tymn-blog1

[tymn-blog1]

Final edit

In July of 1971 President Richard Nixon declared a war on drugs and the people that took them, American citizens doing stuff in their home. "Public enemy number one" he said

He said a lot of stuff. The year before I saw him shoot some kids that went to school in Kent, Ohio. Damn, I lived in Ohio and went to school. Vietnam was unofficially declared a gdmn shitshow and was being broadcast into my house. The My Lai massacre photos made a huge impression on me. I saw a monk burn himself to death, which I thought was kinda cool. The Weather Underground was doing revolution and blowing shit up. Jim Morrison also died that month. At least that fvkr was gone. It was unclear to me who exactly the enemy was?

In 1971 I was eight and didn't have an opinion about drugs or how to use them. I continued my education at the government school. Four years later I chose sides while listening to Fleetwood Mac and "burning one". I wasn't super impressed with the kids weak Mexican schwag but I was proud of myself for making a descion. I was 12 now and a criminal under Federal, State and local laws, because of plant smoking. If I was caught I could lose everything. I was never caught. At some point inferences were made but nothing could be proven. I grew pot in the backyard. My parents had divorced and nobody was ever home. This is a prime indicator of kids fckng up. I was actually well chuffed the old boy had moved on, he was kind of a dick. I continued my subversive criminal activity which now included, underage drinking, vandalism, hitchhiking, and making small explosives. I was also a Cubscout. I could sit still for hours and enjoyed reading. It made my standardized education easy and unenjoyable. It seemed weird getting good grades without learning anything. I spent weekends in the woods drinking beers which you couldn't get unless you were old enough. In 1980 I decided to take LSD. I kept on reading books, just not school books. I came close to graduating but instead aged out. I turned 18 and didn't go to school anymore. I grew punk hair and moved to an abandoned ghost town, Cleveland, Ohio. Everybody had left, and all this nothing was now ours. We bought cheap cars that we didn't insure and drove around drunk, really fkn drunk. We fucked around in empty old buildings and broke shit.

Coke was a thing, so I did coke. I didn't buy coke but lots of kids did. I mainly bought pot and beer, sometimes psylocybin.

My new illiterate neighbor sold me Angel Dust aka PCP. That was some weird stuff. Him and his idiot brother showed me their guns and talked about being shot at while guzzling whiskey.

The brothers, their two large wives, some awful kids and a flea bitten dog lived behind me in what today is quaintly know as a Tiny House, It was tiny for sure, hot and filthy too. I lived in the house up front for $65 a month. I came home one day to find my roommate staggering, dazed and bleeding in the street. He had neglected to give the landlord the rent, So the landlord kicked his ass and took his stereo. I decided to move onto somebodys couch for a while, then down into somebodys basement. After a couple months of couch surfing me and and my dude were able to convince some guy to rent us our own Tiny Dump on the near East side, $150 a month. We got another roommate to keep expenses to a minimum. Bob was older and could illegally buy us liquor and usually had pot. It got cold doing anarchy and punk without any bourgeois utilities. We drank cheap scotch because Bukowski would have and we argued about who was right. We all chipped in and bought some electricity so we could listen to our records and play the guitars. The Landlord lived in front and didn't care if we practiced our punk schtick during the day. He was a 3rd generation Polish/Catholic dude and had five kids. We countered by getting dogs. We came home at 3 a.m. and played our records and tried to drink more alcohol. We accidentally burned down the vacant house nextdoor. It was a blighted eyesore and needed gentrification. Mr.Johnski was kinda pissed. We had to move again. This was all before fancy record keeping machines could put your mugshot right on gdmn Google. We were White and had cash You could rent an entire busted up shit hole for less then $200. We had somewhere to practice, get drunk, grow weed and fight each other. The filthy basements served as festoring incubators. The kids would exchange ideas and punch each other. People moved in and out with regularity and little else. Touring bands would come stay overnight. We would show them the bar and how there was nothing to do. Paying rent was only an inconvenience and not a tightening noose.

If you wanted to you could just not pay rent and go live somewhere else, besides, fuck that guy. The place was a dump anyway. Sometimes we sold plasma to keep the records spinning and amps lit up. I broke Bob's clock. On purpose. We spent most days loitering and trying to smoke weed. At night if there wasn't some shitty band playing somewhere we went to the bar. There really wasn't a drinking age at this place though it may have been 15. We did crimes in the parking lot buying, selling and smoking Cannabis. Coke wasn't my thing but some dudes really liked it and spent all night shoveling their beaks and trying to get girls to suck them off. At 2:30 a.m. everybody went somewhere else, preferably somewhere with coke. At 5:30 the bars would reopen and you could buy more beer and eat a pickled egg. At some point Ronald Reagan became president and upped the ante' on the war many people had forgotten they were fighting. His wife Nancy wanted me to just say no, I decided to just try heroin. I had accepted that I was a criminal because the government said so.

[tymn-blog1]

In July of 1971 President Richard Nixon declared a war on drugs and the people that also took them, American citizens doing stuff in their home. "Public enemy number one" he said

He said a lot of stuff. The year before I saw him shoot some kids that went to school in Kent, Ohio. Dang, I also lived in Ohio and went to school. Vietnam was unofficially declared a gdmn shitshow and was being broadcast into my house. The My Lai massacre and photos made a huge impression on me. I saw a monk burn himself to death, which I thought was kinda badass. The Weather Underground was doing revolution and blowing shit up.

It seemed unclear to me who exactly the enemy was? Jim Morrison died that month too, at least that fckr was gone.

I was only eight years old in 1971 and didn't have an opinion about drugs or how to use them. I continued my education at the government school. Four years later I chose sides while listening to Fleetwood Mac and "burning one". I wasn't super impressed with the kids weak Mexican schwag but I was proud of myself for making a descion. I was 12 and now a criminal under Federal, State and local laws, because of plant smoking. If caught I could lose everything. I was never caught. At some point inferences were made but nothing could be proven. I grew pot in the backyard. My parents had divorced and nobody was ever home. This is a prime indicator of kids fckng up. I was actually well chuffed the old boy had moved on, he was kind of a dick. I continued my subversive criminal activity and started including underage drinking, vandalism, hitchhiking, and making minor explosives in my routine. I was also a Cubscout. I could sit still for hours and enjoyed reading. It made the education easy and unenjoyable. I spent the weekends in the woods drinking beers which you couldn't get unless you were old enough. In 1980 I decided to take LSD. I kept on reading books, just not school books. I came close to graduating but instead aged out. I turned 18 and didn't go to school anymore. I grew punk hair and moved to an abandoned ghost town, Cleveland, Ohio. Everybody was gone, and all this nothing was now ours. We bought cheap cars that we didn't insure and drove around drunk, really fkn drunk. We fucked around in empty old buildings and broke shit.

Coke was a thing, so I did coke. I didn't buy coke but lots of kids did. I mainly bought pot and beer, sometimes psylocybin.

My new illiterate neighbor sold me Angel Dust aka PCP. That was some weird stuff. Him and his idiot brother showed me their guns and talked about being shot at while guzzling whiskey.

The brothers, their two large wives, some awful kids and a flea bitten dog lived behind me in what today is quaintly know as a Tiny House, It was tiny for sure, hot and filthy too. I lived in the house up front for $65 a month. I came home one day to find my roommate staggering, dazed and bleeding in the street. He had neglected to give the landlord the rent, So the landlord kicked his ass and took his stereo. I decided to move onto somebodys couch for a while, then down into somebodys basement. After a couple months of couch surfing me and singer were able to onvincesome guy to rent us our own Tiny Dump on the near East side, $150 a month. We got another roommate to keep expenses to a minimum. Bob was older and could illegally buy us liquor and usually had pot. It got cold doing anarchy and punk without any bourgeois utilities. We drank cheap scotch because Bukowski would have and we argued about who was right. We all chipped in and bought some electricity so we could listen to our records and play the guitars. The Landlord lived in front and didn't care if we practiced our punk schtick during the day. He was a 3rd generation Polish/Catholic dude and had five kids. We countered by getting dogs. We came home at 3 a.m. and played our records and tried to drink more alcohol .We accidentally burned down the vacant house nextdoor. It was a blighted eyesore and needed gentrification. Mr.Johnski was kinda pissed. We had to move again. This was all before fancy record keeping machines could put your mugshot right on gdmn Google. We were White and had cash You could rent an entire busted up shit hole for less then $200. We had somewhere to practice, get drunk, grow weed and fight each other. The filthy basements served as a festoring incubator. The kids would exchange ideas and punch each other. People moved in and out with regularity and little else. Touring bands would come stay overnight. We would show them the bar and how there was nothing to do. Paying rent was only an inconvenience not and tightening noose.

If you wanted to you could just not pay rent and go live somewhere else, besides fuck that guy. The place was a dump anyway. Sometimes we sold plasma to keep the records spinning and amps lit up. I broke Bob's clock. On purpose. We spent most days loitering and trying to smoke weed. At night if there wasn't some shitty band playing somewhere we went to the bar. There really wasn't a drinking age at this place though it may have been 15. We did crimes in the parking lot buying, selling and smoking Cannabis. Coke wasn't my thing but some dudes really liked it and spent all night shoveling their beaks. At 2:30 a.m. everybody went somewhere else, preferably somewhere with coke. At 5:30 the bars would reopen and you could buy more beer and eat a pickled egg. At some point Ronald Reagan became president and upped the ante' on the war many people had forgotten they were fighting. His wife Nancy wanted me to just say no, I decided to just try heroin. I had accepted that I was a criminal, the government said so.