Wednesday, July 22, 2020

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

No comments: