It's another Friday the 13th!! Last Friday the 13th I was facing one of my big fears..heights...and went skydiving with my brother and sister for her 20th birthday. This time around I wanted to be out camping in the woods with a bunch of teenagers who were smoking dope and having sex waiting for the blood to start running. But alas, I'm sitting in front of a computer. Not the ideal place for a slasher fest but theres always the next time around.
Which brings me to my topic, which is what a weird little freak I was as a kid. I grew up on 80's slasher flicks. Jason and Freddy pretty much raised me. Scary, I know. I saw Halloween 2 over at my Grandma's house when i was about 6 and I was hooked. It scared the shit out of me, they all did, but the little adrenaline junkie in me kind of liked that.
If it wasn't for cable and a lack of one of those damn V chips I might never have experienced all of Jason's many reigns of terror. Friday the 13th parts 1-4 were mainstays during the early years when cable first came to McMinnville. I remember having about 5 neighbor friends over to my Grandparents to watch Friday the 13th part 4, The Final Chapter(yeah right.) My friend Graham lied and said we would be watching The Jungle Book. His ass got in trouble for that one

When we weren't playing Star Wars, Kid Pound (it was like a dog pound, but one person ran around catching kids and throwing them in the playhouse), trying to contact Abraham Lincoln or Amy's dead hamster via séance , or playing naked games like Dr. Ruth and Playboy, we spent hours of playtime acting out sequels to Friday the 13th. The only loophole that always ended up happening during that game was the damn garden. My step dad had a huge garden in back yard which was defenity a big no trespassing area. You did not want to piss him off by running through the garden. Friday the 13th always ended in a stalemate there. Let me back up a little. The game usually started when we would all pile into a car in the driveway and pretended to be morally corrupt teenagers stupid enough to be driving to Camp Crystal Lake. Then out of nowhere the kid who got picked to be Jason would attack the car and everyone would pile out and run. If Jason could catch you he would pretend to stab you to death, or stick a pitchfork in you, or maybe just squeeze your head until your eyes popped out of their sockets. Gosh, we were precocious little angles. Eventually the game would end up at the garden, even though the rules were you couldn't do that. Jason would be on one end and everytime he ran for you the safest thing for the surviving kids to do would be just to circle around the garden. Either Jason would end up getting mad and quitting the game, or he would break all rules and just run through the damn garden, not caring if I ended up getting grounded or not. Fucking Jason.

I had a few weird Jason dreams about that time too...I would have been about 9 for most of the events in this story. In the dream I was going camping with a bunch of easy target teens. Do you remember that stupid sitcom in the early 80's with Ted Knight and Jim J. Bullock called...I think it was Too Close For Comfort? Anyway...the girls that played the daughters were camping with us. In the dream we kept trying to camp on the top of this big hill with a cherry tree on top. Well Jason kept showing up and ripping peoples arms off and throwing them down the hill. I ended up hiding under the seat of the car (in dreams its not such an impossiblle fit) while I listened to the stupid girls who wouldn't hide with me die. Stupid girls. Thats when a creepy/sweet change occurred. Suddenly Jason was my friend. I understood his pain in a way nobody else was willing to do. When the cops showed up I led Jason by the hand up the winding hill desperatly trying to get somewhere safe. The cops were hot on our trail and I urged Jason to go faster. It was all in vain. The cops shot a bunch of holes in my friend and he fell off the cliff. I sat at the edge looking down at his falling body and cried. The dream ended with Jason's encouraging words echoing back to me..."Don't worry. I always come back." Geez, imagine what a therapist could do with that whacked out shit?

Exhibit C to my creepiness would be a camping ritual of mine. We went camping a lot, and I was more than a little concerned about my safety out there in Jason Country. While everyone was setting up camp I would walk out in the woods a ways and talk loud enough for Jason to hear me if he was listening. I pretty much explained to him that I was truly his friend and I understood what he did. I didn't judge Jason. Instead I extended an offer of friendship in hopes that the crazy bastard would spare me on the off chance that any brutal slayings began.

One last note. In third grade, I guess I was 8, we used to have to write stories with our spelling words. It was kind of my thing to write little slasher movie stories with the words using kids in class as characters. One sentence I clearly remember writing was for the word doughnuts. In it I wrote how "Jason slashed Julie in the stomach and doughnuts came falling out". You know if a kid was writing that shit nowadays it would result in suspension, therapy and probably make the channel 2 news. Those were different times, my friend, different times. Much more innocent,lol. Really though, as obsessed as I was with horror movies and writing Friday the 13th scripts and imagining all that evil..I really was a good kid. I could never actually hurt anybody and I never wanted to. That same year, third grade) I was embarrassed twice in class for crying. Once was during "Where the Red Fern Grows" and once when we were reading another story about a dog dying. For someone who once said Jason was my hero (I don't know what that meant) I really did have a strong sense of empathy. It just kind of shows that you don't need to get freaked out by how freaky kids can be. It might not mean anything.

Have fun out there tonight kids. If your out there in the woods tonight I'll pray for you. If you plan on smoking dope and having sex while you out there....I can write a kick ass eulogy. Happy Friday the 13th!!

Still Free to Be You and Me

I've posted about it before, but I swear I think many of my beliefs, politics, etc have their seeds in the Marlo Thomas feel good 70's childrens special "Free To Be You And Me." here are a few more clips. Roll em.

I love the opening credits to this. Now I'll be singing it all day.



Did you check out little Micheal Jackson, back when it was a good idea to let him teach you a lesson. This last one is a really good little sociological lesson on the social construction of gender.

SBT-Cocaine Mama..or the first and last time i had sex with a woman

Cocaine Mama...or the first and last time i had sex with a woman

The year was 1993. Bill Clinton had just recently taken office. The Rodney King verdict had ignited race riots a few months earlier. The Meatloaf song of mysterious meaning "I Would Do Anything For Love…" was all over the radio and I was still clinging onto the idea that I was bi-sexual even though I thought about the economic state of China more than I thought about getting pussy...which is to say not at all...:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

I had recently graduated from high school and moved from Oregon to the foreign country of Texas to live with my "best friend" who I thought I was in love with ever since we had met my senior year and had fooled around with any chance I could get since then. Which is also to say, not very much

.

Christian was probably the very worst person I could have attached all my crazy needy insecure "love" onto being that he could probably check off most of the requirements on those lists of qualities held by sociopaths and compulsive lairs. Also Christian probably wasn't gay and I doubt he was all that bi either. But I would do anything to get one of those rare moments of sex with him. I shudder to think of it, but I think at a low point in my Christian addiction I even offered to pay him for sex. I offered more than he was worth, that's for sure, but he still turned me down. This scary desire to be close to him was the catalyst for my one and only sexual experience with a girl (well Amy didn't count. she was 8 and I was 9 and I think she made me do what we did.)

When Christian and me had started our sick little relationship the previous year he was like a glass of water for someone dying of thirst in the desert. The desert being a very small town and the water being the only sex I had since starting high school. It didn't matter that the water was a little tainted and there wasn't nearly enough of it. I saw him as my only chance at happiness and I was determined to be with him and only him. As impossible as that mission was, I choose to accept it.

There was some awesome sex when I first got to Texas and things seemed ideal...but that ended pretty quickly and he was very assertively not gay. But then neither was I , right? I was bi! Just don't make me prove it.

One night Christian brought back a girl who worked across the street at the Whataburger and they did some fooling around on the forest green papasan couch in the little apartment we shared. (I just had to throw in the forest green papasan couch to really set the period. That was so 1993.)

They had tried to have sex the night before but all the acid they had dropped led to her vagina becoming a scary monster and they had to stop. He was determined they would fuck that night.

She was a pretty blonde girl with nice boobs. I think she was about our age although she was married and had recently had a baby a couple months earlier. It also seems like they were both on coke that night and I was still just saying no.

They were making out on the couch while I sat pretending to read across the room. Suddenly she got it in her head that I might be fun to play with, undoubtedly due to all the coke they were snorting. She kept trying to get me to kiss her and of course I did not want the same thing.

At that time I was still holding onto a strong sense of insecurity disguised as morals. and used that as my excuse to turn her down. I kept pointing out the ring on her finger as the reason I didn't want to do anything. If she wasn't married I'd be fucking her this way from Sunday, but I don't mess around with married women. Uh..yeah...did I even believe that?

Well this girl played hardball and refused to have sex with Christian unless I would come over and kiss her. This set a fire under his butt to get me to hurry up and put my tongue in her mouth.

Finally I gave into the peer pressure, I usually did. It was a combination of Christian slyly flirting with me and gently touching me, but kind of on the down low, and the song that was playing on the stereo. It was "Touch Me" from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." That song successfully unleashed my evil twin and he decided that he could take a crack at this girl

.

So I started kissing her while Susan Sarranden proclaimed her need to feel dirty and before I knew it clothes were coming off. That was generally the pattern with me then. Christian and I had started with a kiss in his car and in light speed my lips were wrapped around his cock. The same principal was working here except my mouth was sucking on a girls nipple this time.

A lot of it is kind of a blur. I remember it was difficult to get hard until I focused on Christian's dick and managed to get a few forbidden touches of his body when she was otherwise occupied and that did the trick. Although it was hard to get hard, once I was it felt really nice being inside of her. I remember she also made a lot more noise when I was fucking her than when he was, which I took some pride in. I remember that after years of preaching safe sex to my friends that were actually sexually active that none of us even thought of using a condom. I know we both cam in her. so there's the weird soap opera chance I have a kid out there...but since I don't live on "Days of Our Lives" I kind of doubt it.

One major point that stands out in my memory is that while I can enjoy kissing a girl and even like playing with her tits, that I can not force myself to go down on here. I tried. I'm not sure if I even got as far as tasting it, but my mouth was back up to her inoffensive breasts faster than you can say lickety split...which is just what Christian kept doing. Licking her...well her split. lol. He seemed to like it so I didn't return down there. Ever again.

It was a good experience. I'm glad I did it once. But like eating escargot or trying heroin it wasn't an experience I ever want to repeat again

In which I fight the meth monsters and travel to the land of canals and Cannabis

- In which I fight the meth monsters and travel to the land of canals and Cannabis
Current mood: nostalgic
Category: Life

At the age of 21 I was burnt out, partied out, depressed and semi-homeless after a couple years of self destruction.Something had to change .My life was so bleak that I thought there was no hope. Looking back its just ridiculous to think at the age of 21 I had no future. Thats what an addictive personality and a lust for a chemical rush will do to you.

A few random moments changed everything. One of those random life changers was a temporary nurse at work whose name I can't even remember. I was working as the 6pm-6am nurses aid in a geriatric psych unit at a job I truly loved and was good at. My charge nurse and friend Maude who was an incredible partner in the crazy world of the locked psych unit for two years had just left and I was suddenly being tormented by her replacement, a Nurse Ratchett wannabe. (she probably wasn't that bad..but thats how it felt at the time.)

I would work an exhausting 12hour shift with her then try to find a way back to the unheated tiny trailer I was staying in, which was located in a cow pasture on the property of my aunts boyfriend's invalid mother. Since my aunt was away in rehab I usually had to hitchhike home at 6 in the morning. It probably would have been more depressing if I stopped to think about it, but the only thing on my mind at all times was the never ending task of feeding my addiction and still hitchhiking back to work on time.
At about the time when I was realizing that I couldn't keep this up, I worked for about a week with a new nurse who was filling in for Nurse Ratchett. This girl was very cool. She was a plain looking, short Asian girl, close to my age, but she had a beautiful personality. Her Romanian husband who picked her up some times was too fucking die for supermodel hot, by the way.


We had a lot of time to talk during the night and I was fascinated with the trip she took to Europe during college. I had just read a book from the late 60's about two girls who hitchhiked around Europe from adventure to adventure and I was starting to get a hunger to do the same thing.


Something about her stories fanned the flames of my newfound European obsession and soon I was determined. That determination was what I needed to find the strength in me to fight crank and take my life back.
It could have been anything maybe, but with Europe as my goal I was finally able to say fuck you to the meth monster I had given control of my life too. There was no way I could afford to go if I was using and I wanted to stop. My best friend since high school, Jennifer, was adament that I come and live with her family and get clean. Living with Jenn and not being around the users and dealers I had surrounded myself with was key to my taking my life back.I thank the Goddess for Jenn's friendship and that nurse whose name I can't remember for igniting the fighter in me who had been lying in a fetal position for too damn long. It wasn't easy, but once I was determined it really wasn't that hard.

Unfortunately when your body doesn't have the chemical energy it had gotten used to it was harder than hell to stay awake all night at work. When I was high I was super aid. I did my regular duties as well as organized residents closets, charted their horoscopes, decorated for holidays, fought for their rights, etc. etc. Now suddenly I couldn't even stay awake. I was actually told " your just not doing the work you used to." After Nurse Ratchett caught me sleeping in an empty bed one to many times it was over for me at that job.
That was ok, because I was going to Europe! Now! In March I left my new nursing home job, bought a one way ticket to Amsterdam with the full intention of hitchhiking around Europe for a few years and got on a plane with less than $500 dollars in my pocket. Obviously my brain was still a little fried from the chemicals, because I look back now and think...what the fuck?
What happened after I got off the plane halfway across the world from everyone and everything I knew is for another blog. Now that the setup is out of the way I will tell that story real soon
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