The Devil's Child A Biography

Before I start this story I will warn you it will make you feel uncomfortable. It is natural when you walk into someone else's shoes and walk a moment in their world. There is sex drugs violence and religion, not all in that order. So sit back, brew a cup of coffee or tea, pour yourself a bourbon or crack open a cold one. Light a joint or whatever floats your boat. Sit back and enjoy this ride. Share it if you like it, donate if you really enjoyed it. Just think of it as buying me a coffee or a beer, the price is up to you. You could also buy me a car, just saying you don't have to be cheap. Peace and love

So please tread lightly as you step into my mind, and understand this experience you are about to read is my truth. I will hide some of the faces and names, yet I will not sit here and lie to you. My life is interesting enough. I don't need to tell you tall tales.  You still won't believe most of it, and I personally don't care. I just hope you have fun, see some truly excuse the language but some fucked up things.

Chapter 1 

Birth and Memories

My first memories, the first time reality became a little bit clear was at my grandfather's funereal on February 25 1976. I was born in August 4 1974 so I was a year and six months old at the time.  I was in a chair that supported my back yet I remember being restrained in. I couldn't see much as I was laying down only able to see half the door of inside of my father's 1975 burgundy Gm van. The sounds of cries and the tears in peoples eyes was my first memory of this world. I guess it is befitting start. Life does seem to have a way with some of us, no sweet nectar of the bosom from a mother with love in her heart. Sometimes life gives bitterness.

I was born as the mistake after my mother was told she was not able to have any more children, which made her extremely happy. I have two older Brother and two twin sisters. they are 11, 12 and 13 years difference. My father was a long haul truck driver, so he was never home. Something I always hated him for and I lashed out as much as disposable for him to give me any attention. Even if it was negative. It wasn't until I grew a little older to understand why he was never home. The woman that yelled at me, scorned me from ever being born was the same woman he was running from.

As a young boy I actually thought my sister was my mother, she was the one always taking care of me. And the person who would never stop yelling was someone I just didn't understand. However my sister already knowing this woman, was making plans of her own to get the hell out of that house. So it was in that time my life was simple, my real mother worked all the time and my sister took me everywhere. I walked around a mall while she worked in kitchen, I got to know most of the staff pretty good and they use to buy me drinks, give me food. It wasn't until I was five that I started working in a small kiosk pouring drinks and icing up cups for the Regina Saskatchewan Roughriders.

Eventually I was flipping burgers until age 12 I was hitting on the owners daughter while running my own canteen, I was eventually fired for stealing a pack of cigarettes, it was hard to buy smokes at 12, not impossible mind you but hard all the less. At the time all you needed was a note from your parents and I was smart enough to hold on to the one my mom wrote me. My one sister, the one who nursed me left when she turned 18. Leaving me alone in the house, my other twin sister had already moved out much earlier as did my brothers.

By that time I was already a complete alcoholic. My father working as a truck driver was actually driving truck for one of Canada's biggest brewers at the time called Molson Canadian. At the time Molson's was synonyms with being Canadian. It was in our commercials, at our sporting events. It was hockey, football and good old Canadian values... Keep the population drunk and addicted so you can keep they obeyed. So there was always booze around my house. And those times that my father was home, the house would be filled with people. Weekend gambling nights, pool, and just getting hammerd. I use to be the cute little bartender and DJ for those parties. Everyone loved how very much older I seemed than the other kids. I was hanging out at the adults table by 7-8 ish. I made a lot of money playing cards, and sipped a lot of booze. I guess I started drinking around that time also, 7 or 8. There was always a wedding or a party every weekend. There was also my father's bar. He loved this bar. It was filled with liquor from around the world, well that's what he thought anyways. By 11 most of it was water.

He never got the chance to find that out. I remember drinking the last bottle and looking at my best friend and laughing. I walked outside, grabbed my soccer ball and kicked it as hard as I could at the glass wall, with the glass shelves and shattered the entire thing. Now I didn't drink everything, some tasted like shit, so it smelt like alcohol, yet it should have stunk a lot worse. My best friend was Rob Hugh, he was not my childhood best friend. That was Devin. I do miss him. We were great friends until one dark day that broke us both up. I was about 6, I think he was a year younger than me. We were always playing at his house, I never played at home. I never wanted to be home. The neighbour came out with a model gas powered airplane. I remember both of us being fascinated at it. He started it up and let it go down the road but never taking off. We both ran over to talk with him and he was very eager to talk with us. He told us that he had more planes inside if we wanted to see them. Us being to young children thought this was a great idea, it was only in his basement. He moved shortly after that. And we drifted apart. Something like that shouldn't be shared between best friends. He gave me a model airplane as it was me who got the worst of it and he wanted me to shut up. We did. I don't think we ever talked about that day afterwards. I burnt that plane to the ground once I got a little older. The memory was too much. Now this wasn't my first dealing with predators. I was a victim at a too early age and in that I started sharing my sex addiction to my friends. I was very young and having sex very very young. Along with having a mind that was smarter than most people for some strange reason, I was also hung like a horse. Blue eyes, blonde light brown hair and a big dick for a child is not the best mixture when you are faced with such obstacles early in life. It wasn't until I was in grade one that I started being attracted to women.

Now I went to a catholic school back 1979, they actually still had nuns that would beat you senseless if you speak out of line. Me I questioned their religion, laughed at their studies and never sitting in my seat. They eventually had to tie me down with thick rope and left me in the hallways so all the kids could laugh to get me to stop. This is when I first picked up one of my bad ticks, sitting on my hands. The punishment was always writing lines or sitting on my hands all day. I broke the habit a few years ago when I noticed I have been doing this since way back then. I was eventually kicked out of grade one for licking the pee pee of a girl in the slide area during nap time. I was also banned from ever going to a catholic school again. That is when they put me in public elementary school back in grade one and let's just say I was the devils child. My first day I was there early, I put tacks on everyone's chairs but mine, I took the airplane that was hanging on the ceiling and broke it, throwing it into the fish tank and stealing a bunch of old coins I found in the teachers desk. What a way to make an entrance. As school went on and the drinking, I was making quite a name for myself. When it came to curriculum I took it to a whole new approach. When they gave me my school work and books for the year, I would rush home and finish them. After that I didn't listen to their authority. I didn't listen to my parents why the hell was I going to listen to them? So they passed me every year, most of the time in detention or for a few years I had the help of a lovely guidance counselor. She understood I was bored and got me involved in the debate club, the cheese club, the AV club and the cribbage club. I was also swimming. My parents got me lessons every year to the swimming place where they would teach me every Friday how to swim. As Maynard from Tool said, learn to swim. And at the end of each year they would have a lottery of who was going to teach me that year. I made their lives a living hell. I retired two of them. One in seventh grade and one in High School. I was good looking and smart but very rebellious. I couldn't find a girl friend because they assumed I was gay from all those gay things I was doing. And yes I do like men, I just never found one who ever excited me enough to date them. It was only sex. I eventually started dating a high school girl at grade 7. It was during the time I was gifted with something I never knew I needed, something that would calm the fire inside me and give me the peace I was so looking for without ever knowing. I found metal music. Metallica Master Of Puppets. When the guitar started strumming and the classical music starts playing, it was beautiful. My eyes were as wide as it could be,as I was gripping my knees. When the drums kicked in I teared, and than the riff kicks in. I left the link to the YouTube album just so you can get a little understating of how I felt in 1986 with so much rage in my heart. I hated the stuff my friends were listening. Well I did like Salt and Pepper but Samantha Fox, and all that lame love music was enough to make me sick. I didn't want to listen about love, I never knew love. I was never told how much I was loved. I was alone. At the time I was getting a little violent. I lost my buddy Rob because his mother wouldn't let me hang out with him any more. We use to spend hours together playing D&D with a few other buddies. His older sister was a big influence on me. Helped guide my love of all things science fiction. She was the one who gave me my first novel, it was Dune. The new movie should be coming out this year, I hope it will be good and not a wreck of mind numbing social justice rhetoric. Yes I understanding you are trying to fight your injustices, yet sometimes you can leave it out of the entertainment world. I watch movies to escape reality, not get lectured by it on how I could be a better ally. Now I found a lot more then just my love and joy of D&D and science fiction at Rob's place, I also found my new best friend.

It was one day I came over and my best friend was laughing his ass off. I said what's so funny when he said you have to see what i found. So he brings me into his moms room and pulls out a black briefcase and shows me his moms giant black double dildo and just starts laughing. Me thinking that would be kinda fun, looked away from it in shame and noticed something large on the other side in the folder. I said Rob, do you know what this is? He said no, what? This is pot, weed. What do you do with it he asks? I have to older brothers who were into a lot of partying and drugs. They were eleven and thirteen years older than me and I seen a lot growing up. I remember a time my brothers were babysitting me at a small house close to the tracks and industrial area, so not a lot of neighbors. This house was a never ending party. So this night, things were getting a little crazy. My oldest brother decided to take 11 hits of acid, two in each eye. He sat in his chair with his homemade speakers and played his favorite album as loud as it could go. That is when my other brother put me in his room. I do remember my oldest brother coming in the room and giving me a Iron Maiden flag and a Black Sabbath Black Sabbath record from 1970. It was his favorite. That night he saw God. He took everything obtaining to sin and burnt it in his back yard and devoted his life to God. Which he still is doing now. Still waiting for the rapture that is still coming tomorrow. the last 38 years.

Now I looked at my friend and said we need to make a pipe. I went upstairs and grabbed the toilet paper roll and the tin foil and built myself a pipe, something I seen in a movie once. We both sat in the basement blowing the smoke in the dyer hoping it would blow out the through the tube in the back. That is when I had my first hoot. And I fell in love. I was already a complete alcoholic and only being 11, it wasn't until 12 that I actually quit drinking and started getting high full time by finding my first dealer. So I grabbed a handful of his moms pound of weed and took it home. I tell you GI Joe and D&D are so much better when you are stoned. We went everyday grabbing more and more of his moms weed and sat in the basement getting high every day after elementary school. Cheese club? Gone. Baseball, soccer, debate club, all gone. I needed medication to ease the suffering in my mind. I was already cutting myself so I could actually see something other than just feeling pain. I cut myself bad, with arms scared for years. Yet as time goes on scars fade and does bad memories. That is why I love my mother now, when I time I thought she was the most evilest person in the world. It wasn't truly her fault, she was suffering from a well hidden mental illness. Something that was all known between my brothers and sisters, yet the doctors didn't find out until she was about to turn 80. I notice I jump a lot, it is hard to tell you this story while keeping it small, interesting and not bad enough to incriminate myself, I'm not an idiot. It doesn't help that I remember everything. I used drugs to erase those memories, only to make too many memories from them. So where was I, oh yes. I think it was the large amount of missing marijuana that determined that I was a bad influence to her kids.

So here I am still in elementary school, grade 7 dating a high school girl and growing my hair long. I was the popular kid and the bullied kid at the same time. The much cooler kids called me a fag, to the rest I was pure entertainment. I was the class clown, clever and grew up listening to Richard Pryer records. I had already noticed that the history books were written by the winner and all my first nations friends already told me the history of their people. I grew up in Regina Saskatchewan, the biggest native reserve in Canada. My neighborhood was a mixture of all races, it was a small lower middle class community surrounded by the projects. Around this time I started drinking just enough to be social while also being the guy who always had weed. My father got a phone call one day that an entire shipment of Coors light got damaged in an accident and there was thousands of dented cans of beer to take. My father being him, rushed right over and filled his van full of the disgusting beer. Sorry not sorry to those who drink it. In my defense it was piss ass warm.

So let's just say I was the life of the party. Where ever I went I took two gym bags full of beer with me. I did it for almost a year until it become too old to drink. At the end my mother heard that she could pour it on the grass to help make it grow, so she bought one of those mixing bottles that attach to the garden hose and gave the grass the last remaining bits of that vile old stale beer. But thanks all the same for the memories and tail
I use to get back then with it. God I was the devil.

When grade eight started I was a little calmer. The heavy metal music was giving me an outlet for my anger and I became a pacifist once I noticed that I was not showing enough compassion. I wanted to die at a very young age, so other's lives were nothing to me. As I said earlier I was cutting myself by 9 and had my first suicide attempt was at 12. I took a bunch of sleeping pills hoping they would do the trick, yet life had it's own plans for me and I woke up sick, puking on the verge of death but I didn't choke on my own vomit. I almost did yet life's a cruel mistress.

As I was getting ready to go into High School with a better outlook my science teacher sat me down with my parents and told me that they will be sending me to the bad school for kids who don't behave and special needs. I begged them to please not let me go there. I said I have been quiet, I wasn't listening to the teachers however I was still better behaved. So when I went home that night I sat down and wrote a short story and sent it to the public High School a few blocks away from my house. At the end of the school year my science teacher called me into the office and told me to sit down. He pulled out the story I had sent to the school with a letter attached. He read it to me as I sat quietly. Mr Welder, thank you for sending us such a lovely story, we would be happy to have you in our school and we will see you next year. Now he stopped and started at me not even blinking as he crumpled the letter up and tossed it into the garbage. No he said, you are going to this trade school where you will learn something more interesting. More interesting... I loved science, real history, astronomy, and physics. Not fucking welding or flower arrangement. I didn't last long in High school. They failed me in grade 9 and during the first day of my second attempt of grade 9 I was kicked out for selling drugs. I bought a gram of hash for a kid in school and I admit I took a lot of it. He was buying it to impress this girl, so he mixed it with a paste that he found in his fathers shop. When the girl smoked it she got brain damage and I was blamed. I never even met the girl. Which was okay because I was already getting ready to leave my parents place. I lost most of my original friends because of the bad road I was walking, and I ended up coming home late and leaving first thing in the morning. The only thing I found good about High school was meeting my best friend, he is still with me now. I don't think he ever wants to be far away from me. He isn't doing good but that part is much later in this story. What can I say about High School? Long hair, listened to metal. I loved playing guitar but every one of my friends also played guitar, so I picked up the Bass. I hung around a lot with bands, until I eventually slept with all of their girlfriends. I was terrible for that. My motto was, you can trust me with your money or your life, but never your drugs or your wife. Cheesy I know but I thought I was a bad ass. And In fact I was. My parents thought I was being influenced by a older boy who lived up the street, no it was in fact me who was the bad influence and by reading this I wonder why... You know I am giving up all this for free so I am not giving up a lot of my stories, just enough for you to sit back and see the world though another set of eyes. At the end of this story I will leave a link, if you liked it buy me a beer or send a couple bucks for the time I gave you away from your own life to experience something a little bit stranger. I understand we are all under quarantine right now during Corona. It's still on the first wave so if you are reading this in the future either yeah, we survived or it didn't turn out as bad as they made us fear to believe. We are here actually, on this date of the lunar cycle of July 22 20202 Now I will get back to the story.

Now my first house I ever lived in full time paying rent was in this old brick war time house. When you walked inside the entire top floor was gutted. There was just a staircase going downstairs with a full basement. I slept on the floor and rent was high yet it did have it's benefits. When you open this strange red door in the upstairs you walk down a narrow flight of stairs, just big enough to get some furniture through. So there wasn't much for furniture. As you ascend down the stairs the first thing yo see is a stack of guitar amps and a full double bass drum set. On the side was a 1500 watt bass amp, which I actually didn't use once I found out how much fun drums are. I was staying there for awhile, doing actually really good when I get a call from my buddies girlfriend. She got in a fight with her parents and she needed a place to stay. I said why didn't you phone your boyfriend? I don't want to she says. So I arranged a way to get her over as I didn't drive. The way I lived and the want I had for my own death was not a good mix at the wheel of a car. So she came over that night, she was beautiful. She was dressed in your typical big hair metal band look. Tight jeans, a white shirt with a logo on it and a jean jacket with patches of her favorite bands. Her hair long, almost white. Her name was Dana and I always had the hots for her. I mean who didn't. We made love all night long to all things Pink Floyd the Wall. Of all albums to listen to this was not one of my best choices. It was only a few days later that her boyfriend Jerry found out about us and tried kicking my door in. Oops. By that age I was already getting pretty good at making love, I had been practicing for years with my dads best friend and also bosses grand daughter Nikkei. We traveled a lot back then. I spent a majority of my summers in my fathers moterhome travelling America and Canada. It was that time travelling on the road that they would stick us together in the top bunk as we drove around. And we had sex. I know it's terrible, I was 9 until I think it was 11 when we finally got caught. We were having sex in my parents basement during a wedding celebration when a woman walked downstairs and saw the shock of her life. We were not allowed to hang around with each other after that. This is what happens when you are introduced sex at an early age, I broke the cycle early as you will read further along.

So back home I was for about a month until I moved in with a tattoo artist I was hanging out with at the time. He gave me my first tattoo when I was 14, I didn't have the money to pay him so I gave him my stereo equipment for it. I had a few hand me downs from my oldest brother. I hold a lot of love for my older brother, I didn't have many people to look up to however my brother was something else. I watched him go through a lot in life, he brought me religion when I needed it. Now religion. Might as well start with it after talking about sex, oh god oh god Oh GOD! 

God, Resurrection, Rinse and Repeat

Chapter 2

Now I must break the forth wall again and make myself a coffee to talk about this subject, as it was a large part of my growing up. I'm thinking about a rye and water yet it's still only 2:00 pm and I still need to talk to my wife with a sober head when she wakes up. She is in Tokyo Japan right now, a place I should be if it wasn't for covid shutting down the country. Now before we get into this subject I just want to explain a few things. My life has been to the dedication of science and seeking knowledge and understanding of this world around me. It is what drove me to walk down endless highways and live among the wild animals deep with a forest in northern Jasper Alberta Canada.
The supernatural however has also been a big part of my life also. I can't explain it to you, maybe you will get a understanding as we get into my story. You may think it was an delusional response to a messed up childhood and I used this to justify everyday occurrences, and I will agree with you on a scientific level. I had been doing alcohol and drugs at a very young age and also a extreme daredevil when it came to the half pipe and my bmx and wanting to die... So yes, a few bumps on the head mixed with alcohol and drug abuse could be a substantial part of it. But just listen to me with a open mind when I get into this new part. I can't explain everything even with science.

My mother is catholic as once my father was, I actually remember when they christened me. It was a strange experience for some dude to pour water on you saying something you just can't get a full grasp yet, surrounded by your family. I remember the day I killed god for my father. He was a devote catholic in your typical be a sinner all week and ask for forgiveness on Sunday. You know the type. I came in the room, just a little kid and I asked him dad why are all those men bowing to that man? He told me who the pope was, as I already got a understanding of religion very early I said but isn't he still just a man? He thought about it and after that he didn't go to church much any more. He tells me now he is an atheist. Now that might just be a little hard to believe, you just got to understand I was unlike any child. I'm not some attention seeker on twitter trying to say that my 3 year old thinks Trump should be impeached while bringing in more diversity. We get it Karen, your child who is still shitting his pants in going to be a genius one day, or a Nazi Furry, you never know nowadays. I started asking myself very early what is life, why am I here. What is this. How was I born on a spinning rock in space floating around a star? I wanted to know what God was, who he was to me with an already scientific mind. I needed answers to questions that were driving me crazy as a child. See when I was born my mind was already filled for me. Now to explain what that gibberish means, um fuck. Okay I had past reincarnation memories. Well not memories, more like nightmares of a thousand ways to die. They were the strongest when I was very young, like 2 when I started having these nightmares. Yeah I know, we are getting a little interesting here and I agree with you. It's just this is a large part of my tale and I don't want o hold back. You need to truly walk within my mind.

I was haunted by these dreams. I feared glass most of my life because the most common dream I had was being in a cave that had a fire off to the side, my hands and feet were tied to a table and my skin was being skillfully cut off to be worn. I remember it clearly as the knife they used was crystal, it wasn't until two years ago I read about this in a archaeology website. I have been telling people about this dream since I was a kid, so many people who truly know me understand this dream.

I also once in the Roman Legion during the fall of Rome. I remember vividly sweating in that armor and carrying that shield for miles. All this will be in my first novel, it is a story I have been writing since I was a child and I knew I had to find a way to have my beginning. This right here. A tragic romance that takes place all thought out time. A millions deaths are not enough for you Huey. I would just like to say it has been a pleasure sitting here telling you my tale while we have a drink. I feel more relaxed than I usually do when I write. If you look through some of my stories on here I can tell you they all came out in one sitting. I was usually under a trance when I spit them out and hit publish. You will always find many mistakes as I never read it after it comes out of my head. So thank you for the beer, cheers with love from a family of humanity.

So here I am, abused, raped and alone seeking answers to why, why was I here. I started going to church by 9, sitting by myself listening to him talk about this man called Jesus. It wasn't until my brother fully found God after struggling with the reality of following God, you must do it sober. I remember very well when he finally stopped drinking and fighting his demons. We were at the summer festival in the heart of Regina Saskatchewan and I was on his shoulders trying to see if I could find my sister in the crowd. I don't remember if we actually saw her or my brother just imagined it in his drunken stupor, it didn't stop him from running and turning sharply and me falling off and smashing the bones in my shoulder. We didn't find her after that, I was rushed home in the back of my brothers hatchback car. And my father rushed me to the hospital after that. Since my mother didn't want anything to do with me she dumped me off at my older brothers house and he was oh so happy to have me. I had this amazing gift that he loved to show off to all his friends. My incredible knowledge of the bible being just a kid. He would give me a chapter like we will say something common like John 3-16 and I would instantly turn to that page and start reading it. It was almost like I knew the book by memory without ever reading it. It wasn't just your typical chapters, this was any part of this book. I was his golden ticket into heaven, he filled my head with stories of us marching through the streets of sin, fishing for men. To preach the good word and to bring the gates of heaven home to earth. Mighty big dreams for just a kid with a weird personally. So I spent a lot of the time in church. It wasn't until my brother showed her my little gift that my mother took me away from him. It was the moment I recited a scripture without even looking at it, she grabbed me and said she wanted to go home. She told me that day that my brother worshiped the devil and I wasn't allowed to visit him again. I laughed inside but I was just a kid and I knew he wasn't worshiping the devil. I was already worshiping Lucifer when I was five so I knew my brother was clearly not. I can't say I was worshiping him, more like sitting in a pentagram naked talking with him every night since I was 5. I knew the devil way before I knew god, evil has followed me with a teaching lesson. Along with the light. 

Quick 4:20 intermission and Part 2

You have been sitting with me for a bit, need a bathroom break or just to roll one or order another. I won't say no to another free beer https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/RWelder. I am thirsty.  Now where was I... 

Now before you start getting all holy, I looked at the devil much different than you. I seen him as the first creation of God asking his father a simple question? Why do you need to create man? Are us children not enough? Is heaven not enough for you? Why make these weak creatures when you already have perfection? All for them just to grovel at your feet? I rebelled against my father yet I didn't hold the power he had, let alone the cool wings that eventually burnt going through the stratosphere on his way to hell. If you believe in that sort of thing anyways. I stopped talking to both of them a long time ago, I walk now with the realization that I have the ability to create life or destroy it. I have the ability to live in wealth while stabbing those I called friends in the back to work my way up the corporate ladder. I didn't understand the game of life. We are born into servitude, to worship or spend everlasting eternity in hell. To work ten to twelve hours a day on a hamster wheel seeking happiness in colored pieces of paper. We kill for it, dominate for it. We kill our own planet, sealing our own lives and the live our future generations for it. For many it is God. I just wasn't mine, I was still searching for it.

After that I spent a few more times with my brother, he still had his dreams to prepare me for the veling evangelical spreading the word of god against those who would rise to set loose the mark of the beast. As much as I knew the bible and after reading it I lost my ability to pick out any chapter. What I found was disappoint, misconceptions and lies. It taught me that I was a sinner in the eyes of my creator for I slept with another man. And that I was only going to hell if I did not repent, if I didn't fall on my knees and and speak in tongues. To truly walk with the lord. That just wasn't me. I didn't love God as I didn't love Satan. I held respect for Lucifer for standing against his father for something that should never have been created in such a way. It was selfish. Yet I am not god, nor ever want to be. I am a god in the sense that it is me who takes care of me. I am in control and guide my life. On the other hand am I actually marching down my own path? Some days I feel that life is like a series of paths. We have the path already made for us, and even though we get to make our choices in life, ultimately something is guiding me with the choices I make. The small world of people, the hidden hand that has guided and protected me all my life. Putting myself among killers, as a baby sheep looking fifteen until I was twenty six. Looking twenty six until I was thirty five, looking good now at  at 45. At least I don't look like Wayne Gretzky any longer. That was hell. If you don't know who Wayne Gretzky was, he was one of the greatest hockey players of my day and some believe still to this day. I remember walking down a street in Calgary Alberta Canada when a older woman from east Indian decent looked at me and said Gretzky, Gretzky! She was so excited I shook her hand as she gave me a hug. She would be telling her friends and family that probably for awhile and actually it was just me. That poor woman. 

Okay I tried to keep as much religion out of that  as I could for those who don't believe in it and those who do. And if you are either one of those two you will think I am clearly insane and I agree with you. You have to be insane to live in this world, to actually pay attention and not just the stuff in your own back yard or from your window in your white gated community. Life was a constant nightmare, pain and death is two things you can truly expect out of life. It is the little things in between that make worth living. I still never learnt that lesson yet. So now we come to what Chapter am I on?...

That is chapter one, I will have told my tale and you will be ready to buy me that beer. So again https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/RWelder and have a good sleep. you don't have to go back to your own mind, you just can't stay here.