chair. Under the street light, it looked magnificent and in my drunken stooper it looked even better.
I stopped at it and looked around and nobody was watching. Nobody was there whispering to me. Saying to take it. But I knew I shouldn't leave it there.
I placed it on the nose of my longboard and I put my base foot on the back and my fifth in the cushion of the chair and got to going just another street to my bungalow.
My dark apartment was lit by candlelight. It didn't look like the cave in the original lost boys movie, but it was bright.
From spring to summer, I rarely had both my electricity or gas on at the same time, but I didn't have either on in my house at this time.
I was was a waste of life man. It was crazy when I look back on these days. But before this, my voices never took me to bad places.
I put this chair in the corner of my room and it stayed there, and nobody, and I mean nobody, ever sat there.
I had the chair for a few months and the only person who ever sat in it was me from time to time, but only when I cleaned it off. And it was always funny to me. How shit would pile on it.
Everything from jackets or hoodies. To my backpack or books. Sometimes, dishes.
I know right? Dishes?
But yeah. Weird stuff.
I would come home from work in a good mood, but an hour later? Oblivion. I was angry and drunk. And the words that passed me were never good.
I would never be in a good place. It felt like I didn't want to be home ever. And when I was home, I was stupid.
I just wanted to die. Suicidal.
Drink myself to sleep. While in the bath or just sad. I couldn't ever be happy. I was lost.
If I could find somewhere else to sleep I did. I didn't want to go home.
No amount of praying for me seemed to work! Because I believed that my home was possessed by something else.
Something else was sitting in that chair. Just whispering to me.
As long as I wasn't there, I felt great but when I came home, my house smelled like death! With the heat of an oncoming summer and no power, in combination of all the dirty clothes or dirty dishes, I thought, maybe that was what made my house smell.
But it wasn't. I would clean my house when I was gacked out and I would do it well, and still when I got home, my place wreaked!
A voice told me that the chair was haunted. And that I should get rid of it.
I didn't want to believe it. Maybe I was crazy.

You know, I didn't want to think I was crazy. I have never heard a bad word from the guiding voices. I wouldn't want to tell any of my friends about this Idiocrasy, but I had to think about it.
Did I bring home more than just a chair?
Was this a crazy idea?
Was I still being dumb?
"Do you want to come home and not have to think about it anymore?"
I never really minded talking to me. As long as "I" knew that he understood "myself". But when a more hostile self starts telling you to off yourself, "myself" didn't really know where "I" was coming from when we were talking with "me".
You follow?
I decided it would be great, if I carried that chair to the dumpster. Threw that golden chair into it and looked back.
Only in the sunlight, I guess, could I finally see all the stains on its sides. Blood stains? Maybe.
Although, somebody tried cleaning this chair, they just couldn't save it. It stank. Smelled like someone actually died in it.
I wonder if somebody offed themselves in it. Or maybe they died in it and released all themselves into it. Panic sweat, piss and shit.
Maybe it wasn't blood. It was shit.
And I had it in my house. And could never figure out why my house stank. And maybe that's why nobody ever sat in it. Because they weren't blinded by intoxication. They just knew.
I never realized it.
Till I threw that stinky chair in the dumpster.
I remember days after, James and Hillary came over and Hill said to me, "Kev, your house smells clean!"
"And it really isn't!" I laughed.
"It really isn't! You're so right!" She said as she took a second look around.
I told her the story of why I threw the chair out, and we laughed. I thought the chair was possessed with an evil being and that now that it was gone, I didn't mind coming home.
Yeah. Looking back I think I might of have been running from a religion, but I was fully in tune with the darkest part of it. Why was it so easy for me to believe in a possessed chair but not a positive light that guides us.
I was in tune with my own positive guides as long as I didn't call them angels or god. I was okay with dark souls stuck on earth attached to possessions but not the devil himself. Just demons.
Demons came at me from all angles.
People mostly. Temptations really. Anything to keep me on course with destruction. But I didn't want to say there was a devil. A Satan. A beelzabub.
I wanted to be happy. I really did.
Juggling everything, I was the fool. On a tarot card. With a burning tower behind it following the devil over a cliffs edge while riding a unicycle with with a heart of nine daggers. An inverted magician walking away from the lovers upside down looking at death. While the hanged man looks to the queen of pentacles.
You know the reading.
Thanks for your time. Have a good night.

   I may have painted a bad picture of these times.
   Yeah, I had some deftly terrible moments! I may have talked to imaginary friends. I may have even talked to myself a lot.
  I had probably payed some dues when it came to earning any happiness I ever found there. I lived in lost moments and twisted severities of sanity. Whatever I may have been living, I was honestly ignorant to its depression.
   I found humor in its paradox.
   One moment in time there my sister Patty came to visit. It was planned. I knew she was coming. And yet, I forgot that she had arrived. She sat at the airport for nearly two hours before I could have a friend come pick her up.
   They showed up at the shop and I took my ass reaming from my sister while I was stoned and laughing and then we went out to eat. Except I was so spun, that I didn't engage in much eating.
    We made our way back to my pad and I obviously didn't put much work into her homecoming. My place was in shambles.
    I could see her making slow looks around at everything, just taking in all the sites. I had painted acrylic murals on the walls and my door. And she said she liked them but there was a certain tone of bad judgement.
   That week that she was there was eye opening for her really. I didn't sleep. I was never there and the poor girl spent more time with my friends than me. But I did take some time off a day before she left.
    She met all of my friends including some that haven't been mentioned and then some. All lightning bolts.
    I got messed up that week more than any others though.
    I'm not sure how I got caught up in all the action. But I did. I thought I was being sneaky as Patty slept but I wonder if she was asleep at all. I started smoking some stuff in another room but she caught me.
   Busted I nearly broke the pipe.
    We had some words over what a shitty time she was having. She was clearly not interested in the GOOOOOD times I was having. And my sister clearly wasn't interested in weed smoke or meth.
   I apologized. I felt bad after our loud discussion. And I wanted to make it right. With just two days left, I had to make an effort to make a memory.
   So I called up my brother James. And we took her into the deep desert. ATV and Jeep riding.

  We would ride through every trail out at the "ranch" that there was. At anytime that we were awake. It was always so fun to hang with my peeps. I didn't need to have pockets of fake happiness. I knew this would do it.
   So we were out as the sun was coming down and I was following James and we hit som moon dust.
   I was behind him following as usual and began eating a rooster tail of dirt so I started trail blazing through my own path. And made a few good turns and then, a bad one.
   I had my choice of ocotillo or saguaro cactus. I chose the ocotillo. Popped a wheelie and almost fell backwards and using my left foot I pushed myself back up.
   Hyper extending my ACL and tearing the crap all together of my whole left knee.
   Memory made.
    My knee had so much water in it you would think I was a camel.
   A funny thing happened though.
   I decided it would be a good idea to give Patty all of my belongings. The ones that mattered most to me. Pictures. Notebooks. Spiral spines and and sketch books. Pictures of my son and my daughter.
   She may have thought I was going to commit suicide. I told her to keep them safe for me. I meant it. We got her there to the airport and I said goodbye to all the painful things I had written.
   Nothing left to remind me of any of it. I went back to work.

George has changed so much since these days. I look at these photos though and I can just see my body deteriorate as time goes on.
    I was so proud of this little hole in the wall. I continued my path wasting away in my poppy field. Living but not really living.
   Making a living but not really making a life.
   I wasn't lost.
    The funny thing about my active addiction, I remember being so free of conscience. I never once felt terrible about how I was living. I never once looked around as slowly as my sister did in my house after just two steps into it, reading every clue that said I was in pain and that changes needed to be made.
    I kept just being okay with shit that just wasn't okay. Couldn't be okay.

  Man, I miss that keychain. I used to whip it out like I was flipping out my cock and just wink at chicks. I swear it was as cheesy as it sounds but I had an arrogance and a confidence that was above kilter! It worked though.
   I look at this picture now, and I can read my face like an open book.
   I can read the veins popping in my arms and the Adam's apple in my throat.
   That shirt fits me tight these days. Jajaja
    I had just a few more months in me. Oblivious to the fact that I was in peril danger. Maybe a danger only my friends Jeff and D could see.

5012016

Oh yeah. This was me to a T.
Song is funny, but in real life? I didn't mind too much.
The days passed and it came fast.
James came and picked me up for work and we stopped at a convenience store on Ft. Lowell and Mountain.
I seen this cute lady working in the store there named Sarah. I gave her that cheese dick vacation line and handed her a magic business card and told her if she wanted an escape, I had my own place and moved out of my moms house years ago.
She called it.
The summer came and my son came and stayed with me for six weeks.
She helped with my son while I was at work and put some time in with me. And of course, after my son left I went into a spiral all over again and became too much for anyone.
I had some friends staying with me too. My bro had a girlfriend who was pregnant and they needed a place to crash for awhile till he could get back on his feet.
It didn't help me too much that he was a drug dealer.
And I had seemed to have had a tattoo that I did for a lady who traded me a half oz of meth for it. I usually don't trade art for drugs at this time but that was equivalent to 600 bucks. I figured I could do a little. And shoe box that shit.
But then an opportunity came where I was able to go see Korn in concert with Marilyn Manson in Phoenix and so I thought that the next day, my friend could take me to go see my son. It would have been an hour further.
He had been sober, for several months but one concert with me and I messed that all up.
I didn't know what it meant to him. I didn't know what kind of trouble I had caused him being so messed up at the concert.
He did take me to see my son. I got to spend a moment with him and see the place where he was living and how. I thought I was at a low level then, but seeing that he was in a way better place than what I had made for him in Tucson, I realized just how deep the tunnel really was. I had way further to go.
And then I got home later that day. I did more of that shoebox gold got on my skateboard with a small bag of weed and got to pushing. It wasn't long before I found a bottle of Jack and kept pushing relentlessly through the Tucson streets.
I want to just push it out of me. I pushed my board over to my friend Stew's and I didn't knock on the door. It was three in the morning. I just sat on his step and drank a few swigs and put the bottle back in my back pocket.
I miss those JeanCo jeans with the deep back pockets.
Stew is an avid geeker. He has cams on his porch and they're infrared and he is just watching me from some tv monitor in his house.
He comes to the door and he's like, "Dude, what are you doing?"
I'm sweating. Drunk and just finished the joint I was rolling. "Got a light?"
"Yeah." He comes out and sits on the bench behind me. "What happened? You're obviously in a bad way, I haven't seen you for a month and here you are on my porch at three in the morning."
"I went to see Brody today. Cyndi gave me a kiss and said she loved me before I left and I'm all bent from that and spun out from yesterday's concert. Still can't sleep."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, have you ever been to her house dude?"
"Yeah, once." He said.
"Dude, really? Why didn't you take me?" I said, " how long ago!?"
"A couple of weeks ago. Pretty nice right?"
"Dude, yeah. And he is happy. He has some friends. And they ride bikes and shit. Push skateboards. He is totally happy up there."
"Yeah, I seen that." He said.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going up there, man?"
"Because, you weren't invited man. She is my friend too."he said.
"Hit that and pass it back." I handed him a joint.
"He knows so much more. Keep asking him. He will be honest right now. Keep asking!"
"Dude, you know, lately I feel like that Bob Marley, No woman, No pride. Without that woman, I have no pride bro. I feel like I'm missing so much!"
"What?" He said, "Dude, you've been singing that song wrong your whole life! It's No Woman. No cry! Do you not ever read any lyrics?!"
"I have? Man that's even more fucked up than I thought! That should be my anthem!" I said. "Whataya know Stew? Really though, Whataya fucking know?" And I reached back for my joint.
"You know what, Kev. You guys were my closest friends for some years now. But you two aren't good for each other. She has been cheating on you. You've been cheating on her. And the only one it's hurting is that little Brody."
It had been the first of many confirmations that I ever heard. And it sucked hearing it from him. He was one of those dudes I called brother and if he knew and had some questioned loyalty between her and I, I would have thought for sure, I would have come first. Considering, how I helped him get started and helped him survive his first year.
But it's a proven fact. Never trust your right hand man. Almost every movie ever made is about the betrayal your closest friend. Every old gangster movie is about homies lying to homies.
I should have known.
The voices were right. Once he opened up, it started pouring out and on top of all the bullshit that I was already dealing with, I had to put icing on my cake with a few names of others that I thought I was close to.
Now I knew why they were so close.
I felt foolish. I pushed away from Stews house, and I don't think I ever went back.
I went to Old Gary's house, and I knew it was late, but I was sure he would let me in. It didn't work out that way. The police came and told me to get to walking. And to not bother these nice old folks.
A bullshit day turned to a shitty morning and that turned to a slower day. I went to work and they day dragged.
Jeff and D came in and they knew I went to a concert.
"Did you stay clean Kev?"
"Yeah!"
And then we all (sigh) simultaneously.
I was lying. I knew it. They knew before they asked. And they didn't ask me to dinner that night.
They got the earful of what had triggered me into a waste of time.
I started to think that maybe my program wasn't working. Maybe I should open up to the ideas that were planted.
By this time, I caved a little and went with D to an AA meeting. She liked to go to the early risers meeting so I went one morning when I seemed to be somewhat even. Meaning I stayed up last night but I didn't party the night before. And since I was up, I met her there.
They had said something about just trying not to do something before a meeting. Or after a meeting. Or In-between meetings.
Another guy said that maybe just for 24 hours he didn't have to have a drink. It's hard but it's been working.
I didn't want to listen to a lot of the shit being said, but then another asshole said, " You may not like what you've heard but take what you want, and leave the rest behind."
It was a mixture of addicts and alcoholics there that morning.
I was finally seeking help. I didn't know how to accept though.
Why do I feel like I need to write this stuff? I don't know really. I just feel it's necessary for me to paint the picture solidly.
I wasn't a victim to anyone but myself. I don't want the pity. I don't need it. I was having a hard time finding fun in pocket magic and bottles of fuck it.
Drugs and alcohol weren't doing their jobs for me anymore.

05022016
    These days were tough. I had to succumb to any thing I could do to for money. I did a tattoo for something to do.
   I did a tattoo for a meal.
   I did a tattoo for a guy because he came in a lot and I wanted to look busy.
   I did tattoos for cheap when they did come in. And let's just say things weren't working well for me.
   Aziz brought me a movie. He downloaded movies from the interwebs and this particular morsel was called The Secret. The secret is a book. A self help book but they made a movie out of it for those who have little comprehension.
   "You look sad lately. Watch this movie, ITS GOING TO CAHNGE YOUR LIFE!"
   So I did watch the movie.
   Have you ever seen it or read the book? It's pretty amazing if you don't like religion. Concentrate on positive vibes and meditate on good things. And they will appear in your life.
    Make a vision board and think about the things you have posted on it.
    I needed it. I couldn't hear anything about God. I was deaf to the word although I could read the bible.
    Sometimes when I was alone and wanted to talk to God, I would use this bible my brother Scott gave me many years ago. I still have it. But I would use it like a ouija board.
   I would ask a question and open the book to any page and read it. It's funny how often it helped with whatever I was dealing with at the moment.
   So, I watched the movie several times. Eventually I even got the book but I still haven't read it.
    God was speaking to me from many directions.  I didn't want to hear it though.
   He came to me in the form of Krishna.
Krishna does have missionaries. The guy that came around sold books of all the Indian deities.
   I could be found reading my Indian bible and drinking while watching tv and doing whatever.  The story of Krishna and the thousand dimensions like looking into two mirrors fascinated me. That in each dimension there was another me doing something else and we were all looming in between two mirrors looking into ourselves.
    I liked blue Jesus over the white Jesus for awhile but that book is a hard read.

    I loved all the art in it. The imagery was beautiful.
   I liked all the pictures and pop ups and puzzles but I didn't like God. There were so many. Why choose just one.
   I was practicing these things. Be better by being better. Focus your energy towards better things and my life started to take on a better look but I would eventually slip and have to start all over.
    I knew where I wanted to go, but I had all these weights that I was dragging. I had all kinds of guilts that I never even spoke of. I had all these negatives going on around me and I felt like I couldn't escape.
   My only escape just wasn't working for me anymore. And trying to make an edible platter out of a poop pot wasn't working for me either.
   I was trying. 
   I gave a key to my shop to Jeffy and showed him all the things I needed him to grab if anything was to happen to me. He didn't want that key, but he was the only one closest to my shop and I was pretty close to him.
    I went to work and did the rest of the week and it was slow as fuck. I started thinking about my situation. I was already close to thirty thousand in the hole. This shop wasn't physically going anywhere profit wise.
    I could see the end coming.
   My phone rang.
    "Young Kev's tattoo parlor."
   "Is this Kevin?"
    "Yeah, I'm Kev. How can I help you?"
     "My bro and I are in town for business and we both would like to get some Eagles tattooed." He said, "can we get in tonight?"
    I thought about it for a minute. Did I want to stay hella late tonight? I was on the last of my stash and I really didn't want to stay late. I wanted to watch HEROES and smoke a little weed. I had been good all day.
    "No sir. I'm about done for the day. What kind of eagles are you thinking about?"
    "We want Eagles holding olive branches. Wings out. You know like the ones on the back of the dollar bill?" He snickered, "you know, like you do know what dollars are?"
    "Yeah dude, I get it. Yeah, I can do them in the morning for you."
    He said, "like 6?"
    I said, "how about twelve?"
   He said, "Seriously? Noon? That's your morning?"
    I said, "No sooner than that."
  He said, "Come on, man. You couldn't come in at ten? There's two of us."
    "Nope. There's only one of me. I won't even charge you a deposit. If you want it, I will be there at twelve. See you then."
    This guy was pushy and he laughed at me. I wasn't going to do him any favors.
   I pushed my way home to save the cheer leader so I could save the world. Thinking I had money coming in the morning, I didn't waste time. I smoked the rest of my weed and fell asleep with a little 151 and Coke.
   Regardless of what I told the guy, I still showed up at ten to clean the shop up and prepare an eagle that could be done twice.
   But before I went into my shop I stopped over at AZ SMOKESHOP to hang with Aziz for a minute and get my AZ sweet tea.
    Aziz broke out a whip it and we cracked a good head rush before I went to work.
   I unlocked the door and I turned.

   What the fuck? They even gave me a chance to run. They gave me a hint to who they were. And what they were really coming for and my dumb ass showed up to work anyway.
   There they were with guns drawn telling me to eat the cement. All I could think about was getting my alarm turned off.
     "Get down you with your hands out.  Do it now!"
  I was hand cuffed and they helped me set the alarm and they put me in their car and everyone watching, I was so embarrassed.
   US Marshals. I didn't know they existed. I didn't know there was such a thing.
   What did they pop me for?
    Child support. Really fucking child support?
  Sure enough. I went to court that day and was being held in Florence AZ till my next court date in four days.
    I slept the whole time. They had me on a cot in the rec room and sometimes I didn't even wake up to eat. I slept.
   I would take these four minute pisses, and ten hour naps.
     I went to court, and they released me to US PROBATION. They released me way later in the day and it may have been early morning.
   The only number I knew by heart was James and I didn't know it was their anniversary. He made stuffed pork chops for Hillary.
   I had never known of such things. They were delicious. James is a good man. He just let me interrupt an awesome day to come hours away to pick me up.
    I had to drop UA's three times a week.
   I couldn't smoke weed anymore. I couldn't do meth anymore. All that was left was alcohol. And alcohol by itself, just is as useful as a poop flavored lollipop.
   I wanted to quit using drugs.
   I was on my way.

05032016
The next couple of weeks were a blur really. I was supposed to refrain from using all drugs and alcohol. I was to stay away from people who had felonies and to get a card signed saying that I was attending AA meetings or NA meetings.
I was to complete an out patient treatment program. And the federal government was going to pay for it.
I wouldn't say it wasn't informative. The was this one thing I learned in that class was this thing called brain stroking.
That brain stroking had caused so many addicts to relapse.
I didn't want to admit to the obvious. My problems in life could all be solved if I just started chasing recovery like I did chase my addictions.
This was so early in my recovery that I didn't know what my addiction was. I did everything. My addiction was more than I could see.
This brain stroking thing was a novel idea.
Anytime something hit me in life my answer was to run from it.
Something good? Let's get high.
Something bad? Let's get high.
When I didn't have a pocket of gold, I felt down. Wishing I could get high. But always turning to the elixir of socialism. Another bottle of "I don't give a fuck."
Meth leaves your body in three days.
I was sure that if I tested on Friday, I could get high shortly after and be clean by Tuesday.
My odds were pretty good that I wasn't going to test on Monday. My color was purple and if I called and they called purple, I was to show up and piss in a cup. UA's for the federal government were intrusive and the probation officer Peter Gazed while you pissed in the cup. Start to finish.
God forbid that you get stage fright. It was automatically chosen for test.
One of my buddies I made in out patient treatment told me that my color would be called two to three times a week. And that it's random. If you just go in and get tested, that doesn't necessarily mean that they will test it. So don't fuck up.
James gave me a few hints too on how to pass one.
I had my own method though. It's called get drunk. You never piss more than when you're drunk and I did a lot of that on Sunday.
I drank rum and cokes from 3pm on Sunday and I would drink till I was piss ass drunk around 2am. Making sure that I had pissed 21 times in the day. I figured a guy pisses six maybe seven times a day and water just sucked to drink. I didn't get anything from that but clean.
And if you're piss wasn't yellow enough, they call it diluted and it goes down in your record as a dirty drop anyways.
I was losing the good fight drinking myself into oblivion. I remember a few things about it.
My PO wanted me to prove I had an income. I couldn't show that. What I had been making that year wasn't a record. He wanted me to prove that I had a job and he even came to my shop.
My name was on the window but I had no proof that I owned it. No paper trail. He wanted to talk to my investor as though he was my boss.
But I was my boss.
I had left my card at an AA meeting one night and then I went to retrieve it.
It showed that I was making four meetings a day. I thought that was a good sign.
It was a red flag.
I thought I was being clever.
"You were going to a lot of meetings man. That's good. Why did you stop going for awhile?"
I tried to play it cool.
"Who can keep up with that schedule man? I'm running a business!" We laughed.
"Okay." He said, "next time I see you, I need you to show me some numbers. And hey, blow into this."
He pulled out ABC and told me to take a deep breath and blow hard. I did.
"Ha! Just barely!" He said." Five more points and I would have to take you in."
I knew I was in trouble. I didn't know how much. But I knew that he was on to me. I wanted to run. But there wasn't anywhere for me to go.
I started going to meetings for real. I didn't talk a lot.
Try to not drink for twenty four hours.
If you cannot, you probably have a problem.
Jeffy told me to equate that with not using at all. Try not using at all. Drugs, alcohol, or people.
People? I don't use people.
"Kev, every time I turn around there's another girl around you. You use them just as much as they use you. Think about it." He said. "Try something new. You'll be surprised."
Without these things I was a lonesome depressed little fuck. I never could honestly last more than a few days.
I liked to drink when I was depressed. I liked to smoke all my drugs. If you couldn't see the pain leaving, it was pointless to me. I never really got into pills. Thank goodness for that.
Opiates are a beast to kick.
I like dirty drugs. Not clean ones.
That weekend of the twelfth I snorted a lot of meth on Thursday and thought I would have enough time to flush. I did my regular process of drinking it away and got called in on Monday.
I dropped dirty. Meth will melt slower into your body with residues in your nasal cavity. I might as well put a gun to my head.
Weirdly they let me go. Told me that I shouldn't run and that they would be getting ahold me soon enough.
I went to my buddies house after that and he gave me an oz of weed. I didn't have any money. He just gave it to me. He didn't have any papers or pipes and I just wanted to get high.
He had a pocket bible visible. I asked him for a page and I turned to Philippians 4:13. I knew the verse well.
I tore it out and he was like, "Dude?! Your gonna smoke the bible?"
"Yeah. I can do all things bro!" It wasn't blasphemy to me at the time. I rolled up a killer and got to pushing.
I bought drugs from this guy the whole time I lived in Tucson. Just one guy. Once in awhile, I may have dabbled here and there but yeah, he was my number one.
I lit that joint and pondered as I looked back, I saw all the things I helped him buy. And here I was 33 on my skateboard pushing back to my one bedroom bungalow apartment. Cars motorcycles and trucks. I'm on a fucking skateboard.
How did I get here?
Blinded and brain stroked. I pulled all I could from that bible blunt and focused on what was to come.
My phone rang and it was my old boss Greg. He wanted to work with me again. Told me he could help me out and would be understanding and try to help through the fire.
I called Mike my investor and told him that I thought it was time to think about the situation and probably close it down.
He was devastated and understanding at the same time.
I went to work and did a lil tattoo of a blue spiderweb on an elbow and went to the guys house afterward and drank some Irish car bombs and headed out.
I met up with this guy named Peabody who drove this sick ass Impala with Gucci interior and hydraulics. He took me to a strip club where he threw a lot of money around and made it rain a lot.
We got high as fuck and then I got to pushing again.
I pushed through all my running grounds from speedway to Euclid and up north making turns every which way.
I stood outside of Sarah's house and looked up to the apartment I spent a lot of time in and I knew, not to even try. Lights out, three in the morning.
I went home from there and put a few of my things away and smoked the rest of my stuff. I got drunk. And finished eating what ever I had in the cupboards.
I was wide asleep.
Eyes wide shut.
Thinking paranoid. I knew I was at the end. End of the trail.
Alone.
We come into the world alone, and we walk out the same. With nothing.
I went to work the next day and was called in by my PO.
Don't run. Just come in and we won't add another charge.
I showed up. Was arrested. Arraigned the same day and sent back to Florence.

This is the only picture I have of that day.
This was the beginning of the best thing that ever happened to me. I was in custody and drying out in a federal holding center called CCA.
I'm still alive. I'm clean. I believe in God and I can write books on apps like these for the masses to read. My view on my life.
I haven't been back on stupid for a long time now. 9 years now.
I was a total shit head. Now I'm not.
I don't know if I have anything else to write you about me.
With a lot of work and abstinence from using alcohol, drugs, and people to make me feel better, I still have an awesome life. I have somewhat a relationship with all that matters.
Real relationships with my kids, no matter how strained that they may seem. I'm making attempts on the daily to be where I never could have been.
Not apologizing. Just attempting to make amends in any way possible.
I wasn't the best dad I could be till I got clean and making these amends means the world to me.
People ask me all the time, how did I get here? What keeps me driven?
You kids are all that keep Me driven.
That you are my reason. If I turned back now, all the hard work would be a waste of time.
I'm invested now. It's only too late when you're dead.
I love you. I'm sorry for the way I was. I'm not sorry for the way I am.
I hope this finds you with an open heart. Good day.