The Judgement of God Prevailing Over Strife - An Enormous Floating Burden Hoisted

My AutoBiography Thus Far Incomplete:

The Judgement of God Prevailing Over Strife - An Enormous Floating Burden Hoisted

The name Daniel originated in Hebrew and is translated as either God is my judge or The judgement of God.

Vincent is derived from Latin where in it means conquering or prevailing over.

The name Kelley is a Gaelic word meaning either bright headed or strife.

As such my name, unbeknowst to my parents at the time of my birth, carries a phrase spoken in three languages, the phrase, "The judgement of god prevailing over strife."

My mom tells me I breached her birthing facility while she was in the hallway waiting to be taken to a birthing room. She recalls I was happy pretty much immediately which persisted through my toddler years. She tells me I was "always" a happy child.

My earliest recollection

I remember vaguely sitting on the couch and being read to by my older sister and my mom.

I remember being yelled at for running and jumping on the couch.

My sister Mary and I used to sit in the hallway and roll a ball back and forth between us. I'm pretty sure we were put on to this behavior by my older sister Melissa. I was probably about 5 when we would play this game.

My dad would visit his parents once a week, usually on Wednesday night, which the whole family, except my older sister was compelled to attend. The highlight of the night would always be going to my Aunt Esther's wing of their home to play a game of pickup the pennies. My Great Aunt Esther would throw a handfull of pennies in the air and us kids would scramble to gather the pennies. I remember a few times she would throw silver change which it seems my brother was greater in tune to spotting in the air.

My house was highly unusual growing up. My dad was vesting in realestate and managing a rental property from a desk in our home. Thus he was around the house most of the day. When we were getting old enough that he could leave us alone for a couple hours he would daily goto the coffee shop in the afternoon. My mom worked full time as a dental technician. When she would arrive home my mom and dad would embrace for a minute or so and then give each other a kiss. If me or any of my siblings were witness to their kiss we would yell out "mushy mushy, mushy mushy".

Most weeks my family cycled through the same meal schedule. Mondays was boiled chicken, usually with rice and peas or rice pilaf and green beans. Tuesday was steak, sometimes with potatos and green beans, sometimes with rice and mushroom gravy. Wednesday was pasta, usually spaghetti, sometimes twists with tomatoes and cheese sauce. Thursday was a bit more flexible, maybe chicken with bread crumbs, salad and beans. Friday was fish, baked usually with breadcrumbs, served with rice and a vegetable. Saturday was hotdogs or hamburgers or chili. Sunday night was my favorite meal, pizza. When I was very young we went to Joes Pizza just over the Winchester line. In my teen years my mom began making pizza at home on Sunday night with the ready made pizza dough from the bakery at the grocery store.

My parents fought violently just one time I can remember. I was in bed and could hear them arguing for a minute or so. Then I heard a light bulb shatter. Then my mom stormed out of the house, got in the station wagon and drove away. When the noise subsided I went down the hall and found my dad and asked him where Mom went. He told me she went for a drive and assured me she would be back in a little while. They had a few arguments beyond that but certainly nothing that rose to the same level of tension.

Backslapping contest with my dad.

When I was about 6 my dad kneeled down and gave me a hug one time and patted me on the back too hard, so I began slapping him on the back to show him how uncomfortable I was. He began to slap me on the back harder and I slapped him on the back as hard as I could until my mom yelled at my dad "John!?" she said. And that was it. I don't remember my dad patting me on the back again after that.

I was about the same age the first time I was kicked out of my house. I forget what I was being punished for, but my dad told me to go get my suitcase and put some clothes in it and I was going to be moving out. I did all that and dragged my snoopy suitcase to the side yard and my mom broke it to me, while I was in tears, that I didn't have to move out.

Learning how to hold silverware on my own.

When I was very young I used to grip my silver ware over handed with all my fingers wrapped tight around the spoon or fork with the handle of the utensil resting on my palm. My dad showed me how to hold silverware one time when I was about 5. I tried his delicate underhanded thumb and pointy finger as the primary grip with the utensil on the outside of the thumbside of the hand, but my fingers simply weren't strong enough to hold the silverware as such. So I continued on many years beyond that holding my silverware with an overhand grip like a person would throw a baseball or a football. I actually held silverware like that until I was 16 years old and about to go on my first dinner date. I realized then my unusual silverware grip would surely dull my attraction. So I set the table with no food and went about learning the proper dinnerware grip. My mom found me teaching myself so I asked her if I had it proper and she affirmed my capacity.

When I was very young I was standing in the middle of a dessert landscape. The ground felt hard like stone which I imagined must stretch out to the horizon. The darkness surrounded me on all sides and stretched to where the land met the sky. The sky was dim and eery. Suddenly there was a rumble and the ground all around me began to come apart. Where the jagged fissures were forming in the rock a red glow shown through. The cracked sections of ground seperated and began to fly counterclockwise in a circle around me. What had seemed solid land had become winged demons and left nothing but emptiness as far as I could see. I was then standing alone on a pillar of Earth taller than I could fathom with winged humanoid red eyed menacing demons flying around me in circles. The air was thick with them screaming and staring at me with obvious hostile intent. I looked back at them stubbornly and simply stood still. I woke and in the moment I realized it was a dream I felt like I'd done well in a very precocious situation. I went back to sleep and have not had this dream again.

In a recurring dream I had from a young age I was being chased through a field of what seemed a thick spongy material that hampered my running. A huge ball, about 3 times taller than me was ever gaining ground on me just behind, moving fast, never catching me but as much as I ran I never got away and in the dream I was compelled to keep running, feeling like I would be suffocated if the ball was to catch me.

Another of my recurring dreams had me magically flying, buzzing the recess yard and the street in front of my elementary school. I say front of my elementary school though most people would consider it the back. It was the entrance to the principals office and the door I would depart school from daily to walk home. The old building that long preceded the expanded elementary school faced Main Street, Woburn.

The first time I kissed a girl was in the closet at the Kenny's house. Mr. Kenny, long ago Mass Maritime Academy grad with my dad, was then Father to 12 children. One of them Julie had pulled me into a closet in her room and pulled me to her and pecked me on my lips. I think I was about 5 at the time. My brother and older sister made fun of me everytime we would visit the Kenny's for my closet lip smack with Julie Kenny.

My brother, for getting straight A's in school and having been bestowed with the name of my youthfully passed away uncle, was a favorite of every adult member of my family, except for my mom who treated us equally and adored me for my affectionate manner. An aunt on the Kelley side of my family and my uncles favored Alan, ever expressing their heightened interest to Alans ongoings. I was the favorite of no Aunt or Uncle. My dad favored Alan for example teaching him how to fiberglass repair a boat and sending me away when I asked to learn. My grandparents brought my brother to Disney World solo. I was never a recipient of the Disney world trip on my grandparents. I became acutely aware of my grandparents favoring my brother when my parents had a bit of an argument about what to do about the favoring that was occuring related to the Disney world trip. We were in the car and my mom was saying it wasn't right to let them bring just Alan. I think I had sparked this by asking about Disney world and seeming disappointed to not be invited. My Dads opinion as I recall was that it was their decision to make and surely not in his well mannered power to deny them. I didn't know too much about Disney world so really I wasn't very hurt by the situation but when more years passed and I knew what Disney world was and my grandparents never bothered to take me there, I was a bit more bothered by their tact.

The situation didn't get any better from there. When I was too young to understand a lot of what was being said to me, my sister used to say to me before she would leave the house, especially after baby sitting "Good riddance." I didn't know what it meant, but thought it had a catchy ring to it. I asked my mom what it meant one time my sister said it to me, though was denied the knowledge. So Wednesday night rolls around and wraps up and my grandmother is at the car window saying good night to us all like every Wednesday night. When she bid me good night Danny, I told her "Good Riddance." She asked "What did you say?" Like she heard me clearly and was going to do something about what I said. My Dad dismissed it, knowing I didn't really know what I had said and told me to say goodnight to my grandmother sternly. I said goodnight and off we went, with my grandmother decided on hating me eternally.

The favoring situation was never worse though than when my grandmother showed up to the boat we were summering on with rare old coins for my brother. She told him "Alan I brought these for your coin collection." My mother quickly advised her that I was the one who had been collecting coins to which My grandmother said "Well then you can start one of your own, Alan." I was distraught. My whole life in those days was fishing flounder, pulling the lobster trap, writing a short story and collecting coins which was the most excitement for me and seemed to be the biggest challenge. I was aware my dad had gotten his boat by coins, held his coins strong by skimping on shoes for us kids, Oreos and Reeses were a product of coin having. I knew the coins I had found were more valuable than the coins people were carrying around with them. Having my greatest rival then trouncing on my turf with a smile was greatly disturbing to me. My older sister actually had to calm me down in the galley of the boat. I was near tears for how cold she was in giving my hobby to my brother.

Not long after the rare coin incident my family traveled to my grandparents home for the regular Wednesday night visit. I was in the dining room doing my homework when it came to me. My families table was all scratched up. I had been yelled at for scratching the table at home. I knew scratched tables are unpleasant for adults and wanted to express to my grandmother what she had meant to my life. I folded up the place setting and carved with a pen into the table, "Nana Sucks". My grandparents dining room table had been immaculate. The only scratch on the whole of the table was my message to Nana.

The next day I came home from school and my mom was home which was unusual. She told me to go see my father, he was around the side of the house. He was doing work on the roof of the house which used to be flat and was now pitched and insulated. Before even coming down from the ladder he asked "Why did you do it Danny?" "Do what?" my honest response. I hadn't thought about scratching my grandmothers table since the night before. He asked the same question again as he descended the ladder. I felt like I was about to get a beating. Quite surprisingly he didn't hit me. "Do what?" I asked again. He was walking me inside the house and finally broke the suspense with "Why did you write on your grandmothers table?" "Oh yeah", I said defeated. I was stumped. He told me to goto my room and think about why. I went and thought. That night my Dad drove me to my grandmothers house. When she approached the car my dad told me to tell her I was sorry. I broke into what might have been the most raucus tears of my life and mumbled my sorrow. My grandmother asked me why and I tried to say it was about the favoritism that was years old at that point and I think she understood and gave me a hug and told me it was OK.

One day my family planned a trip to Santa's enchanted village. Everyone was in the cars but me. I was about 6 at the time. It was a bit hectic as some of my cousins were traveling with us. Go figure, the cars began pulling off Beach Terrace without me! I ran upto the back of my parents car as they began to pull away. I was frantic. My Dad driving noticed me in the rear view and stopped. I got to goto Santa's enchanted village after all.

My dad used to give us dollars for A's on report cards. I was mostly a B student. My brother got straight A+'s from first grade to graduation in all but one class in which he got a B, but that was just one semester.

My dad promised to pay half of our college tuition. This was a deal that he said he would honor for any of his children. My brother and sister graduated college without his making good on his promise. I didn't see one penny of the half while I was in college.

My dad made a spectacle on the day he launched the Neva Neva Land from Hampton Beach Marina. With the boat hoisted on the erector set looking boat launch facility, standing on the bow, he crushed a pack of cigarettes, threw them at the ground and stated "No more." He had promised us, the kids, who despised the smell of cigarettes, that he would quit smoking if he got a boat. I don't think he lasted a day as a quit smoker for his childrens benefit. He smoked beyond every of his children leaving home and then only quit when he had a heart attack.

When there was snow on the ground my dad used to do donuts on Beach Terrace. Beach Terrace is the dead end street I lived on for, just barely now, most of the years of my life. It was paved so wide it was more similar to a parking lot than a street. I remember sliding back and forth in the back of the station wagon as my dad yahooing cut the wheel and laid hard on the gas.

On Sundays, on the way back from church, my Dad made a tradition of asking "Up the hill, what hill, this hill?" before cutting the wheel hard to steer up a hill a short ways from our home.

During recess, which might better be known as chaos, the kids at Wyman elementary school used to play kickball, which must, of course, begin with team selection. Having been selected last and being called Spazz during the anticelebration Matt Winnegar, also known to the children of this elementary school grade 4 as Spaz, began swinging a long piece of siding, with nails in it, in circles over his head to ward off the approach of the elder lady recess monitor who was attempting to calm him down. The siding was apparently torn from a temporary addition to the school building which was a large wooden trailer that had been trucked up to the school and dropped in place. Matt earned the name Spaz when on his first day in this new school he flipped desks yelling and burst from the room. Matt had not been much more calm at any moment since his first day. Today he was especially rowled. Eventually he tired of looking so intimidating to the recess monitor and ran, scurried under a fence and ran home.

My forth grade teacher, who I had an insatiable crush on, first diabetic I knew, Miss Prince gave me a detention for calling Matt Tucker by his last name. Then like the good fascist Miss Prince was she ordered that no one call anyone by their last name.

During the summers, once a week, there would be a truck that hosted a puppet show at the Middle School near my neighborhood. The Middle School was about mid way between my house and the projects. I had been warned by my parents about project people. I was told to stay away from the projects as there were people who might be trouble. My sister had caught the eye of some of the project kids at the puppet show. At this age I maintained a fair distance from my sister who had grown to be my biggest nuisance. She was actually more trouble to me than any project kid had been to that time. My sister was being called names by those kids and they were getting close to her, being physically intimidating. I walked toward the situation, which caught their eye. They lost focus on her and started asking who I was to her as I told her "Come on Mary, lets go home." I stood in between her and these kids and just sent an angry eye as my sister started to walk away. Then I turned and followed.

Sledding at Kennedy Middle School.

During the winters my siblings and I would make the short trek to the field aside the Kennedy Junior High School. There was a hill that descended into the field that was worth sledding. I would spend hours a day running up the hill to slide down on a rudimentary sled. We would build mounds of snow at the bottom to launch into the air at the end of the ride. Sledding was probably the most enjoyable thing I did before I got a bike.

I remember dancing on New Years eve in the table cleared kitchen at 1 Beach Terrace. I was everybody's hoot with my heel pressed toe swung right foot, toe pressed heel swung left foot. My arms jigging about pumping wild.

I had my first drink at 10 in the kitchen at the Kelley household before my Aunt's wedding. It was approved by my dad, 1 glass of wine. I remember having to pee very badly at the reception, so inconveniently when my family was called for pictures. The picture reveals my state of mind as I'm standing cross legged with my knees slightly bent, hands on my crotch, bright green jacket glowing attention to me.

When I was about 10 I climbed the walls in the hallway. Pressing one hand and foot on one wall, one hand and foot on the other wall, I would inch my way up the walls eventually ariving at the ceiling.

I spent a lot of my childhood running through the woods, jumping from boulder to boulder in the small patch of woods that sat between my neighborhood and the field at the Kennedy Middle School.

One day when I was coming back from this patch of woods I stepped on a piece of lumber that had a nail jutting from it. The nail punctured the worn thin sole of my shoe and pierced my foot. I was taken to the hospital for a tetanus shot.

When I was about 8 I found a playboy magazine in that patch of woods. I didn't know what to make of it at first. I was stimulated though with my penis so long without erection I did not come sprung. I knew I wanted to see it again and with my brother agreed on a cache for the magazine.

When I was about 6 a family moved into a house on the street that paralleled mine. Their dad promptly made them a tree house in the tree on the side of their property facing my street. Then he painted it red. I was in awe of the tree house. There were 3 girls in the family. It's been so long now I forget their names. Possibly Ann, Megan and Sarah as their names were common and typical American for their age. They were all super cute. One day I was in their back yard and a mole had been called to my attention. Brave as could be I picked the mole up in my bare hand with his belly to my palm. As I stood the mole ran to the edge of my hand and on arriving there and being gripped by me to keep him from running off my hand, he bit into the edge of my hand drawing blood. I threw the mole down with a force to stun, then stomped on the mole then rolled my foot over him until he was surely lifeless. Those sisters were obviously less interested in me then.

In 3rd grade, as I would walk the halls in elementary school, I sucked in my stomach to appear less fat. I had been ridiculed as Jelly Belly Kelley for not too long. I was not very fat for very long.

In fourth grade I made it to school every day for the whole year. I was thus awarded a trophy for perfect attendance.

My best showing at a science fair was in 5th grade when I did a study of plate tectonics. It seems like everyone else did a vinegar baking soda volcano.

Melissa brings home snowy.

When I was about 6 years old my older sister Melissa brought home a puppy she told my dad she found wondering the neighborhood. My dad protested and told her she could not keep the dog. He let her keep it over night and apparently became attached and allowed the dog to stay. Snowy was his name. A white lab sheppherd mut, snowy was a pretty cool dog. He was never any trouble for us kids, quiet and as best I can recall obedient. Snowy got sprayed by a skunk one night so my parents had to bathe him in tomato juice. Snowy was wandering the neighborhood one day and had gone to the end of the dead end street where it joins a thoroughfare. Snowy tried to cross the street and was hit by a car. My dad sent Snowy to be euthanized.

One day in the years just before I became a teenager, Dennis McHeleney suggested to me trying to get play by showing LeeAnn the porn mag there was in the Red Tree House which had seen new owners then worth many years. Leeann was the oldest of three sisters. She was a year behind me in school. I thought it sounded like the best hopes I had of getting any action at the time so I was all about it. So there I was all of 12 showing Lee Ann, the epitome of naïve Tom boy, the skimpiest porn collection ever was.and asking her to show me hers live. Needless to say I went without play then a very long time.

I was about 11 and my brother his friend Brian Fitz and my friend Dennis were having a water fight around the yard of our house. My Dad was out running errands. Dennis and I had dominated Al and Brian in this water fight. Al and Brian had gone inside on account of how fierce and unrelenting our water attack was. Dennis and I went to sit on the porch of my house. I was sitting there and Dennis and I were chatting up the days activities when Dennis said, "look out", I didn't have time to react before a large pan of scalding hot water was dumped over my head. I spun around and grabbed the culprit, Brian, by the back of his shirt and jumped backward down the stairs, pulling him off from the top of the 3 stairs to slam on the grassy ground in front of the stairs, landing on his back. When I had pulled him hard enough that he was unavoidably falling to the ground, I landed on my feet, let go of his shirt, fell on top of him mounted and choked him with both of my hands on his neck. This lasted for about 10 seconds, probably less, as my brother ran from inside to stand beside me yelling at me "Let him go, he's turning purple." Brian, struggling hard while I fierce gripped his neck had turned bright red quick and was progressing toward purple. I stood up and began to walk away. Brian jumped up and ran up behind me and punched me in the back of the head. I turned around and squared off with him. My brother got in between us and told me to walk away. I turned around to walk away and Brian came around my brother and punched me in the back. I turned around, squared off with him and punched him in the throat one time. He grabbed at his neck and held the side I had just punched. His countenance was exaggerated pain and defeat. He didn't step toward me again and I just stood there looking at him with my brother telling me from behind Brian now, to walk away. The elder man neighbor from what we used to call the red house, stepped from his lawn onto the street and yelled across the way, "You boys wouldn't be doing that if your father was home." I walked away to Dennises back yard where I sat on the picnic table and Dennis and I talked, he reassuring me everything would be ok, me certain that this would certainly call my Dads wrath. About a half hour later my dad came around the side of the McElhiney's house, this is the only time I had ever seen him there. He walked straight to where I was and began slapping me on the back of the head. The first hit stood me up and moved me around the house in the direction he had chosen to smack me home. He smacked me in the back of the head every other step the whole way home. When we got in the door, my brother, sitting in the corner, seeing me beat from one side of the kitchen to the other burst into tears. My dad told him to goto his room. He grabbed down at my Billy Joel Tshirt, that my sister had bought at a concert with paper route money I had given her to buy for me a shirt. With the dramatic sound of tearing fabric he tore the shirt off my person. Then he grabbed me by the throat and picked me up into the air, swung me around to place my back against the closet door in the hallway. After a few seconds he put me down and told me to get in the car. I was to be locked in the car while he went for coffee. I fled from the car to my grandparents home. When I arrived at my grandparents my grandmom seemed very worried. My grandfather came home and opened a beer. My mom showed up, rushed me out the door and told me to never goto my grandparents house alone. This is the first time I was given a hint as to my grandfathers predatory behavior. My mom seemed indifferent to my dad having so savagely beaten me. She didn't want to hear about it. Her main issue was that I had gone to my grandparents house alone and she didn't have any opinion about my dads fierce physical abuse.

The first time I had an orgasm with a girl I was about 11, on the beach in Ft. Myers where my parents had bought a condo. My brother and I had met two girls on the beach that night and asked if they wanted to take a walk. My brother got down on the beach with the girl he was wooing while me and this other girl walked a bit further. We arrived at a place on the beach where we agreed to lay down. I was pressed against her and grinding and orgasmed fairly quick in my yellow spandex shorts.

I was delivering newspapers one day when I was about 10. I approached the iced over steps at the McEleheney's house. I stood onto the steps and suddenly lost traction, my feet sliding out from under me, I fell to my knee. My mom brought me to the hospital and I got my first stiches.

One day about mid summer my family went to my Aunt Lisa's cottage on a lake in New Hampshire where Lisa and her husband Billy kept a boat for water skiing. I tried water skiing several times failing miserably getting pulled to split legged face plop hard in the water. Finally Billy laughing told me to lean back and pull. I did and was dragged out of the water onto the skis and towed around the lake one time. My legs were burning toward the end of the circuit, it took everything out of me to water ski not far at all. My sister Melissa was leaving ahead of my family and called me to the end of the dock and told me to sit down she wanted to tell me something. She told me when I got home she was going to be moved out, that she wasn't telling Dad, she was going to live with her boyfriend Matt who my dad didn't approve of and she asked me to not tell anyone. I didn't.

My first make out kiss was on the street, on Halloween night, I was 13. I had asked this girl to go out with me after we slow danced together at a boys club dance. Katie, she was a cute blond chic who I did not know very well but had been in a few classes with at Kennedy Middle School. I made my way over to her neighborhood on Halloween night. I noticed her while she was across the street from me. I started across the street to her and she yelled "Dan" in surprise to see me and walked into the street meeting me in the way of oncoming traffic she lip locked me and made out with me until the cars started honking. I got news that she broke up with me from a mutual friend in the days that followed and I would not kiss a girl on the lips again for 2 years.

When I was 13 I started hanging out with this kid from the projects named Carlos. Carlos sold me a GT performer for $5. About a year after I bought the bike, the rightful owner noticed it chained up outside the boys club. I told the kid it didn't surprise me the bike was stolen. I had to relinquish what had become my cherished transportation.

Carlos came over to ask me to goto the boysclub one day and decided to peer through the slight crack in the drapes of my bedroom window. He caught me masturbating, though didn't make me aware. He told one of his friends from the projects, Steve St John Pierre. Steve was a master breakdancer in 7th grade, he was thoroughly skilled at the windmill which he did after he convinced the whole gym class to in rhythm smack fist to palm chanting “slap on, slap off, slap on slap off the slapper”. Slapper was my junior high nickname.

I had words with Carlos one day at the boysclub. He was saying he was going to kick my ass, "slapper". My attitude was basically so lets see this. He was in my face and I didn't hesitate to throw my arm around his neck and drop to the floor. I had him in that headlock, me sitting with him face down sprawled out talking trash about what he was going to do when he got up, for what seemed an eternity. It was at least 5 minutes. Finally someone said they were going to get someone to break it up and I let him up. He never challenged me again. I was wrenching hard on the headlock so I'm sure he was weeks in pain. My arm was in pain for days.

I played soccer every year from the time I was 10 until I graduated highschool. Early on I was the star of my team. My defining move was the slide tackle which I had so well timed I could strip the ball from most players on the field. It was a compensation for my being a bit heavy to be able to strip the ball from kids who were faster than me. I would slide tackle sometimes half a dozen times in a game. Though I was heavy I had immeasurable hustle as soccer was the most exciting hour of my week in those early years. I scored a few goals, played every position and was often transfered to what was the most important position on the field in most games. I earned a pat on the back from Mr. Sands often enough for it to have scored my memory.

I had a crush on my soccer coaches daughter, Kim Sands. Mr. Sands had been my soccer coach several seasons and Kim was in my grade and played on her dads teams. I had been flirting with her and felt I was on my way to making an in road. I heard her talking one day about having sat on Darren Wilson's thumb, his having thrust his thumb under her as she was about to sit. She was very prissy and so very upset. I promptly challenged Darren Wilson to a fight. We exited school by the same door and walked a short ways down the street to where he said was far enough. I turned to square off with him and he started dancing a skilled boxers dance. He had stayed back a few years, I was one of the youngest in my grade. He was much taller than the average kid in our grade and in good shape. I was vastly outgunned. He danced in a circle around me, he hit me in the face 3 times and I staggered backward, momentarily unconscious into the arms of Peter Cole, another badass who had stayed back a few years. Peter held me up and called off the fight saying that's it he's had enough.

When I got home my mom, distressed about the condition of my face, banged up, insisted we goto the school to talk to the administrators. I didn't want to go, my Dad agreed with me, saying if I didn't want to report it that he thought it might be better to not. My mom marched me right into school past all the kids who were waiting on the late bus having waited after school to watch the fight. Darren Wilson was suspended and never messed with me again.

About a week after I fought Darren Wilson, Peter Cole and Darren Wilson set a fight in the cemetery down the street from the Middle School. I was late in traveling to the fight, though I wanted to go watch, the crowd was dispersing as I approached. I asked around who won and was told Peter Cole kicked Darren Wilson's ass.

This is greatly supported by what I know of Peter Cole. One night I was at the movies and heard there was a fight about to happen in the parking lot. I walked out to the parking lot to see Peter Cole run up to a kid from another town swinging both his fists to close on the kids temples that crumbled him to the pavement by the double strike. He then ran to where one of his friends was fighting with another kid and smashed that kid a few times before walking away from the scene unscathed.

This night at the movies was the first time I was harassed by the police. I had no part in that fight, beyond casual observer. After that fight I went in the theater and watched a movie. I played some video games and hours after the fight occurred I called for a ride home and went to the front of the theater to wait for my mom to pick me up. I was sitting out front for a cool 5 minutes when I was approached by a black cop. He verbally harassed me about sitting in front of the theater. I told him I was waiting on a ride. He told me I couldn't hang out in front of the theater. I again told him I was waiting for a ride. He grabbed my hands together and bent me over like he was going to cuff me just as my mom showed up to the theater. He released me when he saw my mom. My mom told me he was from a long Woburn resident family, the Canadas. There were not many black families in Woburn in those days. Corey Canada was a football star in highschool, running back, graduated with my brother. I never saw that bully cop again.

My family spent summers on a boat in Hampton Beach Marina. Hampton Beach Marina is a small Marina got to by car by taking the first left after crossing the bridge to enter Hampton Beach from the south. In the late 80s the road to Hampton Beach was a small bumpy dirt road. Along the dirt road was large scale commercial day fishing operations. They hosted several boats each with a hundred or more person capacity. A stones throw away was Hampton Beach Marina, a quaint set of docks tied to pilings, with a barn as an office and two launches, one for boats on trailers and another for larger boats that would be picked up off their blocks, by a large erector set looking hoist with wheels, that would then drive onto wooden planks over the water where the hoist would be lowered to place the boat in the marina water.

My Dad kept 4 boats there during our years visiting Hampton Beach Marina. The first was a mid 30 foot all wooden vessel my dad had bought and salvaged from long storage. He named it the Neva Neva Land. The second was a dingy that I spent countless hours in fishing for flounder to eat for dinner. The third was a near 40 foot speedboat with dual 454 engines that rumbled loud at idle. The fourth was a catamaran that I sailed in only under the supervision of my brother and my father. My brother was allowed to take the catamaran out solo, which I considered a slight against me, his being just a year older than me. He tipped the catamaran one day sailing solo.

One day a little whiles after my brother had tipped the catamaran, my dad, brother and I went out into the harbor in the hopes to sail under the bridge actually entering the Atlantic. None of us had ever taken the catamaran outside the harbor. We were sailing nicely when my dad noticed one of the guy wires was loose and swinging in the breeze. If we were to come about (turn), or if the wind changed, the mast would have fallen into the drink. He sent me up onto the bow to secure the wire. While I was up there the wake of a just past boat hit the catamaran and threw me from my frail perch on the bow into the harbor. I grabbed onto the side of the boat and held on for dear life. My dad called my brother to grab the rudder and made his way up to grab me and pull me into the boat.

On another day I was taking the trash off the boat, descending the ladder backwards as I had learned, my feet slipped off the ladder and I fell scraping from the small of my back to my shoulder blades on the dock. Ronny Martin, one of my dads friends, rugged guy from Maine, hearing my screech, rushed from the cabin to the stern, seeing me he jumped onto the dock and whisked me out of the water. I had clung to the ladder with my hand grip though was worried, the lobsters I had to that date been so viciously subduing would take this moment of frailty to exact their revenge.

One time I was heading off the boat to walk up one of the streets toward the boardwalk. My parents and the Martins were sitting on the back of the boat. My mom was calling to me asking where I was going. I was telling her where I was headed while walking backward along the dock. I walked right off the dock and fell into the water wearing my parachute pants, I grabbed the dock and pulled myself back onto the dock so quick my parachute pants didn't even get wet.

One day there was a shark spotted in the marina by a kid, Jamie, whose dad also had a boat in the marina. He called me over to where he had seen the shark and soon the shark swam by again. It was about 3 feet long and pretty thin. Later that day I rowed the dingy to the docks on the side of the marina where Jamie's dad kept his boat. I stepped out of the dingy onto the dock and it fell under my weight. One side of this dock apparently did not have the appropriate foam buoy that holds up this manner of floating dock. With the side of the dock I stood on falling into the water I grabbed at the side of the dock that was upending and latched on. My feet went in the drink but then the dock settled flat onto the water, with me laying across it's width the foam on the otherside of the dock served well enough as flotation.

The first year we moored at Hampton Beach Marina we were assigned a mooring in the harbor just outside the line of pilings at the entrance to the Marina. To get back and forth from the boat we would use a small dingy or row boat. I learned to row the boat the year we moved to a dock in the marina. This first year though my dad hosted a cherry pit spitting contest which was a contest to see who could spit a cherry pit the furthest from the roof of the Neva Neva Land. He of course won. This contest was followed by a diving challenge where some of the members of my family jumped from the roof of the Neva Neva Land, about 12 feet off the water, into the harbor. I barely enjoyed swimming the waters there due, my outlandish, fear of sharks, so I declined participation. I did swim the harbor water that day and often enough. Jumping off the roof of the boat just didn't seem a good idea to my 10 year old mind.

One day having caught some blue fish off the Isle of Sholes, my dad filleted the fish. I was tasked to toss the remains into the water which when I did, I wound up and flung the blue fish high and far and it landed atop a cross member of one of the pilings. That bluefish sat there rotting with maggots eating it for the better part of a week.

Part of the marina was sold to developers who placed some fancy condominiums along the edge of the marina. One of the condos was bought by a very nice family from Lowell who had two daughters one my age and one my sisters age. My sister took to hanging out with Keri, which sparked my interest in Erika, her my age sister. She was unbelievably adorable, smooth, pretty, witty, a voice to melt hearts, smelled as a rose, dressed spunky. I was in love. The first couple times I went to ask if she was around I was nicely received and we spent a bit of time chatting. Quickly though I was turned away on my attempts to beckon her by ringing her door bell. Invariably her mom or sister would answer and advise me, Erika was busy. My sister continued hanging out with Keri and I eventually lost all hope of a relationship with my first love.

John Fitzpatrick was the owner of the Marina. He had a son John Junior. John junior was a few years younger than me, so what time we spent together was usually very boring for me and felt like I was babysitting even in my preteen years. One day I noticed a glove that was a complement to a wet suit sitting on a bench just outside the barn in the marina. John Junior was around, his dad in the marina office and John junior milling around in front of the marina. When I noticed the glove I picked it up and John junior asked me what I had found. I put it on real quick and started at him making monster faces and reaching with the glove like a zombie. John junior ran from me screaming and giggling. I gave chase right into the marina office where I was asked by Tom, under management of the marina what I had. His question was based on John juniors fuss. No sooner had he asked me what it was then I felt a sharp pain on one of my fingers in the glove. I whipped my hand at the floor throwing the glove off. A fairly big spider crawled out and made it's way behind the sales counter. This was enough to maintain my fear of spiders for about the next 20 years until I handled my friend Robs tarantula which was an exceptionally gentle and well behaved spider.

In second grade I went to Mike Wells house one time. I was hoping we would be good friends. He had much charisma and was a good soccer player for his age. Apart from being athletic he got good grades. If my recollection serves me right he also had a video game machine. My not owning a video game machine persisted until in the late 90s I bought a Sony Playstation. My friends had Ataris and Nintendos. My parents didn't even buy a VCR until the late 80's. My sister owned a Nintendo when she was in highschool. But I wasn't much on my sisters good side to play on her nintendo. I'm pretty sure Mike's nonsmoking parents were offended at my cigarette smelling clothes, due of course my parents smoking, so I was not invited there again.

I was actually grilled by my long childhood friend Brian Lees mom who asked if I was sure we, Brian and I, had not been smoking cigarettes. I was not yet 10 at the time and thought it was ludicrous she would ask. I had never seen a kid smoking cigarettes before. She had 2 older boys who were in with the cool crowd, so I don't doubt she had experienced some issue to make her worry that Brian was smoking.

I had spent most of my youth playing in the yard around my house with my best friend Brian. Sometimes we would climb the trees in my front yard with a challenge to see who could get the highest up the tree. I could climb the tree to be within reach of the top. We would setup stationary military figures on dirt mounds and patches of grass and act out battle scenes. Brian had much cooler toys, GI Joes which provided the ability to articulate the limbs, but he wasn't allowed to bring them out of his house. I only went to Brian's house on occasion. Usually I would call Brian's number on the rotary phone in the kitchen and he would come over to play in my yard. We organized tag and hide and seek games with all the kids in the neighborhood which often included the Arena girls, Emily and Katie, my sister, Mary, Lee Ann Oram and her sister Jill, Dennis, Brian and me.

I was one of the few kids in elementary school to get in a fight. It wasn't much of a fight. I had been suffering taunts by Jay. Sometimes he would call me freckle face. I don't remember what else he was saying that upset me, but he pushed me to my limit of tolerating assholery. Oh yeah, Jelly Belly Kelley, that was his other nickname for me. One day I told him to shut up and he said, make me. I pushed him then he put me in a headlock. One of the lunch ladies who monitored recess broke up the fight. Nothing came of it, no suspension, but if my memory serves me well, our parents were notified and Jay eased up on the name calling. Years later in a basketball game, on my grabbing a rebound, Jay McCarthy was standing on my foot when I turned to pass the ball. I pulled a muscle in my back and struggled to recover, for 6 months I was in agonizing pain. I attended physical therapy to no avail. My dad finally took me to his chiropractor who recommended I use insert arches in my shoes which resolved the back problem in a matter of days.

My friend Dennis McEleheney used to break into his house. He was a latch key kid of divorced parents. Sometimes he would come home after school having forgotten his key. So he would use objects thin enough to slide into the slit between the upper and bottom windows and slide it across to undo the latch. In the years after he showed me his home entry facility his mom began dating a truck driver named Dick. Dick kept an extensive video porn collection in his dresser draws and a magazine collection in a box in a closet in the hallway. Dennis let me watch the porn a few times and I was hooked. I finally had a clue as to what my penis was capable. Dennis's family began spending some time on vacation in a cabin so I was porn starved. I told my friend Brian about Dennises Dad's porn collection and he was quite interested. I told him I know how to break into Dennises house and he was too curious to resist being my accomplice. I'm pretty sure the conversation ended something like "So you want to go see his videos?" "yes." And we were off. We broke into Dennises house about 4 times if my memory serves me well. We were about 11 years old at the time. There was another house on the block that had been built at the same time as Dennises and had the same security faulty windows. I wondered if the Dad in that house had porn too. If he did we could take the porn and not worry about being found out as was a concern with stealing porn from Dennises. I confided all this to Brian and we set off to break into their house. We checked the sock draw, the closet and under the bed all to no avail. We checked the fridge downstairs and found beers and freeze pops. We helped ourselves to the freeze pops and Brian wanted to take some beers but I convinced him to only take one. Brian had much older brothers who apparently had taught him the value of beer which I wasn't much understanding at that time. We skunked that beer leaving it sitting out in the shed behind Dennises house. We drank it all the same and for years after that I could not understand why people drank beer. Our house breaking rampage did not stop there. We broke into 2 other neighbors homes. One was home to a family of girls, 3 girls about our age and their mom. I had a crush on the oldest daughter for years who had consistently shot me down. Since having watched porn and developed a taste for mature women I had a crush on her mom who was quite hot. We looked around for porn in her home but found none. So I stole a pair of her underwear. The other home we broke into one time was of a neighbor who was in my brothers grade. It was tough making it in their house and I was expecting it to be tough to get out so we didn't spend much time futzing around. At that point it was a lot about the adrenaline rush of being in a precocious situation. Just having gone where we weren't supposed to be satisfied that and terrified us to spend any more time there. We broke into the home where we had stolen beer from and checked for porn again, still negative. We found a $20 bill on the dresser so we took it and split it. Our total thievery amounted to 2 freeze pops, a beer, a $20 bill, a pair of undies and porn rental. Finally we broke into Dennises house one more time and watched Dicks porn. We had this method to lock the window from the outside to erase the unlocked window as a hint of our having been there. It involved dropping a string between the windows attached to the latch. Once the latch was locked the latch was pointed in the direction from which you could remove the string. We were in the process of relatching the window and so near finished when a scream hit us asking "Danny, Brian what are you doing there!?" We paniced and ran for the woods which was aside Dennises yard. It was Mrs. McEleheney come home to find us snooping around the windows in her back yard. I fell down a small steep incline into an upside down picnic table in the brush. It stabbed me in the back which I didn't even notice, though heard the legs crunch as they snapped off the bottom of the table. I made my way into the field and we both ran to the top of the hill at the Kennedy Middle School. Brian was snapped. "Oh no, what are we going to do?" he was whining near tears. "We have to tell Dan." I told him "No Brian, tell them you knocked me into the window and the window fell off it's frame and we tied the string to the window to pull it back in place." This was a convenient story because the window was not securely nailed into the frame and could be knocked out with a simple push. Brian agreed and we both went home fully expecting to be eaten by the cops and our parents, made pariahs and sent into the custody of where bad boys go. When I got home my parents were not yet clued in as to what happened that day. Later that evening I was called into the kitchen and asked by my parents about what happened behind Dennises house. I told them the story Brian and I had agreed to and they bought it. The next day the next door neighbors who we had stolen beer from came to find out about the situation behind Dennises house. They had reported to the police that they thought their home had been broken into. The police contacted my parents and made them aware and said they had found a set of finger prints on the back window and they wanted to compare them to mine and Brians. Brians parents declined to provide his finger prints. My dad took me for a walk around the pond and told me if I had done the crime that he wanted me to tell him and that he was going to get a lawyer. I told him I had not. I told him I was willing to provide my finger prints. I was sure I had wiped everything in that house I touched. I went to the police station and provided my prints. The police told me they were going to send the prints to the FBI lab and they would contact me with the results as soon as they came in. It was a long time waiting. Finally the results came in that their tests were inconclusive. No evidence, no witnesses, Brian and I were off scott free on a rash of break and entry's. I spent the rest of the summer laying in my room knowing I would never be allowed to hang out with who had been my best friend for 6 years, Brian Lees. I also would not be allowed to hang out with my good friend Dennis McEleheney. They were the only friends I had known. Before that summer I had never been allowed to spend the day in the house, unless it was raining or snowing. The rule disappeared instantly on the accusation of my breaking into my neighbors homes. For the first time in my life my dad let me stay in bed all day. I was not greatly socially skilled at the time so I lay in bed agonizing over what my life had become for some masturbation fodder and adrenaline doping, I was distraught and hopeless. School couldn't start quick enough that September.

In elementary school I made a friend, Rob Guarino. His family kept .22 rifles, hunted, kept venicen jerky in the freezer, had a projector TV. In elementary school he had a quad runner and a dirt track behind his house that he spent his days zipping around. He first drove a car while he was an elementary school student. I was mezmerized by his video games and loved to ride the back of his quad. He was a good driver. One day I got talking to him about infinity. He had never heard of it. I explained that the universe does not end, that as far as you go there is always more space, there's no limiting wall in space... He was mezmerized and told me he hadn't ever thought about it before.

Rob was always a gracious host, offering me food and drinks from the fridge. I was raised to issue please and thank you with every request and grant. One day I thanked his mom one time too many and she told me to not thank her anymore, that she felt I was too polite.

Rob came out of school one day. We had planned to goto my home and ask of my dad permission for me to goto the movies to play video games. I would ask about the movies, but we would usually stop into this hotel just before the movies where there was a dirt bike video game. It was old school, 2d with the bike moving from left to right across the screen. Rob was a lot better at it than me. We were standing outside of school waiting for my sister so we could walk home together. When my sister showed up she was carrying a few books she had taken from the school library. One of them, Garfield, caught Robs eye. He grabbed the book from her real quick and said, "I love Garfield!" My sister began smashing Rob over the head with the other books she had and screaming for him to give her book back. Rob was running in circles holding the book out to her that he might be out from her attack, but she was greater intent on smashing him. I moved quick into the situation and stepped on my sisters foot which held her from chasing him any more. My sister stormed off saying she was going to tell dad. Rob was still holding the Garfield book and asking if she wanted her book. She was, though, off to the telling. Rob and I walked home leisurely, I tried to prepare him for what we were about to encounter. I guess I should have just sent him home. When we arrived at the Kelley household my Dad immediately barked at Rob and I don't think I've ever seen someone so terrified, but he began immediately explaining that he was just trying to see the book and Mary was a hostile mess. That he had anything to say about it was irritating to my on the verge of bankruptcy dad and so he harshly sent Rob away. Rob and I never hung out again after that. "Why did you put your hands on your sister?" was the ensuing question. I told him I had not but merely stepped on her foot while she was chasing Rob. That I not touch my sister was the new pertinent phrase, enforced by belt lashing.

Twice I fought my brother that my dad watched. The first time I trounced him, dropping his face into a snow bank in a head lock. The second time I bloodied his nose.

The time I dropped his face in a snow bank, we had been walking around "the pond", Horn Pond in Woburn. I was about 5 years old. My brother, ever jealous of my affectionate disposition with my mom and sisters, was physically harassing me. Pushing me, not hurting me, but doing his best to be boss of me. I wasn't having it. I felt he had pushed me one time too many to merely endure his putting his hands on me this time. I grabbed him in a headlock and he pushed me down that I fell backward with him in the headlock. I fell into a snowbank that was built up alongside the walkway at the pond. I only held him there for a moment before my parents broke up the fight. As I recall no one was scolded and my fathers attitude was boys will be boys to my mothers then muted protest. No one was punished for this fight, or any fight my brother and I got in.

My brother was chasing me one day. I knew this trick to drop to all 4s that your chaser flies over you tripping. I pulled the trick with abysmal timing and then he was standing over me, thinking I had fallen accidentally. He asked if I was ok as I was punching him in the balls. I jumped up and ran home. I had just gotten to the bottom of the stairs with my brother in hot pursuit. My dad had just breached the door and asked what was going on? Both of us winded, we didn't have anything to say yet and my dad said "You two want to fight, well go ahead and fight, right out there." pointing to the side yard. My brother and I walked to the side yard and the bare knuckle boxing match ensued. He punched me in the stomach one time hard that nearly knocked the wind out of me. My dad yelled that he didn't want to see any more body shots, that he wanted us punching for the head. I got my brother one good time square in the nose and blood started trickling. He got some hits on me but nothing significant. The fight was over in about a minute when my dad said "enough".

There was no one in my neighborhood my brothers age. When we were very young my younger sister preferred to play with me rather than my brother. So my brother spent many years lonely, building models, breathing modeling glue and programming crappy computer games. One day my brother interrupted a whiffle ball game I was having with Dennis McEleheney who was my best friend for years. An argument ensued and he threw me to the ground. I punched him in the balls and ran. I ran right into our side yard where my grandmother was sitting with my parents and Al came running in screaming curse words. My parents sent me to the room I shared with my brother and he showed up at the window to challenge me to a fight in the field at the Kennedy school. He said he was going to kill me. The fight never happened.

When I was 13 I was having a game of basketball with Al. Our family had plans to move to Florida where the catholic school we were to attend had held out the enticement that they needed basketball players. Al and I had played basketball for a few seasons. Al had recently become well versed in brutish basketball. He would check you before he took a shot. He would check you as you were driving not even allowing you into the lane. He was playing rough neck basketball with me hard for the whole of the game we were playing. Finally on one of my drives to the hoop he checked me so hard I flew head first into the for sale sign that was on the McEleheny's lawn. I threw the ball at his head missing not by much. He came at me throwing punches. I ducked out each of the punches he threw and threw some of my own, none of which landed. Al had bought a punching bag that we both had spent hours in front of honing our skills to stick and move. This swing and miss fight continued from the basketball court into our backyard until I stumbled off balance giving Al my back, but I swung hard to turn to face him again and landed the first hit, a backhand. He was knocked back a bit which gave me time enough to get away and so I went to the punching bag room where there was a sleeve for a weight bar that I grabbed up and with emerged, issuing the challenge "Comon bitch you want some of me now?" The look on his face was fear for life as he turned and sprinted hundreds of feet away, my not having gone beyond stepping just outside the door of the punching bag room. Unbeknownst to me, my dad was now standing on the back porch and issued the order to "Drop it and get up here." I complied and walked to the bottom step of the porch knowing the beating I was about to endure. When I reached the bottom step he told me "No, forget it, just get out of here and don't come back. Do you understand?" The last part he said because when he told me haul ass I looked quite puzzled. I walked to Wakefield where a kid who was in Civil Air Patrol with me lived. He told me he couldn't ask his dad if I could stay there. I walked back to Woburn and sat in the parking lot at the Woburn mall in front of what was then Lechmere. It was early spring. It was cold. I was in shorts and a tshirt. I pulled my t shirt over my legs. My legs were cramping in agonous pain. I walked then jogged home. When I got there I broke into the basement by the window and slept in the fetal position on the floor. The next day I skipped school but went to my track meet. My mom showed up to my track meet and asked why I didn't come home. I told her dad told me not to. She told me to come home even if my dad tells me not to. That was the last physical fight I had with my brother.

When I was about 12 I began to get body odor. It was at about this time I began hanging out with a kid I was in Elementary School with named Jason Hammond. Jay had the coolest video game I'd seen to that date "Aliens", based on the movie with Sigourney Weaver. I had seen Aliens in the theater with my sister and her then boyfriend, now husband, Matt. We had started our journey to the movies with a peel out accented with cherry bombs connected to Matt's all black Camaro. I also used to shoot arrows by bow with Jay Hammond. I watched movies as I had never seen at Jay Hammonds like "American Ninja". I used to goto the ball park beside his house to watch the girls play softball. Christen Marciano was very hot pitching softball. She was very hot doing anything really. She treated me quite kindly but would never consider dating me.

My family had eaten dinner together every day for as long as I can remember. My father had always told jokes or shared his experiences or taught a lesson, often philosophy, at the dinner table. His nightly discourse usually ran at the end of the meal. When I was about 14 my dad began swearing at the dinner table. I had not heard adults use cuss language before that.

When I was about 14 my brother Al was, by one of his friends, put onto a catalog from which a person could order various weapons, like Rambo knives and throwing stars. I saved up and we both ordered survival knives with a compass in the handle. The knife came dull as shit to the extreme with a flat on the bottom of the blade. It though came with a sharpening stone in the handle. I never got to sharpen my knife because my parents confiscated them quick.

When I was in Middle School it was in vogue to deliver knuckle bombers to the not so cool kids. Unfortunately for me I was one of the not so cool kids and worse I was the regular target of the long football quarterback and coaches son, the outrageously strong for Middle School, Danny Mullen. The knucklebombers usually went down while we waited for school to open in the morning. A knucklebomber is exactly a downward swung punch to the back of the head with only the middle knuckle extended. Invariably they were a tool of surprise that would vastly harsh the receivers morning. Danny Mullen graduated from most morning knucklebombing me to knucklebombing me in the hallway between classes. One day we were on our way to shop class when Danny Mullen delivered to the back of my head his final knucklebomber. After which he gave me a look of glee before he turned with his head slung low cackling like a hyena. I had stopped in my tracks to let the rage build, then when he was walking away cool as a cucumber, I sprinted up behind Danny Mullen and applied my first knucklebomber to Danny Mullens dome piece. "Ahhh!" he exclaimed in a tone like a wounded animal. He spun to face me, head still hung low. "What the hell are you doing?" he said "We're fighting" he stated surely. "Lets go." my retort. "No, outside of school, Saturday in the cemetery." He insisted. "Fine." I said. I rode to the cemetery on my bike with Brian Lees my best friend for most of my childhood and my brother. Also showed up to the fight were Lauren Evangelista my then friend and crush and Julie one of her friends. Danny Mullen was waiting for me at the top of the hill. I rode there to listen to his insistence that no one jump in. I told him they're here to watch. He threatened "if they jump in", but was then stumped for words and accepted my statement that they were just going to watch. Danny Mullen bull that he was, benching more than his body weight in 7th grade, while I couldn't lift my own body weight, charged at me and blasted me onto my back with his first punch to my face. He jumped on me mounted and began pummeling my face hard. I wriggled and writhed and he began punching me in my back and sides. Eventually I bucked him and made it to my feet and he came right at me, smashed me in the face again and I flew to my back. As I was falling the second time, I realized the reason he was so easily knocking my feet out from under me was that the sole of my shoes were bare. So like a lever the whole length of my person was under the weight of his punches wrenching my tractionless shoes to easily slip out from under me. I was on my back for the second time and Danny Mullen was again mounted on top of me pummeling me. I wriggled my way out from under him and didn't waste a second to move off of the dewy grass hill onto the pavement. "What are you quitting?" he asked. "No, we're going to fight over here." I said. "No get back here" he said. "No, you come out here." I insisted. He did and came at me more hesitantly. On his first paved approach we both threw a punch simultaneously. I leaned my head back as I threw mine where as he committed full person to throwing his punch. We both connected but my punch knocked him back a bit. I snapped my head to engage him and noticed he was a bit dazed like it was the first time he had been punched in the face and it probably was. I ran at him and leaping threw another punch. I connected flush and knocked him quite a distance backward. I ran at him and threw yet another punch that knocked him hard backward. I had beat him from the top of the hill where we first squared off on the pavement to the bottom of the hill across what was about 150 feet. He was now at the bottom of the hill so the elevation advantage I had acquired by knocking him into the downhill with my first punch was about to be evened up. He said, "That's it, I don't want to fight any more." I asked "You lose?" "No way, I'm kicking your ass." "It's still on then. You quit, you lose." I said. "Fine, I lose." he muttered. "Louder." I said boldly. He called to the top of the hill where my brother and friends were watching the fight. "I lose." he said. With a smile twisted by my fat lip I hurried to my bike. Immediately upon reaching my bike I realized how much pain I was in. I could barely swing my leg to saddle my bike. My eyes were black, my nose was dripping blood, my lip was fat, my back and sides were aching. When I got home my dad told me he hoped the other guy looked worse. I told him I don't think so but I won. He gave a chuckle. I sat for the rest of the weekend, incapable of moving without severe pain. Danny Mullen never knucklebombed me again. I might thank him now for my realizing all the fracturing my skull he did is what made my dome piece so thick and strong. Lauren Evangelista left the cemetery with Danny Mullen that day. I'm pretty sure she had a crush on him or at least wanted to be in with the cool crowd. While I was disappointed she walked away with him, I didn't think about it too much then, I was greater focused on being very gentle to my many injuries.

I was walking to the Boys Club dribbling my basketball one day when I was approached by Josh Scott who said "I heard you've been talking shit about me." He was walking from the boysclub with Jimmy Gangi who was in my brothers grade but had stayed back and was about twice my size. On his other side was another kid who I did not know but was about as big as Jim Gangi. The three of them had blocked my way to the boysclub. I rolled my basketball through the parking lot toward the boysclub and all three watched the path of the ball as I punched Josh Scott in the nose as hard as I could. As soon as I did I looked at Jim Gangi who was saying "You're just going to let him hit you!?" The kid on the other side of Josh said "Did he just hit you?" I guess he was the most focused on the basketball roll. Josh Scott was stunned and far less rearing to fight as in the moment before. I shrugged my shoulders and walked around them. I went to the boysclub that day without issue. Josh Scott never said anything to me again. Preceding this situation, Carlos had asked how certain people on the football team played. I had said about Josh Scott that he wasn't very good at football. Carlos then apparently setup a fight between me and Josh Scott.

The first car I drove was my sisters Chevy Baretta. She took me to a parking lot at Woburn High School and asked me if I wanted to drive. I gleefully accepted the opportunity. The parking lot was empty but for snow banks around the perimeter. We switched seats and she instructed me on steering, brake and gas, then told me about shifting the car into drive. I put the car in drive and drove once around the parking lot very slow, smooth for steering though jerky on the brake. I had just completed one lap of the parking lot and put the car in park and the Woburn police pulled into the parking lot. They drove up beside the car, my sister told me to put the window down and I did. They asked what we were doing. My sister told them she was teaching me how to drive. They asked how old I was. I told them I was 13. They told us to switch seats and not to do this again. We accepted graciously and were on our way.

Mr McNeil an English teacher at the Kennedy Junior High School was a volunteer gym monitor on the weekends at the school. More exactly in the shower room which is where his immensely obese person used to spend his whole day monitoring. I went to the gym on the weekend one time and he asked me about my masturbation habits. I told him I masturbated. Then he wanted to know how often. I told him a couple times a week and he told me I shouldn't. That it would be better for me if I didn't. Not at all sure where he was going with this I told him I would stop. He then insisted that I be weighed. Then he insisted that I be naked for the weighing. Then he insisted I take a shower which was something I didn't do at school. That day I did. I didn't go back to creepy's weekend workout ever again. I stopped masturbating for a few weeks though. He was the only adult that had spoken to me about masturbation. His telling me it was bad made an impression on me that left me wondering, why? Why is masturbation bad? Over the weeks I went without masturbating my mood soured. I got a bit depressed and snippy. So eventually I returned to masturbating regularly and found myself much happier to have a sexual outlet.

One day I finished masturbating into the sink. I ran the water though apparently not long enough to wash it all down and didn't well check it before going about my business. My dad found the spunk and found me in my room and beckoned me to the bathroom and said “Did you put that there?” I was stumped and struggled to find what to say. “I don't want to know what it is, clean it out of the sink and don't do it again.” I complied.

I hadn't showered at school since I got into a fight with a hockey player, Ron something or other. He was a blond kid who called me slapper alot and on this day was asking me if I was gay and why I looked at him. I told him I hadn't looked at him which is the absolute truth. I'm pretty sure he knew that and was just starting a fight with me to look cool. He was always condescending to me and being the biggest asshole he could be. I certainly had no sweet feelings for this kid. He came at me swinging, I got him in a guillotine and sat down on the bench he drove me into. The gym teacher broke it up quick. He reported no one as he was partial to this hockey player kid and didn't want him to get suspended. This same gym teacher used to do nothing about whole gym classes chanting the insulting nickname I had been assigned. The first time I had been called slapper was in his gym class. Steve St. John Pierre started the chant, then did the windmill and the whole of the full seated in rows on the basketball court gym class chanted Steve's cut on my masturbation habit.

I was playing softball in gym class in highschool. Mr. Nelson, the highschool football coach and gym teacher was pitching underhand. I was not at all good at softball. In that day my arms were not very strong, I hadn't played baseball since I was about 7 and even then I wasn't any good at swinging a bat. Mr. Nelson struck me out. To be a clown, hoping to get some laughs, which I did, I stormed the mound and gave Mr. Nelson a "shoe shine", complaining about his calling the pitch a strike. He immediately open hand slapped me on the side of the head. I'm pretty sure I was the only kid at Woburn High who had ever been slapped by the gym teacher. While he was out of line in slapping me, I didn't bother to report it. He could have handled it better, but I think he thought I was going to assault him was why I stormed the mound. When I didn't assault him but kicked dirt on his shoes, it seemed without thinking, he went ahead and did what he thought he was going to have to do when I charged the mound. Certainly no one had ever put him in that position before. Being my Gym Teacher he was unaware how big a class clown I was. Before this incident I had taken gym class quite seriously. There was never a need for me to lighten it as it was already fun.

When I was 14 I joined Civil Air Patrol. CAP is the civilian auxiliary to the air force. Born during WWII CAP was originally intended to prevent coastal sabotage by monitoring the US coastline. CAP in the age when I was a member was intended to organize search parties to find planes downed in forested areas. When I was in the organization for a couple years, about age 16, I was at a Civil Air Patrol meeting one night just to let the people there know I was going to be otherwise occupied on that evening. I think I had work that night. It was a meeting to practice honor guard. There were 4 people there apart from me, Ahearn, Gluck, Greene and Astrofsky. I was senior most of the cadets that were there. Astrofsky was an Adult member. I explained my scheduling predicament to Astrofsky who was disappointed but glad I made the effort to let them know of my impending absence. Gluck asked me if I wasn't going to be in the meeting that night. I advised him that I had another obligation. With his knife in his hand he stabbed at my cars front tire stating "Looks like you're not going anywhere now." He wiggled his hand back and forth on his knife handle and said "Oh shit I can't get it out." I asked "Did you just stab my tire?" He said "Yeah and now I can't get my knife out." At that I kicked him in the forehead hard enough to knock him out for a few minutes. As he was falling to the ground his knife dropped out of his hand. The blade was folded into the handle and he had been pretending to stab my tire. In my estimation, that's what you get when you play with knives. It can actually be a lesson learned even harder than getting kicked in the forehead, so he was actually quite lucky to learn the playing with knives lesson by life continuing circumstance. The adult members of Civil Air Patrol did not see it my way. I was kicked out of the squadron.

With Civil Air Patrol I flew in a Cesna out of Hanscom Air Force base. While in flight I was allowed to take the controls for a short while. It was kind of very boring. I was allowed only to stay on course which is why flying was boring for me. My expectation in flying was to barnstorm, dive, roll and cut turns hard. None of which happened. I've had more fun on a swingset.

I was about 14 when one of my friends from Civil Air Patrol, Von Handorf, asked if I wanted to goto China town to get a fake ID. I didn't drink alcohol as yet and can't imagine anything I would have done with a fake ID, but it sounded like an adventure so off we went. We took public transportation into Boston and explored China town. Von Handorf asked some guys about getting a fake ID and they said we'd have to go down an alley and step into a building. He asked me if I wanted to and I declined. It didn't sound at all safe to me.

One day I was in the woods behind Von Handorfs house. Another kid from Civil Air Patrol showed up in a car. He was definitely too young to be driving. When I asked whose car it was he told me it was stolen, that he knows how to hot wire cars. An inspection of the wires hanging from underneath the dash board proved to me his claim true. He told me something I forget now about how he broke the lock on the steering column. He asked if we wanted to go for a ride, Von Handorf was in, I declined.

Pereault had joined Civil Air Patrol with his late teen sister Kim. I dreamed of finding a way to open her up to dating a kid half a decade younger than her. My dreams proved tough to carry to fruition. I did wind up dating a Civil Air Patrol member, Jen Greene, who then shortly cheated on me with my then best friend Mike Griffiths. Mike broke the news to me and appologized. I accepted his appology and kept both him and Jen as friends.

Years after I had done any break ins my older sister threw a party while my parents were away. She made a bon fire on the asphault in the side yard which melted a whole through it. Her then boyfriend now husband Matt was walking about our neighborhood with one of his friends and decided to piss in the back yard of one of our neighbors. He set off the motion detector light in their back yard. This was the home I had volunteered my finger prints to clear the accusation of my having broke in there. I had not had any conversation nor interaction with those neighbors the whole time they lived there until this night. When the, at home alone wife, noticed the motion detector light set off, she looked out back, saw someone in the back yard and called the police and her husband. Her husband showed up first, parked his car and came at me saying "I'm going to beat your ass you little punk." I had been sitting on the hill in the backyard and stood up and moved away from him. He stayed in the street between our houses. My dad was none too happy about Melissa having melted the asphault in the side yard.

Melissa's insurance job on her unwanted Cherokee.

When I was about 16 my older sister rented a cottage in New Hampshire. She had a friend drive her Jeep Grand Cherokee from there to a distant remote location and demolish the vehicle so she could collect on her theft insurance. The next vehicle she bought was a blazer which just so happened to be a lemon.

My sister broke the axel of her car, the banana mobile, one time when she drove over a pot hole. It was so named for it being a big yellow Chevy Nova.

When I was 17 my brother in law Matt challenged me to a boxing match with no headgear. My brothers boxing gloves were enough padding in his estimation. He was in his mid 20s at the time, had been a military policeman in the Army, weighed then more than 200 pounds to my 150. We boxed hard for a couple minutes. He scored a few body shots on me that hurt and angered me. I threw a punch hard at his face that landed solid on his nose. He was driven back and stopped fighting immediately. He held up his hand to sign hold on and wiped his nose with his other glove. His nose was dripping blood so he called the fight.

Boxing with Danny Wierzanski

I was at the Wierzanski's house having been challenged by Joe Wierzanski to a friendly boxing match. When we arrived Joe was apprehensive. Dan Wierzanski, his older brother, was more anxious to box a round. So we put on the headgear and gloves and took up stance in the back yard. Joe called the fight on, Dan and I bumped gloves, Dan and I both threw our first punches, mine landed solid on his nose. He bent over holding his face and called the fight.

Boxing with big Steve from work

I was challenged to a boxing match by big Steve who worked with me at Market Basket. Steve was quite heavy, definitely more than two hundred pounds and less than five foot eight inches. He was a pretty cool kid, not very outgoing, but conversant with people he well knew and very likeable. He had heard of some of my boxing matches and claimed to have some skill. I thought he looked like an easy match. I accepted his challenge and we drove to the home of my birth where we took up positions in the side yard and proceeded to pummel each other silly. Steve put quite a few good hits on me. I got a few good hits on him. After the only round I'd have to say the fight was even. I had definitely underestimated his ability.

Boxing with Jen. Cumon harder, ok, that's enough

My friend Jen Greene challenged me to a boxing match. She was insistent that we box. I put on the gear as did she. We commenced sparring in the side yard. She was hitting me as hard as she could, which wasn't hurting me, and this while she was telling me to hit her harder. When we first started sparring I was swinging very lightly, not hitting her at all hard enough to hurt. After she had insisted I hit her hard, I punched her in the padded face mask pretty hard once and as soon as she felt it she quit with first an immediate groan.

My brother and I boxed a few times. Usually it came out pretty even. But one time he out boxed me by far. He landed one of his punches to my sternum which winded me. I wasn't gasping, so I tried to feign I wasn't hurt and kept boxing, but his having depleted my oxygen level caused me to box less efficiently. Then he had no mercy and tagged me in the face a bunch of times. Eventually I quit when it had been a long while since I landed any kind of significant hit and he had dominated since the sternum shot.

My brother was driving to Boomers Pool Hall in Wilmington. Two of my brothers friends John and Chico were with us. We were on the rotary in Woburn when we passed a car with two long haired people in it. They honked at us a long honk. My brother slowed and pulled to the side of the road and first waved them up alongside us, then stuck his head out the window and looked back calling them up like "come on up here..." They just stopped behind us. John asked who it was. My brother said he didn't know 2 chicks, then shrugged and we continued on the way to the pool hall. They followed us into the parking lot at the pool hall. They sped past us in the parking lot and parked and got out as we were on our way into the pool hall. It turned out to be a Heavy Metal cocaine addict and his girlfriend, neither of whom any of us knew. He was a few years older than us, probably in his mid 20's at oldest early 30. He ran upto my brother yelling, "Why the fuck did you pass me?" At which my brother responded quick "There's tow lanes there." "Why the fuck are you leaning out your window at me, you think your tough?" This is right about when he had approached my brother close enough to be considered an assault with his present tact. They were pretty much nose to nose. I asked my brothers friend John, "What do you think John, should we kick the shit out of this guy?" He said "No Dan, lets go play pool." I began walking back to where my brother was being screamed at by this guy over and over again "You think you're tough man, huh?" I said to Al, "Comon Al lets go." At which the guy ran the 4 or so steps to be in my face asking if I thought I was tough. To which I simply head butted him. My initial head butt split open his nose and he was gushing blood down his face when a split second later my brother smashed him hard with a punch. My head butt had knocked him back from me, my brothers punch knocked him further back from me. I ran to where my brother had punched him a few more times and grabbed him by his shirt and began to knee him in the ribs and ass. My brother was punching him in the head all the while. We knocked him to the ground. Then his girlfriend ran up to me and started trying to grab my balls. I backed off being chased by his girlfriend. At the time my brother stayed near the guy. As I backed away I said to Al, "That's enough Al. He's had enough." But apparently the guy had a grip on him and pulled himself off the ground, got a grip on his head, pulled his head to his mouth and bit the top of his ear off. Luckily he spit it out. The guy hobbled off to the hospital after that. We got word later that the guy had a broken cheek bone, broken ribs and internal injuries. We found Als ear piece and also brought it to the hospital where they sewed it on. For years it was bent over where it had been bitten and the scar was obvious. My brother looked half like Spock of Star Trek. Eventually my brother had plastic surgery done to restore his ear. Today it looks fine. Somehow we found out who it was and pressed charges against him of mayhem. In court at the arraignment our lawyer badgered the guy asking him excitedly what it felt like to bite Als ear off. The guy said it felt like biting a twix bar. The guy pressed counter charges for our assault on him. He held out that all charges could be dropped and we could just forget about the whole thing. I was signed up delayed entry to go into the Navy. My dad, not wanting to risk me and Al being prosecuted and especially my not being able to join the Navy, decided we should drop all charges. My brother would have been charged with assault with a dangerous weapon for kicking the guy when he was on the ground, in the face. This was after he had his ear bitten off, by a psychopath with a war wish, that he kicked him in the face.

Going to my brothers car after school I called shotgun to reserve the front seat. My brothers friend Mike Pacheco tried to slip in to the front seat at which I pulled him back. A small pushing match ensued and Mike, with his elevationally challenged attitude, asked me if I wanted to fight. I punched him in the nose immediately. He moved at me I stood him still with another punch to the nose and then another one for the look he had on his face which was anger. Then he looked defeated and asked me again if I wanted to fight but made no move at me. We just stood there and looked at each other. My brothers friend John laughed outloud then said cummon splatty to Mike and the nickname stuck with him through highschool. I never called him splatty but my brother and his friends did.

I had just finished a soccer practice and got into the car. My dad said something to me, the text of which I can not recall, but it wasn't very kind. I said something back to him to not loose the point. He turned and intently blew smoke in my face. I got out of the car, hid behind a boulder, walked home.

Most days my dad would pick me up from soccer practice. One day he didn't show up. I waited 2 hours then walked home.

I attribute most of my long patience to the long waits I made for my parents after work. I was employed and paying taxes the day I turned 14. I had been a paper boy long before that to keep up with my brothers spending capacity by report card A's. I was forced to do landscaping for my dad when I was 13, for two fifty an hour. I had mowed the lawn of one of my neighbors a couple summers before that. When I started working at 14 though, the work I got was far away from my neighborhood, which served the added complication of my being too young to drive and needing to commute to work 30+ hours per week. So, for the first 2 years I was at Market Basket, I waited for one of my parents to pick me up from work usually 4 times per week. When I first started working there pay phone calls were just 10 cents. Pretty soon they were 25 cents and then at break neck pace they were 50 cents. Phone calls thus inflated by a factor of 5 in less than 4 years. I would depart work, drop the appropriate coinage in the slot, dial the digits, advise of my waiting status, then wait. All of which added about another half hour to my 8 hour school day, 7 hour work days...

It was an unusual day at school. I was walking with two kids with whom I did not often roam the school halls. Rob Croak and Jason Sindoni were on the soccer team with me. I had known Jason since elementary school. Rob I had met in the past year by playing soccer. I hadn't put this together at the time, but Jason apparently knew Rob had something against my brother Al. Jason said something to Rob highlighting that Al Kelley was going to be at the practice we were on our way to attending. Rob said "I can't stand that fucking kid." To which I punched him in the side of the head quick. My knuckle split open a cut on his temple. Rob said "What the fuck?" I said "That's my brother." He just made a face to show his surprise and dismay. Jason had chimed in, "Wo Dan, chill out." As much as it seems Jason was antagonizing the situation, it also seemed he was unaware as to what the result of his antagonism would be and didn't enjoy the violence that ensued. That was the all of that situation. Rob didn't turn me in to the school administrators as I thought he might.

In 8th grade I did my science fair project on Human Evolution Continued in Space. I didn't win any prizes. I was actually laughed at and mocked by the judges. Dr. Louise Mary Nolan, Superintendant of Schools, judged my science fair project which she called preposterous then literally giggled as she made a look of disbelief at the other judge. What inspired my science fair project was my recognition that stereotypical recounts of abductions produce images of greatly similar beings. The beings most abductees describe are humanoid. Thus I theorized that the relation between ET's and people was direct. Much of what was different between ET and human could have been evolutionarily based. I hypothesized humans traveling through space, might evolve to look as ET as they are described by victims of abduction. I further hypothesized Earth people from a time in the not distant future, might space travel, evolve to appear slightly different, conquer time travel and thereby travel back through time to study the beings of their distant past. All of which was bunked by a doctor in a mere giggle.

In 7th grade I played football for one season. I should say really, I worked out with the football team, as most games I did not play. The first game I did play though I caught an interception. That was actually in the first down of my first game. What was good about football though was doing pushups and leg lifts daily. I have not been over weight since that one season I played football. The worst part of playing football was getting speared, otherwise called helmet tackled by this kid Dave. He was enormous and strong. He would sprint at you full force and dive into your sternum connecting with his helmet. He broke a kids arm at practice one day.

Toward the end of the football season I was invited to travel to Woburn's sister city in New York, Ramapoe Spring Valley, as an exchange to play a game of football. My host in New York, James, was the first black person to whose house I had been. James was a cool kid by all measures. His house was tidy, the TV room in the basement carpeted, his room was on the second floor of the house. He was into hip hop music which I had not heard much of at that point in my life. He called up his cousin one night who drove us to the movies in his blazer. All the seats in the Blazer were full with James his cousin and his friends, so I had to sit on the speaker box in the back of the truck. We went to see the first Chucky movie, Child's Play. The movies in New York was a new experience. I had never seen a movie theater so raucus. People were throwing pop corn and screaming at the screen, telling the actors to look out for Chucky and just screaming shrill during the "scary" parts. I didn't get much of the movie, it was too tough to hear or pay attention to in that theater. The game day came and I was sent in the game. This was the first time I was going to play in a long time. I was sent in as "corner back" a defensive position I had never played before. The quarter back of the pop warner A team, Danny Mullen, usually played this position on defense. The coach was a scramble on the sidelines as Danny Mullen needed to come out of the game for reasons I'm unaware. The coach was a bit frantic looking around to find someone to play the position. He noticed me and grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me forward real hard and asked me "I want you to go in as corner back, can you play there, do you know the position?" "Yeah coach, I can play there." I told him with not the first clue as to what playing corner back entailed. He slapped me in the ass and out to play corner back I went. I jogged out to where I had seen Danny Mullen position himself. Soon the ball was snapped, I watched as the quarter back took a few steps back, set and threw a gorgeous spiral over my head, I began back pedaling but I wasn't nearly deep enough in the field to get where he had thrown the ball. It was going to land in the zone I was supposed to be defending. I turned as the ball passed over my head and saw the receiver standing in the end zone with his upper arms at his side and his forearms extended out toward the ball on the way directly to him. It was a long pass, about 30 yards. I was running hard but would surely not be there in time. The pass hit the receiver right in the numbers, then skidded down his shirt, clipping his arms on either side, it fell through his arms and hit the ground. I breathed a sigh of relief. Danny Mullen was back in the game the next play.

There was a party at Michelle Amari's house in honor of my sisters soon wedding. This was the first time I was partying with my sister and her friends. They started feeding me drinks until I was totally inebriated. Before I was swashed drunk I was thinking to hit on her friend Heidi, blond girl half a dozen plus years older than me. She had been an object of desire for me and my brother for a long time. I drank myself far beyond the balls to hit on her and into slurring my words and incapacity to consider much quickly or much at all really. Beyond getting very drunk the night was mostly uneventful.

When I was 16 my parents were away for a week in Florida. I decided to throw a party. I printed up flyers for the party. It was a basic general invite with the date and the map of Woburn from the phone book with an X on my home address. The party was to be on a night there was a dance at the highschool for the class ahead of mine. My brother had plans to attend the dance. He thought he might party with me and whoever showed up after he got home from the dance. The night of the party comes around, my brother in law buys a keg and a bunch of 1.75 liters of hard alcohol for me and my friends. I wasn't sure how many people were going to show up so I had taken some precautions. I closed my parents bedroom door and turned the light off in there. I stood the kitchen table up in my younger sisters doorway both to make her room inaccessible and to afford more space in the kitchen. I hung the overhead light in the kitchen at a taller clearance as without the kitchen table under it, it was at head height. I was thinking maybe 20 or 30 people would show up. Boy was I wrong. My good friends got there and we were all drinking having a good time. Just after dark more people showed up and it was passed to me that some of the badasses were at the party, but were outside of my house. I took a look outside and low and behold the whole street was blocked by cars and people. It was like Mardi Gras in front of my house. It was told to me that some people had gotten ahold of my party flyer and decided to distribute it widely, including to towns that neighbor Woburn. I got the aluminum baseball bat that had been around the house for years. I began carrying it everywhere I went. I didn't even bother to go outside on account of how boisterous it was out there. Someone stole the quarter keg I had paid the deposit on. A kid I went to elementary school with got punched in the face in my room. Just as I got there the other kids were heading on their way out, which is when I think the keg was stolen. I heard there was a fight outside that involved two of the toughest kids in my school. Then Lauren Evangelista told me the fence in the front yard, that my dad had built himself had been knocked over. At first I didn't believe her. I looked out there but couldn't see the fence because of how many people were there. I found out later John Chinaurd, probably the second toughest kid in my school had stood on the fence along with a bunch of other people who were watching the fight, then jumped the fence to get in the fight, collapsing the fence into the fight scene. Lauren asked me what I was going to do? I shrugged. Someone suggested I call the cops, which I felt was a sure way to have my parents find out about the party and be grounded. So I did not. Eventually the cops showed up because the neighbors called. I stepped onto the side porch just as the cops were walking into the side yard over the fence. Having known the cops would be there eventually I hid what was left of the alcohol. There were people flying through the side yard heading into my neighbors yards to get away from the cops. The cars poured down the street quick. The cops approached the house, I greeted them. They asked if I lived there. I told them I did, it was my party, but I wasn't expecting all those people. They asked if they could take a look around. I was totally sober, having not drank when I realized how many people were showing up to my party. They came in, looked around the whole house. Asked about the table in the door of my sisters room. I told them just to make space in the kitchen. They asked about the "Woburn a Massachusetts Crime Watch Community sign" I had decorated the living room with in place of my dads sailing ships collection. I told them my dad works for the sign company and it was a defective sign due the reflective finish not being right. I had actually been boosted by Mike Griffiths up a telephone pole to unscrew the sign, late night on a thoroughfare. They looked at each other, shrugged and on their way they went. The alcohol came out from under the couches and I finally got to wind down. The next day I went out into the neighborhood and collected up all the beer cans there were in my neighbors yards, which was very many. Then I stood up the fallen section of fence and twined it to the standing fence posts. The next day my parents came home and the only thing that tipped them off there was a party was that the kitchen light had not been dropped down from it's elevated position over the kitchen table and my dads desk lamp in his room was pushed down from it's usual position. Which was only because I put a bed sheet over his desk to keep people from seeing what all was in their darkened room. I was grounded a whole month. The next school day I found the fence fallen when I came out to goto school. I stood it up quick and fixed the twine. The day after that the fence was again fallen. I left it on the ground. My parents thought the fence had simply rotted to it's demise.

The first person to offer me drugs was my brother. At a party he asked if I wanted to hit a joint. I declined with a look of disgust.

When I was about 16 I was a major flirt and well placed for such at my workplace. Market Basket was full of hot women. Casey Babbich, then girlfriend of Mario Cavahlo, both Market Basket workers, her a strident hottie, was asking me one day what was the name of my penis. She suggested Thud, for the sound it would make if I dropped it on the counter. She was insistent it had to have a proper name. I accepted her suggestion.

When I was 16 my dad loaned me a rusty and brown 78 Ford Pinto with manual transmission. Weak as it was, my lead foot and feather foot clutch made it zoom. One day I left to travel to Hampton Beach at the same times as my brother riding in the car of his friend John Savino. John's car was a Trans Am similar to kit of knight rider fame. It had a 350 cubic inch 8 cylinder engine. His was widely considered the fastest car owned by any of my or my brothers peers. Leaving at the same time, I in my Pinto beat Johns TA to Hampton Beach. My spedometer was tacked at it's 85 mph top speed the whole way there.

My dad asked me to help him move a car he had just bought. It was a bandit edition firebird. It was a year of the firebird that Pontiac placed the biggest stock engine ever in the firebird. That engine was a 403 cubic inch engine. I was driving quite tame most of the way home as my dad was driving just ahead of me. Finally I couldn't stand the sanity any longer, we were nearing home and I knew I likely wouldn't have a chance again to find out of what this famed 403 was capable. I nailed the gas while bearing right onto a new street, the tires chirped immediately and the engine rumbled up quick so I came off the gas, thoroughly impressed with the audacious strength of that engine.

When I was about 17 my dad had bought a 67 firebird, the original year of the firebird. He had been buying cars at auction and selling them at the end of the street on the thoroughfare. He planned on selling this car. Selling cars had become the meat of my dads income. He sold me the firebird and made a handsome profit off me.

The first time I drove the 67 firebird on the highway I was driving Joe Werzanski home to Lynnfield. The highway traffic was light and I wanted to appreciate the speed of my new ride, so I put the petal to the floor and reached the top of the spedometer 110 mph in a jiffy. We cruised at that speed for a mile or two. Then Joe said, the cops are behind you. I didn't see flashing lights yet, so I didn't know whether to take him serious. I slowed down considerably and soon the cop car was prominent in my rear view mirror, tailgating me. So, I accepted the ticket, which the cop did not know what the top speed to list was, as I had been going too fast when he first got behind me to speed match at all quick, then had slowed down quick enough to be at a reasonable speed.

When I was in the Navy, attending Sonar Technician A school, I bought a 83 firebird with a 305 8 cylinder. When I graduated Sonar Technician A school in San Diego California I had to drive cross country to bring my car with me to Massachusetts. I was being stationed in Mayport Florida, though was leaving my car at my families home in Woburn Massachusetts while I acquainted myself with ship living.

When I came home on leave from the Navy to pickup my car, my younger sister told me she was going to miss driving my car. No one had even made me aware that my car had become my sisters daily driver. I was offended that they'd give away use of my car, apparently by permission of my dad to enforce my feeling ill at ease to leave anything at home, I now realize. It didn't all come together about why my dad had permited my sister to drive my car until just moments ago when I thought of the twisted wise alleck look on his face in the picture he sent me of my car after he got an inspection sticker put on it. That was his way of telling me, when I would find out that my sister was driving my car, that it was by his authority. While at the time I thought it odd that something worth a couple thousand dollars be given away without the permission of the owner I told my sister I was glad she enjoyed use of my car and that it didn't just sit around while I wasn't using it. I felt that and would probably have granted my sister use of the car if she had asked. So long as she would cover the vehicle by insurance, which I'm pretty sure she didn't. The next winter my sister got in a wreck driving a car with not as low a center of gravity.

When I was home on leave from the Navy my older sister asked me for a loan of 400 dollars to help her move into an apartment she was renting in Waltham. She had just delivered her first child and wanted to be in a bigger place. I floated her the loan and went back to life on ship in the Navy and didn't think about it until much later. Years passed and she never repaid it. Finally one day I mentioned it to her and she told me she would repay it. A couple days later she presented me $200 which was her recollection of what I had loaned her.

I've not been driving during an accident where there was an injury. I've been in two parked car accidents, two bumper taps, a series of accidents in which all I hit was the curb and one accident in a parking lot where the other driver was traveling at road way speeds across the parking spaces just beyond the last cars parked in the lot. While the car was totaled in that accident I was wholly not at fault and while there were 4 people in the vehicle I was driving, including a 2 year old, no one was injured. Of all these minor accidents none was reported to the insurance agency as my having been behind the wheel and only one was reported to an insurance agency.

I learned high speed vehicle control driving a 78 Ford Pinto. It didn't have much acceleration, was very light and tightly steering boxed with no power steering, all of which made it fairly easy to learn fast driving in fair safety. There was not much highway travel I did in that Pinto that the speedometer was not pinned at it's 85 mile per hour limit. It was a manual transmission vehicle. I learned to drive manual in one teaching session in the Pinto. Taught by my dad at the train station parking lot in Woburn, I stalled the vehicle a time or two before I got the hang of acceleration and stopping. That raised my dads ire a bit as he wasn't intending on giving me the Pinto but was intent on loaning it to me.

My next car was a 1967 Firebird, which is the inaugural year of the f-body vehicle. The steering was very loose on it. I could turn the wheel far back and forth either direction before there was any response from the tires. The power steering went out from time to time. The power steering pump wailed loud when I would turn the wheel to it's extreme. The car was very heavy thus had a strong tendency for momentum. I realized the steering deficiency of the vehicle the first time I drove it. My parents were out of town. My father had bought the car at an auction. It was his intention to sell it. My dads Pinto was in the shop for repairs as I had burnt the clutch after about a year of driving it. I had not purchased the Firebird yet though had intention. I took the car for a short joy ride to find out what it could do. It had a 350 cubic inch engine that had been transplanted from a Chevy truck. I accelerated hard down a winding hill and was impressed heartily with the speed of the vehicle though as I hit the curves I realized how very loose the steering was. Not knowing how loose it was at first I thinking I had turned the wheel hard enough to turn while not having turned had to turn hard at the last moment to keep from careening off the road. The car floated, lifting up and carrying left through a right turn I made off the downhill road. As poorly as the car steered and as fast as I drove, the years I drove that car, I had to greatly finagle turns by breaking hard before entering the turn and cutting the wheel quite hard to make a slight turn being very careful not to over steer as the car would easily fish tail. There was a bit of a delay in accelerating from the time I would stomp the pedal. So to get best acceleration out of turns I would stomp the gas before exiting the turn. Which with a stronger vehicle would have been a very bad idea, a prescription for disaster as the back tires spinning hard to drift the vehicle would defeat the front tires directional grip.

My first on road accident I was transferring from 95 north to route 1. It was raining, the roads were slick. I came around the corner of the on ramp and didn't notice a car stopped at the top of the on ramp until it was too late. I locked up the brakes and slid for about 10 feet and tapped the bumper of the car at the on ramp. We pulled to the side of the road where the vehicle owner inspected his car and said there's no damage and dismissed me warning to drive carefully with the roads wet.

The other rear end accident I caused, I was stopped at a red light in the suburbs of Jacksonville, FL. I saw the light turn green and the brake lights in front of me cease. I came off my brake and began to roll forward. I looked at the radio to turn the dial for a split second and when I looked up the car in front of me had reapplied their brake which is what I did but too late to keep from tapping their bumper. We pulled into a parking lot and the husband of the elderly couple in the other vehicle inspected his bumper and said he didn't see any damage. I appologized profusely and he made a gesture to say it was no big deal. My passenger and I got back in my car and off we went.

When I was early in driving the 67 firebird I was parked in the cramped parking lot at the pool hall Breakers in Woburn. I misjudged the arc of the front of the vehicle as I turned the wheel to exit the parking space. I clipped the car beside me and could see there was a scratch to the car. I pulled forward to get the car off my front fender then pulled out more gracefully. I drove away from that accident without notifying the other vehicle owner. I felt bad for scratching his car but sure didn't want to have to pay hundreds more for insurance for having caused so minor an accident.

I was pulling into the highschool parking lot with my younger sister in the passenger seat one morning. The parking lot was iced over which I didn't become aware of until when pulling in to a parking space when I hit my brake the car continued forward ignoring my turned wheel and slid into my classmate Gabe Chalpins mint 78 firebird. His car was a gift to him from his dad. My 67 firebird had body rot right to the frame. His firebird was immaculate classic car. I felt very badly for having hit his car. He had always been cool with me and in class we'd been decent friends, I remember enjoying chatting with him before class. All the same, I didn't want to have to pay higher insurance. I found another parking space and haven't been in an accident while parking since.

As a teen a few times in the summer I went to Hampton Beach to drive the strip, congregate and eat fried dough. One night I went there with my best friend in high school Mike Griffiths. We brought with us a 1.75 liter of Absolute Vodka. We had a fairly uneventful night. It was about midnight and time to go home, I was drunk but felt capable of driving. I got on the road and made it to the end of the strip when the urge to puke hit me. Still driving I flung my head out the window and puked real quick. I pulled over at the end of the strip and had a little conversation with Mike. We both agreed it would probably be best to get a little shut eye for a few hours before trying to make the hour long highway drive. So that's what we did. My parents were pretty lax with my curfew, so if I didn't show up at home til 4 in the morning I wouldn't be expecting punishment or anything like that. My curfew had been 1am since I was 13. When I was 16 I hadn't heard anything about a curfew in years so I had strong confidence the over night in my car wouldn't damage my freedom and that's how it turned out.

I skipped my senior prom. This decision was based mainly on my not closely associating with anyone in my graduating class. My best friend Mike Griffiths was 2 years ahead of me in highschool and my girlfriend was in the class behind me. I hung out with kids in my class a handful of times in all my highschool years. If I had cash to waste or if the prom was less expensive I'd have gone. As it was I was expecting to have to pay some hundreds of dollars for a limo and tux to hang out with people I barely knew. I could not justify the spending.

The day after my seventeenth birthday I signed up delayed entry to join the Navy. My parents had to sign on account of my not yet being eightteen. My having been raised watching Miami Vice with parents who had never used any but the legal drugs and having had a lifelong infatuation with all things military, I wanted to become a Navy SEAL that I might use the skills they taught to interdict drug shipments in the Carribean. I thought I would be doing a great service for the people of America. I thought also I could make boodles of cash by confiscating the valuables I suspected would be on drug running boats. I was quite totally wrong on all counts. I've come to realize major drug dealers don't move their drugs on their yachts which is something that was put in my head by watching Miami Vice. I've also come to realize that the US government allows drug smuggling as they're on the payrolls of the major drug dealers. So I would have been up against not just multimillionaire drug dealers but the US government who had been watching me since I was in elementary school. If I'd have survived being a Navy SEAL I'd have been killed pirating drug dealers yachts for sure.

In the summer after I graduated High School, my Naval service fast approaching, I took a trip to Vermont with Jen Greene and Michael Griffiths. Jen drove us there in her Geo Metro. We hiked a mountain called Camels Hump, so named for it's shape. We made it to about three quarters of the way to the peak when the sun began to near the horizon. So we hustled out way back down. On the way down we found a series of gorgeous pools and waterfalls. We took a dip. The water was beautifully clear but quite cold. The experience ranks high amongst my most memorable and enjoyable.

On the morning I was to leave for boot camp Linda arrived at my home to see me off. I was doing my best to be strong but lost my breathe and a tear ran down my cheek as I gave her my last hug for 2 months. She was sobbing uncontrollably. The recruiter hurried me off as though he didn't want to think better of the situation.

Boot camp was hard. I wasn't in nearly as good a shape as I thought I was. When I got there I could do about 20 pushups before I got sloppy. Most days the drill instructors would demand 200 pushups or more. By about the fourth set of pushups in a day I would be watching the drill instructor to make sure he wasn't looking so I could rest on my knees. The recruit who was charged with leading my squad was buff. He could do more than a hundred pushups without a break. After realizing how far out of shape I was I decided I'd better hold off on trying out for BUDS. That's the school to graduate to become a SEAL. I figured if I was struggling with Navy boot camp the chances I'd pass BUDS were pretty slim. I asked my drill instructor when I would be able to try out again and he told me in A school which was my next phase of training. When I arrived at A school I asked for a BUDS try out and was told I would have to wait until I was at my permanent duty station. When I got to my permanent duty station I asked for a BUDS tryout and was told I'd have to be on my ship for a year and a half before I'd be allowed to try out. By that time I would have been in the Navy for more than 2 years and would surely have to sign an extension to enter Basic Underwater Demolition School. I had no intention of being in the Navy more than 4 years. Especially after seeing the general misery Navy life is. I decided I'd better come up with another life plan than to pirate drug dealers yachts.

Returning to when I was in boot camp, I celebrated my 18th birthday in boot camp. A mail call fell on my birthday and Linda had sent me enough chocolate chip cookies for everyone in my squad. As such I was allowed to eat the cookies and disperse them to the rest of the recruits.

The conditions being so cramped and imprivate in boot camp I had been without an orgasm for a month and a half. The bathroom stalls didn't even have doors. So one night when I thought everyone had gone to sleep I slipped under my bunk and tossed off. I was done in a matter of seconds. I then realized the true meaning of the phrase use it or loose it.

I once gave a motivational speech to my boot camp squad. I was telling them of the seriousness of the job which we were tasked. I spoke to them of the nuclear threat under which we nightly slept. I was heckled and dimissed as a loon.

I graduated boot camp with flying colors. The kid who heckled my nuke speech to the relief of the crowd was held back for not passing the physical, being over weight for his height and not being able to touch his toes.

My mom and Linda flew to San Diego for my graduation. Graduation was torturous, in balmy weather, over dressed forced to stand motionless for too long.

Following graduation I went with my Mom and Linda to my Great Aunts house just outside Los Angeles. I got my first moment alone with Linda in then more than 2 months. We made out and I coaxed her onto all fours and was entering her when she protested that she didn't want to have sex right now on account of her fear that my mom or aunt would walk in on us. I told her it wasn't likely and she'd know why soon. I orgasmed on mere insertion. She was like "that's it? You're done?" I was like "I told you they wouldn't come in while..." and then there was a knock on the door and my mom opened the door as we gathered ourselves. "Yeah mom?" "Some inane knowledge about the next days activities..." My mom had to interrupt our privacy with. "Yeah ok." from me and then no further disruption but that was enough to solidify Linda against any more fooling around. We had seperate beds in the same room like my grandparents lived most of their adult lives.

I visited home for a week or so after boot camp and before A school. It was nice to see my family and to be with Linda again, but it was so very short. I had not regained my sexual stamina within the week. I'm guessing I left Linda sexually frustrated again.

In Sonar Technician A school I bought a 83 firebird with 305 8 cylinder. I began visiting clubs a couple nights a week. Before I had the car I would goto the enlisted club on base, but after I got my new ride I would goto the enlisted club at Coronado. Sometimes I would goto strip clubs where I fell in love with Samantha, a dancer who wouldn't give me the time of day. Her face and body were gorgeous, tities so pert and her nipples were exactly like tootsie rolls. After I realized I was hopeless to get any more than the most shallow affection from strippers I began traveling to Tijuana Mexico regularly.

I really took a liking to Tijuana where I would goto this one dance club where the bar tenders would hold your head back to pour tequila down your throat then shake your head to make it set in. Mostly I drank beer. I met a lady, Jennie, in Tijuana. She was from Southern California. She gave me her number and I called her and she invited me to her place. I cheated on Linda with her. She invited me right in and bedded me. I orgasmed in no time quick. She asked if I orgasmed already and I told her no. She told me she could feel my cum on her bed sheet. I told her it must have been her, but I thought we should get to know each other better before we had more sex. She agreed. She met up with me for one date after that. We went to see a movie. I was caressing her neck in the movie and she demanded I stop. I complied but that was it for her. I guess she was not a big fan of public affection and a big fan of movies.

I met a girl, Sue, who was also in the Navy and attending school. She was an east coaster like me. She had a boyfriend. She confided to me that she had a tipped uterus and said that because of her tipped uterus she couldn't have an orgasm. We pulled horrors, again my cheating on Linda, this time all oral. I was trying hard to make her orgasm but she stopped me short, insisting it wasn't possible.

My brother came to visit me while I was in A school. I got worse wrecked than I'd been in all my life. We went to Tijuana and drank copious amounts of alcohol. I drove home trashed. We were pulling into the parking lot on base when I was pulled over by a California cop. He apparently didn't detect I was drunk or held some sympathy for me being military. Whatever the case he let me go with a warning, I can't recall what for. I slept in and woke late, missing class. I figured there would be a harsh repercussion but there was not. About the third night in a row drinking with my bro we went to the beach and slept in my car. The seats in the firebird recline all the way back and sleep nicely. The ocean air really put a nice touch on the drunk I was feeling.

One of the nights my bro ditched me to spend time with a hooker. I was invited and she had friends but that was not my scene in the least. Since I was 15 I got laid easy enough without paying cash and young enough realized it wasn't worth the risk nor the social debt, screwing women by facilitating and condoning their egregiously unhealthy lifestyle.

One night returning from Tijuana, having drank a bit, I found myself in unfamiliar territory in downtown San Diego. I made a turn onto a one way street the wrong way and drove for several blocks before one of my passengers asked if I was going the wrong way. I noticed then all the lights were facing the other direction.

I scored third highest in my class at A school, so I got third choice of permanent duty stations. I was hoping for ship close to home, Massachusetts, but there was none. By the time I got my choice the closest to home option I had was CG69 stationed in Mayport Florida, the USS Vicksburg. There was another CG in Mayport I had as an option but it didn't have as cool a hull number.

I took 2 weeks vacation after A school. In about 8 months I got to spend time with Linda just about 3 weeks.

When I got to Mayport my ship was on deployment. They were to return from across the Atlantic in about a months time. As such I was to be placed in enlisted quarters, similar to a college dorm, on base in Mayport. The living was fairly easy. I was for a while assistant to some ammenable Navy Clerks. Again I began spending time at the enlisted club on base. This time though, unlike in San Diego, I had no option to buy alcohol. Playing pool at the clubs was the extent of my fun early in the wait. I met a Lady named Liz at the enlisted club one night. She was a Navy wife. She was there with some friends one of whom was celebrating a birthday. Liz brought me home one night and I cheated on Linda yet again. She rode me with her feet on the bed, hovering over me bobbing quite very experienced. She was also the only woman I've been with who very intently massaged her own clit while riding me. She was very exciting to be with. I was 18 and she was 17 years my senior. The next day she sucked me off in the shower which was nice though she was too rough on my balls with her very capable mouth suction. She told me she like to suck a big dick like mine and would do it all day. She had a 16 year old daugher who I thought was immeasurably cute. I tried to hang out with Liz again but she was on to someone else, a Navy onshoreman. She was also married to a sailor who was soon to return from deployment. I hung out with another Navy wife, friend of Liz who was younger than Liz and a bit older than me and very desirable. I tried very hard to convince her to fool around with me but she refused. I passed out on her couch from being so drunk.

One night on base in Mayport I got very drunk and knocked on random doors around enlisted housing and had unintelligible conversations with random sailors who promptly called base security to collect me up. I ditched security in a swamp and slept there for several hours before I made my way back to my barracks. I'm lucky I didn't get eaten by an aligator. I probably didn't wash the mites off me effectively until I started washing my body with turpentine in recent years.

I was at the enlisted club on base one night. I was behind the club on the patio, getting some fresh air in the presence of a group of other enlisted people who I did not know. There were 2 young ladies there and 3 guys besides me. The guys seemed to be vying a chance with these girls. I greeted the group and was addressed by the alpha gent who seemed to dismiss me conversationally and returned to chatting with the girls. It was so long ago I forget exactly what the next part of the conversation entailed, but if I remember correctly I thought the Asian guy didn't look completely Asian, so I was curious about his descent and so asked him if both his mom and dad were Asian. I think his response to my question was born out of his desire to seem forceful in front of these girls who had expressed little interest in him. He took offense to my mentioning his mom. He asked why I was insulting his mom. I told him I wasn't. So this Napoleon of the group, short asian dude, came toward me angrily, got in my face and told me I had to leave. He seemed to me to be saying he was going to enforce me leaving by brute force if I did not comply with his demand. I head butted him as soon as he was so close as to describe as being in my face. He stumbled back a bit, then came back at me asking "What was that?" His nose was trickling blood already and he was coming at me again with the same tact, I head butted him again and said, "that's what." On the second head butt his nose began gushing blood. He rushed at me with his head down, with his face against my chest he drove me backward until I was sitting on a table. My hands were on his shoulders pushing him down and away from me though our forces were stalemated. His face pressed against my shirt gushing blood, me leaned up against this table unable to push him away from me. His friends came to my aid, pulling him off of me. Shore Patrol arrived timely and halled the both of us off to the brig. I was there over night. Released the next day and told I would suffer a Captains Mast when my ship arrived in port.

When I first arrived on my ship, the Guided Missile Cruiser USS Vicksburg, I was given the nickname Mad Dog as my supervisor Sonar Technician First Class Clay Mason had pictured me to be a frothing at the mouth mad man on his having heard the story of my getting into a fight while he was out to sea. Word travels far in the Navy. When I met Clay and relayed to him the actuality of what happened he thought the nickname less appropriate, though he still tried to make it stick. We had a fairly good working relationship and it seemed to me in the time I spent with Clay as my direct supervisor that he was looking out for me and trying to do right by me.

When my ship came in and I reported there, I was scheduled to endure a Captains Mast for having gotten into a fight while waiting on the ship to come in. I arrived to the Captains Mast clean shaved and with my uniform neatly pressed. I wasn't allowed to say much at the Captains Mast as when I attempted the Captain spoke over me dismissing what I was saying as trying to blame the other party. He gave me 30 days detainment on ship. The Vicksburg was then to be in port for a few weeks more than a month which meant most of the shore time I would be confined to the ship. I was also tasked to clean the bilges in the engine room. To do this I was sent into a oilly filthy compartment under the engines. While down there I could only lay horizontally as there was not enough room to sit much less stand. I was perched across several steel girders which were cutting into my flesh through the dungarees of my work uniform. Below me I couldn't see the floor because it was nothing but black water and oil. I scrubbed what seemed like it had never been clean and cleaned nothing because the filth on every surface was too thick to scrub through.

When I first arrived on ship I was introduced to Farhan Chugthai. He was a Pakistani Sonar Technician from Texas who was into heavy metal music. I also became acquainted with Sonar Technician Seaman Dee Brown who had been a college football player who tried out for the Jacksonville Jaguars. I got to know his tackling skills first hand when at a cook out Dee initiated a wrestling match with me and proceeded to slam me to the ground over and over as I struggled to regain my footing. Eventually one of the senior Sonar Techs there had to call off Dee's viscious savagery. Dee outweighed me by about 100 pounds, was taller than me by a couple inches and had spent far more time pushing weights.

When I had been on the ship for a little while I was stopped in a passage way by Kevin Keegan who asked if he could borrow my CD player. I told him no. He laughed and asked again. Again I told him no. He begged a bit and said he really wanted to listen to his music. I told him no again. I looked at him quite puzzled that he was so insistent on borrowing my CD player. I hadn't seen him before in my life yet he was asking me to borrow my CD player and treating me like I was crazy, or unreasonable to not lend it to him. The next time our paths crossed in the passageway of the ship he asked if he could borrow my CD player and I told him he could. He asked me to bring it to his bunk and I obliged. We had a short conversation then I went about my business and left him to listen to his music on my CD player.

He of course returned my CD player, like someone who was intent on gaining my woeful trust. One day Kevin asked if I did acid. I told him no. He asked me if I wanted to try. I told him no. I went about my business. My brother was the only other person who had ever offered me drugs. When he did I took a hostile tact with him. He was offering me a mere puff of a joint. I wish I'd have been of the mind to take him up on it as I think my perspective would have been less clouded. When Kevin offered me acid I began to scheme on how to get him busted. It would not be until years later that I would read about the CIA's involvement in acid production and distribution and use as a psychological warfare weapon. Like a good Miami Vice cop I was going to try to bust the highest level of distributor I could fish my way to by Kevins lead. To put this in context I had joined the Navy to get SEAL training, that I would be qualified to board and capture command of sea going vessels. I had intent to use this training to thwart drug running in the gulf of Mexico and the Carribean. My parents, ridiculous straight edge 1950s raised drug know nothings had propagandized me into believing drug use was a major social ill and should be combatted. I've since come to realize drug use is potentially a social benefit, that it is at all a social ill is a situation designed by the true major social drug ill which is profit from the government created black market in contraband plants. All the same, in that day, I detected Kevin Keegan was a person hostile to my existence, if for nothing else than he was pushing drugs on me, drugs that he had no sound qualification to recommend healthy use. I had been turned down a slew of times when asking for a mere tryout to attend Basic Underwater Demolition School, aka SEAL training. So I was fast realizing that my dreams of pirating drug vessels were slipping by the way side and this was the closest I would have to an opportunity to dent drug abuse, especially the abuse of people by drug dealers. So I went on Kevin Keegan's acid journey, agreeing to drive him to pickup acid that we would do together, that I hoped to find out his dealers name. His dealer was not revealed to me in our first drug pickup. I tried the acid having entirely no idea what to expect. I figured what ever it might turn out to be it wouldn't have much of an effect on me. I was wrong. The acid was very strong and I was entranced by the height and depth of the trip. The visuals were intense as was the psychological aspect. In those early days in all of the 4 trips I took I was intensely worried to not ever come back from the trip to reality. In the later of those early trips I was intensely worried to be found out as trying to bust Kevin Keegan. Kevins second invitation to trip found us at a rave thrown at a local high school in suburban Jacksonville, Florida. It was a much different setting than the first trip which we spent at a diner and then the movies. While the movie trip was greatly confusing due movie being so uncanny, Mixed Nuts with Steve Martin it was though in settings familiar to me, so was not quite as intense as the second trip. The second trip, being at a rave, was a setting I had not before that experienced. I danced so as not to seem out of place, eventually I found myself enjoying dancing to the music there. At one point I saw a Tyranasaurus Rex in the fog of the laser light show. This was while a song by God Within, called The Phoenix was playing. The song has ambience of jungle sounds that with the fog in the room put me in a tropical jungle where I was being chased by a laser t-rex. It was definitely intense. I remember the girls in the crowd shrieking as the song built to it's most intense. I went from running in place to swaying to the beat as the song calmed. I began to like acid, probably because of how many hot women were at this rave in combination with the adrenaline of being chased by a t-rex. The whole atmosphere had a magical quality to it, but I felt like the acid was dissolving my brain and it left my neck stiff and achy. So while I had experiences that seemed fun, I was as in tune to Kevins seeking my destruction. Over the course of about 4 months I tripped on acid twice. Then Kevin began to push me toward ecstacy, insisting it's far more fun than acid. In my mind, whatever's clever, I was still trying to make in roads to meeting Kevins dealers and by such bust up a drug ring and see to the detainment of my nemesis. I traveled to Tampa Bay with Kevin and Farhan. We went to a club and Kevin, again scored drugs outside of my presence. For someone who seemed to want so badly for me to trust him, he had nil trust for me. I ate the drugs he got which he called dirty wafers. They were apparently ecstacy mixed with brown flecks of heroine. Me, him and Farhan went our separate ways, cruising the dance floor and bouncing to the rhythm of some happy tunes. I was in the middle of the dance floor, blocked in on all sides when the dirty wafer kicked in. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. The intensity was maximal. My skin was tingling, I felt warmth and joy rushed through my mind as though a water main of joy had burst in my heart. I was calm and frantic at the same time. Calm to have all these people around me and frantic to find Farhan, who was but feet away from me dancing frantically. In the moment we saw each other beaming exuberently I jumped at him and he caught me and hugged me holding me in the air, both of us cheering as was the crowd around us, as the music hit crescendo just as our rolls activated. The scene was more ridiculous intensity on Kevin Keegans drugs.

On the first acid trip I took I had been introduced to Anthony Gentile who was in the Engineering department with Kevin Keegan. He was a somewhat simple guy who sometimes talked like he was a mobster from New York even while he was kid from Michigan. Of the people I was friends with in the Navy he was who I most associated with and felt the greatest kindrance. We both had dreams to enter the break dancing circles at the clubs and raves we were going to on the weekends and sometimes midweek. Tony, Farhan and I practiced breaking sometimes on cardboard. One time we solicited the help of some experienced breakers on the ship. Williams was a black gent, engineer, he didn't hang out with us off the ship ever. I guess there were other clubs the black guys on the ship attended. Williams was in awe that people break dance in the clubs where we hung out. He asked if there were black guys hanging out at our clubs and we responded yes. He said he should consider hanging out at our clubs to which I responded "The smart one's already do." It wasn't my mission to insult him, I was hasty in finding a way to express to him that he would feel comfortable at our clubs because there's a racial mix, but in doing so I placed him in a group opposed to the smart black guys, so presumably with the dumb black guys. He of course took enormous offense to what I said and questioned what I meant by it and I could see him think hard on it for a while even beyond my explanation that I meant black guys already goto these clubs. All the same, he decided to show us his breakdancing skills. There was another black gent there, who I forget his name, was showing us the windmill in slow motion. He was lanky and highly flexible and highly skilled at break dancing. Williams though when he tried to show us the windmill, being a bit heavy, had to start with a lot of force behind his leg swing. While doing gorgeous windmills at high speed he had a lot of momentum, but was traveling to the side of the room where I was sitting on a desk. On his final sweep his head was coming around at a trajectory that he was surely going to smash his head on the desk, the whole room could see where he was headed and everybody gasped, I put my foot down in the path of travel of his head and his head smacked my foot, which I was hoping would keep him from hitting his head so hard, but his head knocked my foot out of the way quite easy and continuted on to smash the desk. Williams jumped up holding his head in agony and yelled at me for "kicking him in the head." I tried to explain that he was about to smack the desk to which he yelled at me "So you kicked me in the head?" The lanky black gent had to calm him down and I guess explained to him that what I did was not an offense. He chilled out but we never hung out and that was the last break dancing lesson we got on board ship.

In my final weeks on the Vicksburg, having met one of Kevin Keegans dealers; being disenchanted with the Navy for putting off my attempts to become a SEAL; being mostly miserable for 8 months after breaking up with my girlfriend of 3 years; long since having decided to get out of the Navy; with my ship nearing deploment to the Persian Gulf; I asked for an audience with the command master chief. It was my intention to tell him Kevin Keegan was selling drugs on the ship and to get out of the Navy for my own drug use, while working with the command to prosecute Kevin Keegan. The command master chief arranged for me an audience with the ships captain. I didn't think it was a good idea at the time. I thought I would be put in touch with the Naval Investigative Service and would work with people not assigned to my ship to have Keegan busted. I was already very nervous when I arrived for this Captains Mast. I could hear the dishes being washed in the Captains galley. A junior sailor who was part of Kevin Keegans department was in the galley, within ear shot of the proceedings. I figured for sure the context of the proceedings would get back to Kevin. The Captain was combative in dealing with me. He told me I could not be a "double agent", that it was his understanding that I was a problem was abundantly clear. He advised me of his desire to prosecute me for doing drugs, which I had not admitted to anyone as yet. He said "Are you telling me you're doing drugs?" To which I said, "No, I'm telling you, I know who is dealing drugs on your ship." He insisted that I must be doing drugs if I claimed to know who was dealing drugs. The command master chief piped in to state his belief of my story by information attained by him through other sources. Heated and having recited the cliche "Loose lips sink ships." the captain seemed to take a different tact because it was obvious he didn't have the support of the command master chief and because he was obviously wrong to be psychologically and verbally abusing me while I was trying to rid his ship of drug dealers. In light of his corruption being so obvious he did what he should have done to begin with and told me he would arrange for me to be put in contact with the Naval Investigative Service.

A few days later the command master chief arranged a meeting with me, provided me the address to visit the Naval Investigative Service and a contact there. We had discussed my intention to get out of the Navy as I would not feel safe on the Vicksburg after narcing on the chiefest drug dealer on the ship. He told me that was possible only if I admitted my drug use, which then would earn me a general discharge under honorable conditions for psychological reason. He told me another option I had is to accept treatment at a Navy hospital and then continue my service. Being about 8 months from breaking up with my girlfriend which I attributed greatly to my Naval service it wasn't even a consideration. The Navy had been primarily misery for me and I had observed enough miserable Sailors and sailors wives and families to know the Navy is no kind of winning lifestyle. I reached agreement with my command master chief to accept the honorable condition discharge for drug use after I cooperated with the NIS to bust Kevin Keegan.

I went to meet with the NIS. The agent I was dealing with at the NIS probed me about the extent of the drug problem on the ship. I advised him that there was one dealer and 20 or so users that I was aware. He wanted names, I gave him a list. He asked me if I was willing to participate in a sting on the users where I would sell them drugs. I told him I wasn't interested, that the users were my friends and I wanted him to offer them treatment and that the only person I was interested in helping sting was Kevin Keegan. He told me that was out of the question. He told me Kevin Keegan was no longer in the Navy! This came as quite a surprise to me, that the Navy would let Kevin slip away while he was nearing prosecution for drug crimes on board ship and while he had years left of service by his contract. He pushed me again to bust the simple users on board the ship. Again I told him no. I had told him that I knew who Kevin scored his drugs from, so he arranged a meeting with the local police in Gainsville Florida, that I might arrange a sting of that drug dealer. The NIS agent drove me to Gainsville for the meeting with the local cops. At the meeting the police were harassing me, yelling at me as if I was a convict that they were going to manipulate. The NIS agent had to step in to make them aware that I was a volunteer, that the NIS wasn't manipulating me to sting this drug dealer based on a conviction, but that I'd come forward of my own volition to stem the flow of drugs to my ship. The cops were startled by this revelation. They adjorned for a conference. When they came back they dismissed me and the NIS agent telling us they'd contact us when they wanted to talk to us again. The NIS guy told me later that week that the local cops were no longer interested in performing a sting with my assistance. By this time the whole thing was totally fishy to me. I had no clue what was going on. It started to become clear to me that Kevin Keegan wasn't some ordinary engineering seaman with massive drug connections all over Florida. I began to realize I'd been in a game of cat and mouse, me the mouse and the Federal Government and Drug Dealers a lion. I had tried to set up who was setting me up and he just skipped town real easy when I did.

When I was close to getting out of the Navy I'd been without a girlfriend for most of 9 months. I'd actually been severly starved of affection for most of 2 years. I had experienced a few flings, very short primarily physical relationships. I was used to though getting laid twice a week as my life had been since I was 15. My first serious girlfriend was very sexual. After that relationship dissolved I was in a relationship with a girl who was not as sexual, but open to regular sex and very affectionate. So I had spent most of 3 years having sex a few times a week, then when I was in the Navy I had sex an average 4 times a year. It sucked very bad to say the least.

So as I was getting out of the Navy I had started up a relationship with a cute girl I had met dancing at the Edge in Jacksonville Florida. The Edge was a dance club and sister to the Edge in Orlando where DJ Icey was resident. They played classic breakbeat a lot of nights and hosted some top DJs.

I'd become enamored of a girl Kevin had dated and abused a bit psychologically, Misty Gabriel Clyatt, called by her friends Moe. When her and Kevin broke up she took to me. We had been dating for a week or two when my discharge finally came in, which is when I moved into Moe's apartment. Her apartment was egregiously filthy for all the bugs that lived there. Her snake, a gentle baby boa constrictor died of mites. When a person would open the cabinets the floor of the cubbard would crawl with bugs and roaches for a minute until they all got hid away. Liesl, a very friendly Asian friend of Moe, found a dog abandoned in the parking lot and brought it home. It was suffering a horrible case of mange for which none of us had a clue how to solve. Eventually they brought the dog to an animal shelter where I think it was put to sleep.

Moe was short and a bit thick and curvy. She danced to house music like she'd had a lot of practice. Her dance style was sassy and sexy and cool. I was introduced to her by Kevin Keegan, so I should have known she was trouble. She invited me to her place after the club one night. She got into skimpy shorts and a baggy tshirt with no bra. We went from chatting on the couch to laying in her bed and she pressed herself against me and we began to make out as I ran my hands under her shirt and massaged her sides and back. Pretty quick we flipped over and I kneeled on the end of her bed and licked her clit until her legs were bouncing and she pulled me up to her. I put thud inside her and proceeded to sex her silly. After we finished I asked her how it was for her and she said good. I asked her specifically about how I ate her pussy and she told me she thought she could do a better job and sited her experience with one of her friends where her friend crawled away from her because she was doing too good a job.

Shortly after I got out of the Navy my ship was to be deployed to the Persian Gulf. I said good bye to my friends in the parking lot at Moe's apartment. I told them to be careful, meaning with drugs, on the ship. They knew I had gotten out of the Navy for admitting drug use and that they would be under suspicion for our all having hung out together. I cried while hugging them and saying good bye. It felt terrible to both see them go, knowing they'd be gone long and not being able to tell them that the command knew certainly that they had been using drugs as I'd reported their drug use to the NIS but was swarn to secrecy on the particulars of my discharge. I was told by the command master chief for my own protection I would have to swear by the story that I was discharged for admitting drug use and to never state my attempt to sting Kevin Keegan. It was especially torturous because I knew Kevin had shared drugs with them at sea, drugs that he had mailed to the ship.

A short while after the ship was out to sea, Moe and I were invited to a party at Tim and Miranda's apartment. Moe would be arriving late after work. I went early. Tim and Miranda served pot brownies which was new to me as I'd not used pot before. The brownies were good and I had a nice high from them. Tim had been stationed with me on the Vicksburg. He had also been a sonar technician. He was very skiny and nerdy and somewhat misplaced with Miranda who was quite voluptuous and very desireable. Miranda, when I first met her was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met. She revealed to me that when she was a child she was hit by a doctor in a bmw who by this accident had put a hole in her skull that never healed. In the last days of knowing Miranda she'd turned quite tempermental toward me and treated me not well at all. She also began to suffer acne that I'd never noticed about her before. Anyhow on this day with nice Miranda and Tim DJing tunes we ate pot brownies and they introduced me to this girl who I had lusted over from a far for the past year. I had seen her a few times at clubs. She always had on a tight very short skirt and silky blouse and wore a ridiculously small leather back pack. Her body was so very hot and her face was very pretty. She had been an object of my fantasy since the first time I had seen her at a club. I had not had the gall to approach her, but then here she was partying with me at Tim and Miranda's while Moe was on her way there. She invited me to her hotel room, I obliged. We kissed and I ate her out and that's as far as things went before she said she had someplace to go.

I returned to Tim and Miranda's apartment and Moe was there steaming that I'd been at some girls hotel room. Moe told me I had to move out, which I did, moving then into Trisha's place who was the wife of a guy who was on the Vicksburg. I had not known her husband but he was friends with Tim who set me up with this place to stay as Trish had an empty room she was hoping to get some cash by renting. Moe didn't want to take care of the white sheppard puppy, baby, that her friend Liesl had left with her, so I took the dog with me to Trish's house.

Trisha's house was immaculate. With the both of us working long hours sometimes I would come home to Trisha's report that the dog had peed or pooed on the carpet. I was somewhat clueless as to how to train a dog to strictly outside bathroom use. It was suggested to me by Trish to scold the dog while the dog was within the smell of the pee. So I would hold the dogs nose to the pee and yell "No" at her. She didn't like being scolded. When I would come home and she'd peed or pooed on the carpet I'd call her to me and because of the harsh treatment she knew she was about to experience she'd go in the other direction. I counted that as a greater offense than peeing on the carpet. I foresaw her defiance as being potentially a great hazard for her. If for instance I let her off her leash outside and she decided to ignore my call and run off she could get hit by a car or lost. So I rebuked her harshly for refusing to come to me when I called. I spanked her hard. Pretty quickly she knew she was better to come to me when I called then to go in the other direction. When she had learned that lesson, I began to be less harsh about her peeing inside. When she'd peed inside and I called her to me and she came, I would express my disappointment very gently, with "Why? Why can't you wait til I get home?" Then I would bring her for a walk.

Shortly after Moe caught me cheating on her she began seeing a girl named Ingrid, who claimed to be the antichrist, a claim she based on having 5 freckles on the whole of her body, all 5 on her neck and in a shape that if connected by lines and surrounded by a circle would be the shape of an upside down pentagram. Ingrid is a Germanic name, though this Ingrid seemed to be South American by her facial features and skin tone. I didn't know until years later that the CIA had helped high level Nazi Scientists and Engineers emigrate to the US and South America following World War II in what was known as Operation Paperclip. Putting this all together now I'm thinking Ingrid was the daughter of a Nazi Scientist and his South American sex slave. Whatever the situation was, Ingrid had a strong distaste for me and didn't seem to me to be much into Moe who I loved dearly. She seemed to me to be playing Moe. I couldn't figure out exactly what her purpose was, so I thought I should push her for a better understanding. I had a few beers one night and Ingrid smoked a joint with me which was the first time I'd ever smoked cannabis. She wanted to go out for a ride, so we did, with me driving. Everything was like a cartoon to me, all the colors were especially vibrant and everything seemed to have less depth of shadows. It was like where I was used to seeing thousands of shades in a shadow I would see just one shade that represented the shadow and one shade that represented the highlight. It was pretty much exactly like a cartoon. My body was pretty numb too, which may have been from the alcohol I had drank. I didn't realize how disqualified to drive I was until we got under way. We took the highway a short distance then drove the backroads by the river in downtown Jacksonville. She kept "back seat driving" expressing her anxiety to drive with me. I began to scheme that this might be an opportunity to break her of her psychology to drive a wedge in between me and Moe. I thought if she felt in danger to be with me she might think better about offending me by coming between me and Moe. Of course now I recognize this line of reasoning as juvenile and conterproductive which was proven by the result of what I did. It was late at night and there were no other cars on the road to worry about. I drove kinda fast looking at her talking upto where I knew there was a vehicle in my path parked on the side of the road. She was freaking out toward the final seconds at which time I swerved to avoid the parked car. I swerved to straighten out on the road still driving pretty fast, to my surprise I reached the end of the road which was dark thus did not reveal itself to be the end of the road. Just beyond the end of the road was a river. At the last second, bare in mind this was a surprise manuver for me also, I swung the wheel hard left which brought us to a parking lot beside the river. The driving was somewhat chaotic but I didn't feel risk as I knew my vehicles capabilities. She was freaking out as I put the car in reverse, cut the wheel to the right, backed up with hard acceleration bringing the rear end of the car pointing toward the river. I had about 10 more feet til my vehicle would have hit the wall I could see beside the river in this dark parking lot. What I didn't see is that there was a gully about 10 feet away from the wall that the back tires fell into in which stuck my car. I asked her to help push my car out of the gully, she refused. Eventually the cops showed up. I was afraid I'd be breathalyzed. I told them I wasn't familiar with the area and lost when we wound up in this dead end. I told them also I didn't know there was a gully there that was going to catch and hold the rear end of my car. They could see the gully was not easily visible in this dark parking lot and didn't question my story which was all fairly accurate. They said they had received report of tires screaching which I told them was probably us when we came to the end of the road and turned to avoid the river. I was sober enough that they didn't question my sobriety. A tow truck showed up and towed my car. Moe came to pick up me and Ingrid.

After the vehicle ditch incident Moe and I were officially over and Moe hooked up with Ingrid who shortly there after stole her rent money.

I visited home, while it had been about a year since we broke up, Linda was single and wanted to see me. We hooked up, sexually, for the last time. As I recall our conversation turned to my revealing my then advanced cunnilingus skills having been taught to me by a bisexual lady. She was infuriated by the thought of my being with anyone else and was decided then on not entertaining any consideration of us. In the years that followed we got together twice after that. Once for lunch, the other time for a conversation while I was in the hospital. It never felt the same.

Moved to Orlando jobless on Tim and Miranda's invite. Fed much drugs over the few weeks I was there. An e pill, smoked madurb, gifted an lsd trip and my first line of powder, probably meth.

Miranda bought a house in Orlando where her and Tim were living. They invited me to stay with them. I brought baby the white sheppard along. Miranda said Baby would have to live outside. Baby was not of that mind and pretty quick Miranda adored the dog and said she could live indoors with us. There was a kennel out back where the former owner had kept two Rottweilers. They were apparently flea infested because after a week of living there baby was crawling with fleas. I bought the flea shampoo from the pet store and gave her a thorough bath during which I observed hundreds of fleas in the bath water. Baby was never as happy as when she emerged from that bath. She was running all over the house spinning in circles excited as could be.

Tim and I went job hunting a bunch of times while we were staying at Miranda's house. It seemed like December was not the time to find a job in Orlando.

While living at Miranda's I began to date a girl from Daytona Beach named Cheryl. She was at Tim and Miranda's one day, while there was a small gathering of people who were having an "after party" from having been at a rave the night before. Cheryl had been sitting on the couch with me, cuddled up kind of close, being affectionate. She got up and walked toward the sliding glass door at the back of the house in the living room and on her way there my puppy, Baby ran across the room and nipped at her hand. "Baby!" I yelled at her. She knew she was in trouble and gave me the stance of submission and look of disappointment in herself that she had drawn my ire. I called her to me and she came. I told her to sit. I told her "No!" and asked her "Why?" She went into super submission, drooping her head and laying at my feet.

Sometimes I would pet baby on the shoulders with a tap like a sweedish massage and sitting on the floor she would over whelm me with affection, licking my face which I usually pulled away from. Sometimes she would bully me into laying down and she would pounce on my chest and I'd keep petting her with gentle slaps on the shoulders and she'd be so excited she'd keep licking at my face while I was flipping my head from one side to the other trying to get away from her flailing tongue. I think she had seen me and Cheryl kissing and was insistent on being my everything. One day I had been thinking about the whole universe being potentially calculable, everything being a certain size and distance. I had been aware of the computer potential to render worlds in 3 dimensions for some time then. I came to realize this whole universe is potentially being rendered in a super computer in the creating universe, the universe where this universe was created. It occurred to me then that reincarnation was possible, that my dog might be human in a future life. Tim was spinning records and I was petting Baby and Baby was trying to lick my mouth. At first I was doing the usual throwing my head back and forth to be away from her incessant licking. She layed on my chest and I thought for a moment that I love this dog more than I love anyone, that I can't satisfy her desire to kiss me is shameful of me. She loves me more than anyone I've ever known. So I stopped avoiding her kiss and let her kiss me, after a couple seconds I kissed her back pushing with my tongue against her tongue with as much force as she'd been kissing me which was a lot. When I kissed her back she stopped, it seemed because she was startled to have finally gotten what she had been begging for weeks. Her kiss wasn't at all sexy. It was like a kid jumping up and down on their siblings bed on Christmas morning screaming "wake up wake up it's present time." I returned an equally unsexy and exuberent kiss. Finally she subsided. That was the last time she kissed me and the only time I kissed a dog. Having made these realizations about reincarnation, and on that day having decided I wanted a love as pure as my dogs. I filled the bath tub to drown me and first my dog. I thought that we would both surely be human in the afterlife and hopefully together. I knew my dog was worthy of a pleasant human existence and felt I had lived well enough without malice to be reborn human. At first I tried to drown my dog from the side of the bath tub. She fought me hard. So I got into the bath tub trying to show her that I'm coming with you, we're going to this place together. I was going to squeeze her to my chest to hold her under the water. Again she fought me and as she did I began to get an erection. I let her go and she jumped out of the bath tub and I sat up and said to myself, this is not me, referring specifically to the erection, because as much as I wanted to be in the afterlife with my dog that we might be reborn as humans where we might be compatible lovers, I had absolutely no sexual attraction to my dog. If I thought my dog was sexy I'd not have wanted her in another form. My love for my dog was based on her exuberent love of me, her loyalty and her respect for me. There was not a moment of my raising her that I thought of her sexually. That was the first moment of my life that I was aware of my being manipulated by external energy, what I have come to realize was the use of Microwave Energy to activate my pituitary gland, thereby releasing lutenizing hormone, stimulating erection. By this date, more than 15 years after this suicide attempt, I've studied the use of Microwave Weapons toward "mind control" for psychological warfare purpose as is practiced by the CIA and who knows what other of the 14 spy agencies the US Federal Government operates. In that day, I knew only that my body's physical response to the situation I was in, in no way matched what I was feeling. I wasn't at all sexually excited about drowning me or my dog. I was scared about dieing, hoping I was right about reincarnation, it was hurting me to terrify my dog who I loved. It was definitely not sexually exciting. In that moment that my body's physical response didn't match my emotions I began to wonder if any of this had been commanded by my conscious thought, or if perhaps this had all been programmed into me by some remote facility. I decided that the whole of the notion to commit suicide was unlike me and that killing a being I adored was certainly unlike me and I decided to carry out the plans that I had before I took that free tab and a half of acid Tim had set me up with at his friends house the night before which was right before my first line of krystal meth. Those other plans were to go home to Woburn Massachusetts to spend Christmas with my family. Which with my newly certain belief in the afterlife, had then special meaning, I was anxious to share my computer universe realization with my family and I was thinking hard about what the computer universe potential meant to spirituality, morality, family and more. I arrived at the realization that while I had made a huge breakthrough in understanding my existence and this universe, there was infinitely more to know and I had an obligation to humanity to further the discovery of these hugely important long sought questions. I felt then that I'd have been egregiously selfish and remiss to have killed myself that day. I also felt like I owed my dog my life for being so strong and struggling so hard to keep me from drowning her. If I'd have been able to kill her I would definitely have killed myself shortly after.

So I decided to goto Western Union, where my brother had sent what money I had left in my bank account in a Woburn bank. I was supposed to pay rent with that money. I was going to use it instead to buy a plane ticket to Boston. I searched for the keys to my car for a long time before realizing they were in the back of Miranda's car, having fallen out of my pocket the night before. When I realized where my keys were I woke up Miranda and asked her if I could borrow the keys to her car, just to get my cars out of her car. I think she was kind of drug hung over, because she was cranky and yelled at me that she wasn't going to give me her keys. I said fine, then I guess I'll just walk to Boston. I had no clean socks, I went out the door with my hard leather Navy dockers on with no socks. I brought Baby with me. I was at that moment planning to walk to interstate 95 which I imagined was a few mile walk, but may have been more than 20 miles as I didn't know the area very well. Once I got to interstate 95, I was going to hitch hike to Boston. So me and Baby walking down the side of the highway, her with no leash as usual. She was staying beside me like she always did. We passed an armadillo that was road killed. He looked dead for a while, no eyeballs in his head. I stopped and sat on the side of the road and said a prayer for the little guy. Baby went right up to it and put her face up real close which I scolded firmly, "No. Not too close." I told her. On inspecting the Armadillo, probably the first dead thing she'd seen in her short life, she looked up at me as if to ask "What is this?" I told her "Awh, this Armadillo isn't doing too well." She backed off a bit further and stood there thinking. I stood up, made the sign of the cross over the Armadillo to wish god's blessing on it as I'd been schooled growing up Catholic. Then I started walking down the highway again. "Comon Baby." I said and turned to make sure she was following me. She wasn't. The dead Armadillo had spooked her and I could see she was wondering if my bringing her this way was going to put her in this condition. She was torn though, she turned toward the highway and took a few steps in, like she was about to run away from me, but she was looking at me. When I saw that she was looking like she was going to cross the highway I turned to look down the highway to see if any cars were coming. The nearest car was a long ways away. I turned back to her and said "come here now." firmly. She put her head down and came to me and I kneeled on the side of the highway and asked her "What are you thinking? You can't cross the highway like that." I pet her a bit and said "It's ok, lets go." We walked toward interstate 95 a little ways longer when a blazer pulled up in the divider. The driver yelled over to me, "Hey you want a ride?" I said sure. I picked up baby in my arms, holding her to my chest I crossed the highway to the grassy divider. When I reached the truck I found it occupied by a man and woman who I'm guessing were husband and wife. They asked where I was going, I told them I'd like to goto the airport. They questioned that I was headed in the other direction. I told them I need to goto Western Union also. They told me to put my dog in the truck. I put her in, they told me to get in the other side. I walked around the back of the truck and they drove off. I never saw my dog again.

I had been starving for most of the couple weeks I had spent in Orlando. This day was not much different. I had not eaten anything significant for a long while. My sockless feet were now bloody and blistered. My dog had just been stolen and I was starving. I crossed the highway again to the otherside and walked a ways down, headed toward interstate 95 again. I stopped into a convenience store, a circle K. I ate 2 donuts. Then I walked out. While walking out the clerk asked me if I was going to pay for the donuts I just ate. I told her "no". She asked "Why?" I said you know why. It had been bobbling about my super drugged mind that no one should be starved and that people are aware of the condition of others on some level if not total consciousness. I felt at that time like everyone in the universe had a window into my mind. Which was probably a feeling born out of dealing strictly with spooks for a solid decade of my life then, spooks who had mind reading technology.

I walked the side of the highway a ways further. My feet couldn't take any more when I arrived at a roadside bike store. I approached the shack where they sell the bikes. I went inside and asked if I could buy a bike with a Canadien nickel which is all the money I had on me. What do you guess was the answer? I put the nickel on the filing cabinet, went out front, got on a bike and road off toward interstate 95. I got a ways more down the highway and came to the realization, interstate 95 must be half a century of miles away Tim and Mirandas and I wasn't going to make it there on a bike fueled by two donuts. I stopped on the side of the highway. A truck pulled up behind me. A boy about 12 years old approached me and asked if he could have the bike. I told him sure and thanks and told him when he got home to be sure he told his dad he loved him. Which is what I felt was the mission I was on. To have arrived at realization of the potential for afterlife consciousness to be real and for reward due altruistic living to be a possibility, more than ever before I was appreciative of the life my parents had given me. I felt like I'd expressed that well enough to my mom, but I felt like my dad probably didn't know I appreciated him. So I told the kid to be sure he told his dad he loved him and he said to me "Tell my dad that I love him? Um, ok..." "Thanks again for use of the bike." I said and gave a wave to the driver of the pickup truck who got out and helped the kid load the bike in the back. They drove off. I decided I had to walk back to Tim and Miranda's after this disastrous day. I started on my way back. When I passed circle K, I stopped in there to tell the clerk that I was going home to get my wallet and I'd be back to pay for the donuts. I walked right up to the door not realizing I'd just walked past a cop car. I grabbed the door handle and looked inside to see a cop standing in front of the counter and the clerk behind the counter yelling that's him. The cop looked out the door and I froze. I wanted to run. But I just stood there holding the door handle. The cop beckoned me in, telling me "Get in here." I went in and plead my case. I told the cop I didn't realize I didn't have my wallet on me when I ate the donuts, but I'm going to go home and get my wallet and come back to pay for the donuts. He told me if the owner decides to press charges I'm going to have to arrest you. Sure enough the owner decided to press charges and so began the longest 3 weeks of my life.

I was brought to jail. As soon as I was in custody of the guards at the jail I knew I was in for a painful stay. I was 100% cooperative, yet the guards were wrenching my cuffs, behind my back, to above my shoulder height, which forced me to walk stumbling forward with my wrists in agony. I was brought to a solitary holding cell where I was bored for most of a couple hours. It seemed like a very long time. I was allowed to make a phone call, but I couldn't remember Tim and Miranda's number. I hadn't had to call the house while I was living there. So I didn't know anyone local to call and didn't want to alarm my parents by calling home from jail. So I forfeited my opportunity to make a phone call. I figured I was in on shop lifting two donuts and it was the first time I was arrested so it wouldn't turn into some big deal, boy was I wrong. After I missed the opportunity to make a phone call I was brought to a holding cell where there were a couple other people. One of the guys was laying down. He had spoken something to himself, I'm not sure what, but he seemed to be complaining, probably about being in jail. I got a premonition that he had the power, somehow, and I wasn't at all sure how, to get me out of this cell. The thought came into my mind that if our combined energy touched the door, that I would be released from this cell. So I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him, "Hey man, can you come touch this door for me." He told me to leave him the hell alone. I asked him again and he sat up. I gave him another little pat on the shoulder and asked again for him to please come touch the door. He stood up and punched me in the face. His punch drove me toward the door where my out stretched arm stopped me. Sure enough I was released from the cell. Placed in my own solitary cell. I was bored again, so I began practicing my break dancing moves. Eventually I tired, the donuts had worn off. About an hour later I was sitting there, still calm and somewhat optimistic about this being a short stay. The guards opened my door, put me in shackles and again dragged and pushed me wrenching my hands above shoulder height to a van. I was brought to some high security mental hospital which was really more like a jail. I was brought right in, more cuffed wrist agony, the whole time cooperative, put in a small room with only a bed, told to lie face down then still without having been a danger to anyone, not so much as verbally abused anyone, I was strapped to a bed in 4 point restraints. I was left in 4 point restraints for at least 3 days, shitting and pissing on myself. Maybe once a day I was allowed to sit up and eat a white bread sandwich amidst the filth of my defecate. All calls by me to use the rest facilities were ignored. I yelled for about 12 hours for a blanket the second day as the facility was egregiously cold. Eventually someone brought in a blanket and threw it over me and it slid off of me pretty much immediately. Each day someone would come in and shoot me in the ass with some kind of drug that made me very drousy. I began to think that I would, literally, never again be free. It made no sense to me that I had not been before a judge, nor spoken to a lawyer nor had even seen a doctor. After a few days of this outrageous psychological abuse, I was brought to take a cold shower, then I was put in a solitary cell with a concrete stool, a metal bed with holes in it and a sink and toilet. I spent my days staring at the walls, sometimes doing headstands and trying to figure out how to escape from this cell, most thoughts on which involved my becoming a ray of light as a form of energy and streaming from the cell as light communicated information. It didn't work. I thought at this point, about 5 days into my stay in Orlando's hellacious mental health system, that I was never going to get out of here. I'd not spoken to a lawyer, I'd not spoken to a doctor, I'd not been before a judge, I'd not harmed anyone to be so brutally detained. I seriously thought I was never going to get out of there. Finally someone, presumably a doctor, came around to check on me. His question was merely how I'm doing, which I answered in brevity, "Ok". He marked something on a clipboard. I thought there would be more, like, "How did you end up here?" or some discussion of a plan to get me out. He moved on to the next cell with his "How're you doing?" routine. The next day, which I think was the 6th day I was detained in psychology smashing conditions, my brother showed up with the guy with the clipboard. I couldn't believe my eyes. I seriously wondered if I was halucinating. It seemed to me there was no reason my family would know I was locked up. "Yeah that's him." he said to the doctor. There was some further discussion between them. Alan approached my cell and told me, kinda choked up, that he was going to get me out of here. I nodded and said ok. Finally I was quite hopeful to be released. The next day I was sent to a regular mental hospital where once again without any issue, while I was being fully compliant I was brought to the facilities quiet room and told to lay down on a bed that I would be strapped in 4 points. I protested, they told me it would only be for a little while. I resigned, they left me strapped in 4 points for about 12 hours. My brother was there to visit with me when they let me out of 4 points. My brother told me if I complied with the doctors treatment I'd probably be released in a week or so and he was going to drive home with me. He asked me like I was a two year old if I wanted to go home with him.

The doctors there put me on SSRI's which I didn't know the effects of, but I felt like I was high on life when I started on this prescription. I didn't realize at first that it was due the drugs they were giving me.

After a little more than a week, they released me and we got in our cars, Al driving my car, his girlfriend Lisa driving his car and we started on our way to Massachusetts. My brother agreed to stop in Jacksonville Florida at a club called the milk bar. I wanted to see Kevin Keegan to tell him how high on life I was. He insisted it was the drugs I got from the mental ward. He was right. We made one more stop to over night at a cheap hotel. On the ride up I told my brother about the epiphany I had arrived at just before I was detained and brutalized by the department of mental hellth. I had realized each particles, size, speed and trajectory was calculable, that this entire universe could be contained within a computer. This was years before the movie Matrix came out. I know now there were movies with similar themes that preceded my realization though I had not seen any of them at that point. What had drove the notion home was 1) seeing a crabs movement as being very robotic and 2) observing the inside of a house while on LSD, I focused on a corner at the ceiling and realized the distances were all measurable and from there further realized the distance from the wall to my nose and every other part of my person were all measurable and insertable to a computer that might render my image in that room in 3 dimensions. When I told this to my brother he understood clearly what I was saying yet still insisted it was crazy to think. He was intrigued by my new found understanding of the universe as being potentially in a computer. He said he didn't believe it, but he understood how it could be so.

When I got home from Florida, I was not allowed to stay at my parents. Thus I spent one night at my sister Melissa's house. The next day my mom brought me to the VA hospital in Bedford. Without presenting any threat to anyone, nor myself, I was checked into the locked ward. I was later made aware that this is illegal, that a psych patient must present some threat to himself or others to be put on a locked ward. I was on the locked ward, clueless to request a 3 day release for about a month. I was cool, didn't get in any incidents. Yet was maintained on the locked ward for about a month. While on the locked ward I observed what psych drugs would do to me, the thorazine shuffle. I spoke to a lot of the guys in there about the psych drugs and they made me aware that the guys on the ward were being heavily medicated and that's why they walk like penguins. I decided there wasn't a chance in hell I'd let these viscious doctors so injure me. I refused drugs. One evening I was at the counter waiting to speak to the staff when I felt a stiffy being pressed into my but crack. I jumped and turned not knowing what I was about to find. It was an old guy, thorazine shuffler who had been a fighter pilot. He had an obvious erection pushing his hospital gown out where it had just been in my butt crack. I said to him "What the hell are you doing?" He shook his head real hard like he was conflicted, looking down like he was embarrassed, he penguin walked off muttering something. I had tried to talk to him before that, never again after. When I had tried to talk to him about his time in the service I was unable to elicit anything intelligible from him. That's when one of the guys on the ward offered me the info about his having been a fighter pilot.

Having in the months before this locked ward hospital stay arrived at understanding the maintainance of my conscience in the afterlife was most likely very real which aroused thought of accounting, I realized how psychologically significant it was that I'd strangled a squirrel in my youth. I decided to divulge this to my doctor, whose name I'd log here if I could recall. I had also realized the likelihood of space faring existence in the afterlife. To express this to my doctor in so many words, I told him of my having strangled a squirrel and that I was worried that this would disqualify me from being an astronaut. The "doctor" told me not to talk to him about those things ever again. I had to that point thought the doctors were simply overburdened was why no doctors there seemed to be attempting to cure anyone. I had been demanding that I be allowed more time to speak with my doctor. After his telling me as an order to not speak to him on certain obviously psychologically impigning matters of my past, I realized, without doubt, he was no advocate of mine and decided to avoid all but the most superficial of lighthearted conversation with him.

Over some years to that time I had noticed my skin was more likely to break out when my nails were chewed. Conversely if my nails were cut I had less acne. I was further motivated to stop chewing my nails by the association I had built in my mind between nervousness and nail chewing. So I decided to stop chewing my nails. I continued to chew my nails. So I decided I would count backward from 10 whenever I had an urge to chew my nails. In the first week I put my fingers to my mouth to chew my nails a few times. As soon, though, as I realized my error, I stopped and counted backward from 10. I broke the habit of chewing my nails in about a week.

Pretty soon after I stopped chewing my nails, I was released from the hospital and sent to Boston to live in the homeless veterans shelter. Sleeping on fold out cots at the veterans shelter was very drafty and quite cold. My days were quite boring. Maintaining stay in the shelter was a hassle, allowing no use of alcohol, weekend passes required a permit, regular check ins, an early curfew, it was like living under fascist overlords. It was seriously worse than being in the military. At least in the military you get a pay check.

I was set up by counselors at the Veterans Shelter to transfer to a program in Lowell called the Crescent House. I attended a work program at Bedford VA daily and lived nights at the Crescent House. At the work program I was tasked to break apart disposable cameras to retrieve the film. I was paid something like ten dollars per day, I forget how much exactly.

I was pretty anxious to be out of the work program and so decided to apply for some jobs in the community. Pretty quick I got a job loading trucks for UPS. It was physically demanding work. Heaving box after box to keep up with the belt throughout the whole shift.

I got very bored working at UPS living at the Crescent House. My whole life was atrociously boring. I decided to move back to Florida where I was put up by my Navy breakdancing buddy Tony Gentile and another engineer who was on the USS Vicksburg named Karl. One day Karl and Tony had been huffing spray paint propellant. Karl offered to let me try it and I did. It was the most wack drug I've ever done. I nearly passed out, I was forced to sit down while an imagined noise pounded in my brain like waaw waaw waaw waaw waaw and my vision became a bubble in the middle surrouneded by curved circles nested one inside the next. Where there was a border to the next circle it was as if there was a fold that represented as being further distant and in between the folds everything was closer. It was as though the pond ripple photoshop filter had been applied to my vision and was oscillating with the center falling futher and further away from me until I began to regain my senses. Which is when the center came rushing back in and eventually my vision cleared. A lot of the time that I was doing drugs back then I was very worried that I would be trapped lifelong in the altered state. This was definitely one of those times and it was a moment that seemed like an eternity.

While I was staying with Karl and Tony, I had the pleasure to hook up with Cheryl who I had dated while living at Tim and Miranda's. About a week later Tony had sex with Cheryl and then decided to break the news to me that I had to move out. I had been bar backing a couple nights at a bar Kevin Keegan had connections to and set me up to work at. I had made so little money I hadn't been able to contribute anything to rent and certainly had no capacity to get a place of my own at that point. Someone had flattened 2 of my car's tires, that I didn't have the money to repair. My car had barely made it down from Massachusetts, having overheated and seemed to be leaking oil, so it didn't look like I was going to be able to drive where ever it was I decided to go. I took a warm shower and sat down with the water dribbling off my chin and thought about what I would do. Karl and Tony were out and weren't expected back anytime real soon. I packed my sea bag with clothes and peanut butter. I stole their drugs, I walked down to the highway carrying this ridiculously heavy bag. I began hitch hiking west, hoping to reach California. I had mostly enjoyed my time in San Diego and figured I probably would again.




**Hitchhiking Gay guy in pickup truck. Tough trucker smooshed a car. New Mexican cutie. Another gay guy in a pickup truck. Final trucker, drove me on through to Arizona.

I arrived to Phoenix Arizona at about 2 Oclock in the morning. I imparted upon the trucker kind words for his hospitality. I made my way downtown by the truckers directions. It was a long walk. I hadn't eaten much in the past 4 days. When I got downtown I asked around where I might find a shelter. I was given the where abouts of a shelter and made my way there. It sure wasn't the veterans shelter. I got there just after sleep time was over. I was directed to a breakfast line. I attended breakfast, ate a hearty meal, after which I was asked to pray with the group who served the meal. I prayed aloud at their request which was moving for Peter, a British gent who owned a house in Scottsdale where he allowed homeless people to stay. On hearing my prayers he told me he liked how I prayed and invited me to stay at his homeless mens house. I very graciously obliged. It was a pretty sweet deal, living at Pete's in Scottsdale. There were no stuffy rules like at the veterans shelter. The pool was a mess that I didn't know where to begin the cleanup. But the house was otherwise comfortable.

Peter set up an interview for me with a friend of his at Officemax. During the interview I told the store manager about how frequencies are detected by sonar equipment that allows submarines and ships to be identified to even the hull number. He was fascinated and hired me on the spot to work in electronic sales.

From Scottsdale I initiated conversation with Kevin Keegan of whom I was very suspicious but still wanted news of Tony and Karl who I felt slightly bad for having stolen their drugs. Talking to Kevin on the phone he told me Tony and Karl had been arrested on the USS Vicksburg for selling cocaine on the ship. I felt awful for having given their names to the Naval Investigative Service in hopes they would be offered drug treatment. I had not foreseen their becoming the dealers on the ship. Knowing what I know now, that drug users quite often become dealers at some point in their use, it seems to me easily predictable. I didn't know much about drug culture in those days. I had warned them but in terms so coy I can understand their being obtuse. The last time I'd seen them before they set out overseas I told them to "watch out" and be careful in reference to my having been drug related discharged. It seems to me now they were intently setup and likely recruited into the CIA after doing their jail time without snitching on their source. Kevin told me they were going to the brig for 6 months maybe longer.

I held onto the drugs I stole from Tony and Karl. I figured I would see an opportunity to sell them to have some cash for food. I figured I'd do a little of them eventually. I had stolen half a sheet of acid or 50 LSD trips, and a ten pack of ecstacy. I still hadn't taken any of those drugs when I arrived to Scottsdale to stay at Peters house. I forgot the drugs were in a pocket of some clothes I put in the laundry and by such destroyed them. The ecstacy was reduced to mush but still in the plastic bag. I took some doses of it from it's dried out mush form. But it didn't seem so much like ecstacy.

While I was staying in Scottsdale I began clubbing at some places I would ride my bike to in downtown Phoenix. I would go dancing once a week or so. I got some compliments on my dance moves from random people. I made out with a girl in the club one night. She was very hot, totally delicious. I never saw her again.

One of my favorite things to do in Scottsdale was to meditate at a small pond a little less than a mile from Peters house. It wasn't all that restive really, it was kinda loud with passing traffic on a main thorough fare. The nicest times I went there was early in the morning, the cars would slow then to passing one every few minutes.

Working at Officemax was pretty fun. There was a ridiculously hot cashier I hit on for a long time. She had a boyfriend, but to a point she had made my advances feel welcome. I definitely went over the line one day and she scolded me, making it very clear she was not interested in me. The chase was then done.

Wearing huge baggy pants I stole a lamination machine from Officemax one night. I had been toting flyers from some raves I attended and a lot of raves I hadn't been to, I had brought these with me across the country, from Florida to Boston, to Florida again and then hitchhiked with them to Arizona. Which was their final resting place when I moved from Arizona in a hurry. I left them remarkably well preserved though.

While watching TV one evening I noticed an ad for a graphic design school, Al Collins Graphic Design School. I had spent a bit of time drawing on computers when I was young. I had taken advanced placement art, college level art, while in highschool. I would liked to have been doing graphics work and so aspired to attend college for graphics and found myself viewing a graphic design college ad on TV. So I called and set an appointment to attend school at Al Collins graphic design in Tempe Arizona. They set me up with "financial aid" in the form of government loans, which incidentally I'm still paying 12 years later. Peters house was a time limited stay of 4 months, after which all residents were expected to find alternate housing. I was nearing my 4 months stay expiration so needed to find a place to live. The counselors at the school set me up with a room mate who also attended the school. Rad was the spoiled boy of a well todo mom who was paying for his school, gifted him a sleek new car and financed his drug use. I was still working at Officemax in Scottsdale when I first began to attend school in Tempe. Most days I took a bus to Officemax. I then got a job at a telemarketing company which was right down the street from my apartment. I worked both jobs for a while, missing school most days. I was solo paying for my rent and food bill by minimum wage jobs. It was kinda very stressful and I think I was not eating very well. I was not eating enough fuel, nor nutrition.

I had cut back dramatically on attending clubs. But one night Rad invited me to a club with him and some friends of his. Rads girlfriend Renee, I'm pretty sure was her name, she was actually our roommate, me and Rad, anyhow, she took Ketamine, better known as cat tranquilizer. She fell to the floor of the club and had to be carried from the club by me and the guy who drove us there whose name I also forgot, but I remember him owning a van. So me and him carried her to his van and watched her while I went back in the club and found Rad.

Rad had introduced me to this short haired blond chic. Me, Renee and her went to her home early in the morning one day, after I had been on ecstacy at a club the night before. The short haired blond chic brings me in to her apartment, where her son clings to me exclaiming "it's him mommy, it's him". At which I picked him up, gave him a seat on my forearm, with my hand behind his back I leaned back to look him in the face with a puzzled look to say "Who am I that you think you know me?" Before I could muster any words to react to this he lunged at me and hugged me tight. At which I looked at his mom puzzled as to say, what's the deal with your kid? She grabbed him, tearing him off me, set him down, gave him a pat on his butt and told him to go play in his room. He obliged. I sat on the couch for a little while. She told me she had some stuff to do but didn't mind if I sleep at her place until she got back. I didn't think much of it. I thought it would be a good idea as I was quite tired. So she and her kids and Renee went out. Before she left she insisted I sleep in her sons bed, which was a race car bed. I told her the couch would suffice, but she insisted that I sleep in her sons bed. I thought it queer but obliged. When she woke me it was late in the afternoon. It seemed like half a day had passed that I slept. In the months that followed I began to wonder about this incident, how and why her son knew me before I'd ever met him. Why she insisted I sleep in her sons race car bed. I began to wonder if my posing on this bed became a series of images that were digitally edited to solicit the help of people who would be so easily fooled to believe I would sexually assault a youngster.

I celebrated my 21st birthday in Tempe, Arizona. I made a point of not drinking. The next day I bought a six pack and drank two beers. On my birthday I smoked a bowl which was a nightly for me. I didn't drink on my birthday as I'd been drinking alcohol since I was 10 at first timidly then when exuberantly the times were not so exuberent as tortured, so I'd settled into thinking alcohol not very much fun by age 21.

Rad was a smoker. Most everyone I hung around with were smokers. I had never smoked a cigarette. I decided to try a cigarette. Mostly out of curiosity. Walking back from Jack in the Box, I stopped into the convenience store and bought a pack of Camels. I wanted to stop smoking after my first puff. I was addicted for the next 5 five years. One night I went to a club, first time I'd been to a club as a smoker. I smoked a cigarette, then while crossing the dance floor I became very light headed. I passed out and had to sit down on the dance floor.

One night I was at work, telemarketing, at which, by the way, I was excellent. I began to uncontrollably studder when I would speak. This happened a couple more times, during one of which I actually had a seizure where my head was twitching and I couldn't control my speech and I stuttered repeatedly for about 20 seconds. A factor toward this outcome I now realize was my low protein diet, not intentionally low protein, just not enough food. Lacking protein is though what leads to seizures. I was also working in front of a computer screen with a very low refresh rate, which has been documented to cause seizures.

Rad had the weed hookup. His guy sold mersh, harsh weed with seeds. Which I now realize I should've consumed for their protein value. His dealer is amongst few people I've known who traveled with his gun. I don't know if it was to show it off, or if he felt he was being courteous in laying it down while at someone elses house, but he would lay his gun on the table when he would stop in to drop off weed to Rad.

Rad also became friends with our next door neighbors who were wasted away meth addicts with a baby. Rad also became friends with a heroin dealer from Britain who had a car a bit sleeker than Rads. Rad took me to their place one time, what a total disaster. They lived in the same apartment complex as us. Our apartment was pristine. Their apartment had holes in the wall, there was a pile of torn up foam in one corner and no furniture but a mattress on the floor. The place smelled like shit. The dishes were all dirty in a pile on the counter. Craziest apartment I'd ever seen.

Rad smoked meth off a broken light bulb one night. He of course asked me if I wanted to try it. I declined.

One night Rad bought some cocaine that he was intent on main lining, also known as intravenously injecting. Neal and Renee were both down to mainline some coke. Rad injected them and asked me if I wanted to. I refused with thanks, but no thanks. Rad asked if I would plunge his into his vein. He insisted it was dangerous for him to as he was feeling shaky. Grudgingly I agreed and pronounced "Though I do not endorse nor condone the events that are occurring, I will plunge the needle in your arm Rad, for the sake of safety." Everybody had a loud hoot about my declaration.

Rad invited some people to our apartment one night. Late in the evening there was a guy, mid 30s, seemed a business man. He laid out lines for everyone. I was offered a line and put under a bit of verbal pressure to snort it. I asked if it was meth and was told, no, don't worry about it, it's the good stuff. I was left to presume it was cocaine. I snorted the line.

Rad had been cold to me the whole time I knew him. He refused to give me rides anywhere, school, to get groceries, anywhere except to party really. He would drive me if we were going someplace disempowering. But he was closed to any notion of legitimately helping me. Even when we were scheduled to goto school at the same time, he began skipping class. He was a tad condescending and never sweet to me in the least. This put together with how adamant he was about being roommates had left me to question his motives and wonder why he wanted me as part of his life in the least if he so obviously didn't care about me in the least. This compounded by my having attemptedly taken part in an intently government failed drug bust as an informant a little more than a year earlier, compounded further by my having been a large part of why 2 of my friends were in jail, (Tony and Karl), busted on drug distribution charges, compounded by the fact the powder I snorted was definitely very strong, I became paranoid, where paranoia means one's precocious situation well considered. Pretty quick after I snorted that line I adjourned to my bedroom and attempted to sleep. This was based mostly on my so deeply considering how shallow my relationship was with all there present. Early in the morning I came out to find Rad and Renee hosting some new group of people. I sat on the floor to mingle. I was less paranoid, as I wasn't so high by the powder I'd snorted the night before, though I was definitely still a little buzzed. Renee sat on the floor facing me. It felt at first like she might be hitting on me, which is something I'd felt early on when I first met Renee. One of her guests, another chic, was sitting on the floor beside her. Her and Renee got to talking about my acne. I had a couple in grown hairs on my neck which I'd suffered regularly since my teen years. Renee commented that my acne wouldn't be so bad if I didn't try to hide it. I did, a lot of times, carry my chin low, to keep people from looking at my acne. Rad, standing beside Renee looked at me and said he would curb me. He then described curbing to one of his guy friends as being laying a persons teeth on the sidewalk then stomping on the back of their head. His guy friend from sitting behind me on the couch said he thought it would be better to wait til I was asleep and let a huge pit bull eviscerate me. After this little conversation, I got up walked to my room. I thought about what I needed to take with me and decided nothing. I walked out of the apartment at which Rad said, "Dan, where are you going." "For a walk I told him." I walked out of the complex and turned on to the street. The biggest and most muscular pit bull I've ever seen trotted out from between two of the apartment buildings headed straight at me. I turned quick and looked at him, but kept walking at the same pace. He stopped and stared at me hard. He had a collar but no leash. His owner was no where to be seen. As I got passed him a little ways his head snapped to the side like he had heard a call, though it was inaudible to me. Then he trotted off in the direction to which his head had snapped.

I made my way toward Scottsdale. I passed the big university and sat for a break. A black gent, university student asked me if I wanted to go back to his place for a bit. I agreed and we went to his place. He asked me if I wanted something alcoholic to drink, I refused. He asked if he could suck my dick. I refused. He decided I had to leave, I complied. I sat on the grounds of the university and was approached again, this time by a catholic priest. He asked if I would like to attend confession. I agreed.

I decided I wanted to go home to Woburn Massachusetts. I called my mom. I think it was the first time in about 8 months I had spoken to her. I told her my situation in brief, that my roommates had made me feel unwelcome and that I wanted to come home but I had no money. I asked her to buy a plane ticket for me. She was very hesitant. It seemed like she was worried I was going to somehow turn the plane ticket into cash for drugs. I had to ask her a few times before she agreed.

I slept that night beside the pond I used to meditate beside. I was so very tired and the air was so very cold, both contributed to my pissing my pants in the middle of the night. I woke up just as I began crapping in my pants. The closest restroom, at the all night gas station, was half a mile away. The pond was in full view of the thoroughfare, so squatting to shit wasn't much of a consideration and halting the process was impossible. I waddled my way to the gas station to empty my pants. What a mess. I made my way from there to Marshalls, smelling like a sewer. I found only one thing in Marshalls that I could afford with the $10 I had in my pocket. They were a pair of shorts that were so short, if I wore them on my hips, my penis would dangle out the leg of them. I didn't try them on and hadn't considered the penis dangling situation when I bought them. My underwear was trashed, my pants were trashed, I needed clothes to change into if I was going to be flying to Boston today. I made my way to the airport, where I used the restroom to change and tidy as best a sink in a public restroom allows. I realized the penis dangling situation when I first sat in the shorts. It was the first time I'd seen my penis in public, it popped right out of the bottom of the leg. I stuffed it back in real quick then adjusted the shorts down off my waist.

I boarded the flight still not smelling spring fresh, 48 hours without a shower as a rancid adult. By a disgusted sigh my neighbor told me of her disgust. I did my best to keep my pits closed the whole flight home.

When I arrived to Boston I adjourned to the restroom for another tidying up. I met my mom and brother near Logan airports front door and we proceeded directly to Bedford Veterans Affairs Hospital where, without any incident of violence I was placed immediately on a locked ward where I was kept for almost a month, the whole time without any tantrums nor fits.

**I make my way off the locked ward, transferred to a open ward at Bedford VA. Sent to live at the veterans shelter in Boston. I pass their certificate course in PC repair. Sent eventually to Crescent house in Lowell. Take a vacation to visit my sister at her school in Florida. Get laid by a chic my brother had had sex with the last time he was there. She convinces me to move down there to live with her, her son and her mom and the family dog.

I moved to Ft. Lauderdale Florida to be with Maggie.

Maggie got physically abusive, I moved to stay with my sister in her new apartment with her bf Pete.

I was dependent on team member Scotty for a ride to work.

Me, my sis and Pete moved to Tamarac just down the street from my work.

Pete overflowed the toilet and didn't clean it. I threatened to smash him. My sister comes up behind me with a baseball bat over my head. They move out.

While working at The Answer Group I began to chat up Taran Sargeant. She was a mid 20s black chic, tall as me and thick. She was kinda firm and just soft enough to feel exquisite. She had a boyfriend and when I asked her about him she gave me the feeling that she felt neglected due his much traveling. He was a promoter for Don King, is what she told me. I guess he promoted boxing matches and that's why he was away so much. Taran invited me to her place one time, apparently she was very lonely at the time as was my condition. I had not been romantically involved then for many months. Somewhat surprisingly for me, we made out and she gave me head and I ate her box for a while.

After that I hooked up with Taran a few times, the most memorable of which we started out in missionary position. I was on all fours pounding away when she hugging me, pulled herself into the air under me and made twisting gyrations with her hips intently massaging my penis with her inner walls. It was amongst the most delicious moments I've experienced sexually. In that moment she expressed much passion.

The last time I hooked up with her my penis broke out with white heads in about 20 different locations. I mentioned it to her and she told me she hadn't developed any condition, so she didn't know what I was talking about. I dissuaded the white heads by peroxide and they went away and haven't returned since. After she gave me whatever it was that made my penis break out, not very seriously, I considered killing myself. When the whiteheads went away and didn't return I breathed a sigh of relief for having not irrepairably damaged myself sexually. Then I felt it silly that I considered killing myself over it. When it first happened I thought it was herpes and that I could expect my penis to break out in whiteheads regularly for the rest of my life. Finding a sex partner had to that time proven tough time and again. I couldn't imagine trying to navigate life advising all the women I might become interested in that I have herpes.

***I go with Sean and John to a club in South Beach where I meet Natalie. Natalie gives me her phone number. I call, we meet up. She comes to Tamarac for our first date. We take ecstacy and have long sex. She advises me that I'm not going to be able to get off. I try a little longer. Still couldn't get off. I quit, spin records. She leaves, calls me in the days that follow. Comes back to Tamarac, we have great sex again. Best position her on top grinding my lower abdomen with her clit while I'm pushed as deep in her as my cock allows. Then I massage grip under her shoulder blades and pull her to me, kissing her nipples then her mouth and thrusting in her from shallow to deep, then back to her grinding my lower abdomen with her clit, then my slapping her ass with my hips.

Rob moves in. Rob keeps a gun under his bed. Steals some hundreds of dollars from me. Doesn't pay rent. Steals my rent money. I get fired from work. I move to hollywood. Run out of money, ask my mom to pay for a uhaul to help me move home.

I live in my moms apartment on Warren Ave in Woburn. Date Jessica, tufts honey. Meet Pam, get introduced to Dave and Jeff. Work at Walgreens. Meet Rick. Throw the landlord through the glass of the front door. Move to Plympton St. pawn my computer and turntables, buy rollerblades. Got police harassed driving for years. Got arrested during a traffic stop. Started rollerblade traveling everywhere I'd go.

GTI smash after long island ice tea

Running a red light in the black pickup.

Tripping driving black pickup circling unable to find my apartment.

Drunk, puking, I drove so slow, with a girl in the car who insisted on my driving her home, I wanted to stay where we were or sleep in the car or something other than drive while I was passing out drunk. We had been at Sean Weeks apartment, drinking. She was insistent we leave and Sean wasn't offering to let my very drunk person stay there. When I sat down in my GTI I didn't yet get the door shut when I had to lean back out the door to puke. When I got her to her place she had sex with me and I passed out during. She was the only Hindu lady I've been intimate with. Actually I'm not exactly sure she was Hindu, though her descent was definitely of India. Her name eludes me now. She didn't go out with me again. She stopped answering my calls after that night.

Drunk driving from strip club speeding stunt driving into the curb. Mayport Florida spin out tires popped.

Narrowly avoiding smashing a jackass who pulled from a parking lot to stop right in front of my car in the middle of a 4 lane thoroughfare.

Moe's car parking lot accident.

Uhaul ramming a jackass road hog truck driver off the road.

Oil slicked freeway Uhaul slide.

Jacksonville to Boston in 17 hours, driving with Dan B. from the Navy.

Boston to Jacksonville in firebird with a breakdown in Georgia.

Orlando to Boston in firebird with Al.

Boston to Jacksonville in 17 hours in the firebird after Navy discharge.

4 days to Arizona from Florida.

San Diego to RI in 48 hours.

Climbing Camel's Hump with Jen and Grif

Mike Griffiths suggesting the first street sign theft to please his girlfriend of the last name on the sign. Then he wanted Beaver Ave. in Lynnfield.

Grif and I repel the HS Gymnasium.

Grif and I break into the HS and steal a fire extinguisher.

Al guy suggesting to me food is free working at Market Basket.

When I was working at Market Basket I was asked to work on the 4th of July. The fourth of July was one of my favorite holidays then. I took much pride in being American, felt I was greatly patriotic. I needed the money though for car insurance and gas so I could goto the beach over the summer. So grudgingly when a bit of pressure was applied, the management telling me time and again that they needed workers on the 4th of July, I agreed to work. I spent 8 hours in the store that day which was supposed to count as a 12 hour day due the time and a half pay for the holiday. That should have been a little more than $75 dollars on my pay check which went missing from my pay check the following pay period. I reported the missing pay to the courtesy booth and was told to wait until the next pay period and it would be on my check then. I waited and on the next pay period the holiday pay was still not on my check. I spoke again to the ladies at the courtesy booth who assured me it would be on the next check. I waited again and was again disappointed. I spoke with the store manager who told me to again wait for the next pay period and it would be on there. Sure enough no holiday pay on the subsequent check. I decided to stop complaining and start acting. I waited in the store one night after close. I had brought with me a hack saw, duct tape and a pair of gloves. I made my way to the front of the store above the ceiling tiles, steady gripping and sure footing the girders. Once I reached the front of the store I did a split across the girders to stand facing the pickup tube. There was an air powered tube that was used to carry snap close capsules from the front of the store to the courtesy booth to facilitate the process of moving money from the cash registers into the safe. I sawed a section of the tube out that was big enough to hold a capsule. Then I used duct tape to reseal the tube. It was my intention to wait until the first pickup the next day and snag the first tube that passed with my pen knife. I had a bunch of hours to wait until the store would be open. So I made my way back across the girders and into the break room, down the stairs. I was hungry, so I was going to get a bag of chips from the shelves of the store. I walked through the back doors and was about 10 feet into the store when the alarm went off. Apparently there were motion detectors hooked up to the alarm system. I was caught by surprise. I went up into the break room, out onto the cat walk and made my way across the girders until I reached a section of the venthilation system that was obscured from the view of the cat walk, thus visible from no where in the store without climbing a ladder above the ceiling tiles. I listened to the alarm going off, cold, hungry and worried I'd be found for what seemed like a very long time. Eventually, what seemed like 3 hours later, the alarm went off. I sat tight. I didn't move, I listened hard. I couldn't hear anything distinct. The next day the store opened and I made my way onto the cat walk, dusted myself off and walked out of the building without seeming out of place to anyone. I heard from Mike Griffiths who was the only person who knew of my operation that front end manager Mr. Pierce, psychotic gun toting 2 tour Vietnam Army Ranger was who checked out the store when the alarm went off. I waited a few weeks to allow the alarm night to become a distant memory to the management. Then I overnighted in the store again, this time I stayed in the break room and the cat walk so as not to set off the alarm. The next morning as time to open the store neared, I made my way across the girders over the ceiling tiles. I was quite nervous that someone might come out onto the catwalk and see me over the ceiling tiles at the front of the store, which would have been quite a precocious position. I kept an eye out behind me on the cat walk and waited anxiously for the first pickup. The compressor motor went on and I saw the first pickup flying it's way through the tube. I readied my pen knife to puncture the duct tape and as it flew into the sawed out section of tube I jammed the knife in and stopped the container. I opened it up, I was for the moment $450 richer. I wanted more. This had been a lot of effort for just $450 and sometimes pickups of more than $500 come through on busy days, but never in the morning. I was going to have to settle for it. Waiting for another pickup was too risky considering, surely they'd be wondering where in the tube this pickup was stuck. I pocketed the cash quick, with my nerves causing me to tremor. I made my way across the girders as speedily as I could be careful. I was on the catwalk when I realized I forgot at the front of the store, absolutely nothing. But that've been hilarious if it was my ID, right? I came out of the catwalk to find Joe Cavahlo in the break room. He gave me an odd look as it was unusual that I would be in the store so early, especially not dressed to work and even more unusual that I would be on the cat walk. "Sup Joe." I gave him a nod. He said wasup with a look of query on his face. I walked out of the store. Seeing only Brenda who gave me a general nicety. When I told Mike how much my score was he asked where was his share. I gave him a $100. "That's all?" Was his reply. My "Cuhmon man I have to pay my car insurance." was met by his, "Aw, ok." I came into work later that day and there was a ladder through the ceiling tiles. There were some cops around with gloves on. I was wondering if I'd be questioned and if Joe would mention my unusual presence in the store that morning. Mike told me he had heard that the store was installing motion detectors above the ceiling tiles. The hubub died down and I never heard about it again.

Danny, Kermit throws a can at me for throwing a loosely packed ice ball near him. At Market Basket there was a ice machine out back in the produce department. Sometimes the grocery clerks would have snow ball fights with ice balls. I'd never seen anyone get hit with an ice ball, but occassionally people would hurl ice balls around the back room. I was back there and noticed Kermit, which was the nickname of a mentally challenged kid who had worked at Market Basket for a while then. I had an ice ball in my hand, it was loosely packed just in case it hit. I never had good aim throwing baseballs. I played T ball just one year as a kid so I didn't have much practice. I yelled out "Danny!" He turned and said what as I was lobbing the ice ball. It was way off target, hitting the stairs above and behind him. He flinched hard when he saw I was going to throw an ice ball. It was just a prank and I figured Danny would make fun of me for my terrible aim or that he might have some choice words for me, or he might throw an ice ball at me later which I'd have to take in stride. I had no idea what was about to happen. I walked toward him across the back end and he came at me picking up a can of green beans on his way. He was walking kind of quick and I still didn't realize he was about to throw this can of green beans at my head which is what he did when there was about 20 feet between us. I ducked to the side and the bean can flew beside my head thwacking the stack of groceries behind me. I rushed at him and he drew his head down and in and scrunched up his shoulders, I guess he was expecting me to smash him. I grabbed him by the shoulders and drove him backward into a pallet that was laying on the ground, he sat on the groceries and I pushed him further back so he was leaning backward onto the grocery pile. I drew back my fist in rage and asked him "What the fuck Danny?" He started whining about my throwing an ice ball at him as though that was justification to throw a metal can at me. "That's fucked up Danny." I told him and that was the end of it.

I was up to the break room on break and forgot to get condiments for my meal. I left my smock on the chair and my meal on the table in front of my chair. I went to get condiments. I returned to the break room to find Tom, who had told Linda not to go out with me, while he was trying to pick her up, he was sitting in my chair. I told him, hey man, I was sitting there. Smoking a cigarette he took a drag and told me to sit someplace else. There were other chairs available that he could readily have sat in rather than taking my obviously taken seat. I told him "No man get out of my chair." and I picked the chair up by the back to dump him out of it. He stood up as I was pulling up on the chair and turned around, right in my face now. He blew smoke in my face. I immediately elbowed him in the face which spun him away from me, putting a bit of distance between us. "What the fuck man!" he exclaimed. "Don't blow smoke in my face." "Fine man, what the fuck."

First blow job ala Julie in my sisters downstairs apartment. When I was 15 my best friend, Mike Griffiths, was dating a girl in my grade named Kerri Cullivan. She was best friends with a girl named Julie Freitas who she introduced me to and we all went on a date.

Virginity lost at a party at Grifs. Never bring just 1 condom.

First sex in the shower at Julie's aunts.

Giving Kerry Lynn Cullivan a back massage, then getting a kiss.




Notice that until this point in my life I had never been harassed by police, assaulted with deadly weapons, disrespected by my family, attemptedly murdered, had a tough time finding work... All of that is about to change and here's why.

25OCT07
The latest assassination attempt. Some thorough piece of shit apparently stood on the hatch of this electrical conduit my power cable was fed through.

By such they left a slice through the cable just well enough to expose the flow of electricity. They did not sever the cable nor leave damage enough for the exposed cables to be obvious without bending the cable.

** Electrical fire started in my backpack rather than in the totally flammable crate my UPS had been in. Wires were apparently replaced with wires that the whole length of was connected inside. The whole length then sparked into flames after being connected to the battery for seconds. Began to melt into the side of the battery. Oh so conveniently none of the smoke detectors in the house were working.

2000
Uhaul accident
Follows soon after email publishing effort to slay tobacco murder.
Mom funds Uhaul move. Fast truck provided. Potentially fatal accident avoided by running a fast truck off the road. Sole option to continue travel. Washington DC accident in same Uhaul, particulars: Mostly high speed travel all the way up from FL. No sleep. Confusing mess of tunnels in DC. Late night with absolutely no traffic (still not even one vehicle traveled the stretch of highway I was on for 30 minutes after I ran my truck into the curb.

Vehicle Assaults list.

White Van lunge

FedEx Truck

Acura Integra

Taxi Van smashed rear view.

"I'm going to run you over." Senior driver.

White Van big dude "What do you think you're big?"

Black BMW collarbone smash.


Ice pick attack.

I was sitting on the grates behind the Boston Public Library. There was a big guy sitting beside, black dude who I'd seen around a bit but didn't know well enough to even know his name. The grates were the place to be for the homeless when it was cold out as there was a steady stream of warm air exiting the library by way of the grates. I was enjoying the warm air. The big guy sitting beside me had initiated a conversation with me, small talk, though he seemed somewhat agitated. A guy in a car labeled Clarendon Wine, young professional looking gent in a sweater and slacks brought from the car 4 open bottles of wine, from each of which a bit was missing. He set them in front of us, gave a nod of his head and walked off to my thanks. I grabbed up a couple bottles and big dude grabbed up a couple bottles, then we sat and began drinking. I told him of a situation that happened to me a couple days before, where I'd been chased by 2 guys, one with a hammer, one with a screw driver. He said something along the lines that he would have put it on me, to say with one of these weapons he'd have injured me egregiously. This was the first brazenly hostile comment he spoke to me. I immediately swung my foot from the ground where it was under me to centered on his forehead. I was trying to stop before I made contact with him just to show him my speed as an explanation to why they didn't "put it on me." But, misjudging the momentum of my foot I followed through ever so slightly too far and tapped him just barely at all with my foot. He jumped up saying "Now why did you have to go and do that..." By which time I was already standing and had moved a comfortable distance from him and taken a stance prepared to fight. In making this move I knocked over, smashing, one of the wine bottles I received. He got calm pretty quick and sat down, mumbling something under his breath. I sat down and he asked me again why I had to hit him. "I told him I tapped you, I didn't hit you and I was trying to show you my speed because you were talking shit." "Oh I'm talking shit." he said. "We'll see about that." I told him "Look what you did in jumping up, you made me spill my wine." "You should share that other bottle of wine with me." This is one of these guys I knew I would see around time and again and if this was going to turn into a big mess because he felt like talking shit to me, who backs down from no shit talking giants, I figured it's better sooner than later. I've seen this situation over and over, if you call people on their shit talking quick, generally they're unprepared. This guy though had come to this situation not merely having made preparations, but to my understanding now was intently antagonizing this situation to fisticuffs. So he stands up on the grate and reaches behind his back, seeming to grab a weapon. He tells me he's not going to share the wine with me. I had jumped up on the sidewalk, a short ways down from where he stood on the grate, towering over me. I told him, "No, you're going to be a gentleman and share the wine with me or..." and at that he was swinging a rusty ice pick at my throat. With his first swing he missed as I backed up a couple feet. He came down onto the sidewalk toward me, I stepped to the side and got up on the grate. He barreled at me and I kicked him in the stomach with a front kick, striking with the bottom of my foot which only slowed him a bit but threw him off balance enough to prevent him attacking me with the ice pick. I grabbed his arm at the inside elbow and kept him from swinging the ice pick at me. I grabbed his shirt at the shoulder with my other hand and pulled him toward me kneeing him in the thigh and groin which drove him back from me. I repeated this a couple more times while I was able to control his arm holding the ice pick. When that arm pulled back and broke free of my grip I jumped back from him. There had been some other black guys sleeping on the grates, now behind me. Apparently one of them woke up and grabbed a wine bottle. As the ice pick dude postured he said to me, "oh so you want it, you want me to give it to you." he was standing back from me, then he came toward me swinging the ice pick at my neck again. I grabbed his arm and felt a wine bottle shatter over the back of my head. I held his arm and he struggled to push the ice pick into me. He got it to my stomach and pushed it in just barely breaking the skin. I kneed him a couple times and leaned into a push knocking him away from me. I jumped to the sidewalk then onto the hood of a car and he came onto the sidewalk chasing me. I noticed one of the remaining wine bottles on the sidewalk, jumped off the car and picked it up. He was coming at me in the hopes to get me while I was bent over but was too late. I drew it back ready to smash him with it. He came to a stop and was standing just outside of range to get smashed with a wine bottle. I asked him "Do you want to leave now?" He said yeah. I said "Well then get the fuck out of here." To which he walked off. When he got about 50 feet away down the street I threw the wine bottle spinning at him. It hit him in the back left thigh, then dropped to the ground without breaking, which is a testament that the full force of the throw transfered into his leg. I walked past him about a half hour later. I appologized for letting things get heated and shook his hand. I never had a conversation with him again. He was around the park for years after that. On the last day I saw him he pushed a guys girlfriend into the street. The guy chased him to where he then sliced the boyfriends shoulder open with a rusty pipe, the boyfriend, Beans, then knocked him out with one punch. Beans was about 300 pounds of mostly muscle. While the other guy generally had a nasty look on his face, these are the only two incidents I observed where he did totally eratic violence.

Knife attacks. 3rd floor balcony start a bowie knife chase.

Ice Pick

- Ray Knife Attack.

Gentleman John.

Mini Mag Lite Attack.

Forty Friend in Back Bay

Battery fire setup with 0 working smoke detectors in my moms house.

Mom asking me if I'm starting a suicide cult while I'm being illegally detained by massively corrupt doctors.

FIGHTS LIST:

Al at horn pond.

- Al chasing me around Kerry Brettons house. Second fight condoned and watched by Dad.

Bounced Sean Labbe's dome off rough concrete in the back yard.

My sister complained to me about Al Labbe somehow making a nuisance of himself. I told Al to go home. He left. His brother Sean came back and shoved me to start a fight, after which I bounced his head off ragged concrete a couple times before he then left.

Some little kid in the woods beside the boys club attacked me.

On arriving at the Boys Club one day, having walked from my home, I noticed a boy standing in the woods, some kid I didn't even know. Curious to his motive for so loafing, I stepped into the woods and at the edge asked "What are you doing?" Meaning why are you standing over here in the woods. At which he came at me and kicked me in the balls, just as he had, I caught his foot falling into him I pushed him back knocking him down, twisiting myself then to stradle his head I picked him up by his belt and sat down with his head pressed to the dirt the back of my leg on his head. Basically I ddted him. Then sitting on his head asked him what the hell he was doing meaning in attacking me. He had no answer for me on any account. I kinda jogged out there with him chasing me. No matter how bad I beat that kid up he still wanted to fight all over absolutely nothing, some seeming notion of privacy rights in a 100 foot by 400 foot piece of woods surrounded by homes beside the boysclub parking lot. I don't know who that kid was to this day. I had never been attacked by anybody at the boys club before that.

Threw Brian to the ground for dumping hot water over my head.

- Put Carlos in a headlock for a long time.

- Punched Josh Scott in the face once.

- Danny Mullen.

- Darren Wilson knocked me out.

- Dan Wierzanski sparred to bloody nose.

- Steve (from Market Basket) sparred.

- Jen sparred.

- Croak split open.

- Gluck knocked out.

- Matt Kisiel bloody nosed.

Tom elbowed in the side of the face for blowing smoke in my face then being in my face trash talking.

- Headbutted the guy who had been starting with my brother for a few minutes.

Mexican dude step standing yelling and blocking my passage.

Asian dude service member yelling at me that I had to go, I could not be where I was chilling at a club. 94

James, the surly black gent who felt it right to jump down in the chair I had been stationed in at work for years. 98

The guy who made me spill my lunch then stopped to start with me, then followed me to where I was going, then had something to say to me aggressive and heatedly.

Rick Carson punch to the stomach.

- Guy who scratched my skin bloody, offensed by my driving.

Aimer gets me drunk then takes me to mission hill for trees from strangers.

Phil arguing with an enormously muscular black guy over the money he had given him to buy alcohol.

Danny Kriel plays threateningly with a knife toward a girl.

- Mo pushing match in the library.

Puerto Rican kids who spat at Cheech. Hammer, Screw Driver.

Crazy black vagrant stabs me with an ice pick.

Country over his insistence to fight Sean.

D for fighting Country. D and Pat and other goons for fighting D.

Country in the alley.

Got thrown a flight of stairs then jumped as I stumbled my way out of the house.

Joe goes to fetch a bowie knife while I stand on the third floor deck, this over my returning the taste of his friends greeting to me.

I was working painting homes and doing some minor demolition and construction. I was living in a home I was working on by agreement with the owner in exchange for work. The owner had been an egregious insult to my person, attemptedly enforcing I work on obviously wreck worthy equipment as a 40 foot ladder crooked by seperate positions of the ladder feet, one being folded up locked the other sitting as a base for the ladder. So it was known to me this house was trouble. One kid had brought a weapon in the house, an enormous bowie knife. When I showed up this day I was psychologically assaulted by a tall Puerto Rican spud from NY. He said something like "Oh it's that crazy dipshit from the park." To which Joe said yeah. Joe and his wife were living at this house working for the owner for a couple days at that point. I had met Joe in years past, but always felt like he was the least trustable character I had met. He was generally aloof, not personal, nor humble, nor gracious, nor kind. If he was ever gentle I'm guessing it's reserved for so very few. So Joe's cousin's "Oh it's crazy dipshit..." remark met my retort "Yeah ok fuck you dip shit." Then I turned to Joe ignoring his "cousin", Joe asked me what I said to his cousin as his cousin had asked in the moment before. I had gone from returning his cousins insult to asking him where the house owner was. He ignored my question and told me to wait there he'd be right back and ran into the house. I asked where he was going and he told me not to worry that I was going to find out. I waited there for a moment and his cousin walked inside the house with him. I followed his cousin in the house and descended the stairs. I went to my room and thought to find a weapon. Realizing there was nothing in my room worth assaulting them with, I headed to the front door, but it was too late. The both of them entered the hallway in the moment I did, Joe's cousin walking up behind me hard he began to punch me in the side of the head. He hit me about 8 times in the side of the head while I fumbled to get the door open. I got the door open and latched onto Joe's cousin. Spinning him back toward Joe I got a look at Joe standing at the end of the hallway with the Bowie knife. I pulled hard down on his shirt jumping back I dragged him onto the porch then sprawled bumping him bounced him off the wall jumped at him grabbing him in a head lock bending him over at the waist, I spun him to throw him down the front steps but he resisted hard and then I went with his momentum off the spin and we fell into the neighbors door. Hitting the door on my back the door flew open. I fell into the front hall of the tenants. My headlock still secure I rolled my body over his head driving his head into the floor and wrenching his neck. Joe's girlfriend came onto the front porch and yelled to Joe, he's choking him, he's going to kill him. Joe came around the corner and made eye contact with me and was a gasp. He looked very scared. He said as he walked away that he was "going to get the knife." In haste in sat up so as not to be wrenching his cousins neck so bad anymore. I pulled my legs under me and stood up with him still in the head lock though loosing grip. He pulled back from me very hard sitting down. In the moment I lost the head lock on him I elbowed him in the face. Then I walked out of the front hall checking the corner to not run into a knife. I stood on the sidewalk in front of the house. I took out my video camera and recorded my face banged up from Joe's cousins hits while I struggled with the door. Joe came out the front door and his cousin walked out of the other front door on the porch. Joe asked his cousin if he was ok. Joe's cousin went inside the house. Joe continued to yell at me from the porch. He was telling me in so many words that he was going to more severely harass me than to try to kill me, mmm ok, whatever Joe. Then I walked to Rob Michaels house and stayed over night there smoking weed.

A homeless train rider, Pissmouth, warns me he's a train rider, which is why in his humble opinion I should leave Melissa alone, who I'm merely sitting beside sober while he and she are both very drunk. Melissa then my xgirlfriend, still friend, who was leaning on me to keep from falling over. She had been talking to me kindly and I was trying to keep her from passing out by talking to her. Pissmouth sits on the other side of me and says "Leave her alone." To which I said "What?" He says "You should leave her alone." To which I say "Why?" He says "Because I'm a train rider. You shouldn't fuck with me." I stood up and turned to him and began to throw punches inches off his face. Then from a bit of a distance I threw kicks just in front of his face and at my hands, slapping hard on my foot with my open palm. I was telling him "YOU shouldn't fuck with ME." as I began throwing punches again hard and leaning into him to close the distance to throw quicker punches shorter when I misjudged the distance and buffeted him lightly with one of my fakes. He got an angry look on his face. Not knowing what was going to be the outcome of his hostility, having felt my bump as being without fierce delivery and being flustered by having sat and stared into what each was a momentary knockout blow he tensed as though he was preparing to stand up. So I lit into him with 3 real punches which were over in about a second. Then I stood there evaluating what his response was going to be. He sat there still and got a determined and saddened look on his face. His friend, another train rider, jumped up and hollared "What are you doing hitting my friend in the face!?" To which I punched him in the face once and kicked him in the stomach and jerked my fist hard preparing for another punch. He was stood still in the place where he stood up. He looked at his friend who shook his head "no". At which he sat down and they joined each other in tears.

I rollerbladed into Copley Square one day. I sat on a bench. A black gentleman I've seen in Copley a few times before, known to the people of Copley as Ray, walked toward me from the street. Ray was holding his unfolded knife. He asked me about my telling his friend not to rob people at knifepoint. His friend Mo, who is now famous for having been on MTV while in jail, had held a knife while threatening a late teen robbing him of a small amount of money. I had punched Mo and told him it would happen more if I heard he was robbing more people with knives. Ray was taking up the issue for Mo as Mo had balked at further combat with me. He tried smacking me in the head when he would sneak up on me in the library which turned into my assaulting him each time he would smack me. Which turned one time into a stumbling throwing locked grip judo stalemate. Mo, being taller than me and about twice my weight, thought he would be able to easily steer me though found it hard to choose his own direction when I began dancing on his foot tops and up his legs a couple times. He quickly tired of trying to throw me down. Anyhow, here's Ray taking up for Mo like a good wanna be thug. Ray is about my size, fit. He's standing about 3 feet in front of me with a knife locked into position in stiff thrust preparation. He asked me what is this he's heard about Mo having problems with me. I said to him while I finish tieing my shoes that I didn't know Mo had a problem with me. As we had left it, there seemed to be no intent to further hostility. Mo had ceased smacking me as a greeting when he could get away with it from behind. I had not bludgeoned Mo ever for any other reason, so it seemed we were at mutual respect, apparently not. Anyhow I had tied my shoes quick, hoping to delay him with the conversation then jumped to my feet grabbing my rollerblades which I quickly donned on my hands and wasted no time to begin throwing haymaker punches in a hooking motion in what I now call crab style boxing. He moved around a bit trying to get into a position to puncture me with his knife. I stood on two benches with a wide low stance and swung punches at him as he approached the benches to try to be close enough to me to put his blade on me. On each approach he made, I drove him back with a swing that he would have to cease approach to avoid. As quick as I would throw punches I moved back a step after each throw and gathered my balance and sense of position on the benches. He stopped chasing me around the benches and walked away for a bit. I wasn't cool with him being around after he tried to stab me. So I stocked him where he went that he was staying in the park. I asked him if he had not trained much with knives, to which he said "um no, I have not." To which I said "oh well then I should put one of these down because you're a bout to get stuck". I dropped one of the rollerblades to the ground. He got a look on his face like he was seriously afraid to be stabbed. It seems this whole situation had not gone anything how he thought it would and what it had been scared him for his not having been at all skilled a player to secure facilitous victory granted even odds as disparate as fierce blade to footwear as weapons. He walked away and sat down. I left him be and soon his visits to the park dried up to nothing.

**Gentleman John punches me in the face, then gets out a box cutter while I back away from him with my skateboard.

Beans Idol wants to fight me over my saying something he interpreted as disrespectful to one of his friends. P jumps in. Fight is broken up and to be moved. Beans idol goes after P. Me and P beat him unconscious, mostly me.

Big Old guy with the glasses who insisted on maintaining a dialog with a kid who had told him he didn't want to hear anything from him any more. I warned him, he got froggy, situation turned ugly, I punched him twice when he stood up and challenged me. D then punched him once that he hit the pavement.

Big Old guy insists on shaking my hand while his hand is bloody. I tell him to go away, he persists, attempt to grab me, gets decked, hits the pavement. Pulls out a knife and paces the park for a while. I call the cops on him quick.

** Willy smashes his dogs head off the car roof. I told him he was not to do such abusive stuff. He tells me he'll do whatever he damn well pleases in a hostile tone. I told him not to get direspectful with me cause I'd bounce him off stuff. He came at me immediately and punched me in the head. I was fighting microwaves more than Willy so I had to scramble to the top of the car where I stood safely until the police arrived.

** James on the street in Ipswich. "Are we fighting?" as he comes at me hard. Schooled, kickboxing by leg kicks then maintaining a need to keep distance to avoid high kicks, plus burst through kick danger zone, then caught him with a crack sounding punch to the nose. Then schooled him wrestling when he made it in on me, then schooled him pulling my hair when he made it back to his feet. Then just dodged his punches and back pedaled for a while.

** Biggie in apparent fight with Mark, I pull Biggie back from him. Biggie stumbles hard into me, knocks me down and jumps to the floor himself. I cover him pressing on his back to hold him down. He unties my shoes, then brawls up, knocking me off his back he proceeds to pummel me with a minimaglite. Mark walks out of the ATM I'm stuck in, with biggie between me and the door. As Mark was walking out he said, "Alright, I'm out of here." I yelled at his back as he was walking out, "Yo Mark, what the fuck man?" Biggie's friend who had begun tussleing with Mark when Biggie was punching Mark with the flashlight was now grabbing at my left arm. My back was up against the wall. I was taking hits in the temple, the bridge of the nose, the top and side of my head. I grabbed biggies shirt and sank toward the floor pulling hard which caused Biggie to lean in over me but with his head pressed to the wall that was at my back. I curled up to a ball in a squat. Biggie stopped hitting me and pressed off the wall. Gripping his shirt I used his momentum, and my leg strength to press out a stand up and my shoulder blade against the wall to press forward to knock both of them off me, I jumped to an aggressive stance. I looked at Biggie and said "What the fuck man, I was just breaking that shit up." "Oh oh, yeah, well now you're done." says Biggie. I jumped to grab my bag and threw it at biggies stomach as I jumped past him. His buddy was grabbing at my back and biggie took another punch into the back of my head, with the minimaglite, as I stepped past him, flicked the lock of the door and stepped out of the ATM. I slammed the door into Biggie trying to exit the ATM. He tried one more time to get out the door and I kicked it at him. He picked up my bag and began to look through it. I waited at the door. He came to the door and barreled out. He bear hugged me, I tried to head butt him but he was too tall. He punched me in the back of the head and I broke his bear hug grip. I ran to where I knew there was a long jagged broken pointy 2X4 under a box that had been built over where stonework had been crumbled by a car accident long before this fight in the ATM. I picked it up and ran at him. I smacked him in the leg with it. He stepped at me and grabbed the improvised staff and we wrestled for it for a second. We both lost grip and it dropped to the ground. His little friend had made his way back into the woodwork. I bent over to pick it up and he came at me knocking against my hips though while I was bent over I had a wide stance which defeated his attack. I got the wood again and hit him in the leg with it again and subsequently dropped it. Then I figured if the cops had showed up to this scene they'd arrest me even while I had been the victim. So I walked away. Went to the Ave. Smoked a bowl with Brian and Lauren, cute Copley couple at the time.

One evening I arrived to the wall at Copley library to find Puerto Rican Miz with a sock off with his left foot laid across his right thigh. I gave him daps then he went about massaging his feet with both hands which was apparently what he had been doing before I walked up and sat down. I challenged him, "Did you just dap me with the hand you're handling your feet with?" He laughed and said "yeah". I told him "That's messed up Miz." To his "I know. eh ha" Some guy I've never seen before witnessing this laughs hard and says eh heh little white kid getting disrespected. To which from sitting I snapped a kick to inches off the bridge of his nose slapping it with my hand. He stood there for a moment, obviously poker faced and ready to charge regardless of what I did next. In hind sight I think he delayed hoping I would drop my guard but no such luck, I merely kicked at his head height hard this time from standing. He charged at me immediately after my foot passed it's greatest momentum and distance. I backed up a few feet tacking side to side to enforce his requirement to change direction of his momentum to follow me. Follow me he did for about 15 feet. Then he broke to complain I wasn't man enough to stand toe to toe for him so he could hit me real easy like. So I got back in his face and this time kicked him in the hand. He came at me hard and chased me back peddling for 30 feet then sprinted at me at which time I turned and ran. He quit chasing me then after about 40 feet. He started walking back toward the wall we had been sitting on. I ran back toward him and he turned as I was coming up behind him. He squared off with me again, we both made motion to put the other in range for a safe strike. He came at me hard and I stepped on his foot. At which he immediately kicked my foot off his and stepped on my foot, which I dragged out from under his foot. His foot boot and stomp was certainly impressive. It hadn't scored an injury but it certainly betrayed his raw power. I kept a few feet back from him and he turned to walk away. He walked to where my skateboard was sitting on the wall. When I realized his direction I ran at him hard and jumped at the last moment just as he was picking up my skateboard. My jumping into him jostled my skateboard from his grip and it fell there between us. As I landed from my jump I leaned into him and snaked my legs around his other side tripping him, finally I pushed with my hands on his shoulders and he stumbled away. I grabbed my board up quick. "You were going to get my skateboard!" I exclaimed. I swung my skateboard at his face a few times that backed him far up from me. I lunged toward him and swung my skateboard smashing his leg with it once. I changed my aim to higher and continued to swing my board. When I was swining the board at his head height I wasn't swinging it to hit him but merely to make him ill at ease enough to better consider leaving. Eventually he had down the timing of my board swing and he charged me from far when my board had just past him. I had time to get my left hand under the board to steer the end to punch with it as a direct thrust at his face from my hip as he was running hard at me, but for having swung my board like this often enough to have it down pat I was unable to do anything but let my arms slump to my side for a moment, damn microwave aid when people are trying to smash my brain to pieces... He reached and smacked the board from my hand quite easy then we wound up in a spiral twisting as he drove through me I leaned back and spun him and he ran hard forward driving me hard off the 3 set of stairs beside the library. I latched onto him and brought him with me. I actually jumped at the last moment out from the stairs and up as best I could and spun him under me as we fell. Essentially I jumped my hips up unto his left shoulder as he barreled us both off the stairs. I landed on top of him and slid off his other side still gripping his shirt. I used the momentum of the fall to pull him in the direction he had pushed. When my arms exhausted their reach in that direction, still holding tight, I swung him in a circle to bounce his head off the glass of the bus stop on Boylston St. First his head bumped pretty hard then I wrenched down hard on his shirt driving his head into the bus stop. The bump on the bus stop had sent him unconscious for a second but then he tightened his grip on the head lock he had me in, but it was too late. I got my feet on the side of the bus stop and pushed into him. I had broken the head lock he had put on me. His grip was loosening, my feet were now flat on the ground and he was on his hip. I twisted to one side then the other and just as I broke free of his grip I pulled my fist back over his face, still gripping his shirt and he declared, "I quit". I said "You default?" He said "Yeah I default." I walked away picked up my skateboard then walked around the corner and listened to him plan how he was going to kill me with his friends. I came around the corner and told him lets do it now. I swung my skateboard in his face a bunch more times. He of course pussied out. About a month later I seen him at the Tuesday night church dinner. He followed me into the bathroom without me knowing. I was standing taking a piss when I felt his breath on my neck asking me if I wanted to fight again. I told him it was up to him without skipping a beat pissing. He pussied out again. Telling me that it didn't matter to him. Then if I didn't want to fight then he would consider it over.

A group of people I'm familiar with were standing in front of 7-11. Sitting beside me on the window sill was Katie, an on and off again friend who seems usually by far more interested to hang out with the people I'm around than with me. A late teen possibly early 20 year old gent who is called by most Drunk Tom approached us to bid farewell to Katie. He was saying "I'll see you LATER" as he flicked his knife open finishing about 6 inches from Katies face. I kicked him immediately which knocked him far back from either me or Katie. He grabbed at his low abdomen and gasped as he made his way toward the van. He turned to me and said "Touch me again and I'll kill you." I stomped at him immediately, punched him twice in the face, kneed him twice in the stomach, kneed him in the back of the legs and pulled on the back of his shirt, then pushed on his shoulders bouncing his head off the bumper of the van he was about to get in. I wasn't aiming for the van bumper. I was trying to throw him just to the ground or off the van but my clipping his legs worked out smoother than I thought would be the case, so his head smashed hard on the bumper. He got in the van then said "You're lucky you don't get stabbed Dan" as he drove off.

Guy I met on the street asked me if I want Kind Bud. Sure I tell him. He said "Lets go sit on the bleachers at the baseball field." We goto the field at the Commons and sit on the bleachers. He tells me to give him the money and he'll give me the bud. I tell him to give me the bud and I'll give him the money. He says he has to go get it. I tell him to go get the bud and I'll consider giving him the money. He tells me to just give him the money and if I try to walk away he's going to follow me, insinuating he is going to resort to violence to get the money from me. I swung my skateboard at him though lost grip. He leaned hard to get away from where my skateboard was swinging and I jumped into his lean coming down on top of him and rolling him across the bleachers we had been seated on until he was on the ground under my knees. I dropped knees on his ribs and the back of his head for about a minute. Mounted cops on Boston Common noticed us and rode up on us quick. I told them he was trying to steal from me and that he had threatened me. The cops told us both to walk. I asked if there would be a report of the situation and they said if I wanted a report they were going to arrest me.

Kicked out of free clinic. Asked for report to be made. Cops refuse, threaten to arrest me.

Goomba Supreme grabs my neck in instructing me what not to say to his girlfriend.

My friend Tommy had given me an E pill earlier in the day. Tommy was a homeless gent in his 30s, I was also homeless at the time, living on the streets of Boston near Copley Square. I was to owe him for the pill. We were nestled in an ATM staying out of the frigid air. There was another homeless gent sitting in the corner of the ATM. He was an older guy. A conversation earlier in the evening had revealed this black muslim elder homeless gentleman had been a Navy SEAL during Vietnam. A well moneyed seeming Arab gentleman entered the ATM, dressed sharp as was his lady in tow. Ashalamilakum the elder homeless man said in greeting the man on his way into the ATM. The rich jerk says "What!?" then a phrase in Italian obviously meant to be disrespectful. The homeless vet says "oh sorry, you must be Italian." To which the man disdains Islam, snorts and tapping his footedly goes about his ATM business at which he is very fast and skilled. My friend Tommy would later tell me that the guy had taken out 2 of the maximum the ATM would allow as a withdrawal, meaning he was then holding $1200, half of which he had handed to his girlfriend. The guy turns to me at a lull in his typing on the ATM and says "You know this guy?" To which I stand up from my perch across the room from him, I make my way to the center of the room, putting his person between the ATM machine and me. I said in this travel, "I know him, this guy used to be a Navy SEAL. He's no joke." To which the guy chsked at the back of his throat again casting disrespect. I leaned up against the form fill table as he and his girlfriend turned to make their way out of the ATM. As she passed me I said to her, "You should watch yourself being around this guy, he seems a hot head." He walked past me toward the door then as she stepped out he turned and said to me "what did you say? You think you can..." He walked back at me saying this and had lifted his hand to my throat. Just as he made skin contact grabbing at my throat, I punched him in the face twice that turned him around, I punched him in the back of the head a few times then he was up against the window of the ATM. I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and began to smash him off the wall repeatedly. As I was smashing him off the wall he was saying "You don't know who I am?" "You don't know who I am?" To which I said "Yeah, you're the guy I'm bouncing off this wall." Then I bounced him off the door handle which sent the door open. Then I kneed him in the ass about 4 times, then pushed him out the door. At which he scrambled outside, turned and as the door was closing said "You don't know who I am? You're fucking dead." Tommy and I promptly made our way out of the ATM and toward our evening shelter.

Some new homeless dudes had taken up residence in Copley Square. One of them, Rex, was so called for his size being not much different from a tyranosaurus rex. One day in the middle of the summer he was harassing a homeless lady named...hl. HL had long been telling him to "cut the shit." At which his harassment only grew. HL showered maybe once a week. Rex in making fun of her began throwing stuff in her hair. Scraps of paper trash, salt and pepper, various articles of unknown status. He had just sat on a bench after the last round of throwing whatever in her hair when I rose and stood in front of him and said "You better cut the shit before you get elbowed in the side of the head." To which Rex got an angry look on his face and said "What did you say?" To which I elbowed Rex in the side of the head. Rex naturally jumped up once he got his wits about him again. He came at me, I jumped to the other side of a bench. He came around the bench I went to the other side of the bench. This continued for a short while until he walked away and began to talk shit. I walked to him then and kicked him in the leg once then bounced back a bit. He didn't make it past one step toward me, then began to talk shit about my kicking him. Then I kicked at his leg again but he blocked it with his hand that seemed to injure his hand at least a bit. I kicked at his leg again and at the last second missed intentionally to hit his hand and watched as I bent his finger back to cracking as he attempted to block it. Then he said "I box Dan, I can't do this kicking shit you're doing." To which I left him be, fully expecting I would see Rex again soon. Soon though he was gone from the park and for now a long time.

Forty

I had heard of and seen around Copley Square a guy by the name of Forty. He was in with the older crowd around Copley, homeless guys, mostly drunks, mostly crack addicts. Not people I usually hung around with.

One day I noticed Tom, who most people call Dad, was limping. I asked him what happened. He was reluctant to say but eventually told me he had been jumped by Forty. He told me he had been sleeping on the ground inside the train station late at night to early morning. Forty, a tall near 300 pound black guy, woke him asking about Mike and when he found out Mike wasn't there he asked Tom to come up to the tracks to meet someone. The only way I can think of now Tom might have made his way out of there was to tell Forty he was going to take a piss and make his way to the back door. The back door is quite a ways away and Forty might have outrun Tom the human chimney if he didn't fake him out and sneak off. Alas Tom was not so quick thinking and went up to the tracks to at least not be in the dark while Forty did whatever he was going to do.

When Tom arrived at the train platform, at first Forty put his arms around him like he was just going to give him a hug, then he wrestled with him kinda easy like he was just going to play with him, then he threw him off the 5 foot train bay onto the train tracks. Then he took his foldout knife and bag of pennies.

About a week later I saw Forty shaking a cup in front of the door at 7 11 at the corner of Dartmouth and Boylston. I was waiting outside for some friends that had gone in the store. A lady walked past and Forty extended his cup to her kinda close and asked her for change. She didn't say anything but just walked past. Forty yelled down the street at her “Well fuck you bitch.” Forty said to me “Give me some change.” I said “I don't have any change.” The hostility was in his first sentence to me established. He knew I was living on the street for years at that point, so why he would demand money from me is obscene. He had demanded the change and with a tone in his voice like he would be angry if I didn't provide it. On my telling him I had no change he said “Give me some dollars.” Again in a hostile tone like he was going to get it from me one way another. I told him I didn't have any dollars. I wanted to fight him very badly at that point. I couldn't smash him on the premise that Tom was assaulted by him because then it would probably come back around to bite Tom in the ass. I walked up to him and stood in front of him within arms distance. I was looking in his eyes when I snatched real quick in his cup and extracted one quarter and two nickels. Which is most of what he had in his cup. I took a step back pretty quick after that but didn't walk off, just stood there looking at him with a smile on my face. “What the fuck are you doing? You're taking my change?” he said all very sour. My face turned to dismay and he started at me moving quick with his arms coming up from his side like he was going to grab me. I had passed two of the nickels into my left hand and kept the quarter in my right hand. As he was coming at me I threw the quarter off his right cheek hard as I could whip it. He turned his face to the left to keep from catching it in the eye. I made my way to the right and away from him down the sidewalk a bit. He yelled at me to get back there and started coming at me. I back peddled. He followed me up to Boylston Street yelling at me about how he was going to beat me. I spent the other two nickels trying to hit him in the eye but missed. I would stand and taunt him and wait until he approached close enough to require my moving or being in combat. He wasn't winded yet which is what I was hoping to do was get him chasing me yelling and winded before I gave a go at fighting his enormous person. He crossed Boylston Street and we were about midway into the brick section of Copley Square when he said “You think you're a killer? I'm just going to shoot you.” I had said in years past that if I ever need a gun there will be a gun there. Meaning I would take the gun from whomever was trying to shoot me. He reached in the back of his waist band and drew something out starting toward me again. As soon as I saw he had something in his hand I bolted to the other side of the ticket booth then across the street. He walked around from behind the ticket booth to see me already across the street and was tucking whatever it was he had pulled out of his waist band back in. I still didn't get a good look at it though did see a black metal object in his hand. He said “Fuck this man, I'm not going to chase you around.” Then mumbled something along the lines of he'll get me later. Then he walked back to the front of 7 11. I crossed the street back over to Copley Square and was out of his sight when I called the cops on the pay phone there. I reported the incident, the whole thing, Tom in the train station, me taunting him mildly by taking his change, him coming at me like he was going to hurt me then saying he was going to shoot me. I asked the dispatcher if a cop would come to my location, in the same park where I had just been threatened with bullet catching. She told me yes to wait there. I waited for about 20 minutes before a cop drove past 7 11. Obviously they found no one there then they never came to Copley Square as the dispatcher had told me they would. By work of the dispatcher I waited for about an hour about 20 feet from where Forty said he was going to shoot me.

Forty – Email I sent to Boston Police Department and received no word back.

I called 911 from Copley Park, yesterday evening April 30th. I don't wear a watch but I'm pretty sure the time was about 10:30 maybe past 11. I reported that a gent known to me as Forty had been collecting spare change in front of 7-11 at the corner of Dartmouth and Boylston when he became verbally aggressive with me, demanding as such that I give him some dollars, after I had told him I didn't have any change to spare. A friend of mine, gent named Tom, otherwise known as Dad, had been woken by this aggressive spanger where he slept at about 5 one morning. Forty had asked for another guy that usually sleeps there and when he heard report that that guy was not there he asked Tom to come up to the tracks to "meet one of his friends..." When Tom came upto the train bay, Forty immediately began wrestling with him as though he was playing around at first, then once he had a significant advantage threw Tom to the ground, stole from him a knife, a bit of change, then threw him off the train bay to the rocks and tracks, which is about a 5 foot fall. Standing on the rocks I'm pretty sure the train bay is at about my shoulder height. I'm fairly certain Tom would be willing to testify to this assault so long as he expected the result would be this menace detained. If Forty is detained I hope I'll be contacted that I be afforded the opportunity to put Tom in contact with the DA on these assault and robbery charges. Tom is homeless and doesn't have any communication facility. I can be reached at this email, most days of the week.

Returning to the situation:
Last night as I slept in the same area, forty came around with one white friend, by his sunken cheeks I'm guessing also a crackhead, incidently about 5'10", 150 maybe 160, seems to have been in shape at some point, I saw him about 30 feet off at an odd angle. Forty talked at length with his friend about me, urging his friend to just wait, he was sure I slept there, he even gave him a description of me as being a white guy with a black jacket on. Forty took a walk down the tracks to where my friends stay. Noone was home that night. The two of them, Forty and his companion were there from I'm guessing 1 in the morning til about 5. They did some drinking, Forty complained often that I had "messed..." his "probation up."

At about 2, I noticed first some distant whistling, then another voice and peeked from my sleep spot to observe another white guy. These two guys, Forty and his white friend, seemed to know this other guy, while I heard people being called by the names Kenny and Eddy, I'm pretty sure they were calling this guy they were both vaguely familiar with by both names. This guy who happened upon their laying in wait for me, told them he didn't prescribe to violence, he wasn't a "tough guy", he went so far as to urge them to avoid violence. At one point he walked off, but was called back, which he obliged and was then thrown from the train bay, after which Forty said he was "just kidding"... His white friend said a few times "Look at that, he took it like a man..." This 3rd white guy walked down the tracks away from them, though was called back again for a short while to oblige a request to just drink a bit and forget that shit...

Forty and this white guy were in the station listening to a small radio pretty much all night. The 3rd guy left, then I thought I heard them leave, I drifted off to sleep a short while. Though I woke to the sound of their voices a while later. I'm guessing that was their late night crack run downtown. They were there until a short while before the first train in the morning. When they did ultimately leave I was there until a few of the commuter trains past.

So, I'm writing to ask that the threat of gun violence I reported by 911 call be thoroughly well investigated as it seems this will be an ongoing problem until Forty has called to his attention the complications which he faces in seeking my demise or intimidation as he is now expressant.

Forty can be found near Copley Square, most often in front of 711, though commonly also at CVS on Boylston St. He usually shows up there in the late afternoon, early evening. I'm pretty sure he picks crack up at Arlington St. and probably in China town where he can be found a couple times a day, also guessing here, between 10 in the evening and 5 in the morning. He calls passing women "bitches" loudly, if they any other than put change in his cup.

He stole a knife from my friend which I'm guessing is the extent of the weapons he's carrying. He pulled something from his pants I was running too quick to get a good look at after he said "You're a killer, you think you're a killer, I'm going to fucken shoot you..." When I had crossed the street to a distance I figured he wouldn't be able to aim I looked back but he quickly tucked what he had into the back of his pants. When he decided to cease chasing me I called 911. I'm guessing he doesn't have a gun as he didn't shoot while he was obviously steamed that I had basically walk and jogged a bit away from him to where he was begining to loose energy due breathelessness. Plus I figure he would not go long with anything that could be traded for a rock.

Thanks for your time,
I hope to hear back from you on this case,
Daniel Vincent Kelley

Forty – Blades drawn

After being hunted by Forty and his friends for 3 nights that I had to sleep on the street other than where I have blankets and padding, the first of those cold nights with only a T-shirt to cover my legs, I decided to stop into my stow spot to pick up some clothes. Each of the three nights before I had found Forty and friends sleeping under where I usually slept. This night I broke the steel rail off the inside of a filing cabinet that was being trashed. I tied a plastic bag to it and around my wrist so as not to loose it in combat. When I first approached the train platform I noticed the one guy who was there, athletic, about 6 foot 2 inches, this was somewhat late at night. He was holding an open blade, what looked like a long box cutter. I continued toward my stow spot which he was standing about 30 feet from. When I got to the ramp to the upper platform where he was standing I asked him, “Hey, why you standing there with your box cutter open?” To which he said “You know, I gotta protect myself.” I started walking slower up the ramp and said to him “oh that's good you do that, there's some old guys who've been assaulted down here, maybe you'll watch out for them too.” I turned around and started walking out of the station and when I did he began to make some faces like he was silent communicating with people behind the wall that runs alongside the ramp I was still on. When I made it to the end of the ramp I looked around the wall before I stepped through the passage way before the next small wall. I had been traveling somewhat slow to that point. As soon as I was out of his view behind the next wall I began sprinting and looked over my shoulder. As I came back into his view he jumped down from the upper platform and started running toward me. At that point I had about a 200 foot head start and chasing me would obviously be fruitless. He stopped chasing me after about 30 feet of sprinting.

Forty – Made the hit man

The next day I entered the station during the day determined to get some clothes from my stash. They hadn't tried hunting me in the day light so I figured I would be pretty safe. There was a peculiar man sitting on the bench near my sleep spot. I sat on the benches down the bay from him quite a ways and paid him no mind. He looked big, older gent, guessing 6'4”, seemed to have a prison workout on him, looked like a biker, black leather jacket, black jeans. I watched as he took the last swig out of a beer then flicked the beer can across the train bay with great force. I'm guessing he was probably pretty skilled at throwing knives by the flick of the wrist he displayed with his beer can toss. I got up and strolled out. He noticed me leaving which I'm sure to him seemed odd, train passengers don't generally sit for a moment and stroll out. I went into the mall up stairs and sat watching the exit I used and the doors and hallways of the train station across the street. Sure enough a couple minutes later he emerged, obviously not a train passenger, from the door just in front of the mall. He noticed me immediately upon setting foot outside the train station but ignored me intently on entering the mall. I got a good look at his face. His face looked like groucho marks without the glasses. He walked past me and looked back to be sure I was still sitting there just before he got on the escalator. I made my way toward the escalator and waited around the corner until I could see the people who got on the escalator just behind him were near the top. I sprinted up the escalator to just before the top where I slowed and walked calm. I saw him talking to a bald egg head obese dude, who would obviously need crack to get laid. He had on thick glasses, a white button up shirt and a pair of khakis. These guys were definitely not of the same make. The biker dude had his thumb up and was motioning over his shoulder as if to say, he's right back there. The egg head guy looked disturbed and said something. They were far away at this point so what they were saying I can only speculate. But on the egg head guy saying something the biker dude looked over his shoulder at me and they both started walking. At first they were walking kinda quick, but on seeing that I was walking in the same direction as them they slowed. I walked slow. I followed them through the mall a bit before they split going in different directions with seemingly no good byes. I followed the egg head dude a bit and lost him in the crowd eventually. I found something else to do with the rest of my day and didn't bother getting the clothes I had been trying to grab. That was the last time one of Forty's friends attempted to hunt me.

Forty – Me kicked out of park by a ranger

A couple months after Forty had been a daily nuisance to me, he was back in the park. There was an event going on, free concert at Copley. I walked up to some people I know who were sitting near Forty. He extended his hand to me. I shook his hand and when I was done I started to pull my hand back he didn't let go but gripped tight. I flipped my wrist real hard to throw his hand off of mine and expressed to him not to fuck with me, that our history prevents my ever allowing him to mess around. I threw a few kicks into my hands at head height. Forty sprang up and started coming at me, very angry and obviously intent to put his hands on me. I back peddled from him, making him chase me. He wasn't able to put his hands on me so stopped trying and went back and sat down. I came back to hang out with the people I know there and Forty got up and came at me again. This time a park ranger got involved and told me I had to leave. I told the ranger to kick that maniac out of the park, that he had just assaulted me with his hand shake and that we have a history of his stalking me. The Ranger called the cops. The cops came and kicked me out of the park.

Forty's last stand - Forty gets punched in the back with a skateboard

Forty was back in the park one evening. He offered me his hand and I told him I can't shake your hand cause of all the history we've had. “Oh you're not going to shake my hand? You're not going to shake my hand?” He said a few times progressively more angry as he came at me and I back peddled. Eventually I drew my skateboard up to aim at his face in preparation to smash him. He turned and ran from me to where he saw a skateboard. He picked it up and started at me. My friend Jeff whose skateboard it was said, “Oh no, you can't do that man, let me get my skateboard back.” “Can't do what?” Forty said. “Hit Dan with my skateboard.” “Oh I can't do that?” he said looking incredulously at the kid and seeming tiffed. I had used this conversation time to come around behind Forty and ran up on him and holding the trucks of my skateboard punched him in the back very hard. He gasped loud and got angry as I've seen him. I could hear the pain in his voice as he demanded that I get the fuck over there. Which I obviously ignored. He said “Oh you want to do it like that then...” He walked off. A while later Forty was back in the park with 2 big guys. Mike Hathaway had told me Forty was walking up with his “brother”. The pants I had on that day were very loose on my waist. If I didn't pull them up every couple minutes they'd slide down my legs. I kept a distance from any sneaking facility, so I was basically in about the middle of the flat area of the park. Soon as I saw him approach I was on my skateboard and rode off. I'm pretty sure he saw me riding off. I went a ways down the street and found a plastic bag to use as a temporary belt. Then I made my way back to the park. I wanted to get a view of Forty's “brother” to make sure he wouldn't be able to sneak up on me in the future by virtue of my not recognizing him. I didn't see either of them. I didn't hear from Forty again for a long time. The last I saw Forty, he was on the front of Trinity church, chilling there with a few friends of mine. He called me over to him “Microwave Dan!” he said excited and happy like he was seeing an old friend. I gave him a bump as it has become common for me to great people. He kept offering me his hand. I insisted for purpose of personal hygiene that we bump. I was off talking to someone else when I turned around he was right behind me and grabbed me tight in a hug. He patted me on the kidneys twice. I hugged and patted him back. He mumbled something like “Now I know who you are.” I just smiled and looked him in the eyes. A little while later I introduced him to this guy I met online who I was meeting at Copley to give a sample bottle of neem oil. He told the guy “I didn't do that stuff to pops.” I looked puzzled for a second. It was a guy we call Dad he had assaulted the year before. I wasn't going to blow up Dad's spot by pointing out the difference. He insisted again that he didn't do it. I said “It doesn't matter man, it's all past.”

Long haired H fiend asks if I'm going to do him like that while demanding I give him some thing.

Spanging dude points my skateboard at my face and tells me it's time to go.

Sniper dude telling me he's going to shoot me from the Copley Plaza Hotel.

Crossing Boylston a van stopped, respecting pedestrian crossing. The family crossing made way very quickly. Leaving me in the street when the van lunged about 5 feet forward. I looked to the driver and challenged. He looked very cooly. I punched his hood. He made no bones. I snapped off his windshield wiper. He jumped out of the van and came at me. I bounced his windshield wiper off his chest then jogged away with a heavy backpack on and my shoes as typically untied. A short breeze later he clopped up behind me about a hundred feet back. Mind you this was after running only 3 to 4 hundred feet, he was then hundreds of feet back. When I noticed him I jumped and sprinted and never seen em again.

Crossing the walking bridge in the gardens. A man steered at me hard and committed to driving through me. He threw me back several feet when he hit me. I had spun in the middle of the bridge to check my hearing. My having heard a call of what sounded like my name, I spun to look back. When I determined it was ambient random traffic I spun to continue on my way. This man had barreled at me in final to his bumpward approach. I had gotten turned around a split second before he was going to hit me. We met chest to chest. I had taken his blow to stanced wide though was knocked far back by his force. He really leaned into the hit and drove through. I'm guessing the man was about six foot eight inches tall and in his mid thirties. He wasn't just tall but fat, I'd go so far as to say enormous. He wasn't very wide, more so egg shaped. He seemed fit, like maybe he plays football. I was airborne for most of my travel backward off his hit. When I landed on my feet I said "Well excuse me." To which he professed not in the least. He shrugged like he would invite the opportunity again. I let him walk about 3 more steps before I launched at him sprinting and didn't stop until I nailed him with a punch so hard in his middle back he flew a few feet forward, collapsed on his breathe with a soundly defeated grunt of agony he began his slow turn to see who had hit him, first his face, then his stooped shoulders like he was worried there would be another one coming. My punch had sounded with a slap in his back that had obviously winded him a bit. I looked at him cool for a second at the distance I had knocked him to, then I shrugged my shoulders. He got an indignant look on his face like who was I to assault him that was at the same time grimmaced in pain. He reached his hand out in front of him and stepped at me. I jumped backward, turned running and I was on the other side of the bridge when he began screaming for random people to attempt to stop me. "Stop him! Stop him!"

** One day this old guy prison bird, Pops, was walking past my friend Shannon. They had been friends but Pops seemed agitated, I know not why. He spit at Shannons feet as he walked past and mumbled something under his breath. I had known pops for a few months then and couldn't imagine him capable of violence. I had spoken with him about his prison time though which he confided to me was 25 years and said he wouldn't share what he had gone to prison for, which left me to assume it was murder. Shannon's not one to take shit, so she jumped up and walked to him and was asking him “What the hell his problem was?” He asked her if she had a problem. While he and Shannon were having this argument he stuck his hand in his pocket. Seeing this move I thought it looked quite fishy and along with Pops now erratic behavior I felt entitled to intervene. I wrestled him to the ground real quick without letting him get his hand out of his pocket. Then I pulled his hand out. He let go of it before I got his hand out so I went in his pocket and found a 1.75 liter bottle top with a 2 inch glass shard jutting from the end of it. I held it up to his face and I said “That's kinda scary huh?” He said yea. I put the bottle top in my pocket and held him on the ground and punched him in his ass and posterior quadricep for a long time. Then he layed there on the pavement for a while. Then me and Mike Hathaway picked him up and sat him on a bench. Then I told him “You're going to want to do some toe touches to straighten that out. One leg at a time.”

** About a month after I punched Pops in the ass a bunch for going at Shannon with a weapon I arrived to Copley Square one day to find China agitated. China is a very muscular well winded black and Asian gent. He called me over to the slippery surface of the Copley grass to have a talk with me about this long dead incident. As he was in the middle of talking to me about it, saying “I heard you punched pops in the back.” I started to walk away from him and said “Yea man he was trying to stab Shannon.” China got mad that I was walking away from him while he was talking to me. Raging he told me that we were going to fight over the matter. I told him fuck off I'm not fighting anyone over that shit. I told him if he wants to try to brain damage me that I would brain damage him. All the while I was holding my skateboard in positions prepared to strike. He picked up a 50 pound metal trash barrel like it was a plastic toy, military pressed it over his head then, walked at me a few feet, then smashed it down on the ground standing growling. He had such a rage in his eyes, I never before have seen someone so intent.

I spent the next few days kicking trees and the concrete posts in the train station. On the day I felt like I was ready, I was in the park kicking the metal posts. It was my intent to simply put a good surprise hit on him then keep my distance as best I could. A cop car rolled into Copley Square. Then China came into the park. I walked up to China and told him if he wants to fight me then it's on as soon as the cops leave. I said, it's going to be quick. He said “It's going to be quick?” “yea” I said. He said “Why don't we just forget about it Dan?” “Forget about it?” I said puzzled. “Um yeah sure man, if you're not trying to fight me I'm not trying to fight you.”

** A muscular black guy is reported to me by eye witnesses to have punched Tom a.k.a. Dad, who was merely sitting on the wall at the library. I approached Tom and asked if this was the situation. He verified what I had heard from a paniced little girl, Colleen. The guy is still there, has an angry look on his face and is pacing back and forth looking agitated. He noticed me talking to Tom so he approached me aggressively. I walked a couple steps backward, still wearing my backpack and asked him "What's up?" My voice was just cool, no agitation, no rage expressed to him. My what's up was very casual, like nothing was going on. Without answering and with a hard look on his face he started walking at me. I jumped back from him at which time he stopped coming at me and turned to Tom and started spewing hate, he said something angry to him, though I forget exactly what. I had on taking a couple steps back from him, thrown down my back pack in blitz style. I ran at him and he turned to square off with me. I punched him solid in the nose once. He came at me. I dodged and parried and kept out of his range to strike me. He had been carrying a leather attache which he had put down on the wall near Tom. By maintaining a strike threat to him I pushed him onto the stairs and he took up position at the bottom of the stairs. I ran to and grabbed his leather case then ran at him and threw it at him. He ducked under it's path. He stayed at the bottom of the stairs and asked me why I didn't come down there to fight him. From the top of the stairs I threw kicks just in front of his face and told him I'd school him every day of the week. He got a very mischievous look in his eye and someone grabbed me from behind. Bending at the knees and waist I dropped toward the ground, then pushing hard standing up I knocked the guy off my back. The guy who tried to grab me was nearly 7 feet tall and heavy, I'm guessing 300 plus pounds. As I was knocking him off my back the other guy was coming up the stairs at me. I ran a few feet and turned around to engage them both. The tall fat guy had a look of audacity on his face, like he surely didn't expect me to be able to buck him as easily as I did. The muscular black guy looked defeated. They had a little whispering conference and the tall fat guy walked off. The muscular black guy told me I hadn't seen the last of him. Eventually the cops showed up. I told them what had happened. They said "There's no victim here" which is why they weren't going to make a report. This was based on my hitting the other guy being the strike they considered victimization.

One day in Boston I was crossing the street on my skateboard. By the countdown on the walk signal I could see I didn't have much time left to cross, so I hopped off my skateboard and bent over to pick it up. I don't know if the light was changed yet, but nobody else had gotten off the line when the van that I was bent over in front of, with my head toward, lunged forward like he didn't care if I was a pedestrian in the crosswalk or not. He did stop after bullying me with his potentially lethal weapon, so I held my skateboard in the way as I moved out of the street. I kept my skateboard in the path of his vehicle at windshield height. Which, of course he didn't respect as my holding right to the airspace, having continued to exist in front of the path of his lethal metal rendered no forgiveness in his mind. So he drove through my skateboard which very slightly bumped his antenna, did not nearly bend it, just made it wobble. Then clipped his rear view on the passenger side, making no scratch. He had, incidentally, no passengers in his white van. He accelerated hard and steered erratically wheeling wide into the far lane then coming back with his van pointed at the sidewalk he drove to parked quick diagonal in the street and jumped out of his van running at me hard. When he accelerated his van, my backpack was clipped at my chest and abdomen. When I saw him accelerate hard I knew something that required my not having my backpack on was about to happen. So I undid the chest strap quick. My backpack was weighing about 40 to 50 pounds. As he was running around the front of his van he was saying "What do you think you're big?" I was fumbling with the waist strap and got it undone, I jumped back from the front of his van as he had steered to place me. I let the backpacks momentum in that direction and down twist it off my back as I leaned hard to the side and backward passing my skateboard from my left hand to my right as each strap came off. From unclipping the waist strap to the backpack being on the ground was no longer than it took the backpack to fall from that height. I went from being disadvantaged as a back injury nursing 150 pound man with a 40 pound load against a 300 pound man unburdened, to being a nimble 150 pound adrenaline charged man with a wooden plank against a tub of jelly. He ran right up to where I threw down my back pack and I brought my skateboard to prepared to punch his face. Then he stood down having evaluated how grossly out gunned he was. The look on his face went from rage to stunned. If he had made it to me before I got my backpack off it would have been an easy beating for him to issue. With me weighing 50 pounds less armed with a wooden plank he felt less confident to keep moving at me quick. He said "You're too small to bother."   But he stayed in front of me, standing between me and where I threw my backpack down as if he was hoping the tide would change again. So I began swinging my skateboard inches away from his nose for a good 20 seconds or so. In the first few seconds he moved back slowly and looked to be looking for an opportunity to barrage at me. I continued swinging my skateboard off his nose which moved him further and further back until he was no longer in the way of my getting my backpack. Then I told him "If I hit you by accident I'm going to put you out of your misery." Then I picked up my backpack and walked away. A short ways down the street I happened across a detail of motor bike cops attending a lesbian rally. I asked them who has the right of way, a pedestrian established in the cross walk or a car whose light just turned green. They say the car. I told them "These vehicles are really quite deadly, you guys just ride them how ever you want."

Anthony sparring at the Library

On occasion I would spar with some of the people I know that chill at Copley Square. I had invented a style of sparring that allows people to spar bare knuckle without risking grave injury. The basis of the sparring style is strike to tap. The opponents are to land hits but intentionally strike only so hard as to tap the other. No "driven through" hit are to occur and if they do, the opponent who was so injured is rewarded a free hit as hard as the offender struck. I was sparring in this style with Anthony Zaniboni for a few minutes. I had scored all the hits to his nil and due such Anthony was becoming quite frustrated. Seeing him back off so as not to be struck by the kicks I had been throwing, I became comfortable enough to throw a spinning kick. When I jumped and spun, to prevent being hit Anthony would have to backup. Instead he punched me hard in the back of the head. Not driven through my kick still landed a glazing blow on his thigh. If I'd have thrown the kick hard and he approached as he did, I'd have smashed him into the next week. The situation being what it was otherwise Anthony laughed while he was apologizing. I told him I get to take a hit on him just as hard. He refused. I told him to be nice I'd hit him in the shoulder. He still refused. I began swinging at him repeatedly with him blocking my punches so none of them were landing as hard as I felt he hit me which caused me to just swing again. This went on for a few seconds, til he said, "Ok ok, I'll let you hit me." So I took a fierce hit to his shoulder and he walked around with his shoulder drooping for the rest of the night.

Anthony elbows me on Comm. Ave.

Since he punched me in the back of the head while we were sparring and I demanded he let me hit him, Anthony had been a jerk to me regularly. He would ignore me when I would speak to him, roll his eyes at anything I said, be snide and disagreeable. Still, if he was around, and I was smoking trees with other people, I would invite Anthony to smoke with us. This was one such night. We were seated on a bench on Commonwealth Ave. I had rolled a bliz and several of us were passing it. At some point Rob Michael said something to me that was derogatory, I forget exactly what. This is fairly typical of Rob to seek degradation of my person. Anthony, sitting beside me, elbowed me laughing. I attempted to elbow him back and he deflected my attempt, preventing me from elbowing him as hard as he elbowed me. I began elbowing over and over with his hands getting in the way, preventing me from getting him good. He stood up yelling at me. I jumped up, still swinging, these times with my fists, I kept hitting him in the shoulder until I got him very good one time. I stopped and he kept yelling at, telling me how he was going to beat me. I punched him in the face once. He was stunned but kept yelling and moving to try to get in a position to hit me. I moved to prevent his hitting me. He walked to the next set of benches. Once there he yelled back to me challenging me to a fight again. I ran down to him and kicked him in the stomach. He came at me, I stood on a bench flexed, prepared to strike. He came to just outside of my range at which point I jumped off the bench throwing a punch that he jumped back from. Then he said that he wasn't trying to fight me. "Fine then, I'm not trying to fight you either Anthony." The situation was squashed for the time being. Anthony became even more of a jerk to me, disparaging me at every opportune moment.

Anthony swings at me at the river.

I was at the river. Having just smoked trees with some friends. I drank a beer with a friend, Lewis, who I hadn't seen in a long time. It was well after dark and Anthony showed up to the river. In his usual swagger he boasted he'd only had 1 shot to drink. He didn't acknowledge my existence at the park while I had gone out of my way to be cool with him earlier, asking about how he was doing, where he was living, if he was attending the church dinner that evening and riding with him to the church dinner. Now standing at the river, having him ignore me I tapped him on the shoulder trying to ask him a question. He had ear phones on and just ignored me. I reached to the earphones and slid them back over his ear and asked if he was just going to ignore me at which he threw a punch just in front of my face. I immediately punched him in the face which spun him away from me. I punched him in the side twice driving him away from me, at which I was advancing to keep him close enough to hit as I had not hit him with a debilitating punch as yet. With our history, knowing that Anthony would surely keep trying to fight me until I debilitated him I had to go at him to finish it quick or risk being hit, which I'm not game for in dealing with so outrageously physically violent an individual. I punched him in the shoulder at which time he planted his feet and was turning at me. I punched him one more time in the face and he fell away from me again. I felt I'd done enough damage to not worry about his capacity at this point. So I stood away from him and waited for his response. He started saying "What the hell man?" At which I said "You just swung at me Anthony. You swing at me and you'll get a beating every day of the week." "I did not." He said by way of reply. He turned to the group of 20 somethings and highschool kids that were there, talking under his breath he was saying something about smashing me. He moved to stand over a bike. I picked up one of the 4 bikes that was there and swung it to where I could jab the gears into his leg. He jumped back but stayed close to a bike. I ran at him and punched him in the face one time. He backed up and finally made his way to the otherside of the benches from me. A kid that has long been an acquaintance of mine, probably as snide to me as Anthony, came around the benches and said, "What the hell man, you can't just keep hitting him like that." I threw a warning kick at his midsection and told him "Any time Dre. When ever you're ready." At which he said "I'm not trying to fight you Dan, I'm just trying to be a good friend to you." "Well don't be so good a friend Dre." I told him. Some other kid who I don't know had come around the benches too, he was holding something in his hand which I couldn't see clearly at the distance and in those lighting conditions. It was bigger than his hand and seemed to wrap around his fingers, possibly brass knuckles. He told me I couldn't hit Anthony, to which I said, "I'm not trying to fight anyone. He's the one who took a swing at me." "I don't like people hitting my friends." He said. I shrugged. "We should get out of here." Someone suggested. What are you doing Dan rang a young voice from the crowd “I'm going to be right here, probably til tomorrow. And I'll goto the cops and tell them everything that happened here starting with Anthony taking a swing at me.” Everyone walked off. I sat on the benches there until some guy came and sat down and started jerking off in front of me. I asked him if he was jerking off. He said yes heavily Spanish accented. I said, ok, time for me to go. He got up and walked off. Came back a long while later, he asked me about my hand being splinted with a skateboard, bungees and my spoke wrench. I told him I had gotten into a fight. He asked that I come sit beside him and show him my splint. I complied. He pulled out his dick and started jerking off again. I got up and walked to my backpack. Finally I realized the third flat to press my pinky into the splint would be my mp3 player. I wedged it in, put on my backpack and rode my bike to Woburn. I stopped a couple times along the way to give my shoulders a break from carrying my backpack. I thought I had possibly broken a bone in my hand punching Anthony. After the ride home I was convinced it was merely soft tissue that let go. Possibly cartilage.

Ghost getting kicked in the face.

Some friends and I were in the park. Ghost was amongst us. Some gents were walking past, all black guys in sporty clothes. Ghost had said something, I wasn't paying attention right then to report what, but it apparently got the attention of these guys who immediately came to stand in Ghosts face. As they approached Ghost stood up off the bench he was perched on. They said something along the lines of you got a problem, to which Ghost said “Why? You got a problem? Then lets go.” Chaos erupted two of the smaller yet muscular guys had jumped on Ghost, Ghost lowered his stance and drove into one of them. The other was punching him in the back of the head. Not wanting to be caught sitting down and certainly not in this fight yet, I stood up. I had seen Ghost start with too many people to put myself in a fight he started even with the odds against him as he had started with 2 guys. I watched as Ghost tussled with these two kids. I was still standing there beside the bench I had been sitting on and watching this fight when I was punched in the side of the head, hard as I've ever been punched without a weapon. The hit to my left temple buckled my knees and made my right temple hurt. I staggered back away from the fight and took inventory. All I had seen before the fight was happening was the two guys ghost had been fighting. When I got this distance away I realized there were about 7 guys there. 4 of them were wailing on Ghost by this time. They had kicked him in the face a couple times I had seen. I ran toward the fight and punched in the back of the head with my skateboard the first of these guys I came across. He stumbled away from me holding the back of his head. The guys who had been beating Ghost stopped and all of them started coming at me. I postured with my skateboard and used the planter to limit their options to come at me. Ghost was on his knees and hadn't been hit for about 4 seconds then. I was hoping he'd be on his feet soon and move away. He wasn't but these guys were on me hard at this point. I had been back peddling, drawing them thin and away from Ghost. The biggest of them, who I'm pretty sure is the guy who sucker punched me in the temple was getting too close for my comfort. I turned and ran, threw my skateboard under my feet like I'd done a thousand times before and pushed my board hard for a block. I made my way around the building up that block and circled around to come back at the park from a bit of a different angle. If the fight was still going on I'd have gone back at it hoping I could sneak up. But I didn't see anyone fighting. I took a hard look around and didn't see those guys there any more. I walked up to the park and heard from Ghost that they stopped hitting him after I punched the guy in the head with my skateboard.

Ghost punches Leo in the face.

Kicked Leo in the stomach at the commons after he asked me where I knew he could steal bikes with the bolt cutters he had.

Drug experiences

Shrooms driving black pickup in Tamarac

Shrooms in Everett

Crack with P in Copley.

Crack with Miz at track 7.

H with Ron at track 7.

H with Ron on the street.

Acid with Keegan and Farhan.

Acid and meth with Miranda and Tim.

Ecstacy in Tampa with Farhan.

Ecstacy with Al at the Edge.

Ecstacy with Tommy in the ATM.

Coke with Rad.

Adderall with Dale.

DMT and MAOI house to self.
at horn pond.
on the way to Shrewsbury.

Cop harassment Experiences

Jeff Damaris gets arrested out of my car.

Pulled over taking a left, no ticket, Waltham.

Speeding ticket North Woburn.

Pulled over, license taken because the expiration is 2035. Rt.3. Cop was tailgating me. Then pulled me over for speeding up. Gave me no citation as he was aware he was tailgating me.

Pulled over license taken i90. Turned into a police beating by a bully cop.

Boston Police Harassment

Arrested for Mushrooms, drinking in public, trespassing and disorderly conduct all wholly bogus charges dropped. This resulted in my being detained for 30 days serving time then on the getting baton wedgied prior arrest.

Arrested for trespassing where I'd been sleeping for years. This followed my talking to cops in a blazer about microwave weapons. Asking them "What's the policy on microwave weapons?" They were unaware of microwave weapons. I told them a microwave weapon carried to the side of the car could be used to shut off to passed out every persons brain in the vehicle. Within the week I was arrested for trespassing where I'd been sleeping for then years. At booking I was asked by the T cops what my political affiliations are. Asked what I know about microwave weapons.

Thrown down on monument. Skateboarding near where 1 person had 1 beer, amongst 5 people sitting at the monument. Skateboard stolen by pigs.

Thrown down on library wall on the day closed cans of beer were opened and dumped.

Arrested for buying ice water. Skateboard stolen by pigs again.

Screamed at by hunter.

Daily cruiser with flashing blues sitting in Copley.

Enlightened Mike the community cop. Mike disappears from Copley detail.

Enlightened Al as to the extent of crack use among Boston pigs. Al replaced by Nazi Hunter.

Judicial Harassment

** Tell this all in order. Arrested, time in jail, retina scan, sent to court...
Told my only option was to plea guilty to be released, or go back to jail until I chose to plead guilty to 3 counts of cop assault. This after I had been locked up for 30 days on bogus charges that were eventually dismissed.

Told by lawyer to file charges I had to goto the clerk of courts but she recommended against it because it would "look bad" at trial. Told by the clerk of courts I HAD to call Internal Affairs. Told by IA I had to goto the clerk of courts. Clerk of courts told me if I wanted the paper work I had to see the judge. The judge told me, on a day I was free and not even supposed to be in court, if I wanted to press charges on the cops that beat and baton wedgied me, I would have to go to jail immediately. This when I was in the court house that day strictly to file charges against the cops. Told later by my new lawyer, after having fired the original court appointed public pretender that filing charges against the cops would "hurt my case"... 4 forehead fingernail scratch marks and one while heavily doused in pepper spray eye lid laceration wounds healed while my mom took 1.5 weeks to bail me out of jail. My lawyer told me the arresting officers said they lost the booking photo. I told her that's case dismissed for loss of evidence. Then she says she doesn't know if that's the situation and let her go check again. When she comes back she tells me they said they didn't take a booking photo. I say to her, that's not what you said a minute ago, you said they lost it. To which she said she'd never said that. My "friend" Rick tells me it depends on what terms we're on, on the day of the trial that will decide how he is going to testify. My "friend" Dave uses the phrase arms flailing to describe my having been spun around by the cop with my hands maintained at shoulder height. All motion of my arms was the result of the cops throwing me, while providing no verbal commands. This had followed the Framingham cop experiencing a tough time getting his cuffs off his belt, as was evidenced by their being a delay in cuffing me while I stood peacefully at the side of the cruiser with my hands at my back. The State cop said "Fuck this." Then leaned hard, pulling me backward over his leg to trip me. Which didn't trip me. He was trying to throw me on the ground. But I merely stumbled backward and was still on my feet. I was now faced away from the cruiser and both of them. Both of them had abandoned grip on my forearms when he went into his throw. When I got swung around I put my hands up so as not to seem at all menacing. The Framingham cop quickly grabbed my right shoulder and the State cop grabbed my left shoulder and had his baton out in the moment he had spun me. He began hitting me in the back. He hit me in the back of the knee, then on my upper back. I wasn't sure what was happening at this point as they were behind me, so I looked over my shoulder and saw the State cop swinging his baton hard at the top of my head. I pulled my head in and down to absorb the blow, I bent also at my knees and waist. Even with all the compression I caught the hit with a huge bulb swelled up on the top of my head in a moment. I used my compression to leap forward immediately breaking the State cops grip on my shoulder. I wriggled just a bit and broke the Framingham cops grip on my shoulder and arm. I jumped over the guard rail and jogged down the side of the highway. My speed over the guardrail was quick enough neither of them bothered chasing me beyond it.

Bad lawyers

Paul Kenney Arguing with me telling me to not press charges against the pigs that brutalized me.

Jobs

When I was so young I didn't have a bicycle I had a paper route. Feeling that oreo cookies were junk and reeses peanut butter cups were delicious, oreos being the sweet of choice at the Kelley household and reeses coming around when I could buy my own and Easter and Halloween, I decided to heal my taste choice by paper route. My paper route also allowed me to play video games at the movies and buy burgers at the boys club. By far the tastiest food I ate with my paper route money was Italian subs with pickles and oil from Jacks sub shop on Main St. in Woburn.

One summer I was asked by the single gorgeous mom neighbor next door to mow her lawn, which I did weekly the whole summer.

When I was 13 I was under extreme pressure from my Dad to get a job. My brother had gotten a summer job the year before. He was amongst the oldest in his class while I was amongst the youngest. I would not be of legal age to have a job until after the next school year began, but my dad was insistent that if I wasn't going to get a job then I was going to work for him for two dollars and fifty cents an hour. So, to the yard I would report each morning for landscaping duty. He told me to use the long iron rods in the shed to bust up the rough concrete slab that is the ground in the back yard to about 20 feet away from the house. So I made big rocks into little rocks of what was this backyard I stacked and covered with dirt and surrounded with logs forming a series of steps where there had been a mud hill. Then I was tasked to uproot a more than a decades old bush with no power tools. Then I moved a very dusty no doubt mite filled leave pile from one end of the yard to the other. Summer complete.

On the day I turned 14 I made my application to Market Basket where I started work the next day.

Navy

Hess

Express

UPS

Market Basket

Electronics Testing

Shipping Pharmaceuticals

Bar Back

Officemax

Telemarketer

Compaq Tech Support Rep

Agfa Tech Support

Olympia Sports

Walgreens

Temp Rt 1, then Waltham

Planet Fitness

Traffic Direction at Car Auction

House Painting and Demolition and Construction

Carpet Cleaning

Places I've lived

Beach Terrace Woburn

Hampton Beach Marina

San Diego

Mayport

Orlando

Jacksonville

Boston

Lowell

Bedford

Scottsdale

Tempe

Ft. Lauderdale

Tamarac

Woburn

Warren Ave.

Plympton St.

Boston

The tunnel

Track 7

Ipswich

Everett

Woburn Plympton St.

Hammock living

Hyde Park

Malden

Whole foods

North End

Bike Path South End

The Gardens

Bike trip to New Hampshire

Newport

Skatepark

Cliffwalk

Newport Library

Ladies I've been intimate with:

Julie

Fingering Julie in the backseat of her parents stationwagon with her dad driving. There after her professing her love for me.

Julie gives me my first blow job in my sisters apartment.

Lost our virginity to each other at Grifs party.

So many blow jobs watching TV on the couch in her living room which didn't have a door and was connected to the dining room.

First shower sex at her aunts house.

First outdoor sex in the woods near her parents cottage.

Last blow job at the Burlington Reservoir.

I met Linda by our meeting at our workplace Market Basket. Not long after meeting her I was enchanted by her kind humility and pleasant demeanor. She was very cute and cheery, optimistic, often joyful and breathless for powerful emotion as such, joyful. She was a joy to behold and to hold and to dwell beside. By some bunch of my hitting on Linda in the month that preceded the initiation of our serious relationship, Linda became enamored of me. I had gotten her phone number called her and was invited to a party at her friends house. Jill, Linda's friend is a sweet girl in her own right, her voice then obnoxiously high pitched and often screaming, Jill was a cool girl, who was having a small get together with a couple people besides me and Linda. At Jill's party Linda and I hooked up for the first time. We kissed and grinded each other with clothes on. It was kinda cute and very sophmoric, Linda was very worried that we were moving too fast. I conceded to slow down and appologized for my zeal, explaining it's greatly imposed by her essence.

Many nights in parting ways in Linda's driveway we long embraced, kissed, I would massage her back with a stroke, more kissing. I would touch her stomach and we would break with a final peck.

Often I would drive Linda home from school in the afternoon. Many times we had sex in her bed while her parents were at work. Her bed sagged like the mattress was decades old under a ton sat in the middle. Most of the time I would give her a massage before we'd entertain sexual consideration. I loved to massage all of her. She didn't want me ever to massage her feet or inside her elbows. I had a special fondness for massaging her inner thigh with my tongue. She tried to give me head, but wasn't very skillful and complained she couldn't fit my penis in her mouth. She did have a very small mouth.

I had been piling cereal high on my spoon my whole life, eating double decker sandwiches, half a sandwich at a time, to save time to do stuff other than eat.

Linda continued to be a joy in most of our interaction there after, even the darkest hour of our relationship didn't see either of us in much misery. I guess when we were not long since broken up Linda had a very hard time and cried much. But for most of our relationship we were greatly beneficial to each others being and we both faired well for the other. We had a fight one time. Linda slapped me in the chest many times in that one fight. I pulled back from her and asked her not to hit me but she swung more and harder, til I grabbed her arms and asked her not to hit me. She agreed and stormed off. Apart from that one fight, the most dismal conversation we ever had was about what to do on Friday night. Linda liked to not like my plans and liked to not offer alternative plans. Any other harsh on us was that she never invited me to hang out with her and her friends. As such her friends were for years driving a wedge in between us. She said they felt like she was neglecting them. For her weekend nights were for hanging out with her friends or hanging out with me, but never did we all hang out together. I felt that made our relationship less strong, we weren't suffering over exposure to each other, yet there was much time she wished to dedicate to stuff that by self imposed mental dictate must not include me, her boyfriend and lover.


Linda

Jills party hookup.

My party while my parents were away.

Countless full body massages with lotion.

Regular sex in her bed, until I got her pregnant.

Aborting our child. My stridently insisting it was the only sensible solution. Her being very hesitant and wanting to discuss it with her mom but not wanting to at the same time. Driving to New Hampshire to have an underage abortion.

Sex in the pinto at the Kennedy middle school.

Sex in my bed, walked in on by my dad.

Attempted butt sex, she's complaining, ow it hurts before we do anything, she was ontop of my work smock with razor cartridges cutting up her legs.

Snow build up on engine, I busted the radiator with the snow scraper. Drove with the alternator failing. Lost the windshield wipers. Lost the headlights.

Knocking her demonic cat down the stairs as I reached to grab it.

The demonic cat hissing at me every time I came in the house.

The other cat loving as could be.

Wrestling with Brian and his friend.

Cheating on Linda with Stephanie from work.

Cheating on Linda with Jen Greene.

2 pump chumping the post boot camp sex after her telling me on her knees with her ass facing me that she's too worried we're going to get caught to have sex then in my great aunts guest room.

Cheating on Linda with Jenne Hundza

Cheating on Linda with Sue, A school Navy chic.

Cheating on Linda with Liz, Navy wife.

Cheating on Linda with the rose girl.

Cheating on Linda with Jamie, petite cute Navy wife.

Spending a week with Linda in a hotel room just off base.

Breaking up the day before I was to deploy to the Caribbean.

Oral sex 1 last time.

Jen

sex> Stephanie

Jenny Hundza

Goth Chic in A school Suzy

Liz

Rose Girl Jesse

Admirals Daughter

Jamie

Tara

Moe - Acid Sex

Cheryl

Maggie

Maggie's Lesbian Friend Danny?

Kacie

Taran

Indian Lady from TAG

Natalie - Ecstacy Sex

Jessie

Wendy

sex> Alyssa

Clarisa

Sue

Anna

Melissa

Audie

sex> Lindsay

Raysa

Harvard Chic

Nicky

Courtney

Times electrocuted

Distributor Cap 67 firebird 17 worst shock of them.

Circuit tester, grounded to circuit pinching.

House electricity on Warren Street.

Coming between the aluminum foil and one of the leads from the 7000 volt transformer.

Electrical Fire of the active wires wrapped around my batteries.

Times I've been hit by cars.

Riding the hood in parking lot antics when I was a teen.

Mike being pulled over after my replica m16 was sighted at the Woburn Mall.

A nissan accelerated at me in the cross walk. I walked to his car, folded the ends of the license plate in toward the middle. Walked to the side of the road and told the driver to get the fuck out of here. Which he then respected.

A fedex driver runs from the Copley Hotel, jumps in his vehicle and honking weaving across 2 lanes of traffic he assaults me in the crosswalk. I quickened my step and spun to throw a glass bottle off his vehicle.

A man chased me in his car for a mile or more then ran up beside my car and reached in through the window he grabbed my shoulder and tore with his finger nails into my flesh. I drove through the then changed green light after a few steps of which he let go of my shoulder. I turned my car around facing him and drove at him hard accelerating until split second to being able to stop before him. I determined he didn't have any weapons and on arriving at stopped before him I was out of my car in the first second. Then I challegened him "What the fuck were you thinking?" "You want to fight now?" I asked to which he made a wry face. I ran at him snatching him by his shoulders I threw him onto the hood of his car then bounced him off the ground. He held on to my shirt with a fierce grip. I told him to "let go of me. I'm going to walk away now." He held tight till I choked him hard. Then he let go of his grip on my shirt and I walked away. There were people who witnessed the scene after I had been assaulted who called the cops to report the situation. I spoke to the Burlington police and described the whole of the situation. They told me the other party was expressed that he was trying to put charges. The police told him if he wanted to press charges he would be arrested as to their understanding of the situation he had assaulted me calling my defense action. They did state my perogative must be flight. To which I expained the slow moving of the traffic would cause me to have to face him later when he was armed with his car. My defense to explain the actuality of the flight potential being so limited they allowed the argument. Ultimately no charges were brought. The terror of the minivan passengers passing honking and screaming at me to leave him alone. My then in struggle with him to be able to walk away his grip on my shirt unyielding.

A Taxi MiniVan accelerated at me hard off the new green light while I was moving into where he was going to be for his acceleration, then requiring my hopping to clear the street ahead of his vehicle. I hopped then walked slow as soon as I got out of the way of the vehicle then brought my foot up meeting the rear view mirror which smacked by hinge the side of the vehicle shattering the mirror onto the street. The driver applied his brakes and turned his vehicle at me and began to accelerate the wrong way up a one way street at me. To which I jumped beside his vehicle and grabbed his antenna and bent it down and asked him if he wanted to loose something else. He drove the wrong way into oncoming traffic around an island and got into line waiting for a light on the other side of the island. I walked away.

Pets I've kept.

Festering dog with mange.

Puppy moved in to a flea festering mess.

Baby boa succumb to mites.

Red tail python lashed aggressive.

Ferret that ruled the web.

Masses of cockroaches in that appartment.

Pigeon care at the commons for more than a year.

Squirrels at the commons daily fed for years.

Sparrows at Copley regularly fed.

Garder snake in Ipswich. Pat called his bite then dropped him. I placed him in the grass.

Pigeon found beneath a bridge abuttment.

Garder snake on the mountain.

Turtle found roadside in Wakefield.

People I've told on.

Kevin Keagan

Dealer Dave in

Forty

One punch the triple kick catching by abdomen.

Extortionist in training, kneed on dome back.

4 hunter crack heads.

Nazi id thief cop.

Brutal arrest cops.

7 911 calls in 48 hours.

911 calls made.

Something that's happened to me a half dozen times.

Moles stomped.

Squirrels choked deadly.

Cats swatted.

Mountain lion stare down won quick while laid down.

Seen live bears.

Dogs disciplined.

Cattle chewed to nourishment.

Bees and hornets swatted.

Ants crushed.

Tom and 40
Tom and buf guy
Wes Fruit
Lamar Calcium
Mike J. Skin
Rob Rent
Society antiTobacco Activist
Iraqi's IraqiAgony.org
Bush Victims BushisMush.com

To understand "the best human beneficial solution to" I've studied:
Malaria
AIDS
Starvation
War
Politics
Government

Maggie her car
Tech Support All the Techs I worked with, me "the goto guy"
James Walked him to Berkley
My sister I gave her a 55gallon fish tank, Within the year she held a bat over my head in dramatic hostility as I threatened her boyfriend for not cleaning the bathroom 2 days after he over flowed toilet water onto the floor. I simply took the bat from her and walked into the other room.
Dave Chipango
Computer return
Printer Donation
When I was in high school I was a hard worker, worked 30+ hour weeks, while going to school, running track, playing soccer, getting mostly B's.
Haven't hit my sister since I was 13, which then was the first time in years and the only time I ever hit her hard.
Same year I have not fought with my brother since.
Tolerated years of psychological abuse by my family, while protesting their treatment ever so gently.

Flirted with so many girls in my lifetime, and so many women recently, by such heightened their self worth for feeling attractive.

As a child smacked around about 10 times in as many years. How many disrespectful little shits, living with a Dad who has no reservation regarding smacking them around, can say they were beat once a year?

I used to do the dishes, started doing my own laundry at 14, started work 13, making big rock into little rocks.

Then I had a job, my first job, for 4 years.

Influenced Rick to quit smoking. Influenced Beans through Mike J. to quit smoking.

Quit smoking on my own. Tested smoking to determine what is a highly addictive level of cigarettes.


Pretrial probationary term outpatient hospitalization. High pressure to comply with a drug regimen. Ultimately I'm told that the CWOF I'm on with this trial does not guarantee me a right to a trial. I'd been jailed on bogus charges that were ultimately dropped. But to then get out of jail I'm told I will go back to jail to wait sentencing on the case if I don't sign a guilty plea. They violated my probation even while I was in regular communication with my probation officer because I was no longer living at the shelter where I had begun my probation.   I'm told that my violation of pretrial probation enforces a trialless guilty finding in my particular disposition by the standards of the continuance without a finding I had agreed to then almost a year earlier. This was summed up by my lawyer as such, to get out now you sign the guilty plea, you get no trial, if you don't sign you go back to jail. I asked for how long, til when? Which he answered with a shoulder shrug.

Placed on the psych ward for reciting poetry after Willy punched me in the head.

Placed on the psych ward after asking someone be called to ambulance me to the hospital when I began to disintegrate for having so long peroxide soaked. Sent from emergency room to Brockton VA. Write extensively for the psych doctors who let me out in less than 3 days even while I'm on a 3 day release request. This is actually illegal, they're required to keep me for 3 days to evaluate me as I was told time and again by the staff there.

Rob calls the cops on me for cleaning the floor in the bathroom with a lot of oxyclean powder. He had been screaming in the moments before about the floor being wet. Then screamed when I used enough powder to surely dry it. Then called the cops on me. Who promptly sent the Everett cop goon squad and a couple paramedics to enforce my trip to the hospital having threatened no one and being no threat to myself. My stating this to the cops exactly as such rose their insistence that if I wanted to debate it they'd send me to the hospital by force.

Jail visits.

2001 arrested for securing my license from a law breaking fascist pig. Denied a trial, convicted 2 years after the incident.
2002 arrested for trespassing in a public park, drinking in public, mushroom possession, charged with false info. Bogus charges all, cops had no right demanding my info as I was wholly law abiding, not drinking and had no shrooms. All charges dropped. This arrest was made strictly so I would be made pliable to plea on the cop assault charges from the year before. I had been violated on probation for not living in a particular building which was not a condition of my probation. At that time I I was in regular contact with my probation officer who on my next visit to him advised me a warrant was issued for my arrest due my having been kicked out of the shelter where I had been living. I was merely in a shelter down the street. Pig probation officer cared not.
2003 arrested for pushing a security guard from an elevator after he told me and friends he was going to arrest us for walking through the mall. This is the 1 offense for which I was legitimately arrestable. I was though charged with assault with a dangerous weapon shod foot, when the reality is I used my foot in no way near dangerous. Plead guilty on first day to court. Wrist slap conviction for assault of a public employee with a dangerous weapon. Immediately released to street.
2004 arrested for trespassing in Back Bay station on the right of way. This was an attempt to keep me from talking to cops about Bush family crimes as had become my habit.   I had recently talked to cops about microwaves weapons. Less than a week later I was arrested for trespassing. The T cops interrogation included questions about my political affiliations and knowledge of microwave weapons. Charge dropped.
2004 arrested for drinking in public when I was no where near the 1 beer Tommy was drinking, cited with disorderly conduct.
2005 arrested in court for being late paying fines. This while I had paid partly with community service and had secured a community service position to pay the rest, which is what I reported to the court on the day the pig judge decided to have me taken into custody instead of allowing me to pay the fines. It was my first time in court since having had the fines assigned. I had showed up to court timely on both times I had been beckoned there. I had plead guilty to disorderly conduct to avoid jail as the prosecution refused to hear my self defense case. I had been assaulted for about 5 minutes before I defended myself. The cops didn't even arrest me when they showed up to the fight scene. I slept that night in a house with a kid who then threatened me with a box cutter. A kid who also was not arrested.
2005 arrested for assault on an old lady with a dangerous weapon, a cup of ice water, charged also with cop assault and disorderly conduct. All charges were patently bogus and verifiably so, I had a witness to the scene who the cops never questioned. The lady gave 2 accounts of the situation on record. I made a 911 call to report the fascist piggery I was suffering. The 911 call was claimed to be no where in their records. I had called the cops to 711 to mediate my purchase of ice water. I had already bought the ice water the clerk then smashed out of my hands. All charges dropped.




Teachers

Mr. Cooper 7th grade English

Mrs. Lamb Math a few years in HS

Miss Prince

Ms. Hughes 3rd Grade

Mrs. Stella

Mr. Kaufman

Ripped Physics teacher

7th Grade Spanish Ms. Nowalski?

Oxidative Medical Practice

UV Cleaning

Webdesign

Tendon Release for fracture healing, hospital ignoring, xray confirmation after days in the psych ward

Hand zapping by 9 volt

Zapper application.

Graduation to tea tree oil, finance hampering

Realization tea tree oil is greatly similar to turpentine as both are paint thinners.

Diatomaceous Earth Use

Neem oil

My mom stuck her tongue in my mouth at which I asked her "You're really fucking sick now huh?" To her yeah I guess so.

Locked in the hospital for 3 weeks without cause, She asks me if I'm going to start a suicide cult when I tell her I wish to buy property in Mexico.

Begged my mom for a ride to the hospital one day. Denied. She didn't feel like dropping me off at the hospital. My obvious internal injury surely killed the circulation to two of my fingers exactly as I told her it would. I could loose my fingers over this was met by her shrug. My finger tips were purple. The whole fingers numb. I had injured the palm of my hand, a site away from the bruising which is an indication of internal injury, likely veinous damage. Being a medical professional she surely recognized this and chose to enforce my loosing the use of 2 of my fingers. In cold weather now they get numb, turn stark white and the skin sinks in sagging to pits.

Ice Cubes Melt to Chunky Fungus

Complains of my oxidative medicizing. Says she's surprised I don't kill myself with my thoroughly well studied practice of oxidative medicine. Says she thinks I belong in a hospital because I work to get the fungus off of me.

What's the solution then Mom? Live with the Fungus Dan.

Insists dust is everywhere and is to be expected in piles on the floor.

3 weeks of the dryer vent clogged with no notice from either of my parents, while my mom daily smokes butts in sight of the dryer vent

1+ year of the floor not being cleaned by my mom

Compains every time she smells pine sol, bleach, ozone, turpentine, tea tree oil. This is even when I use a cap of pine sol to a bucket of water.

The burners are all messed up, except the big one, which I'm schooled not to use apart from cooking big stuff with a big pan.

The pots are all messed up that they don't sit flat on the burners. None of them has a cover, except the big ones that I'm not to use unless I'm cooking something big.

Complains of the scent of my cooking, be it with garlic, onion, whatever... If I cook something spicy, I'll hear about it from my mom.

The floor in my room was a different color than the floor in the hall for my having run my ozonator long enough to kill the fungus on the floor throughout the entire house.

We're now nearly a year into 80+% average humidity, throughout even the winter of which my mom let the cold damp air in the house. I told her 70% humidity is what grows fungus, she leaves the windows open at 90+% humidity. When I was experiencing back spasms she would leave the windows open while she went to work in high 30 degree weather. Her reason for in the winter leaving the windows open during her work day, is that she was day after day intent on airing out the shower room. While this could be done with the bathroom door closed, she chose many times to have the bathroom window and door open AND a window in her room and her bedroom door, sweeping freezing ass cold humid air through the house, sending my back into fierce spasms while she was at work. Threatens to call the police on me because I complained about her leaving the windows open when she goes out to work.

We near a decade since I told my mom of the deadly plutonium content of tobacco. She still smokes.

Victim of 2 hit and runs in the same day.

I was riding in town. I had rode from Woburn to Cafe Thai Bubble tea bistro for the Boston Vegan meetup. The meetup was nice. I did a lot of talking. Talked about World Oil Production Decline, the criminal congress, Stalin Hitler Disney, what one cop said to me when I showed him my Hitler was Disney poster, veganism, regenerative medicine, eliminating predation globally, Turbine technology, heat engine technology, iodine, my project to deliver vegan nutrition guides to highschools.

When the meetup was over I got on my bike and rode toward Copley Square. I was on Commonwealth Ave. riding at about 20 miles per hour which is a cruising speed for me on this bike. I had just rode a bit of a downhill. I noticed a black BMW double parked on the side of the road. There was plenty enough room for me to ride between the bimmer and the minivan that was parked beside it. I had just passed the back of the bmw when the back door flew open with a quickness. Without time to brake I leaned into the minivan. The door was thrown far enough open that I did not have room enough to squeeze in between, I collapsed the minivans rear view mirror forward as the door jammed into my chest worth every of the 20 miles an hour I was driving. My hand found a place to push off the door which absorbed a bit of the blow and sliced my hand deep enough to warrant stitches. I was bleeding profusely quick. I said to the piece of shit who had just thrown his door into me quite intently "Oh man that was really f@#king stupid." I choked this out as for a moment my breathe was stolen from me and trying to talk at first not realizing the severity of the injury to my chest it hurt to talk at my normal pitch.

Thinking back now to the situation I see that this dirt bag in the back seat doesn't even have his feet out the door of the car. He wasn't getting out of the car. And didn't get out of the car even after throwing open his door so hard to wreck me. He was though looking, watching where he had thrown the door and as I rode into his view his eyes trained on me. His reaction was not "oh shit!". His reaction was. "oh." Then having witnessed how well I took his hit and came back to the side of the car talking to him he looked worried. He looked like he was worried I was going to grab him out of the car and smash him easily. There was a young blond bitch in the front seat of the car. She had her eyes trained on me through the whole scene. She was watching as I smashed into the door and her stare was also blank. Emotionless. 2 girls in the car, neither screamed, neither made a bit of a fuss. Strident professionals all of 15.

This kid that got out of the car after I insisted he call the paramedics and advised him I was not looking to get $10 which was his offer for me to shut up about his having wrecked me. "Is somebody going to call an ambulance?" My second request of this 4 passenger car was met by "How bout I give you $10." If I was in better condition I'd have asked him if it would be ok I rearrange his face. "No just call the f@#king ambulance." I said.

He said ok, and made a call. Then he got out of the car and walked up to the side walk. I looked at him to start conversation. I was going to ask about the driver. He said right away, don't worry we're not going anywhere. The driver pulled forward driving over the front tire of my bike. I made note of the license plate 136 cdk. He pulled to a stop for a second at the intersection then continued down Comm. Ave. As he was driving off I started walking toward the now pedestrian passenger that massacred me with metal. He started walking away from me yet called back with one finger in the air as to say, 1 second, he said "We're not going anywhere." As he found his way onto the cross street he apparently jogged to the alley. When I made it onto the crossstreet he was gone. I jogged up to the alley and saw him already midway down the alley. He was looking back at me. I dropped my bike and started running after him and my untied shoes started coming off. I adjusted my pace to keep my shoes on but kept up a good clip but when I made it onto the street he was no where to be seen. But there was a lady who looked curious as to what she had just seen. I showed her my hand and asked her where he went. She told me he went in the T. Thanks I said running at the T. As I descended the stairs into the T there were people on their way out. He was not at the gate or any of the pass vending machines. I told the lady at the gate that I'd been a hit and run victim and the guy had just come into the T. She opened the gate for me and came in and walked the length of the track with me. He wasn't there. We made our way to the other side where he was coming back toward us. I said, "Yeah that's him." as I walked up to him pretty close. "What the f@#k did you think you were just going walk away from that shit?" "You're a f@#king slimeball man." "When this shit's at justice you're going to be eating my shit and piss every day for the rest of your life." He made his way to exit the T. The lady who helped me find him had gone back to her seat and called the cops. This piece of shit was trying again though to get away from me. I had said to him "I don't know why you're not still running now man, that's a f@#king hit and run." At that he made his way through the gates and started toward the stairs. I went through the gate and said to him "136 cdk, man, what did your dad (said 'dad' not knowing who the elder guy driving was) think I was f@#king stupid?" "You don't know where I came from." he said. At first I thought he was being uppidity as to say he's from money (where he came from). Now I think the coy meaning of it might have been that he had been in a drug deal was why he decided not to stop to answer the insurance questions regarding this accident. He still continued toward the stairs. I picked up pace to close the distance and he changed his mind about running and just stood there close to the bottom of the stairs. "Just get the f@#k away from me man. I'm afraid I might catch something."

Which is absolute dodo headed criminality. To, from stop, try to outrun a persons vision of your license plate, mm duh. If the cops show up to an accident scene nobody's getting searched or arrested unless the driver is obviously drunk. The only motivation to attempt to slide out of a car accident is to avoid insurance uppage. Which I don't doubt as the drivers motive, even with his driving a shiny new bmw, APART from all the other oddities of this event which scream setup.

The polished you hold him here with your presence and distance mumbled sketchy reassurances while I run over his bike tire to keep his brutally smashed person from chasing you down very easily. If these guys hadn't done this before they were surely being coached on the spot.

Trying to kill me with a car door. Settling for merely injuring me badly. Throw a ten dollar pay off insult on top of it. Then simply jog away after your buddy disables my bike. Trying to make me feel like I should have just settled for the ten dollars as their scheme cascaded to seeming brilliance.

I'm guessing if I'd have just gone to the cops with the plate number, nothing would have come of the hit and run. That's how every fight I've reported to the cops has gone down, (7+ fights full report made) no arrests. The driver would have denied ever being in an incident with me. His buddy that smashed his door into me would have never been found. The whole thing would be a wash. As it is, the cops still haven't asked for the f@#king plate number, f@#king corrupt sacks of shit they are, trying real hard to muff this case too. I'm guessing the kid gave the standard line that he doesn't know the guy whose car he was in, the guy just gave him a ride there and that's all he's going to see of the douche bag ever. Sure doesn't want to be giving info on his crack dealer... Guy's probably the cops supplier too.

On first glance this story might seem like the bad things that happen because of drugs.

The reality is this is nothing but an argument against prohibition if anything. People aren't going to flea accidents worried about legal drugs. It's also unlikely anyone would flea an accident, knowing you're standing there staring at their plate and they're not going to outrun the radio to their f@#king house or flea the state for anything less than a dui manslaughter. An elder drug dealer having been in an accident as simple as a doored biker would simply sit tight, be polite and helpful as could be, especially if he had drugs on him. To survive in illegal drug dealing into your elder years you have to be a lot cooler under pressure than to turn a door jammed biker into a double hit and run. Probably even if he was mildly drunk and hadn't been the one to open the door he would stay. Running from where someone most likely has your plate number makes nearly no sense.

Hopefully both these fucks will get their wrists slapped as a preview of what justice is going to be for them.


thermal depolymerization
heat (aka stirling) engine
brushless motor
brushed motor
alternator
wind turbine
permanent magnet motor
Raised Field Agriculture
Hillside agriculture
rocket
em gun
taser
steam engine
battery
hydro electric
Balloon Wind turbine

Groper Gymnast kid. Cocaine addict mom.
2X moms refusing to discipline and insistent I do so.
Dog owners who regularly let their dogs run wild on streets. Hollywood FL and Robyx
Taking calls from the NSA. Suuposed Compaq customers who were in no way interested to solve their computer problems. Callers reporting their computers doing the impossible, giving no error messages while they claim it did nothing when the requested option was selected and didn't lockup but was still active to further troubleshoot. People who kept me on the phone 3x beyond the required average handle time claiming fixes for known issues instructed to perfection just wouldn't work.
党Friends” who ask questions receiving salacious answers then cut short to rob pretext. Andre telling me I don't have what it takes to kill. Not bothering to probe to understanding the person I killed was the fetus of my own child. Instead he dropped the conversation and walked off quick. Most people would have asked who I killed with my advancing that claim.
Bitches not on birth control not bothering to advise me.
Lillian repeatedly punching Harold in the face fully unprovoked while calling him a fag.
Multi week starvation then gifting of very strong LSD and meth, preceding considering taking my dog with me to the afterlife. First realization of my being microwaved. Knew not what it was though detected energy acting on my brain enforcing body chemistry that wasn't initiated by me.
Returned to Ft. Lauderdale, stayed with kids I had told on in asking they receive help for their drug problems. I was told offering them help was not an option and asked to perform a sting on them. I refused. Instead they were setup and stung about a year later just as I stole their drugs to use as manna in my travel westward having decided to leave Florida when my gf started dating one of these guys.
党Mommy it's him!” as the kid climbs me and hugs me unusually tight. Meth addict mom. I had been awake far too long on mdma. She offered to let me sleep in her apartment while she went out for a while. After I agreed to sleep there I was told I couldn't sleep on the couch. I was told to sleep in a race car kids bed. I thought it weird but layed down anyhow as I was so tired. I woke at dusk while the plan was to wake me in the mid afternoon.
Gifted coke to endure my roommates talking trash about “curbing” me (smashing my teeth off the curb with a stomp to the back of the head). Discussing my neck acne. Talking about letting an enormous pit bull attack me in my room while I sleep. Pot dealer leaving his 9mm on the table. Enormous pit bull off leash no human supervision apparent, grills me in an aggressive stance as I left the apartment complex for the last time. Asked for a confession by priests. Invited to a gay mans apartment, he acting as a kind friend, who then propositions me.

Monday November 3rd 2008
Sweetness died today. When Slimy Dan arrived, Sweetness took great offense. I thought she'd be happy to have company when I wasn't around to entertain her. I was wrong. She was in a contest with the new turtle for attention. Shortly after Slimy Dan arrived she went on a hunger strike. She refused sea weed all but one time in the past month. On noticing she gulped water quite regularly I began to stir food into her water about a week ago, in the hopes it would be enough to reverse her weakening. Still she was dwindling. When Slimy Dan had first arrived she also went on a hunger strike when I had intensely brush washed her daily and didn't handle her beyond the first day. I tried then to force feed her which I found impossible. I did some research and found only the recommendation to force feed a turtle by gripping the skin under their chin to pull their mouth open. My turtles being so small they didn't have enough skin under their chin to grip. When I noticed how wasted away sweetness was, I decided I was going to have to force feed her. I tried prying her mouth open with the eye dropper which showed limited success. In mostly smearing the soy yogurt and milk onto her mouth I wound up blocking her nose with it. She began to breathe out of her mouth and I made some headway feeding her. After I was done feeding her I rinsed her nose under the sink though I think now that I did not do a good enough job and left some yogurt in her nose blocking her airway. If I'd have put her in her bowl for a soak after the feeding I think she would still be alive. I found her with her face wedged into the towel in her enclosure. When I pulled her out I noticed her big as ever smile. Then I noticed her eyes were sunken in. I knew something was very wrong and thought that her eyes might be dehydrated, I splashed her in the water real quick and she didn't move a budge. I took her out and gave a good look at her. She was definitely dead, but I still wanted to believe she might wake up. I held her and looked at her and tried to think of what to do. I knew with her eyes sunk in like they were she must have been gone for hours. I wrapped her in a paper towel and woke up her sister and told her "It's a sad day." Slimy Dan seemed to be looking around for her sister quite a bit today. She really had places to go which is not totally usual as late. The turtles have seemed to want to sleep most of the day and would rather lay still than run when I have them out of their enclosure. Slimy Dan stopped eating a couple weeks ago. She still has some meat on her bones but is definitely wasting away a bit. I decided not to take any chances and to be as forceful as necessary to get her to eat. I forcefed her twice today very successfully. I finally decided to use the rounded edge tweezers I have to pry her mouth open. It's kinda tricky holding her mouth open with the tweezers and operating the eyedropper at the sametime. She struggles quite a bit and I had to press her face all the way into her shell to get her to stop trying to get the tweezers out of her mouth. When I put a big portion of the liquid food in her gullet, some of it came out of her nose. So in addition to rinsing her after the feeding with the faucet aimed up her nose, I put her in her bowl for a soak. Yesterday, the day I forcefed Sweetness I opened her food container to find a thin layer of mold grown across the top of the food. I'm left to wonder how much that contributed to her not eating, if perhaps she had been sick because of the mold before it had grown to where I could see it. When I mixed up the seaweed and peanut butter I mixed a sizeable portion of iodine in with it. I thought that would be enough to keep the food fresh, aparently it was not. I started storing my turtle food in the fridge yesterday.

Start here, at the bottom, Cut the story or names and paste them where in the autobiography they belong, marking them with an asteric.

All lists:
Stuff still to write:

Spinning til dizzy.
Bike skidding knee skinning first blood.
Nose bleeds.
Snot on wall.
Racism indoctrination. "For the greater good black people have gang wars and kill each other."
Dajuan and the Raiders hat.
Brian Lees
Dennis McElheney
Sean Labbe
Jamie Curley
Emily Arena
Katie Arena
Derrick
Lee Ann Oram
Jason Hammond
Rob Guarino
Carlos
Mike Griffiths
Jen Greene
Mike Meuse
Timmy Parsons
Mr. Pierce (Psycho Vietnam Vet)
Amy (Blond Jewish Crush in elementary school)
Julie and Dennis brother and sister track stars
Jim Gaiero
Brian Carney
Kevin Keegan
Farhan - first dirty wafer ate in Tampa, FL.
Carl - Riding in his VW. Adoring his GF.
Tony - Break Dancing with Farhan.
Moe
Tim and Miranda
Trish in Mayport
Brian McCullough
Linda from the VA and Crescent House
Rad
Renee
Maggie
Danielle
Lourdes and Scott Mulrooney
Sean Weeks
Spanish John
Pam
Dave Berkhart
Jeff Demaris
Alyssa
Rick Carson
Dad aka Tom
Jeramie
Nicky
Audie
Beans
Wayne
Spanish Hottie from NY Beans GF
Nicole
Miz
Meema
Tory
JT
Undercover
Big Miz
Little Miz
Muscular Miz
Tommy Peter Paul
Pat
Rob
Morning Star
Ghost
Little Ghost
Steve Wheeler
Shannon Flynn
Tara
Dad (Tom)
Mike Hathaway
Leo
Big Miz
Muscular Miz
Little Miz
Budge
Black Mike
Dale
Nicole
Evie
Jocelyn
Josh Cell Mate from Nashua St. Jail
Native Mike

Rob TAG roommate
Carlos Urutia
Steve Supervisor
Taran Sargeant
Scott and Lourdes Mulrooney

Times I've shot guns

.22 in boot camp
shotgun with S. Mulrooney

Julie

Linda

Hospital Visits

Orlando after shoplifting.

Bedford on return home.

Bedford on return home from AZ.

Stuff written:


Placement Issues List:
***Placement***Having been raised on staunch belief in purpose, I had from this realization made the leap to belief in reincarnation. I believed our conscience must certainly be reincarnated in another form when our conscience passes from this life. I had not arrived at understanding our most likely form in the realm where this universe was created. I wouldn't consider this for about another year. I was then challenged by my roommate to explain why the human nose has the shape of an Extra Terrestrial. When he first advanced this posit to me I denied the notion, telling him "No it doesn't." To which he said, take a look and directed me to the mirrored table I had bought for the living room. I looked and was daunted when sure enough I found the stereotypical abductees description of an Extra Terrestrial squarely planted on my face. My answer for him was that it might be a joke played on us by the creator. I began to strive for realization of the answer to this riddle. Not too long after making the ET nose realization I began to lean toward that as being the form of our superuniverse selves or the physical form of our souls. How this tied to extra terrestrial abduction was still a mystery to me. For a while I thought ETs might really be abducting people.

Place all this where it happened. Reveal this in sequence.
Eventually I made the advancement to understanding the federal governments involvement in abduction and their shell game of inventing threats to resolve, to make business for themselves. I began to think it more likely that the government was in ET costumes abducting people as psychological warfare than actual ETs abducting people. I came to understand ET's having traveled to evolve to a new form of human, 100 millions light years through space, would not be interested to abduct us. Remote scanning would provide as clear a picture of a persons every particle. If they were poising themselves to militarily dominate us they surely wouldn't reveal themselves to us in the least. They could construct a laser and evaporate every person on the planet. If they were trying to grab the materials of this planet they'd more efficiently place bots to make bots, than to place a potentially super intelligent species. Eventually I arrived at believing the ET form of the human nose is a design bestowed by the creator to the created in the form of the creator to hint as to the reality of sentient existence being on two planes, within the creation and as the creator. It's a hint also as to where the creator is, which is traveling through space in the superuniverse, having themselves evolved from planetary dwelling to space traveling. My 7th grade science fair project in which I theorized ETs were humans further evolved in space finally began to make sense to me. In the early years of my theory the ETs were possibly time travelers arrived back in time to study their forebares. I later studied in science the impossibility of retrogressive time travel. It had been a decade without finding a better solution to the theory apart from time travel. My theory evolved away from time travelers to vast distance travelers who brought human genetics to this planet that the planet might be more enjoyable for their creators in the superuniverse. I had come to grasp there being space traveling evovled human ET's in this universe and space traveling evolved human ET's in the creating realm.