Short Stories of Unusual Lifestyles

A GYPSY’S TALE
I began my travels, as soon as I could walk. My Dad said I was 2 year s old, when I first ran away. I only made it a few blocks and cried and screamed, because I was headed toward the store for “Candy”. My Mom couldn’t calm me down until they figured it out, and fed my demands with a piece of salt water taffy. Then, at the ripe age of 7, Dad forgot me on the other side of town at a Sears store, and I decided to make my own way home, and succeeded in less than an hour to accomplish that. I was in training, and each attempt was to go further and further. When I was 11, I used a car without permission and made it 3 states away, before I ran out of gas and blew a clutch trying to learn how to drive a stick shift. The cops came and asked me for my license and realized I was too young and driving a stolen car. I was sent home after a night in the “Who’s-cow” or Jail as you might call it, in Terra Haut, Indiana. I woke up and had breakfast, and an off duty cop drove me home where my Dad kicked the living crap out of me in front of the cop, and nobody said a word to stop him.
I was placed in a Juvenile Home for little Bastards like me, and planned my escape to freedom. It took 2 years, but I managed to steal some money from the Superintendents Home while cleaning and took an extra set of his car keys, ran out of his house ,into his garage, and sped off down the highway, headed toward New Orleans. I had a full tank of gas and a few hundred dollars, so I was better prepared this time. Gas was 26 cents a gallon in 1960 and a hamburger was a dime. It took me 3 days to make it to Louisiana and some big kids in a gas station let me sell them my car for $500. It was a 1960 Chevy Impala and they were quite pleased. I was thrilled, because now I could get an apartment and live “High on the Hog”. I could pass for 16 when I was 14 and in those days nobody had a birth certificate let alone an I.D. so I found a place in Jackson Square, New Orleans and gave the man $80 for a months rent in the oldest apartment building in the USA. It was called “The Pontalbo” and built by Andrew Jackson after the War of 1812.
The job opportunities for a boy were limited and the pay was $1.25 an hour, so I hustled on the street shining shoes and bilking tourists out of money with a tricky question. “I know where you got those shoes.”
For $1 I’ll give you the answer. After they gave the cute kid a buck, I’d answer, “On your feet.” Sometimes a bully would slap me around and take my money, but that was not often. I knew about “Queers” and New Orleans was full of them. All the sailors were, and they had bars full of them holding hands and kissing in public, even some dressing like girls. They always tried to seduce me, but I wasn’t interested. I found a couple of young girls that let me play with their pussy and liked to suck on my dick. We called it “Stinky fingers” and “Blow jobs”. I lasted about 6 months until a nice looking Rich Guy offered me $100 for a Blow Job. Not me Blowing Him, but he wanted to suck my cock and give me the money. I thought about it and got an erection. What the Hell, I let him. He was from Texas and said he was a teacher of “Art”. I followed him to his Hotel and when we reached His room I asked for the money before I got undressed. He gave me a new bill that was all crispy and I stuffed it in my jeans as I undressed and jumped in the bed. He got naked and had a raging hard-on twice my size. I had a 4 inch dick and his was at least 7 inches and I didn’t know what was going to happen, but didn’t expect it when it did. He got down between my legs and started sucking my dick as he placed my legs over his shoulders and eased his way up so he had my cock in his mouth and started to ream my ass with his dick, like he was a contortionist, and I couldn’t get away. He held me so tight, I couldn’t buck loose, and his dick pierced my ass in a painful stroke, and he kissed me full on the mouth to muffle my scream. I was “Fucked”. I think he fucked me for 10 minutes, until he shot a load of sperm up my ass that made me cum at the same time. I was so ashamed, that I cried uncontrollably for a full 5 minutes. He told me to shower, because after his cum started to drip out of my ass it acted like an enema and I had to crap. In the shower I felt like crap myself. Just thinking about it gave me another erection and I wanted to get even, so I went back into the bed and this time I fucked him in the ass doggy style. He was talking dirty like saying,”Fuck me , Fuck me.” I guess I had fucked him for a good 10 minutes until I shot a load up his ass, and we both took a shower together. He was 23 years old and told me He was in Love with Me. I didn’t mind him kissing me, and we went back into bed and talked for hours as we called room service, and had a full 5 coarse meal together. I didn’t leave until morning, and after breakfast I decided to hit him up for more money. Well, He said he would be here for 5 more days and would give me $500 if I would be his companion and tour the city. Hell yes, my ass didn’t even hurt and I was learning a new profession that paid a weeks wages in one hours time.
I got the $500 from him and we went to a bank and opened an account for me and I kept the original $100 to go shopping for new clothes. Our touring took me all over the city into jazz clubs and fancy restaurants. We took a cab uptown and went to a famous Restaurant where he spent $100 on a meal with a bottle of Champagne. I went everywhere he wanted to go and realized, This was the first time I had really seen the city. Upon returning to his Hotel we immediately showered and went back to bed to work on my lessons. This was very interesting, because I never had sucked cock before ,and it didn’t repulse me, but rather intrigued me in a queer sort of way. He started to suck my cock an slowly changed his position until his cock was in front of my face. His ministrations felt so good and I liked him, so I started to put his pulsating cock in my mouth. I ran my tongue over his dick in a mirror movement of what he was doing to mine. We were “69ing” and I think we drifted off into space, because when I woke up, it was morning. I tasted sperm in my mouth, and my face was glazed like a donut. When I looked in the mirror my hair, was all spermed-up into a colic. He came into the bathroom behind me, and started to fuck me bent over the sink. I looked into the mirror and the sight of it was really unreal. I was being fucked like a little girl, and enjoying it. His cock slowly inching up my butt cheeks and reaching a G-spot that felt so-oo-oo GOOD, I was convinced this was my destiny as far as vocations go. I had found a career In the Entertainment Industry. When he shot a load up my ass, I shot a load across the sink into the mirror. We both laughed like crazy and than showered and went on touring the city. We visited the Zoo and rode a Camel and played with some monkeys. Afterwards he decided to visit the “Scene”, is what He called it and we bar hopped until the wee hours of the morning. A dozen people knew him and came over to talk at our table in the first bar that looked a bit Queer with Men with Ladies clothes on and make-up covering a 5 o’clock shadow. The conversation was always about me and how handsome I was and was I GAY??? He told them I was a Hustler and it was my very first time. He told them I was $100 a night and had the tightest ass, and gave the best blow job he ever had. I was embarrassed, but it was working to build my client list for the future. All the “Ladies” told me to come back when he leaves, if I want to make some money. We had created an Image that I never could have imagined a few days before. I stayed the 5 days and nights and saw him leave back to Texas. Now, when I walked down the street guys would whistle, and wave like they knew me for my whole life. I had arrived on the “Scene” as the, “Fresh Meat” that I was. I started to make the rounds, and do Quickies for $40 which was a 1 hour session of me letting Old Queers suck my cock. I wouldn’t fuck or get fucked for less than $100 and accumulated $5,000 in a month.
It was 1962 and I had been gone for a year and a half. I bought a new Chevy from a Dealership that was a 1963 Impala convertible and kept hustling and learning my craft during a time of “Free Love” I was making money. I never even thought of myself as being Queer, because I was making money. It was only a job. I wanted to travel and I needed a license and I.D. so I asked around and found a Gay Man in the Government Department of Motor Vehicles that hooked me up for a one night stand. It worked for me until we got to his place and I had to dress like a little girl for his fantasy. I never had before and just putting the panties and stockings on gave me a raging hard-on that looked ridicules in a little school girls uniform. When he saw my boner, he smacked it and it shrunk down to the size of a peanut. He than made me wear a wig and dance to the music he had on the phonograph. I was a good dancer and he sat in a chair naked stroking himself until he was hard. His cock was enormous, 11 inches and as thick as my wrist. I was sure he wouldn’t fit in my tight ass, and I would have to blow the man down.
He asked me to do a slow strip and I did to his appreciation. After I had taken off the stockings my hard-on returned and he spanked it on the head where it returned to the size of a peanut. I was only wearing a wig and panties and now kneeling between his legs inserting that big Louisiana Sausage in my Mouth and tasting his sperm which was like the taste of the Ocean. I was going to drown when he held my head with his strong hands and wouldn’t let go until his spermatic climax was complete. He than got up and lifted me ,an placed me over his knees and started to spank the shit out of my buttocks. He had a jar of Vaseline and pulled my panties down and greased my little bung hole while he finger fucked me.
I was sure that big old cock wouldn’t fit, but somehow it did. I was screaming and didn’t know why,”Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me”. I remember him saying “Push, Push like you have to take a crap and it will fit easier”. It did fit and I was Loving it. This 40 something old man had used me like a little girl and I liked it. Even the little girls school clothes made me feel sexy. The frilly panties, the stockings, the little plaid skirt, the little bra, the girls blouse, the blond wig, everything except lipstick and makeup. Here I was getting my very first drivers license, maybe this was The Road Test. Well, I left after midnight and went back to my apartment with cum dripping out of my ass the whole way. The next day I went to his office and he gave me the license. He asked me if I would return sometime and I said for a hundred dollars I would, but now my ass was, out of order. I needed rest from that large cocks intrusion. I don’t know why, but I went shopping for that little school girls outfit and even bought falsies that fit in the bra. I went to a wig shop and bought a blond wig. I stopped at a dime store and bought cheap make-up and lipstick. I was 15 years old and went home and dressed up in the little school girl drag and immediately had a raging hard-on that I masturbated, thinking of getting fucked by a large dick, that I would have paid for at that vulnerable moment. Wow, how my life had changed.
I dreamt of sucking cock and getting fucked. I was 15 and decided to travel to Florida and see the Ocean for the very first time. I had a new car, clothes, and $17,500 in cash stashed in the trunk. I stayed in motels that only cost $8 a night and my drivers license said I was 18, so I could go into bars. There were not any “Gay Bars” along the way, but in Alabama I got hit up by girls and paid $20 for a young sweet thing my age. We went to my motel and she showered with me before we did anything. She than inspected my genitals and started to suck my flaccid penis into an erection. I had to fantasize that I was getting fucked by a big dick to keep an erection.
She was a Pro at the age of 16 and somehow knew, because she inserted a finger in my bung hole and massaged my prostrate until I Climaxed. We talked and than showered again as she explained that I was Queer and should try a man before spending any more money on pussy. Her brother was just like me and made more money than her hustling Air Force guys that liked dominating and ass fucking boys. She said they pick-up’s at the Officers Club on Base and paid $50 for all the way an $20 for a blow job. I asked her to introduce me to her brother, so we got dressed and headed out to my car and raced to the Air Base.
Entering the Base they checked my I.D. and allowed me to enter. The Officers Club was full of single guys getting drunk and playing slot machines. Her brother was there with a couple of guys and we all were introduced to each other. Her brother James told me that I could make a $100 if I wanted to do a 3-way with the 2 guys he was with. He said they were Officers and Gentlemen looking for Fresh Meat. Well, That is what I felt like when I excepted their proposition. We left the club and headed to my motel. When we got there, I made them shower and than I inspected them like the young Hooker had done me and started to blow one as the other began to ream my ass. We only played for 20 minutes and than showered again as they switched positions and I sucked cock and got fucked by 2 Pilots in the U.S.Airforce. They gave me $100 and showered again and left. I went to sleep a satisfied traveler making money on my very first day.
In the morning I received a message from James, the Hookers Brother. He said a dozen guys wanted me after the fly boys returned and bragged about the best fuck in their lives, as well as getting their cock sucked by an expert that swallowed. If I was into it he would set it up for $20 a trick. I told him I had a little school girls uniform and could dance if they wanted me to.
Well, it started early on my adventure, but I should get the work done before continuing on my journey. I fucked and sucked and made $1,000 in 2 days, but had to take a break because my ass hurt from The Big Black Cock that was a fuck machine that slapped me around and called me a White Bitch and Fucking Queer pumping cum up my ass for 2 hours. Gawd, my ass was reamed open and felt like a wind tunnel when I farted. I even had blood in my stool and was worried about internal damage. Lucky there wasn’t, and my asshole shrunk to normal in a week. I had left Alabama, and was in a motel in Jacksonville, Florida, where sailors stationed there, picked up hookers, and some were transvestites, so I decided to try my little school girl drag, with make-up. It took me some time to get dressed, and use the makeup, and lipstick. I was looking real good, and when I stepped out of the room to test the street it wasn’t 5 min. before I got in a man’s car, and agreed to suck his cock for $20. Well he was a vice cop, and arrested me for prostitution. I was so embarrassed, when I showed him my I.D., that I thought I was going to die. I looked down at his pants, and he had a gleam in his eye’s, and a large bulge in his pants. He asked me where I lived, and I told him the motel, and he drove there making me open my door an locking it as we entered.
His first words were, “If you ever tell anyone, you are dead.” He than put some music on the radio, an asked me to do a strip dance for him as he disrobed. I was pretty good and sexy, and knew a sense of timing that was somehow natural and alluring. He rushed me as my panties fell to the floor, and kissed me deep with his tongue down my throat, and his cock fucking my young ass, standing up pressed against the wall. Well, this horny detective fucked me over to the bed, and had me doggy style for over an hour, talking in a gruff voice about me never saying anything, as he ejaculated a super load up my ass, that made me run to the bathroom before I crapped the bed. When I returned he was gone. But there was a $50 bill on the dresser. I was HOT and knew it. I looked like a little school girl in drag, but a real cute one that knew how to satisfy a man. I packed up and left town, before he changed his mind and came back to kill me out of fear of exposure. I headed South to Daytona. In Daytona they had a boardwalk and a Holiday Inn for $20 a night or $125 a week. I paid for a week, and took my stash of cash to my room that had a safe. I counted out $18,700 and change and just kicked back for 2 days, before leaving the building. One thing that bothered me was a feeling that I had fucked my physiological profile and never would I be the same. I had enough money, I had a new car, and I really shouldn’t work for awhile because I didn’t need to. I would drive down to the end of Highway 101 to a sleepy little fishing village called “Key West”. I stopped all along the way and swam in the ocean, ate at fancy restaurants, and socialized with kids my age that seemed like children compared to me and my past experience. They talked about the latest music and the group coming to Miami from England this year with a promotion announcement, “ The Beatles Are Coming”. I would go see them for sure. I stayed in Miami and it was like the elephants graveyard. Everyone was over 60 and pushing walkers down the street. It was weird and depressing. It only took about 4 hours to make it to, “Caya Wesa” which is the name the locals called Key West. I checked in The Truman Motel and it cost me $80 a week. My car was filthy and I paid some local boys to detail it for $10. Here I was at the southernmost point in the Continental USA and I had $18,000 stashed in the trunk of my new Chevy Impala and a parking spot in the front of my room so I felt safe and secure. I was mentally fucked by my job, because I always checked out men and looked at their cocks without noticing my behavior, but they did as they rubbed their cocks, when they noticed my glances in their direction. Duval Street was the main strip of rundown bars and Restaurants where everyone spoke Cuban and smoked Cigars. Sloppy Joe’s was Hemmingway’s hangout and I started to drink cocktails and got turned on to “Mota”. That is the term for Marijuana, that the locals used. I had been there for a few months when I decided to get a house across the street from the grave yard. It was a conch house and was basically a dump. I painted the inside and outside and furnished it with a stereo that blasted the new music from, “The Beatles“, “The Rolling Stones”, and Chubby Checker, Ray Charles, and other records I purchased, at the only store that sold albums. I had been celibate an now I was going to “sell a bit”. Every weekend The Cuban Club was open with a mini Casino in the back and a lot of New York people on vacation. They had a Gay Revue one weekend and I decided to work the room in drag. I took a couple hours to apply my little school girl ‘s persona. I looked in the mirror one last time and saw a beautiful, sexy, school girl look back. I was ready, willing, and able. I was also horny as hell. The “Cuban Club” was jamming and they charged $10 at the door, but let me pass for free as the doorman winked and said something in Cuban as he let me in.
I went to one of the empty stools at the bar and immediately was bought 3 drinks with umbrella’s in them that were made with fruit juice and rum. The lounge was smoky and loud with conversation as The Revue took stage. Marilynn Monroe, Rita Hayward, Patti La Belle, and a dozen other look-alikes did their song and dance and then mingled around the room. I had numerous men approach, but couldn’t’ understand their language. Finally, a 50 year old Rich Man dressed to the 9’s sat next to me and spoke in perfect English. He said, “Would you like to work here.” I told him I already was, as we both laughed together. “Are you a Whore? I can afford to pay you for a few hours upstairs”, was his reply. I told him that I had to warn him I was really a boy. He smiled and told me that was better yet. He would give me $500 for a few hours romp. I agreed and we went upstairs to his lavishly furnished apartment. It had a crystal chandelier and zebra covered sofa’s and Oriental rugs everywhere. I was impressed. He turned on a stereo playing Cuban Jazz and asked me to slow dance with him. After the first dance he started to embrace me and hump me standing up and walking me into his bedroom that housed a king sized Brass bed covered with satin sheets. He than pushed me to my knees and unzipped his pants, and stuffed his fat cock in my mouth. He was Cuban and had a purple dick that got bigger and bigger with my ministrations. I was choking on his sperm and he held my head in between his hands almost drowning,
choking and coughing until he let go. His mood changed as he told me to undress and he poured some white powder on a small mirror next to the bed. He used a razor blade to chop the powder into a pile that he separated into lines on the mirror. Cocaine was introduced to me just 9 days before my 16th Birthday.
I watched how he snorted it up a $100 bill and followed his example. I felt really “High” and He was really Horny as he bent me over and used some lubrication made from coconuts, to ease his fat cock up my ass. I hadn’t been fucked in months and this drug made everything easy. He couldn’t believe I could take it all up the ass. He really fucked me all night long and in the morning he gave me $1,000 for the Best Sex he ever had. After we showered and ate breakfast, he said he knew other men that would pay a grand for a grand time with me. He said they were “Whales” that lost thousands in one hand of poker and were looking for “Butt Boys” like me. I guess I was employed again and this time making the Big Bucks.
I only worked for 3 months and had saved a total of $72,000 that I kept locked in a safe I purchased ,that I cemented into my houses foundation. I learned how to check out clients for disease, and could place a Trojan in my mouth and slide it down a dick in less than a second. I had the drips one morning to find out I had The Clap, and acquired Crabs 5 times from
Wherever, because I was careful, but sometimes not too careful. I planned to return home someday, or visit New Orleans with my stash an start my own Bar. I was 17 and a cross-dressing Queen of the Gypsy’s. My drivers license stated I was 19 and the Vietnam War created The Draft and you needed to register. I went to the Florida DMV to get a new license and They registered me for the Draft. I was Drafted into the U.S. Army within 2 months and told to report to Miami on a certain day for a physical. Well I dressed up for the occasion and this little school girl was rejected on the grounds of unacceptability. My beard was showing up and my musculature developing so I looked more mannish as time went on. Well, you can’t be a virgin forever, but it helps to land a trick if you say you are.
The Cuban Club was my home for 2 years and all the Smugglers hung out an planned Deals as they paid me for all night parties that sometimes had me blowing one guy as I got ass fucked and jerked off 2 other guys at the same time. Sometimes having 2 cocks in my mouth at the same time just for laughs. Some of these guys paid me in cocaine. I was strung out and used a gram a day of pure coke just to go to work. I spent the days on the beach and had a total tan making me look local. I was going to retire at 18 years of age with a quarter of a million dollars stash made with my ass, and sucking cock of hundreds of horny men that bought me dresses and accessories. I was outfitted in so much women’s apparel to wear, that I felt comfortable in it, and could apply makeup blindfolded. I had crossed over the line. My job became my life and it didn’t seem unusual to me at all. I started to wear high healed shoes, and expensive perfume, with real gold earrings and rings and bracelets. I looked around my home and it looked like a women’s house, with vases and flowers and feminine touches everywhere. How my life had changed from that little shoe shine boy in the French Quarter, so long ago. James the Art Teacher from Texas didn’t know what he started when he raped my tight young ass, an paid me the $100 for the privilege.
If anyone told me I would have ended up here in this position getting a $1,000 a night as a High Class Hooker, I wouldn’t have believed it. I still didn’t believe it, that I had 1,000 clients in 5 years. So many horny men, that paid just to dominate a boy, and treat him like a bitch. I was the Faggot, Queer, Bitch , as most of them berated me when we had sex. They never believed they were Homosexual. They thought only I was, and that cleared their conscious. I was the talk of the town and everyone spoke behind my back, when I went anywhere. Look at that, it looks like a girl, but isn’t. See the Adams Apple ,and the muscles , and the thick bones. I was too old to pass, and would retire, soon as I am 18 years old. Yea, I have to retire, but first I have to work some more, because I promised myself, to make all the money I can until then. I think I also acquired a need for “Mano a Mano” interaction, I haven’t even looked at women as sexual objects, rather as images I tried to mirror in movement, talk and mannerisms. What a trip this has been. I even think about hormone therapy and maybe whacking the wiener off to get a pussy. Lately I climax with the man I’m with, even if it is giving a blow job. I must have developed a clitoris in my throat. I also can’t believe how large a cock I can swallow, one time I was a sword swallower with a 11in dick that disappeared down my throat until the young Cuban Polo Player’s nuts were smacking my lips. Where did it go, is what I questioned. I also had terrific climaxes when a large cock entered my derrière, and hit the G-spot with a massage type of motion sending my sperm skyrocketing into the Universe. I always flashed on this when I was bent over, because only girliemen would mount me in the missionary position where they could kiss me deeply, or suck my cock as they were deeply inside my tender young ass. I never believed I was a Faggot, or Queer, because I was thinking I was an Impersonator, that only was working a job, that paid well for a young man. Lately, I thought of myself as a sex object, and “Young Lady” wearing women’s haute culture, and letting my hair grow, buying expensive makeup and lipstick, and only going to the Cuban Club in Drag, where they called me “Chiquita”, like the banana people. I was learning Spanish, and acquired an accent that the “Snowbirds “ loved. They were the visitors from New York and Europe, avoiding the cold snow, and icy weather up north. I’d pretend to be a virgin, and it really got my clients “HOT”. I had a commitment to my vocation, and had Graduated from a little school girl, into an “Elegant Lady”, that had a gram a day coke habit, and had her hair and nails done every Thursday at the SPA. I had body wraps and mudpacks, massage and facials. I was in a stage of metamorphosis’ and it was exhilarating and sexy. The ladies I knew loved to gossip with me, because I had the skinny on what was and is Vogue. My New York Clients were repeat business. They were Businessmen and Politicians that lavished me with expensive gifts. My house looked like a Harem ,and I redecorated on a weekly basis. My diet was lots of supplements, with fresh squeezed juices and plates of fish or conch fritters, and a tenderloin every so often. My car was getting old with dings here and there, but low mileage, because I only took trips to Miami once a month, to go shopping at the malls. This was the beginning of the “Cocaine Trade”, and a few Clients were Columbian Smugglers, that had me ass fucking them, to enlarge their capacity as mules. One guy told me I would be a good mule because my ass was like a suitcase, and could carry as much as 2 kilo’s uncut, which turns into 8 pounds after “Manite Consenti” was added to dilute the potency to 50% rather than the 96% pure grade that was smuggled in. I wanted to quit “Hustling” and this seemed to have possibilities. I might become an Independent Mule, using my own money to finance the operation. I wouldn’t have any problem distributing because the business was being conducted in every Gay Bar in America. The “Scene” was the pipeline for this drug, that was the new symbol of success. Everyone was getting “HIGH”, on Cocaine, and nobody was dying in the early days or getting robbed. It was a gentlemen’s commodity, and used in every board room in America. All the Legal Experts needed it to read the fine print, and stay awake through the most boring procedures in a court room, as they snorted it up their noses in the confines of the nearest washroom. I wasn’t sure when, but I would start finding out How. Jorge Battista was my Patron at the Cuban Club and made $100,000 off of this “Chiquita”, whom he used as his personal Butt Boy, every so often. He would say to me, “Baby, you are the best Cocksucker in the World”. He’d tell me I looked more like a Lady everyday. Some man in Europe was running around, with the first sex change, and he encouraged me to think about it. I did, but I was fond of my dick and balls. Sometimes men squeezed my breasts, and sucked my titties, and I felt strange, like I was really was a bitch. I felt my feminine side was a remnant from a previous life. I was the reincarnation of Cleopatra, and fucked more men then she, or anyone like her in History. I was 18 years old, and confused on cocaine that was making me edgy, and explosive if anyone irritated me. Jorge had bouncers that I blew for free, just to leverage their help if I needed it. I only needed help a few times in 4 years, because most men walking on The Wild Side , demanded Discretion. A certain Congressman tied me up and gagged me before passing out, leaving me uncomfortable for 6 hours. When he awoke he was in a surly mood and rather than untying me he berated me as he masturbated in my face. I was miffed, but he paid me an extra $5,000 to keep it under wraps, as he called it. I never knew what to expect from the Latin Crewe, because they act so macho and all of them had semi-automatic guns strapped to their bodies with 2 extra clips. Usually they only wanted to dominate a gringo, but some were really wanting to be dominated to relieve their pent-up tension caused by a Catholic Conscious and upbringing. A few had memories of an aggressive Priest taking them into the rectory of the church school back in Havana and pulling down their pants for a good old fashioned spanking. Upon completion the Priest got so horny he couldn’t stop himself from raping that young man’s ass as a further punishment. The boys never told anyone, because they would forever be “Puta” a derogatory term for Queer. This one guy told me it reminded him of his youth, when all his 6 brothers used him in this fashion, until he was 12. He had learned to Love this attention, and missed it when they stopped. He was a large man 6’4” and 240 lbs.
I still laugh at the recollection of how he liked to get fucked in his ass with butter, as a lubricant, because if you stroked in and out real fast, it started to smell like popcorn. He never forgot, and visited me after every successful mission. I was beginning to see him once a week, and he always tipped me an ounce of pure cocaine afterward. I was going to use him as a contact for a pure connection. When I brought it up, he told me to acquire a passport, and we would take a journey, but I have to forget the Drag, and look Strait.
South America was dangerous for bitches like me, he said. They would sooner kill you than allow my particular breed exist. I was forbidden and Catholic’s condemned me to the eternal pits of Hell for my actions. Even though half of the boys in Havana had their butts reamed by the very Priest that distributed Communion and heard their Confessions. I told him it would take a month or so, I would let him know. He gave me a gift of one of the first cell phones that weighed about a pound and a half, was beige in color and crackled all the time from poor reception. It did work, and I was grateful and thanked him with a free ass fucking. He was married with 3 children, and his wife knew his special interest, and didn’t mind because he had convinced her, he needed to expand his capabilities as a mule. When I was 18 my cock had grown to a 9in beauty as thick as my wrist. I looked at many cocks and I have to admit mine, was the most handsome. It had a Regal Arch and looked formidable as a General of cocks men, even though I had a pussy next door, where my ass hole used to be. When I went home after that, I looked around at my harem inspired interior and my closet full of dresses, all my shoes and my makeup table and mirrors and felt a sense of loss or nostalgia even before I left. I didn’t wear the 9 wigs I had purchased anymore, but I had memories with them that had some incredible stories attached, and couldn’t get rid of them. I even had the little school girls outfit that didn’t fit anymore, for some obscure reason of connection. In a few years I will become an old Queen, and only have memories of that fleeting Beauty called, “Chiquita”. I needed this change, and would get my hair cut in Miami, buy some new suits, luggage, and male accessories and cologne, rather than perfume. I am going to be a handsome man with exquisite taste. I don’t know if I can get it up for a woman anymore. Its been over 4 years since that young Hooker in Alabama, and her brother James helped me out. I actually experienced this life as a woman at night and a butt boy, by day because the Scene in Key West in those days was very limited in the year 1965, when I was 18 years of age and very jaded. I was a twisted sister of the Love generation era, but cost $1,000 a night. How had my looks and body developed into that which I was? I wasn’t sure, but when I went shopping for my new identity, I couldn’t make up my mind up about male clothes or cologne. Jockey shorts were too tight and boxers were too big. I liked silk panties and the feel of nylons with a garter belt and falsies in a support bra. In 4 short years I had been changed, and I didn’t know if I could ever turn back.
Oh Well, we all have to make sacrifices and develop along with the times. I was a good person and believed in “God” even though I didn’t go to church. I always used his name when I was fucking. Oh GOD, Oh GOD, Oh GOD. Roberto Bajeranno Hernandez was to meet me at the Cuban Club to discuss our adventure south of the border. I was wearing a suit with my freshly applied male persona and nobody recognized, “Chiquita”. She only existed in my closet at home. I was wearing Polo for a fragrance rather than Channel #5, and smoked a cigar for effect. The door men charged me $10 at the door and didn’t recognize my previous self, as well as my friend and Patron Jorge, whom immediately tried to find out if I was interested in young boys that were ladies on the Wild Side. I asked what was available and he said his best was “Chiquita”, whom should be arriving shortly, that only cost $1,000 for the Very Best Blow Job, and a tight ass that looked like a girls. an had this little experienced movement when he/she was getting fucked. I dropped my sun glasses and laughed as Jorge recognized me, and joined me in laughter for a few good minutes. “Who would believe I could look and act like a man, when just yesterday I was a full blown transvestite in high heels. Today, I was wearing an Armani power suit and a Rolex with a 5 carat ruby ring and alligator accessories of shoes, belt and wallet. I even had masculine luggage and a Doctor’s bag made from a crocodile hide. I wore Ray Ban sun glasses and carried a cigar case with a butane lighter and cigar cutter made from 18carat GOLD. The Cuban cigars were a gift. I noticed a preferred treatment from other men, as though they placed me in a higher class of existence. They never snickered or mumbled like they did with my previous persona. I had arrived and was welcome into the Men’s Club. When Roberto arrived he walked right past and looked all over the Casino showing signs of frustration at my absence. I tugged his sleeve on his 4th time passing my stool and he was abrupt and defensive in Spanish at this intrusion. I raised my sun glasses and he still didn’t recognize me as he spoke a retort in Spanish to the effect that if I wouldn’t let go, I would be severely beaten. Roberto, Roberto, its me, “Chiquita”. He stared and looked deeply into my transformed face without makeup or lipstick and the signature ear rings made from Gold. “Chiquita you look like an F.B.I. agent or Corporate Shark without a dress. I didn’t even know you owned a suit.” was his surprised answer. “Have you received your passport” “I need to leave in a few days for Bogota.” Yes, Roberto I have everything packed and ready to go.” So, we agreed to meet in a few days in Miami in a luxurious Hotel. We only spent 20 minutes together an he had to leave. His one son had come along with his wife as mules, using them as baggage for illicit contraband she carry 2 kilo’s and the son could carry 1 up his ass, while the Father carried 1 and ½. That only cost $5 a gram in Colombia, and sold for $50 in Miami and sometimes $100 if it was cut with baby laxative to dilute the potency, and increase the profit. I sure hoped my ass could carry 2 kilo’s of pure without breaking or leaking, while in my body. I never did it before, and it could kill you if you didn’t pack it right for the 3 hour journey. I had never ridden in a plane and had apprehension over the experience. I rode 1st class and had a little over a quarter of a million in cash in my safe at home, with a little Queer looking out for my property. Let the journey begin. We met in Miami and boarded a United Airlines 727 on Sept 29th, 1966 coincidentally my 19th birthday. When we landed in Bogota, we had a limousine waiting for us and proceeded to “The Hotel Dann”. The Hotel was also a Casino and playground for the Rich and Famous. At $200 a night it was 5 stars plus Royal Service. The food was Excellent. I tried one of the most beautiful women escorts available, but couldn’t get an erection. I had ruined my libido and needed some good ass fucking and cock sucking to turn me on. It seemed funny how that had affected my life, but it had. In the morning we went in the country to meet some guy named Carlos who will show us samples. Roberto was well respected and only purchased the very best cocaine. We arrived at a compound protected by a private militia, and guard dogs snarling to get at our throats if let loose. Inside the Villa Came Rosa I saw a money machine counting a wall of money and making bundles of $10,000 as it clicked and clacked. They had millions if not tens of millions to count and another truck arrived while we were there. Everyone was a cocaine Addict, because the lines kept coming of the best I ever seen or tasted. We made our arrangements and paid up front for our package. I had to give a freebie to Carlos to seal the deal, and he was different than I imagined. He actually kissed me and “69’d” with me for a long time. Rather than just humping me like a dog, he left his large cock inserted all the way up my butt and just laid still for hours as I contorted my sphincter muscles to massage his penis from the inside without any hands. When he did climax it felt like an enema and immediately I ran to the bathroom to relieve myself and shower. He was sleeping when I returned, so I dressed and went back to Roberto and we returned to the Hotel. Roberto wanted me BAD and said he would ditch his wife and meet in my room. The cocaine was so good that I couldn’t wait and masturbated 2 times while waiting. He arrived and had me dance for him while he tried to attain an erection, to no avail. I even sucked his penis and nothing seemed to work. He was a broke dick this evening and so was I. My penis went flat and never aspired to its previous dimensions. Rather than a 9 in. wonder it resembled a 3 in. peanut. He left to go gambling and I tried to sleep in a cocaine induced trance. In a few days I’d return to Miami and Key West. Somehow I did sleep and awoke in time for a breakfast in bed. Roberto came over around noon complaining about crooked dealers who stole around $10,000 from him last night. His luck was bad in bed and at the table. I had never gambled so I didn’t sympathize with him. I just felt like I was working and making money. It was my 3rd day on my new job. I had a birthday that I didn’t celebrate, so I went down to the Hotel Jewelry Store and purchased a set of Emerald cuff links and a shirt they could be worn with. I saw some beautiful earrings, but thought I was finished dressing in Drag and impersonating that Bitch “Chiquita”. Lets see if I make it home and don’t get busted or I’ll have to be the Bitch again in Prison. I was coming down from last nights cocaine when Carlos showed up for some sex . He pushed easy a rock in my nostril and laid me on the bed. We undressed as we kissed and I attained an erection that looked larger as he sucked and licked me and I reciprocated with the same. We 69’d for an hour and than both climaxed at the same time. I really enjoyed myself with him, because he Loved me and I Loved him. I was for anything with this wildly handsome Latin man. We showered and washed my anus vigorously, because he wanted to eat my ass. He did for a few minutes and than positioned me doggy style few hours, because he couldn’t cum. I bucked and wiggled like a little girl cheer leader mounted by a quarterback. I Loved this man up my ass and in my mouth. I Loved fucking Carlos Lederer the Columbian Godfather, or so he said. Fuck me, Fuck me, Oh God, Oh God I thought I was in Heaven. Even when we were finished I felt a thrill and a shiver just being with him. I would never charge and never stop loving him. Oh Carlos, Oh Carlos you fuck me so Goooooood. We went out for dinner and than to the Casino where I blew on Carlos’s dice and he wagered and won at a game called craps. He was happy and took me into a jewelry store to purchase 2 gold chains. One for him and one for me. I couldn’t help but Love him more. I even told him that. You paid for them with pleasure was his answer to me before he left. Tomorrow we leave and I am sure excited. My package was a large condom filled with packed cocaine that looked like a dildo and weighted 2 kilo’s. Roberto told me to insert a suppository and wait ½ hour before inserting the package. He said that it was actually 6 condoms of protection and the opium in the suppository would tighten up my sphincter for the trip. It worked like aces in a card game and fit like a good old shoe. When we landed in Miami I pooped it out and cleaned it off in a restaurant bathroom at the airport. No drama or complications. Roberto told me that this first journey was FREE, because I was nice to Carlos. He had given me the cocaine for free and Roberto refunded the $10,000 I had paid. My ass was worth big bucks again and I was a happy camper. I am a GREAT FUCK. I Love My JOB.
I had only been gone a week, but I was older than my 19 years and immediately set up security systems to protect myself. There are Hustlers in every Tourist Destination that market drugs on wholesale as well as retail levels. The undercover cops concentrate on information gathered and disseminated, until a distributor is pin pointed, raided and divested of all his property. So, like all cocaine wholesalers, I stayed in the most expensive Hotel for security reasons. Its hard to pull off a rip-off with so many cameras and security staff. I had previously, on my trip to Miami purchased the “Gear “ used to cut cocaine and package it for distribution. I learned from a Pro and I had to package it an sell it immediately. I had a suite with a large living and dinning space that had a table with a glass top. I mounted 2 clip on lights that housed heat lamps. I open the condom enclosed package and it was compacted into a shiny solid mass. It glistened like rainbows ,and smelled like ether across the room. The allure was overwhelming
And took over my sense of propriety, I was Hooked. I had a grinder and began the process of grinding 2 kilo’s which was, 4.4 pounds of pure Bolivian Cocaine, well 96% pure. (I tested it with a hot box)I had an Ohaus balance scale with a container and 4 pounds of “Mannite Consenti” or the “Blue Lady” a brand of Italian Baby Laxative. Basically it is a milk sugar but tasteless when applied to this process. The kitchen area had a coffee grinder, which I used on the rock hard dildo made from pure cocaine. I was working. I am a chemist. I am a smuggler. I am a drug dealer. I need a gun. After a couple of whiffs I definitely needed a gun, or two, or maybe even a shotgun, so I don’t miss.
I closed all the drapes and it was so quiet, you could hear a mouse fart. I proceeded to grind both the cut and the pure, but first lopped off a good inch of the pure for my stash. I then used a sifter and blended the 8 pounds on the glass top table. Roberto had instructed me, so I could reconstitute “rocks” for the “GRINGO” who would buy it for the Northern Market.
I took Everclear Alcohol which was 200 proof, 100% and used a, “turkey baster” to drip onto the pile and turn the heat lamps on to dehydrate the drops causing a cake like effect and making new rocks in 15 minutes. You don’t want to use anything else, because you don’t want to discolor it or lose the shine.
After, that process I weighed out 8 pounds and sealed them in a seal a meal system, creating a moisture free container and doubled the process for less vulnerability from breakage in handling. You could toss them a hundred yards and they would stay intact. I than placed the packages in the room safe and tried to sleep, counting the money I was going to make. I drifted off and slept in as I tried to grasp what I had done. I shaved and showered and dressed casual on my way to Miami to purchase a weapon, or 2, or 3 or more. First I went home to my little conch house of squalor. It really looked dingy compared to the digs I’ve had lately, and no room service. Well, everything was fine and my Gay neighbor was Happy to See Me. I Gave him a Blow Job for being such a good Friend. He didn’t last 5 minutes until the sperm was spilling out of my mouth. I retrieved my key and entered an empty home belonging to a circus freak.
There was a Chinese Dragon Head for Celebration that greeted you at the front door. Oriental Carpets everywhere on top of more Oriental Carpets, creating layers and “ART” and Photo’s of “Chiquita” everywhere. Looks like a conceited little bitch, especially dresses like a French Maid when she dated “Russo”, that Mob Boss from up north that liked to wear a diaper and be spanked and powered at the same time. A ridicules’ sight of an extremely powerful person crying like a baby, and being spanked by the maid, and then powdered an sung too, as he suckled a pacifier. I did that a dozen times for the gangster, doing what the client needed to resume his stressful career. He on the other hand was generous to a fault.
After the first visit he sent me a Louis Vuitton Steamer Trunk, like entertainers used for all their worldly possessions full of Ladies garments and accessories carrying all sheik and trendy type of “Gear”. I called “Russo” and told him I had a pipeline to “The Lady” which meant I was a source for cocaine out of Key West. I also stayed in the Hotel, secure that my Life Savings were safe at home, in my safe. He said he would send down some nephews to get laid. This meant couriers to eavesdropping ears. He found 14 bugs or eavesdropping microphones in his home and business, planted by the Feds and His Familia. Now he even had a attaché case that could sniff out these devices, and do stress analysis on voices, to see if people are lying. 1966 was a New Age of Technology.
The next day 2 Beautiful Italian Men met me in the Lobby of the Hotel and we sat in the 5 star restaurant for a few hours. They treated me as a man and acted very strait until the subject of Homosexuality arose, and “Freddy” got an erection. I know the signs of a ready, willing and able person and suggested that “Emilio” wait at the pool bar and observe the premises while we retrieve a sample for their own perusal. I never met them and had to do a dry run with “Freddy” the representative of the Russo family. 8 pounds up north is $400,000 and I don’t trust anyone. I have a gun in the small of my back in a holster. It is a 25 caliber semi auto Berretta. I have a Colt 45 under the seat in my car. I have a shotgun in the closet at home. Fully loaded. I do cocaine, smuggle cocaine, and market cocaine. Freddy enters the room and says, “I can smell coke in this room.” I had a sample on the counter top uncut. It was from my personal stash. We snorted a couple of lines and he looked me in the eyes with liquid pools of mystery. Black holes that drew me into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth, as he immediately humped me on the sofa. We tore our clothes off and he laid me down in the missionary position and began to wrap my legs around his neck, as he inserted his pulsating member in my ass, and my erection in his mouth. I have been so horny on this coke, I didn’t even need a lubricant. He fucked like a rabbit and we were ejaculating within 5 minutes. He arose quickly and headed for the shower as I headed for the crapper. After we both showered and dried off he came over to the bed and placed his hard cock in my mouth. It was tan and long and thin just like him. I had a mouth full of cum in a few short minutes and he was laughing and speaking Italian, that I was experiencing a movie effect, as though I were an observer. We got dressed and He announced that it was his fantasy as soon as he met me, but if I divulge any information about that, “I have to Die“. He than got down to Business and quoted me the price they were willing to pay, which was $25,000 a pound or $300,000 for the whole shipment. 50% down or $150,000 cash and the remainder within 30 days. Hell Yes, bring me the money, Ching, Ching. My new job paid for my new lifestyle, and I still can pursue my passion and desires. I’ll have 30 days to wait for payment and then return to Bogota for a cocaine dildo. Return to Key West and my new Hotel room registered under a phony I.D. that cost me $500 and passed scrutiny when I cashed checks on that account in that name. It was so weird to be so many people and using drugs that made you paranoid, sometimes staying in the room with all the lights off peeking through the drapes looking for secret agents or rip-offs and had to figure out a safe place to stash. I bought a yacht built in Boston Mass. Called “Safe Sojourn” flying a British Honduras Flag and it was 47’10” with a 16” span made completely from hardwoods by “Hinckley”, in Boston, Mass. In 1955.
I hauled the boat out of the water and shored it up in a boat yard on Stock island. I than acquired a junk yard dog named “Wolfe” and stored my Louie Vuitton Steamer Trunk onboard, secured behind 2 locked doors holding a million and a half of money made in one year, plus all the things I purchased at the duty free stores. I had 15 bottles of Louis the 14th Cognac from France ,and an extensive list of expensive wines from all over the world. Every Gourmet Item that interested me throughout my travels, including Caviar and Truffles, as well as jars of herring, olives, peppers, and containers made for the Galley that were unassailable in rough weather. I had a gas refrigerator installed, as well as a gas grill hanging over the fantail. All the knives, guns, and ammo as well as scuba gear for 2 including shark darts, and 2 band spear guns. I installed a fish finder, and a “Loren’s” system as well as a ship to shore, in case my cell phone didn’t work. My occupation ended, when Roberto was found in small pieces by his wife in their garage in their Villa outside of Bogota. It marked the beginning of, “The Drug War” and I was a Deserter. I was Out of the Game. It was 1967 and I was 20 years old, and because of all my free time I had become a, “Workout Freak” creating a disciplined and healthy lifestyle, except for my daily consumption of cocaine. I said I would quit everyday for 2 years, and it seemed impossible. I was a business Man now and hadn’t fucked or sucked a cock in 6 months, it wasn’t my job anymore. I spent countless hours working on my boat and my dog Wolfe became a very dear friend, that viciously defended the boat, and its hidden stash. When anyone asked I told them I was a Trust Fund Baby, and My Father is an Industrial Manu factor Up North. I never shared anymore information than that and only had a few friends that could recognize me .
“Chiquita” had died a few years ago, was the talk on the street. No funeral and no flowers spelled the sum total of her existence. My neighbor still watched my conch house that was like a mausoleum for her, “Chiquita‘s” deceased artifacts. I was still paying rent and one day, I just decided to get rid of everything and donate it to my neighbor who had been my trusted friend. I moved out of the Hotel scene that housed me for the last year for between $200 to $400 a night and worked on my boat until completion. I launched it on the day I called Russo, and told them I had to take a break for a month or two or three. I still had the Chevy Impala convertible that got wet because the top was missing after I got jammed in Miami for a few days, and left it on a side street, where someone cut it all up, for taking their parking space; as inscribed on the hood with a knife. It still ran, and I had made good use of that 1963 Chevy. So, out of consideration for poor people I found a woman around 30 living in a trailer park with 5 kids in a small Airstreams trailer, and donated the car with $1,000 to her for good Karma. My yacht was in the water and I bought a new dingy, with a motor to get back and forth, as well as a small Italian scooter that strapped to my deck and fit in the dingy. I bought new sail and tack and read books on the ocean and navigation. I was a self taught sailor, that never set foot on the sea. I thought I was ready for anything, so I made plans for a shake down cruise with a companion to go to Jamaica, Purto Rico, St Croix, and who knows wherever is anyways. I picked up a sailor by posting an ad ,in the local paper and had dozens of replies. The one that interested me was a girl from a sailing background, that knew all the terms, and could tie all the knots. Her name was Carol and she was sexy in a male sort of way, instructing me to drop my drawers and get all the introductions out of the way. I was nervous at first, but her mannish mannerisms were a turn on for me and I let her blow my peanut, into a large erection, that eventually, she sat on, and gave me the first lap dance of my life. I liked her, and maybe she would do a reorientation of my libido, and restore my confidence in myself, with the opposite sex. She only wanted to travel and expected no pay. She immediately took charge of the boat as though she had known it her whole life and gave me the phone numbers, and social security numbers, as well as the last 3 captains numbers, that fired her for being a dyke. Every port in the Caribbean she had visited and had friends. But, when she was a drunken sailor, she always ended up in the rack with a sweet young thing that wanted to be dominated by a dyke. I didn’t mind I told her, as long as I can share sometimes, when she allowed me. I called everyone with her there, so she could find out what my decision was going to be. She is Honest, but Bad Tempered When Drunk and can drink everyone under the table. My kind of girl. I said get your gear, and she said she didn’t have any, because it got left in a car that had picked her up and sped off when she relieved her self at a pit stop. O.K we’ll buy you gear as we go along. She asked to use the shower and borrow some clothes, because we were about the same size. I allowed her to pick something out of my cabin while I was there, and didn’t notice any greed in her eyes. I really liked Carol. She chose a sailors basic blue set of Levi’s and T-shirt with a windbreaker, and a pair of underwear, in a plastic bag, sealed since the day of purchase. She chose a pair of silk boxers and upon deployment showed me their fit for approval. We had a sound system, with on-deck waterproof speakers, as well as a library of tapes, that were called an 8 track system. I also had a radio and antenna on the top of the mast.
We decided to go around Cuba and visit “Haiti”. I was learning how to sail and she was an Expert, This was a match made in Heaven. The first night we had steak and potatoes grilled, with redfish and fresh salad. The sunset was beautiful, and I opened a bottle of French wine, from the Valley of Margeaux . After dinner she did the dishes, and we began talking about ourselves, as we drank expensive Cognac. I had some stash of cocaine, and lined us up, for a leisurely night time cruise. At 8 knots an hour under sail, we could make 200 or more miles a day. We were off the coast of Cuba in 8 hours, so we were faster than I thought under sail power. I never got sea sick and she remarked that I must be a “Natural”. When we arrive in Haiti a half cop/peasant/extortionist approached us with a Mickey Mouse badge, and demanded payment . He brandished a bush knife 2 feet long and I pulled out my shotgun and told him to fuckoff as we weighed anchor for a more sensible location. Carol told me ,that there were land sharks everywhere in the Caribbean. Some Dictator controlled Haiti named Papa Doc Duvalier, and he was some kind of Voodoo Priest that made Zombies out of his enemies. I’ll shoot the zombies, so they don’t have to worry anymore. We decide to continue south and layover for a few days offshore in a cove uninhabited, on the southernmost part of the Island and fished for Grouper and Snapper until our fish box was full. She knew how to use the grill as a smoker, because I had a bag of hickory chips I was going to use for flavor. She cleaned the fish and filleted it throwing the guts over the side and soon we had Guests in the form of Reef Sharks devouring the scraps. Now we had smoked fish that would keep for a very long time that tasted absolutely delicious. I had a small fridge stuffed to the hilt. We took off for St. Croix where her friend ran a Bar in Fredrickstaed, on the Strand facing the Ocean with a Freeport Marina guarded by the U.S Navy who used the port for it sailors that were in the submarine corps. They were at sea for 6 months at a time, and could let out their frustrations in a unpopulated Island port that didn’t care, because Cruzan’s were crazier than them. Cruzan’s are a mixture of Blacks from Africa that worked the sugar plantations, and Indians from the Islands, as well as the remnants of the Dutch, who bred everything that moved. It was a perfect place to rest. We went ashore and explored. I forgot to mention my trustworthy dog who never is in the way and on guard 24/7. I jumped in the Zodiac and so did Carol as we zipped to shore to be greeted by the children that gathered to greet us. Little children tugging at our sleeves talking in pidgin and motioning to their mouths like hungry birds. I started to pass out dollars and a full grown man with long dreadlocks approached, and told me to stop feeding these pirates, that were ruining the tourist trade, for good merchants like him. He owned a Bar and Restaurant and hadn’t any Tourists in a few days. Rum was a $1 a bottle and beer was $.50 We ate at his place a full lobster dinner with yams and collard greens and black beans with Spanish rice, for $3 a plate. I gave him $10 and asked if he served Breakfast. He stated that we could wake him up at 3 or 4 and he would make the best omelets we ever had.
We shuttled back out to the boat, full and content, and safe with the military presence in the harbor. This sailor thing was growing on me fast, and I wanted to go everywhere. I know now why Columbus traveled to the edge of the Earth. Wolfe barked early in the morning and frightened some fishermen cruising too close to our vessel. He was really a great alarm system with growling and snapping effects, to deter the most able and competent pirate. He was an Island dog, and would eat anything in his bowl, but smart enough to leave everything else alone. He only ventured in to the cabin to sleep under the navigational table, and spent almost all his time on deck. He slept when we were awake, as though he understood the need for security. Intelligence was his greatest asset ,and his understanding of the situation could be conveyed in a look. I really Loved that dog. The weather changed quickly and the storm clouds headed our way. We had a full rain and tossing seas for3 days of sea sickness on my part. Yes, I was earning my sea legs. After every storm it became so tropical, and everything so green, that everyone in this Island came outdoors, to talk story and buy provisions. We stayed a few more days enjoying the sanctuary and peace of the Island of St. Croix. I wanted to visit the other side called, “Christiansted” and enjoy some tourist interaction, but first I would visit the Rum Factory where I purchased 2 (50 gallon) drums of their best rum and shipped it to Jorge in Key West for the Cuban Club. It only cost me $500 and was well worth it, for the supreme quality that it was. You could drink a whole bottle and get real drunk, but no hangover. I tried it a few times. It was really good booze. Carol, also wanted a couple of days with her friend that lived in an old sugar mill plantation windmill, that had been renovated into a two story dwelling, with a deck for viewing on top. Her friend was a lady in her thirty’s that smoked cigars, and swore like a sailor. She actually had a heart tattoo that was dedicated to “Carol”, hmmm I wondered, but never asked. They drive on the wrong side of the road way too fast, and I almost got killed a few times by forgetting where I was. Almost like monkeys gone wild in cars, screeching and motioning their fear, as well as inability to trust their own skills. I planned to visit St. Thomas and St. John as well as the British Virgin Isles. I should find a bank that is in possession of international respect, and allows discreet off-shore accounts. I hear from the ex-patriot community that a place called, “The Grand Cayman’s” has been set up for that particular purpose, and will be the first destination only 300 nautical miles away. We left late and arrived early because of a westerly wind blowing 30 knots for 2 days of vigorous sailing in white capped seas that spoke of an oncoming storm. I could barely lift the trunk into the dingy and it almost sunk the zodiac, but Carol was an experienced hand and saved the day. She asked me what was so heavy and I replied a couple of million in cash and an assortment of Gold and Silver Bars and Jewelry given to me by “Chiquita” whom died a few years ago. Her reply was a laugh and the comment, “You Bet”. We acquired a taxi that drove us to the nearest Bank, in time for the morning business. The cabbie helped me and I tipped him graciously with a crisp $20, a weeks wages for one ride. The Banker had no patronage as of late, and he greeted us with good coffee and breakfast served in his office. I motioned to my trunk and asked if I could open an off-shore account. He smiled and assured me the fund would be safe as any place in the world because they had a new vault and alarm system and belonged to an international association that insured its contents from any problem with Lloyds Of London Insurance Company Approval. When I said a couple of million, he choked on his food, and had to be resuscitated to normalcy. We spent 4 hours counting the money twice, and unwrapping and rewrapping $10,000 bundles. Carol was Star Struck after viewing the treasure. She had never seen such a horde of money and jewels. I had 8 trays of rings and Gold chains and 9 Gold Bars that weighed a kilo a piece. I had 20 kilo’s of silver ingots in a canvas bag that would go into a safety deposit box. My future and my past under lock and key. What an Adventure. I was plumb tuckered out, but felt safety for the very first time on this wonderful journey. The Banker gave me three receipts and a secret code for our communication if I needed a wire transfer. I listened to Carol’s apprehension about my finances and her plans to find a new boat to occupy. This was because she was sure I was a Bank Robber, or worse than that a Smuggler. She was a Dyke Sailor and needed a quiet and cozy lifestyle, without worry of change and on and on and on. I told her that it was my inheritance and if she wanted to return, to Miami I’d pay for her flight out of the Cayman Islands. No, she decided to “karmic” intuition instructing her as to the right time. I was so relieved that I broke out another bottle of good wine and tenderloins with cognac after dinner. I still had a stash of that pure cocaine and we got so messed up, we had sex like normal people. We kissed and fondled, as we rolled around with me on the top, and her on the bottom. I fucked her, and fucked her until she had a climax that wet the bed, with the fluid of pent up LOVE. She cried like a little girl whimpering statements of undiscernibly primitive origin. After, we cuddled and
Slept a deep sleep of content an satisfaction. I woke up to the sound of someone inquiring a presence, and wanting permission to board my boat. I threw on some shorts ,only to find a gorgeous young man with a beautiful body inquiring safe passage to wherever we were headed in exchange for the laborious act of cooking and swabbing the decks . He was bumming around for a few years in the Islands and He was a seeker of Truth and Understanding of the Universe.
I laughed, and liked his easy going manner. I asked if he had references, and he said yes, but he also had debts with the Bar and Restaurant where he had worked for the previous 6 months. I got dressed and took him in the dingy to get the information from his employer. Well, his name was “JAH MON” and the previous boss said he played like a big spender, to impress the numerous female conquests that were tourists. He charged more than he made, at his own place of work, as well as tabs in a few other establishments. I agreed to help him out, because I knew Carol was deciding her fate and it included going somewhere I wasn’t. It cost $1,100 to clean up his debt and leave on good terms with everyone celebrating our departure like we were long lost friends. When we returned early in the morning around 3 A.M. Wolfe barked and snarled at our arrival and Carol greeted us with the shotgun aimed in our direction, but lowering it at our recognition.
She was so worried because we were gone so long and didn’t know what to do until morning, when she could swim toward shore. I told her JAH MON was joining us and he was the boat cook and dishwasher. She immediately liked the accommodation, because it was her previous position. I asked, “Jah Mon” to pick
A bunk and went to the main salon to crash for a couple of hours. When I woke 5 hours later, he had breakfast ready and was whistling a happy tune. Carol was beaming and we discussed our journeys direction over the navigation table. I broke out some lines and everyone was a willing participant in the orgy that developed. JAH MON had a beautiful body that pleased men and women without regard to orientation. We had a wild time on the boat for three weeks and 5 Islands visits where we went ashore for provisions and dog food for Wolfe. I had a deck step installed on the fantail and the dog always crapped there, so it self cleaned with the next little wave. He was so intelligent and security conscious that I never questioned his attitude. If he didn’t like someone there was a reason. I trusted his instincts. Well when we got to Trinidad there were smugglers and people that supplied smugglers and wannabe smugglers all approach us in every bar and restaurant. I denied interest, but my stash was low and I found a Dealer Bar/Restaurant Owner, that I felt I could trust, and purchased an ounce for $300. We weighed anchor and headed back North, stopping everywhere along the way, for a few months of sightseeing and fishing in the warm tropical nights, as the winter was in full swing Up North. I thought a lot and was ready to settle down some where for a few years. I was bored and even stopped fucking my mates for a few weeks. Carol wanted to go to Miami and visit friends without dicks. She hit me up for severance pay, and I said I would give her a grand, when we reached Key West. JAH MON didn’t complain and was constantly cleaning and polishing everything. He never let me fuck him in the ass, because he was a virgin, and I resented that. He had fucked me 20 times in 2 months and even while I licked Carols pussy, and she watched me wiggle and squirm as JAH MON stroked in and out of my ass. He was a Good Stud, but never believed there was pleasure in getting ass fucked yourself. When I tried to talk about it he was embarrassed. I just left Him alone, but would have Loved to Fuck Him. Maybe I was a twisted sister, turning into an, Old Queen of The Gypsy’s, as I developed with age. We arrived back in Key West, with golden tans and long hair and beards, as we used the Zodiac to ferry Carol and her acquired goods ashore. She had spent 3 months of Quality time, and we never had an argument or temper tantrum, even in the worst storms or as we weaned ourselves from cocaine use and sexual desire simultaneously, as though someone threw a switch that said NO. I was sober and celibate for 2 weeks since our last stay in the Caymans, where I went to visit my Bank, and found everything secure. I gave Carol $5,000 just because the Bank didn’t rob me. I was ecstatic and pulled out a set of emerald earrings from my safety deposit box as a memento. She gave me a deep tongue in the mouth kiss that tasted like JAH MON’s dick. I know because, He had a certain Flavor different than anyone else. She caught a cab and JAH MON and I headed toward Sloppy Joe’s Bar to get some local flavor and get drunk. There were new businesses opening and operated by Snowbirds that arrived and didn’t go home. Tourists coming and going, up and down the Highway 101. Just to eat a meal and head back to Miami in the same day. I sailed up to the base yard on Stock Island and had the boat hauled out of the water and shored up, in the same space it used before. I had millions in the Bank in the Caymans and a desire to do some smuggling again. The Russo’s had left many messages in the three months I was gone. I called the nephews with a plan of partnership with JAH MON whom didn’t know anything about my past or history. When I asked, he professed undying LOVE for his Captain. He was GAME for it if he was going to make money like me. I was so Happy I Blew Him right then on the boat.
He tasted just like Carols last kiss, I knew it when he agreed. She had blown him before leaving the boat. That dyke was a good cocksucker. He was a stud. He always arose for the occasion, but didn’t think he was GAY. The nephews arrived in a week in a Heavy Metal Car, a 1968 Plymouth Charger with a big block motor and a hydra stick transmission. It was painted orange and was loud in the exhaust with Crager Mags and leather interior. They looked like gangsters and were armed and dangerous Mafia dope dealers. We lived on the boat and met the guys in a restaurant on the Ocean to discuss business. They had been scoring in New York from some Puerto Rican, that was robbing them with weak cocaine. I agreed to find some for their constant supply needs ,and arranged to meet Jorge at the Cuban Club for information. Jorge was discreet about affairs with men, but held me in both hands and kissed me long and hard right at the Bar announcing “Chiquita’s” return. We went upstairs where it looked dusty and dingy and I felt like I was in someone’s home, that was suffering from Depression. He couldn’t get an erection and cried like a baby. I comforted him and suggested he lay off the cocaine, and booze for a month like I intended. I was already clean for 2 weeks from cocaine, after 2 years of constant use. I was planning to make money as a smuggler, and intended on working hard to stay clean for a year. Let see what happens, sometimes you have to use it if its there. Well, Jorge’s cousin had a shrimp boat full of “Mota” which was Columbian Red and Gold marijuana, as well as 50 kilo’s of Bolivian Flake Cocaine. They had to pay cash, so we waited until a mule carried down the money, as we relaxed in the sunny tropical sun. I got him a good price of $1,500,000 for everything on the boat, except transportation, which they were required to supply. I made $500,000 on that one deal because the boat held 2 tons of pot, that was wrapped in 40 to 50 pound bales wrapped in plastic. We rented 2 U-haul trucks with phony I.D’s and loaded them up with the pot as they put the 50 kilo’s of cocaine in the Charger. The Pot you could smell 50 feet away, and I wished them Luck, because it was a long trip to Boston. It was JAH MON’s first deal, so I gave him $50,000 for his effort in loading, and being involved in our Business together. He spent all night counting his money, bewildered and star struck, exclaiming I could fuck him in the ass if I was Gentle. I was delighted and felt better about him, after he climaxed and shot a load across the room in the Hotel we had for the night. He said WOW, a few times as I hit his G spot. We slept together as close as brothers can get. We had bonded totally. I was a booty-bandit, and not the least bit ashamed. I gave him $50,000 and FUCKED HIM IN THE ASS!!!!!
I only get a GRAND, and I am depressed……….
I WISH SOMEONE WOULD PAY ME $50,000 TO FUCK ME ANY WAY WHICH WAY, BUTT LOOSE……..
I NEVER GOT MORE THAN $5,000 WHEN YOU REALLY ARE ACCOUNTABLE. I WAS PAYING FOR THAT EXCLAMINATION OF MY FIRST MATE EXCLAIMING,”YOU CAN FUCK ME IN THE ASS IF YOU ARE GENTLE.” I HAVE LOVED HIM EVER SINCE. I GO FOR VIRGINS, NO MATTER WHATEVER THE COST. I SPENT 4.5 MILLION ON VIRGIN CONGRESSMEN, ALONE. IF I ONLY COULD HAVE AFFORDED THE PRESIDENT. I DID AFFORD HIS WIFE, JUST CHECK OUT THE RECORD OF HOW I GOT FREE IN A CASE IN NEW JERSEY THAT WAS HELD AGAINST ME
I HAVE A PLAN TO USE MY YACHT AS A TOURIST VESSEL, AND AT THE SAME TIME PART OF THE “PIRATE FLEET.”
THE YACHT IS ALL WOOD AND BEAUTIFUL IN ITS REGAL STATUS AS IT ENTERS ANY HARBOR. A “HINKLEY” AROUND 57’10” WITH A SYSTEM OF PANELS THAT WERE CALLED A “PIVAR SYSTEM” IT HELPED TO KEEP THE BOAT AFLOAT BY HAVING A MINI-COMPARTMENT HULL, DESIGNED TO BE REPAIRED AND NOT ABANDONED, EVEN IF THERE WAS A BREECH. A BREECH EXPIERANCED ON ONE MISSION CARRYING A TON OF WEED IN BALES USED FOR “BELOW DECK” STORAGE KNOWN AS “DONNAGE” THE HEMP HELPED WITH BOYANCY AND STABILIZATION. THE COMPARTMENT BREACH WAS A 5 IN. HOLE CAUSED BY AN AGGRESSIVE CORAL OUTCROPPING ON AN UNCHARTED ISLAND. “KEY WEST” WAS A BOOM TOWN IN 1971 AND I HAD A FEW INTERESTS, AND OLD SMUGGLER FRIENDS AS I DEVELOPED MY LIFE OF ENTERTAINMENT. I WASN’T A SPRING CHICKEN AND AT THE OLD AGE OF “24”, I TRAVELED EXTENSIVELY TO “PROMOTE” AND “DISTRIBUTE” THE NEW CULTURE EVERYWHERE I WENT,
WITH EVERYONE I KNEW. “JAH MON” LEFT AFTER HIS FIRST MILLION AND ESTABLISHED A BEAUTIFUL RESTUARANT IN GAUTEMALA, “LAKE ATTILAN”, “IN A SLEEPY LITTLE INDIAN VILLAGE, WHERE THE LARGE MOUTH BASS, SWALLOW YOUNG DUCKS FOR BREAKFAST.” CALLED “PANAHANSCHAL“.
One Day I was a Captain, with a Yacht, and over 9 Million in Cash in an Off-Shore Account in the Cayman Islands and I was able to Invest in an International Conglomerate, that fueled the Tourist Industry, with Investors, that needed a safe haven for their excessive cash accounts. I was all male again, and hadn’t been a butt-boy for 7 months and had no desire after evaluating the Discrimination Effect in my Business World, of Smugglers and, Killers, and Businessmen. They were created of the same determination. If they suspect weakness they get their Predator Freakiness On! Your Own Family Will Throw You In The Dirt. Get Real. there is A Total Discrimination Against Adults Enjoying Anal Sex. In 24 states you cannot enjoy “Cocksucking” in Public as a Giver or Receiver and I have fond Memories of Both of those positions. Our Sex is our Business. Just stop investigating Human Behavior! You will always be shocked at the outcome. I decided to donate my yacht to the next Generation of Smugglers in the “CONCH NAVY”, with a payment plan if they were successful, by 1975 it was all under surveillance, and you were Lucky or Not. I had ( 9 million) enough, and decided to become a “Trekker.” The Intrigue and Mystery of The Orient was calling to me and I was leaving on a journey that would take me to 54 countries , as an American Artist Oil-Painter and Portrait Artist in Bars and Cafes, using pencil or pen ,on napkins, in exchange for drinks and sexual favors. I decided to Fuck The World. One Person At A Time. Wolfe, was my friend and companion, but refused to be a landlubber and went with his yacht as its owner. Therefore, if they got busted, he was the boss and made all the decisions and paid off all the debts.
I wonder how that worked out, I never saw either again, I hope they had High Adventure like I did.
We only have one Life to completely fuck up. I was getting better everyday, enjoying Life and Living. Looking Back is never any Good, Dream Forward. I can only be Grateful toward “GOD” the Creator of all my Life’s Experiences. I am Spiritual, rather than Religious otherwise I would start a New Religion that used ceremonial sex/drama’s instead of Masses. I got Fucked in the ass for your sins, type of Imagery for a sacrifice, rather than Crucifixion. I could see New Holidays like, “The First Penetration” “The Farthest Ejaculation” and to replace Christmas, “The Daisy Chain” where all the boys are trying to make a continued effort to circumvent the Planet with a Fucking Conga Line. Every year they failed to stay connected due to flaccid penis problems. Ha! Ha! I am sure if I ran for President, I could stop War in most instances with a Blow Job or letting North Koreas Top Brass fuck me in the ass, in exchange for stopping their Nuclear Arms Program. Those little dicks would be a pleasant massage. As your President I would admit being Commander in Chief of the first Gay Military since Sparta. If you want Advancement you have to Blow your Senior Officers, or Let your Sergeants fuck you up the ass. If your good at that, you could be a General in no time at all. I think it is already like that. Colin Powell gives Great Head and Has a Pussy for an asshole that self-lubricates. How did that Happen? Well, I’ve always been “CRAZY”. In 1975 I was broke, because I left my money in a Bank in the Cayman Islands with an unscrupulous Banker. A DR. Anthony Laeyetta. Noticing that my account was stagnant for a few years he forged a Death Certificate and Last Will and Testament leaving everything to a long lost cousin that disappeared with everything including my goods in the Safety Deposit box. I was in India searching for Peace and Contentment without material dependence. You really have to be careful of what you are thinking and how it affects your Real and True Existence. I made 2 million of that money hustling my Ass. Now, I lose over 10 million and I don’t even care. No regrets and no deeds or titles or suits or ties or even shoes anymore. I moved to Hawaii to become a surfer, musician, artist, poet, and writer of the early days, (and my specific outlook as a discarded youth) in the streets and alleys of the world. The living underbelly of humanity. The truth about “Homeless Wealth” and “Make The Government Pay” theories. A lesson plan for Insurance Fraud with a list of licensed Quack Doctor’s and Lawyers that Lie for a buck, for only $19.95 I am getting involved with the new Industry of Personal Computers and Steve Jobs has a plan to call his model “Apple” a logo with a bite taken out of an apple image. I am going to be 30 in the year 1977 and become a Manufactures Representative, to use my skills with people and travel and arrange Representation in countries I have been, with people that I know. I have been straight for over 2 years at this point because a new disease called “AIDS” or HIV is killing off all the young men that are hustling. They have put ass fucking out of business, in this life, for me, but I don’t even look at cocks anymore, and always have a whore in my bed. Young whores that are fun and crazy. They let me play out roles, using positions I learned in the “EAST”. I have a beard and mustache at times and look athletic in build. I can run a Marathon and swim all day. I use a new bicycle system called “Mountain Bike” and eat Organic foods as well as belonging to Gold’s Gym, which is everywhere Apple Home Business Computers are being made in a plant in Waukegan, Illinois and I have friends in Racine, Kenosha, and Milwaukee that have Businesses and would enjoy a visit even if they don’t buy a toaster from me. I visit the plant and meet an old friend in shipping that knows I am a manufactures Rep. and arranges to meet me at a local restaurant for lunch, on Him. He tells me I can purchase a unit for $999 no tax, on any given workday through him, a maximum of 5 unit’s a day. The retail is $1,800 and I write him a check for $5,000 to start up our connection and get my wholesale business underway. I run them up to Wisconsin and sell them to retailers for $1,500 and the General Public for the full retail. I am able to unload every shipment in a few days and I find software bundles I add as a bonus to close the deal with independent businesses. I am breaking the law, but the enforcement isn’t online at the time and this new high-tech gear is unfathomable to your garden variety cops who become some of my customers. I feel almost normal and have a bulging Bank Account in Ireland. I am fucking women on the road that I pick-up in bars and impress with my Worldly Knowledge and Exquisite Taste. I still think about my youthful experiences and they have forever ruined my ideas of normal. I need to imagine a rape scene in order to cum and ejaculate, with me being the victim and surrendering my virgin ass. Sometimes the perpetrator is a White Art teacher from Texas, and than a Cuban Image with a purple cock, sometimes a Chinese guy with a small cock trying to be a big boy and The Big Bad Black Man with a 11 inch throbbing muscle taking deep strokes up my ass. Oh well, fantasy used to be my Reality, but for the most part, I am glad those days are gone. I don’t even know why I stayed Hustling soooooo long. I never thought I was Gay even when I crossed dressed in key West 24/7. I had convinced myself I was working an impersonation job that required my ass to be used as a trampoline in this Special Olympic Game. Make that $1,000 a night, and soap and water will wash all the residue away. I was wrong, because I never had any coaching in my morality or right decision making factors and resented my Family for never even caring. When I played the prodigal son and returned ,I was questioned about my reasons, with a final statement of “What Do You Want”? I had been gone 16 years and never missed. I bounced out of the state with $30,000 made in 2 months as a Rep. My next Destination was Hawaii. I would move to The Big Island and seek Peace and Harmony near a Live Volcano that had wilderness land for $5,000 an acre. I wanted to pursue Art and Music and Surf for the remainder of my days. I landed on Maui and moved to Paia, to a two bedroom plantation style house on Fireman’s Lane. It was a quiet plantation town where surfers gathered to surf Hookipa and Baldwin where The Big Waves showed up in the winter. I bought a long board and learned to paddle out and stand-up and surf in one day. I went over the falls a few times and almost drowned everyday. I got tan and healthy and visited Lahaina a few times a week for Entertainment and Restaurants cruising ladies and making friends. I stayed at the Pioneer Inn for $28 a night, and started selling small paintings under the Banyan tree. I had a really mellow time and life was good. I left for the Big Island to get into Agriculture and Marijuana cultivation because that culture had a large demand. I purchased a lot in Kalapana Gardens, in view of an active Volcano and close to Drainpipes a beautiful beach and wave to surf as well as Kaimu Bay a few blocks away. They had a store called “Walter’s” run by an old Chinese Guy and his wife “Maize.” I got a truck and a dog and prepared to build a house with a real permit and landscape it, to create my Shangri-la here in Paradise. It was a perfect area for growing and prospering so I spent all my savings on building and collected food stamps to eat. I was a starving artist with a, “Dream Forward” and no looking Back. A young surfer named Richard bought some land that he named for the turtles, called “Kalani Honua”, that he was going to develop into a Retreat. I worked as a carpenter and electrician as well as painter totally stoned out of my gourd, on the best reefer I ever smoked. It was local Kalapana Kine. I know the work was quality and the community “Richard” developed became a meeting and gathering space for everyone into new ideas and a new way for living. I sold beads and small oil/canvas landscapes everywhere I went. My boats name became my properties motto, “Safe Sojourn”. I first hired the local Heavy Equipment Operator, Henry to meet me At the property with a CAT dozer. It was a Large blade attached to a strong Diesel engine and was heavy metal construction so the jungle and lava were no match. I had placed poles with red flags all over the property so he had an idea of where he was going to scrape. We agreed it would take all day and he would give me a little extra for $500 and I agreed immediately. At 9PM he was finished and packed up and paid off and I was a Happy Camper. That machinery made a road and circular drive with an additional house pad and garage on one corner and an identical pad opposite with a tree lined divider for privacy. I than bought a heavy metal rake and shovel. 2 truck loads of crushed rock as a surface material, spot dumped in a planned sequence and than raked and evenly distributed by me. I than brought in top soil for my lawn and garden and set up a doughboy pool for catchments‘, placed near a grove of thick Ohia that I stretched a tarp and used the angle and position to catch water and fill my pool. It was coming along really fine. The area had a real Paradise Feel, and I began my communication with an inner Spirit. I swam everyday and familiarized myself with my surroundings. The Volcano always was going off and everyone didn’t care because the life was really Beautiful with that element of danger. Fishing was Great and I smoked fish and wild pig and took it into Hilo and sold it to the local groceries and pop stands. I had completed one house with roof system using local aggregates and curly ohia poles for my major beams and slabs of koa and monkey pod for my counters and permanent furniture as well as the crapper outside built over a pooka hole with toilet paper in a coffee can to stay dry. I built a box big enough to allow two people to crap at the same time if there was an emergency, as often the case when a diarrhea episode was evident.
Another coffee can held “lime” in a powder form that is spread over the waste to curb disease and odor. It also speeds up decomposition and makes great fertilizer for marijuana cultivation as well as any flowers, but people don’t like to use it for garden vegetables. They think it is unenlightened and a cultural Taboo. I gave the homestead 4 hours everyday and soon there were 3 structures on the property with unusual roof designs that allowed sunlight into the buildings all day long and limited viewing from above. I used alternative building materials such as bamboo easily split with a bush knife and a rubber mallet. This nailed green in place f or inner walls and designed throughout the house with pyramids, squares, and angled cuts and when dry, coated with a sealant. I found a woman whom made the woven palm and Lalhalla mats and she created my roof panels that were nailed over plastic covered ½ inch marine plywood nailed into twisted ohia beams. Someday, I would build a house around the crapper because when it is winter and raining at 5 AM You might catch your death a cold, flu, or pneumonia. I even had an old porcelain tub in the yard that I used for a hot tub. I built a rock box to mount the tub upon and underneath was a fire box where I built a fire and heated the water to boiling where I used a hose of cold water to correct the temp. to my desired degree. Robinson Caruso didn’t have it so good when I figured out that you can grow the most delicious vegetables in your own garden. I fish and hunt pigs with a rope and a knife. I pound opihi off the rocks with a butter knife and grow “paka lolo” that I sell at Harry K. Brown Park to Tourists and Dealers that arrive daily in rental cars for their businesses in Honolulu and Maui that sell to the tourists along with a burger and a shake. If you end up with large amounts you can sell it to Mama San in Hilo and her nephew, whom really own the Korean Bars and Hotel Street Whore Houses in Honolulu. One time they bought around 100 pounds for $80,000 I didn’t want it around, because it would disappear and cash in hand made more sense. My best friends in Puna already showed their true colors when I caught them snooping around. I built the property exclusively to grow pot by using a semi hydroponics’ system indoors for 3 months and than transferred into my outdoor zone for full maturity and maximum flowering of the “BUDZ”.I used chicken shit, seabird and bat guano, with calcium and fish emulsion, as well as greensand and vermiculite. I used 5 gallon pots suspended in square pans for their constant bottom feeding of a solution, mixed in a 50 gallon drum, that held all the mangos that were ground scored and sugar cane pieces floating in rainwater with fish and bat shit added ,and covered to work its magic as a nutrients supplier, in the flowering stages of the plant, that created a sweeter bud, and stronger potency. I was recognized by the locals and now had to take a break because everyone was stalking me to discover my system and get rich by ripping me off. I rented out the property to a couple from New Orleans, that I never met before and decided to journey around Asia with a bedroll and Guitar. I had over $100,000 in Travelers Checks in my backpack and a brand new passport in my real name. I didn’t visit my real family in over 10 years and didn’t want to look back, because they were so hurtful and evil. God Bless them with Ignorance and Boredom. They would never understand how to be content and reasonably Happy with this Beautiful Life we were given. I was, and the Orient would help me to sharpen my perspective, and teach me more than I need to know. I decided to start my TREK in Bangkok, Thailand and mess around with whatever I chose to do in the moment. I tried the nightlife and the day life, I went to temple’s with different deities than I had ever experienced that had millions of followers and little cults in India that only had hundreds. I made it to a Monkey Temple or two that were dangerous to human contact without the proper gear. The monkeys attacked me in Katmandu, with shit hurled in my face and stones connecting on my back, as I ran for my life, down the mountain trail at 6AM without a friend or guide. The locals that saw me from a distance laughed and poked fun at me for the remainder of my stay. I could have been killed another time by a red assed baboon that had claws that ripped off a girl friends shorts and had to be subdued with a hammer. I hit it in the head and knocked it out. After that he stayed away with a new found respect for man. She was menstruating and the Monkey could smell it which stirred up his passionate response. The Coconut grove was a Copra Plantation gone unattended, except for the different occupants protecting their individual trees and families. Some of the human tribe looked as intelligent as the monkeys or more likely the same as I experienced these new remote cultures first hand. People lived in walled villages and behind closed doors out of respect for the big cats and large snakes as well as rogue elephants that routed whole villages when they got pissed off. Coral snakes are called 2 steps, because that is how long you will live without anti-venom. I was in the South of India in an Ocean Resort and I strung up a hammock in a Banyan Tree at night to save my money for other things. When I was awaken by an angry mob first thing in the morning. They organized a ceremony that first blessed the tree, and than using gasoline started the whole tree afire. Well, they sure were going to make me stay indoors at one of their open facilities whether it was a hotel or peasant shack. I went for Breakfast and returned to the tree which was surrounded by hundreds of people watching this magnificent blaze. All of a sudden a Giant Snake came crashing down from the umbrella top of the tree, that was 30 feet long and 4 or 5 feet thick in the center, where some animal was being digested. Now I understood why they were angry at my stupidity and recklessness. If a tourist got eaten and it was discovered, I would have ruined there industry. I left that community and went to Poona for enlightenment and maybe meet the Guru. Some place called “Darmsala”, was the home of the “Dali Lama”, and people from all over the World visited in search of “Enlightenment“. Vegetarian food was cheap and you could live on pennies a day. A few cents was all it cost for “chai” from the “baba’s” whom dressed in loincloths that resembled diapers that also wore turbans or had long hair and beards as they smoked pipes called chillum’s all day and all night selling hash on the side to tourists like me. I gave a $20 to a chai-baba and he gave me a couple of kilo’s of Black hash from the Kashmir District of northern India. I threw it in my backpack and headed for a Beach community called, “Goa”. It was The Hippy Destination during the 60’s and now a tourist trap with café’s and restaurants, bars and Hotels as well as Cops and robbers. I found a nice Bungalow surrounded by Beautiful Flowers and Foliage, Plants, and pool on the Ocean for $8 a night. I started selling hash to the Tourists that were white so as they definitely not undercover cops. The British and Australians as well as Americans were all looking to get stoned and I gave them a thumb sized piece for $5 that made me $10,000 off of 2 kilo’s in 90 days of Dancing at Disco’s and Romancing in the sand on the Beach at Goa. It was a wonderful Experience until someone tipped of the police and they cornered me on the Beach herding me into the water where I made my escape, because they didn’t follow or use their guns and I swam a few miles around a jetty. When I left the water I noticed 20 or 30 sharks circling around, that I hadn’t noticed before, and never was bit or nipped because I wasn’t afraid and not emitting any fear into the water. I made a bee line to my bungalow and picked up my things and headed right for the airport and a flight out of the country to China and the City of Beijing. I wasn’t surprised at the English Writing on the wall in the Chinese Airport that says, “If You Smuggle Drugs, You Will Die”. Every so often they line up the prisoners and shoot them in the Square, for a public display to deter crime. I played my Guitar and sang in the Square and a crowd gathered to witness this strange “farang” or (round eye’s) exhibition of unusual screaming and pounding rhythm on a box like instrument, calling it rock and roll. The Chinese don’t applaud and you know you are doing good when they bring their children over to pet you on the head as they would do to any domesticated animal. I had smuggled some joints into the country and smoked with some college kids that told me we would be shot for our activity if caught. I got paranoid and left China after 10 days of growing panic because they put a serious person on my tail that never slept. If I went anywhere at anytime I noticed someone in step with me. I saw the reflection in the back bar mirror and the glass doors. They were on to me and my fearless disrespect to their Cultural Revolution. I had to go through an extensive search when I left the Hotel and when I arrived at the Airport they wrapped tape around my backpack that said something in Chinese to the effect I was a person of Interest. When I did finally arrive in Honolulu, I was given an ultimatum of an X-ray or jail containment for 72 hours because they thought I was carrying drugs in my ass. I took the X-ray and was free to go home to Kalapana Gardens and my Home Sweet Home. Well when I arrived my Home was a Hippy Commune that had carved names and symbols as well as tags of graffiti from gangs and bands visiting from all over the world. All the dishes were broken or missing and all the spoons bent over and used for cooking drugs that were injected into the arms of the junkies who were my new room mates. It had become a residence of liars, cheats, thieves, and rippers, that had to feed the monkey on their back. I was living a past Karma and never did Heroin until now, where I smoked it everyday for free, or so I thought. It only was for free because I exchanged the property usage. In a month I was injecting the drug and in 2 months I was going to Thailand to smuggle some back that was pure poison and could be diluted 10 times and still be addictive. I was back in the dope game and didn’t even swim or surf anymore. I did play a lot of music and created jewelry and made beads from scratch coupled with seashells and seed beads in a rainbow display. The years passed without a memory ,and the Volcano in the Spirit of “PELE” wasn’t putting up with the rampant decay of morality, or the constant drug abuse; and overflowed the entire community with molten lava; leaving fire and brimstone in its path. A Biblical Drama, that completed changed the entire landscape, and oceanscape as well. “Drainpipes” and Kaimu Bay surf breaks had disappeared and thousands of coconut trees, as well as 40 or 50 homes. We managed to move the painted Church, out of Harms way and after it had run its coarse, it reversed its path; in the other direction. She is like a hula dancer, swaying side to side, “PELE” she goes. I had completed large Format oil/canvas Images that I Displayed in Pavilions’, in the County Park System
I trusted my Art was safe, and it was; until my “Art Show From The Lava Flow.” I made a Gallery out of a fence at the end of the highway in Kalapana, where I displayed “ART”. I created these Images for everyone’s Benefit, until one day when someone stole them all; a friend found their location, and they were returned to me. I was given a date for a one man show and showed up on the prescribed time to be told I had been replaced by a Barbie Doll Collection. I think the year was 1996 and if you were a CRAZY ARTIST you were expected to create a disturbance. I wouldn’t expect anything less from, “Moi”. So, I spent time and money “TREKKING with ART“, all over t he world. I didn’t climb, “Everest”, but managed to get a nosebleed in the Himalayan Mountains for 3 days, until I traveled to a lower elevation. I was feeling light headed, and living in a woozy state of being.
I was drunk without alcohol, and when we had a nip, I was drunk on a few ounces. People that live at High Altitude are like feral goats. They look and smell just alike, only the real goats are more friendly. They often have more to say that makes any sense at all. In the wilderness there isn’t any restaurant or bar or café. Someone might share yak butt dried after being smoked shoe leather. Rice, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, and peppers, are a whole wide world commodities item list. In the Orient it is Tea and Salt. I always started out my Trek’s with a few pounds of Great Tea. I had some Black Chinese w/poppy seed mixture, that gave everyone relief from pain, and induced a Dream State of Consciousness. In fact you can buy dried poppies at Pier 9 Imports, and boil them with your tea to get the same effect. Or the local florist gets dried poppies and you can order them for a decorative motif, just use them as a tea, to get the narcotic benefit. I make sure I have a final filter processing system in my backpack. I learned about fallen fruit in orchards that touched the ground with weeks of intestinal trouble due to eaten fruit infested with micro bodied worms and microbes that were killed by using a small amount of arsenic issued by a Specialist in Truckee Hospital, California on a return, from the Amazon River Basin. I saw the same people in Bolivia as well as the whole mountain trail of Asia and even the Inuit Indians of Alaska, are same people they have in Peru, Bolivia, Guatemala, Mexico, and The Sierra Nevada’s on our West Coast. The Mountains of Burma , I drank with the people in remote regions that never heard or seen Jack Daniels, or Wild Turkey. I introduced them to a spectacle they wouldn’t forget. We managed to survive 54 countries in this manner of using duty free goods, setting an example of, Quality Entertainment In A Bottle. I was like a Foreign Dignitary Representing The Modern World. I had the state of the art Backpack that had hidden supports made from Titanium and had a back straps compart- ment, so it could be carried like a suitcase. I had a one inch mat of super foam, that was waterproof. I had a sleeping bag ,that was good for 30 degrees below. I had a winter parka, gloves, and gators with hiking boots from Italy. I wore layers and usually jeans for my regular 2 changes of clothes ,in case you enter a society that cares .I also had deodorant, and cologne. In the tropic’s I got down to the “Jams” and Hawaiian Shirts that seemed to work well. In all my travels I have decided to settle down here in Reeds Bay Resort Hotel. In Hilo, Hawaii on the Beautiful Bay.
　
THE END (for now)
　
　
　
　
　
When I was born, My Mom told me it only took an agonizing hour of labor. After I slid down the birth canal, the Doctor spanked
me and I smiled, He spanked me again and I laughed out loud. I was the 4th boy and 5th child in this European Landed Immigrant Gypsy Family. I had 4 older siblings George the eldest, Johnny, Joan, Jimmy, Linda, Debbie, and “Moi”. and I identified with being the extra mouth to feed, and the troubled baby boy who “Did It” when anything was broke or missing. George was the oldest and was in the Army during the Korean War. Johnny was next and a Loner whom had a Catering Business. Joan was the Older Sister and a Student of Deceitful Practices. She attended a Catholic High School and pretended to be pious and chaste in front of adults, but was sexually active since she was 13. She gave pussy out of both pant legs. Jimmy was 4 years my senior and hated me with a passion. He tortured me at every opportunity, physically and mentally my entire life with him until I went into the Army at 17. When I was 5 and James was 9, we were playing cowboys and Indians. I was a little Indian and Jim was a cowboy. He had an imaginary girlfriend that I was supposed to kidnap and he was going to protect her from me. Well, he set a trap for me in the basement of my parents home. I was caught and hog tied with rope. He setup a courtroom for the trial and without a defense I was sentenced to be hung by the neck until I was dead. I had a sock in my mouth and could barely breathe as he strung a rope over a pipe in the basement and stood me on a chair with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he placed a rope around my neck. He took the sock out of my mouth in case I had any last words and I screamed and wailed for my Mom whom was upstairs. She arrived before he had a chance to conclude my sentence and she beat us both with a belt for being foolish and stupid. When my Dad got home from work He kicked me so hard in the ass I couldn’t walk strait for a week. I stayed away from Jim after that and never played with him or his friends. One time in the summer when I was 9 years old we were visiting my cousins on their farm in Wisconsin and Jim and Cousin Freddie used a B.B. Gun to shoot all the windows out of the back of the barn and than let me have my turn. I was just getting the hang of it when I was caught by my “Uncle Carl” and I was blamed for all the damages. My Dad and my Uncle literally kicked me around the yard like a football, until my Mom intervened, and saved my life. They would have killed me, because I had blood in my stool, for a week, and they broke 2 ribs that are distorted to this day. European men, like them were really violent to each other, their wives, and children. I was setup by Jim and Freddie. I learned later on, from my Mom, whom was present, when they ran and told my uncle what I was doing. Right after giving me the gun. Joan was Diabolical Influence because she taught me how to shoplift candy for her than snitched me out afterwards. At family reunions I was shunned by all my cousins, as a Bad Seed. That influenced me to Identify with the Bad Boys, Criminals, Delinquents, and all the James Deans and Marlon Brando
types in the Movies. I believe that it was programming and I considered it my Duty to comply, I was on the Highway to Hell. So, when I was 11 and Jim 15 he got a summer job as a car detailer at the local Mercedes Dealership. I rode over on my bike to see what he was doing, and he presented me with a surprise. He gifted me a New Car, with a pillow to sit on that let me see over the dashboard and some foot long stilts to reach the pedals for the brakes and gas. He finally was doing something nice for me. I went over to my friends house and was bragging about my new car and my friend dared me to drive it over to his garage where I could park it, because I wasn’t old enough to have a license. So, I went back after dark and put on the stilts, inserted the key and started it up. It ran fine and had a radio that I dialed into a Country and Western station where the songs were crying about broken relationships and lost love. Never having driven before I caused quite a lot of damage on that car lot and the Police arrived in time to escort me to jail. This was above my protests, that “I owned that car“, well it was mine for less than a day. When I was questioned, I never told on my brother and the Police called my Dad whom refused to let me come home so I was sent to the kiddies’ prison, just like the adult one, only made for Juvenile Delinquents
I was getting an education from all the older boys and making contacts because this is my future life, as a Criminal. I was the youngest car thief, in the suburb of Milw. Wisconsin, known as West Allis. I also was a tough kid and could take a licking and keep on ticking. The next 6 years I spent in and out of Foster Care and Reform School. I Loved Girls, and was told that I was Handsome by women whom let me do as I pleased with them since I was 15. I had sex with a 37 year old waitress for the first time at that ripe old age of 15 ½. Her name was Par Ketner and she worked at the bowling alley as a waitress. We would go to her apt. a few blocks away and she would suck my cock until I got the feeling and than let me play with her tits and pussy until she moaned and let my 4in. Dick diddle her in her wetness. It was loose compared to the girls that were my age. I really didn’t have sperm for almost 6 months and then I had loads of it, that would sometimes hit the ceiling, when it shot off, while I was masturbating. At 17, I had enough of this life of rejection, and Volunteered for the Army to go to the Vietnam War. I was ready to start Killing (those commie bastards) that were coming to America to rape and pillage. My parents had 2 more children, girls that my Father adored. Linda was 4 years younger and Debbie 4 years younger than that. I never really lived with them, but Loved them dearly, and wouldn’t let those commies get to them or my Mom. I volunteered for the U.S. Army and was sent for basic to Ft. Jackson, South Carolina, in Oct. 1965. I was invincible and super virile. I could do 50 one arm pushups, with either arm. I could run a 5 ½ min. mile. I could dance all night. I didn’t mind the yelling insults of the Drill Instructors, nor the closeness of strangers living in close conditions. I enjoyed the Physical Exertion and even the KP Duty where we peeled potatoes and talked story while we fed 1,200 men for breakfast. I never expected the Top Drill Instructor to take a special interest in me. He was a Veteran of the War and was decorated for Bravery. He assigned me to Boiler Room Duty. I was to make sure the furnace worked properly during the night. I went to work at 10 P.M.
It was around midnight that He showed up to see how I was doing. He had a small transistor radio and a bottle of orange vodka to share and get to know me better. I was feeling special. I had a few glasses and the radio was playing the latest boogie music when he asked me if I had any dance moves. So, half drunk and cocky as hell I started doing all the moves the boys in jail had taught me while I was there. After an hour of dancing for him and getting drunker and drunker, I was asked if I was going to the War. I replied “Hell Yes”. He than said he would show me what to expect when I was captured by the enemy. He said come over here by the fuel barrel and I will tie you up and see if you can escape. I used to do this with my brother when I was a kid. I went along with this game because he was really cool with me. He tied me tight over the barrel and stuffed a clean rag in my mouth and used his belt to keep it in. He than reaches around my waist and loosens my pants until they and my boxers are around my ankels. He than turns up the music as he puts some grease in my ass and starts telling me that he Loved me since the first time he saw me.
As he is professing his Love he is raping my young ass for the very first time. His cock is a large purple 9in. Uncut about 2 ½ in. thick and my ass is tight. It at first hurts and I try to scream to no avail. It increases in pain as it moves up my anal cavity. I am being fucked like a little girl and can’t do anything about it. Well, he is fully thrusting up my ass and it gives me an erection as it starts to feel good and I am feeling like I am going to shoot a large load of cum across the room. It is raising a taboo feeling inside and I have an enormous raging hard-on as I am getting fucked by a large Black man who is kissing my back an exclaiming his Love for me. We both cum at the same time and it was the most intense climax I ever experienced. He than pulls out a small disposable camera and starts shooting pictures as he takes the gag off and starts to untie me. I am exhausted and my ass is dripping cum and his cock smells like shit. I am in shock and smiling for the camera with a raging hard-on and sperm all over my chest where it landed as we climaxed. He untied me and told me to go to the NCO shower room and clean up. I gathered up my clothes and walked like I was just fucked to the showers. I could feel the cum dripping out of my ass and I still had a hard-on that wouldn’t go away. I arrive in the NCO shower room and get undressed and head into the shower like a zombie or someone that has been hypnotized. He arrives about a few minutes later and started to wash me real tender and my cock is still in full erection and he drops to his knees and sucks me like he loves me. We shower and than go to his quarters where he has a large bed and more vodka. I get drunk again and we talk as I see he is excited again and grabs my head between his palms and kisses me with his tongue and I don’t know why but I kiss him back. We make out again in the 69 position and I never have seen a cock so up-close and personal. His purple throbbing cock pops out of its sheath and is headed down my throat in gyrating movements as he sucks and sucks and thrusts and thrusts his 9in cock down my throat. Now, I have pussy lips and an asshole that can substitute for a vagina. An American Man turned into a fucking cunt in one easy lesson. I feel a wave of passion as he cums in my mouth, throat, and fills my belly with his liquid that tastes like the ocean. We turn around and he lays me down on my back and sucks my cock some more as he places my legs over his shoulders and fucks me like a little girl as I am begging him to fuck me harder and fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, until he shoots another load up my ass that triggers a reaction from me where I also cum at the same time. He passes out and is snoring in a few minutes. I get dressed with cum dripping out my ass and I rummage through his room and find his gold watch, a ruby ring, and $2,700 in cash and decide I will go AWOL because now the Reality of what happened has me shaking with regret and anger. I could have killed him, but he said that he Loved me. I was all fucked up as I caught a bus for Chicago with sperm leaking out of my butt. The bus was $55 and took a day and a half. Because I didn’t wash I smelled like pussy and an older gentleman sat next to me groped me, and I let him for most of the ride. He confessed he never did that before, but couldn’t help himself. He explained that he had this urge to fuck me, and told me he lived in Chicago in the Downtown area known as the “Loop”. He than said He would take me out to dinner and allow me to stay at his place, and I got another enormous erection just thinking about it. So, we go to his place by taxi Upon arrival, notice I have had an erection the entire journey. He has a nice apt. and we immediately disrobe as he embraces me and kisses me on the mouth as he guides my hand down on his hardness. His cock is handsome like mine and could be a double. I am stroking him and I don’t know why
, but I turn around and without grease I insert his cock up my ass and it slips right in that recently abused orifice. Well, he fucks me doggie style right there on the floor and I am getting off in my new position. I enjoy this taboo and can’t admit the passion it arouses in me. It’s like a total completeness I feel as a little girl getting fucked for the very first time. We shower and he admits that he never had sex with a man, but I was tighter and sexier than any women he dated. As he talked about it in the shower I sat on the tubs edge and sucked his cock dry for over an hour for no apparent reason at all. I loved the way I felt and the way it made me feel. I was wanted, desired, and loved by men. I never even knew I was a girl. I always thought I was tough. A manly man so to speak, and now I was fucking strangers that were men. I wasn’t Queer in jail. I never thought I would be. Now, I am getting fucked and sucking cock with everyman I meet. Well, we get dressed and he loans me clothes because I only have my uniform fatigues and I don’t have leave papers so I have to change my appearance. We head on over to a restaurant bar that has good home cooking. We get a table and 2 of his friends join us for conversation, mainly about me. I am eating some asparagus and choke when his answer to a question is, “This guy I picked up on the bus and took him home and fucked the shit out of him and he gave me the best blow job in the shower I ever had. I was miffed and almost choked to death on that little piece of vegetable after having large cocks all down my throat. The 2 new guys laughed and thought it was a crazy story. We all laughed, but I felt betrayed. So than he invites them over to his place to smoke some reefer and drink a few beers as we watch a baseball game on T.V. I feel real cagey, but go anyway back with the boys. They are all late 20’s and early 30’s. After a couple of these tiny joints and a few beers He “Charley” from the bus stands up and walks over to me as he zips down his trousers and inserts his cock into my mouth. One of the other guys exclaims “I’m next”. I had 2 dicks in my mouth and one up the ass at the same time. I have elevated my status to a double dick sucker and ass fucker in this 4-way orgy where I am the cunt. My ass hurt so bad the next day I couldn’t walk right and took baths for a week of recuperation. Charley always made me blow him a few times a day until I was well enough, to be on my way. Until this point I always had a loud report when I farted, but now my asshole was stretched to a point where it just went whoosh like a gust of wind. He was a hustler for women and told me to move on with my life the party was over. I had been his party. I left with my stash and his. I rummaged through his stuff and found his nest egg. It was $1,800 and now I had almost $4,000 to start life with. I went downtown to a cheap Hotel across from a rock and roll nightclub in Chicago.
The room had a small fridge and a 2 burner hotplate with all the pots and pans
Silver and plates and cups. I met a couple of older women in their 30’s that came over to my place and let me have sex which didn’t have the same effect on me. I got an erection and kissed everywhere until they desired me to enter their Bodies with my tongue, fingers and cock to create a sensation that only occurred when I thought about being fucked by a man, than I climaxed. I was disorientated and really preferred men fucking me. How did this happen? One night at the “Bar”, a Black man asked me if I liked to get high. I told him I smoked weed. He said he had the best “Lady” which would make you feel wonderful, better than sex. I lived across the street and we went there. The desk clerk gave me a dirty look, but my rent was paid and I didn’t care. We get to the room and I open a couple of beers to relieve our thirst. He has an eyeglass case with a small needle and a eyedropper with a bent spoon and a piece of surgical tubing. He brings out a bag of white powder that had large rocks in it that shinned like a rainbow. I was drunk and this was a new experience. He mixed up the powder with water in the spoon and told me to roll up my sleeve. I did and he placed the rubber around my bicep to constrict the blood and make my veins stand out as he injected me with this serum that exploded in my head and made me have a rush of feeling that almost knocked me out. I got up and walked around the room as he fixed himself. After a few minutes this Blackman is standing naked in front of me as I sit on my bed and he holds the back of my head as he guides his large cock into my mouth. I don’t know why I don’t protest as I apply my tongue to his needs and get undressed at the same time. He is talking nasty. You little white bitch, better keep sucking this black cock and I am going to fuck your white ass with this big black dick. He grabs my head and engulfs his cock with my mouth until his balls are on my chin. Where and How is something I don’t understand. He shoots a large load of cum and I can feel it in my tummy, all warm as I drain his nuts with a sucking sound and a mouth drooling cum. I break away and fully disrobed pull him on top of me as I take his hardened shaft and insert it in my pussy. I just want to get fucked. He is talking crazy, about how much money we are going to make. I am his bitch, whore, slut, and he loves me too.
We take a break to fix more drugs intravenously and he goes first this time. I see his eyes bug out and than he jumps around the floor doing St. Vitas Dance of Overdose and slips into a coma. I gather up all my stash and his and throw it into a gym bag. As I head out the door I tell the clerk to call an ambulance because my guest is OD’d on dope. I run out the door and get a cab to take me to Milwaukee for a Hundred Bucks. In his stash he had 4 ounces of cocaine and $1,100 dollars with another watch and ring. I never knew what happened to him. Upon arrival in Milwaukee I get a room in a nice place downtown called the Phister Hotel. I get a weekly rate of $250 and same for deposit, but this was a real nice place. It had chandeliers‘, and Oriental rugs, room service with $10 meals that were home-style cooking with all the trimmings. I went shopping for my new identity and decided to sell the coke out of a dancehall disco nightclub called the Attic. I sold it to other kids for $50 a spoon in a baggie and sold all four ounces for $4,000 and had kept a stash of a couple of grams for special occasions. I wasn’t chasing women and I wasn’t fucking men for over a month when one night a Beautiful Black Woman showed an attraction and I started the conversation with let me buy you a drink. Her name was “Reggie” and she was a model…Well we got drunk on Rum and cokes as I asked her to come over to my place. She kissed me long and deep and I was really feeling good. I was too drunk too walk, so I got a cab. The cab driver tried to tell me something about she is going to be a surprise, but I was too drunk too get it. She exclaimed that she never was in such a fine hotel, and I started to think she wasn’t a model. In the room she went to freshen up and I opened my stash for a little coke and poured us a couple drinks. Well, she comes out of the toilet with an enormous hard dick and her wig is off as I realize that I am getting an erection. He/she says she knew I was a punk, and a cocksucker, and He/she was going to fuck me all night long. This bitch had an 11in dick that was skinny and bent to one side. I disrobed as though I was in a trance. The next thing is I am getting fucked by a lady that moves like a rabbit on energizer batteries and feel a wave of pleasure as he/she ejaculates up in my anus for a full 2 minutes as I shoot all over myself at the same time. I am fucked until dawn where I just pass out and don’t awaken until noon. When I awaken my Lady is gone as well as my stash and all my clothes and money. I go into the bathroom and find a discarded dress and wig left behind as a memory of a one night fling. The 2 watches and rings were left behind because I hid them in a vent for safe keeping. I can go to a pawn shop and at least get enough money to live on for a month. He/she got away with almost $7,000 that I sucked and fucked for. I was pissed and fucked and sperm was leaking out of my ass again. I only had combat boots because the freak took all my clothes and gym bag as well as my shoes. I put on the dress at 2 in the afternoon and wore the wig to add to my disguise. I got through the lobby unnoticed, but on the street everyone noticed my boots and wig and laughed and pointed for the 6 blocks to the pawn shop. I didn’t have an I.D. and the pawn shop owner said he would give me 25% of their value which was $1,000 if I would suck his cock. I couldn’t stand it anymore, I complied only after he agreed to wash his cock. He didn’t last more than 2 or 3 minutes and had a little bitty load of sperm. I got the money and went to a store to buy clothes. In the store a gay acting employee took me around and led me into a dressing room where he propositioned me to exchange a blow job for a suit of clothes. I was to receive the blow job this time and I agreed even though he managed to make my dick smell like bad breath.
I was back on the street in civilian clothes and a $1,000. I was still AWOL and didn’t know what to do. The freak that ripped me off stole my I.D. and must have turned me in to the authorities, because when I started to enter the Hotel I noticed 2 M.P.’s at the front desk. I just kept turning in the turnstile doors until I was on the street again. I walked over to a cab and entered as the 2 M.P.’s were headed out the door. The cab took off in just the nick of time. I told him I would give him $20 to take me to West Allis, where my parents lived with my 2 younger sisters. I pay the cabbie and walk up the steps to their house and a neighbor pops out of her front door and exclaims, “Tommy the F.B.I. is looking for you for Desertion From The Army In A Time Of War.” Now, Reality sinks in and I am ready to surrender, because this journey has been a pain in the ass. I am completely demoralized, sodomized, and made to wear dresses by men I don’t even know. What happened to the guy that wanted to fight for his country? He couldn’t even fight to save his own ass. Never fended off a hard dick in the last few months and only had a climax with a dick in his mouth or up his ass. I was more of a jelly role model than anything. I just said “Hi” and “Goodbye” than leave out the back door as the police arrive to see me jump the fence and run across the veterans hospital grounds around a corner into the arms of an old friend getting into his van. I ask for a ride and he exclaims that something is going on because of all the cops and sirens. I pretend to tie my shoe and say that I have to dislodge a stone so as to stay out of sight for a few minutes and a short distance away. I am sitting tall in my seat and tell Bob that I am AWOL in time of WAR. and have to find a safe place to stay. He invites me over to his place and it is a studio with 1 bed and 1 chair and hardly anything else except a color T.V. I thank him and agree to give him $10 a day in exchange. I only stay a few days and catch another ride to Chicago on the Greyhound Bus. An older man sits next to me and try’s to start a conversation as he begins feeling my legs with groping gestures. I let him arouse me and he bends over and opens my trousers, as he begins to blow me on the bus. A woman returning from the toilet see’s what is going on, and reports us to the bus driver who stops the bus; and kicks us off in Kenosha, Wisconsin halfway to our destination. I get a cab to drive us the rest of the way for $60.00. When we get to Chicago he tells me he owns an apartment building that I can live in for $400 a month. I agree and move into a nice building in Old Town. I give him a months rent and no deposit except for the daily dose of my sperm. After a few days he introduces me to his “shrink”, Dr. Peter from Vienna. Well, This intelligent man with a broken accent wants to help me adjust to my new home and offers to help me with free consultation. He does an interview of my background with questions and answers so profound I am impressed. All of a sudden, I start crying like a baby in his office as I explain my predicament and the previous few months. After an hour or so he draws a bath with bubbles and baths me like a child and than covers me with a terrycloth robe and leads me into a large bedroom with a 4 poster bed. He draws back the covers as he lets me disrobe and I crawl under the cover for some much needed rest. I snooze for a few minutes and wake up with a cock brushing on my lips and he is kneeling on the bed telling me he is in Love with me. I didn’t stop him as he squirted cum all in my face and rubbed his dick all over my lips and face as I stared in disbelief. Than he turns me over and fucks me doggie style for an hour until he shoots a large load up my ass, that makes me cum at the same time. Now, he is going to “Marry Me”, after I have “The Operation“. Tomorrow, I start the “Hormone Therapy”, and we will look for a Good Surgeon to do the Job. The next morning we go to a Lingerie Shop and buy women’s teddies for me and than a Wig Shop and the Cosmetic Counter where a gay man applied my makeup and showed me how with a wink, and a pinch on my ass. Than dresses, bra’s and falsies as well as pumps in a large size with a matching purse. I am Mentally Broken to have listened to him in the first place. Well, he is already picking up Hormones that will give me Breasts and Shrink My Dick as he counsels me during this transition. I am wearing women’s clothes and underwear that looks ridicules with a raging hard-on sticking out, so he finds some elastic panties that were made to suppress such exhibitions by cross dressers. I am a “Lady in Transition”, and he treats me good as I notice my manners and voice are changing over the next few weeks in my Diligent Acting to become his Wife. When I get up in the morning I am obliged to suck his cock and he bends me over, all over the house to “Fuck Me In The Ass“, like we are on a Honeymoon. I mean like 3 or 4 times a day and now I don’t even get an erection because of the hormones are affecting me. As unusual as it sounds I still climax with a flaccid penis (when he does) even if it is in my mouth. No erection within a month and I am jealous of his interaction with other men and women. I am so fucked up to be jealous and protective of my “shrink”, who has managed to shrink my balls and dick into a pitiful proportion of its former self. I am always a Lady and wait on him (hand and foot) cleaning and cooking and getting fucked less and less. My operation is a few weeks away, when he brings another Lad home for an unexpected dinner. This guy David is Blond haired blue eyed handsome and 6 ft. tall with a very nice manner about him. He believes I am a Woman, and that gets me hot. I would Suck His Cock, if he wanted me too. I would Fuck Him On The First Date. Dr. Peter suggests a few pills that we can take to “Have A Party” with booze as we all ingest mescaline. After a few hours they are both naked with me in bed and I am getting Fucked by my Doctor, Up The Ass, as I blow David into Ecstasy. Than David fucks me for a full 20 minutes before he recognizes my small shriveled cock in the suppressive panties and freaks out. You “Fucking Faggot,” he screams, and begins to Beat Me On My Head and Shoulders. I am so stoned that I manage to get away and lock myself up in the bathroom. After an hour of commotion, swearing, and death threats, there is silence and I leave my Sanctuary to find I am alone. I am Sick Of This Game and get dressed as I rummage through the house and find the Money and Jewelry stash that will give me a new life. I run away Dressed Like A Man in a $2,000 Armani Suit and an Alligator Dr.’s Bag Full Of Goodies and Jewelry and Cash. I am going to Save My Nuts and Stop These Titties From Growing Anymore. I am never going to be (with a man) ever again, maybe. I will first visit my cousin that lives here in the suburb of Cicero and see if she can help me out. I am dressed to kill in my Armani suit, and Silk Shirt and Tie with about $200,000 Worth of Men’s Jewelry that includes very expensive watches. A Dr.’s Bag Full of Drugs and Paraphernalia. I take a $20 cab ride unannounced to her door and knock. She arrives absolutely gorgeous in a robe with nothing underneath and recognizes me as her favorite cousin that she swoops into her beautiful home. After a long evaluation glance she steps forward and kisses me full on the mouth. This is the first face in months that doesn’t have beard stubble, and she taste’s like strawberries and cream. One thing leads to another and we are frolicking and rolling over the carpet like two children at play. I am at full erection once again and deep inside of her, as she moans deliciously on top of me who she straddles like a pony. A car drives up and she jumps into a defensive posture as she exclaims that it is her husband, and he is an armed cop, who is crazy. “Sit On The Sofa.” she says, “And Don’t Say Anything“. All of a sudden the back door opens with a loud, “Hell-o Baby Where Is The Motherfucker“? I do as I am told and she tells him, “I am here in the living room with Al’s kid Tommy”. “You know my cousin Tommy don’t you”? “Don’t Try That Crap on Me.” was his rude reply. After Looking at me in my expensive suit, his demeanor changed to one of servitude. He made it seem like a joke and rushed over to kiss his wife who just had a mouthful of sperm. I waited for a reaction but he immediately looked at the “Alligator Bag”. I just told him I was in the neighborhood for a quick visit to invite them “Out To Dinner”, and than I have to catch a flight for New York City. I am surprised when he says, “I’m working a case, so take Delores out and she will drive you anywhere you want to go.” I stood up and presented my hand and we shook in solidarity. We both Loved This Woman. He immediately leaves us to our own devices and choose to go somewhere else, lest the house is bugged. We opt for Old Town and Original Chicago Pizza. I am so happy her husband didn’t kill us, I am surprised he didn’t taste the sperm on his wife’s lips. I could smell sex across the room, it has a certain Musk. I am very sensitive to smells and she smelled like Fuck. We laughed and laughed as we reviewed our actions and reactions. She thought it was a perfect resolution to her need for excitement and sexual gratification. It will keep her satisfied for a long time. She said his constant surveillance and diligent discovery would only have resulted in “Death” if anyone but me was the Guest. Whew, that was a close call. I took a cab from the restaurant to the Airport called O’Hare. I looked like a young Executive on the move. I walked up to the United Counter and purchased a ticket, for the next flight leaving in 2 minutes. I ran and caught the flight. I was on my way to New York City. I had 10 stacks of 100 dollar bills fresh from the bank that said $10,000 so I guess I don’t have to find a job. I wouldn’t be able to afford the luxury I am accustomed to. I would be coming to the Bee Hive of Humanity, Creativity,
Entertainment, Fine Arts, The Opera, And Theater. I was going to have a Blast. I arrived and took a shuttle to Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Mulberry Street has some Great Italian Food and numerous “fences”. Those are people that hustle out of these places. They use the Mob Image to thwart off robbery and theft while being under their wing of protection. I was dressed to kill and manicured, polished, and refined. My bag was Alligator with Gold Hardware and worth about $12,000. I was just checking the place out when I am approached by the Owner. He introduces himself as Don Ritchie Carrabelle from Palermo Sicily Offering any assistance needed at any time. He than passes me a card with a private cell number. I enjoy a fantastic meal and a good bottle of red wine from Italy. When the bill is presented he returns to tear it up and put a $20 on the tip tray with an exclamation of “For you Mister, Its On The House.” I Thank Him and Find a Hotel. I don’t have an I.D. and you need one for the stupid room in New York City. So I call The Don and he rushes over in 2 minutes flat and takes me to a midtown Hotel that His Familia Owns. This, is on the house for as long as I will be in town. It must be the suit. I’ll go shopping tomorrow and get a few more. I also was wearing $1,500 Italian shoes, an a Italian wristwatch carved out of solid gold. I saw him looking at it with an appreciative smile. Tomorrow I would call and meet with him for some business. I took a long bath and sent my suit to the cleaners that return garments in 2 hours. I slept like a baby and didn’t fear or have one doubt of my situation. I am the Captain of my Destiny. I called room service when I awoke and ordered a big breakfast. This was a class A Hotel that even had a spa so, I could get a massage. I was just a kid going to Boot Camp to serve His Country, and got served like a cupcake at a AA meeting. I was wiser in the ways of men. I was lonely for normalcy. I just wanted to regain my innocence. But, No. I have to put a finger up my butt to climax while masturbating and dream of getting fucked by my Drill Sergeant. Every night when the sun goes down I am revisiting that Rape and it continues to give me an erection and has me ejaculate giant loads of sperm. What the fuck is all that about? I give the Don a call and ask for a meet in my room at noon. When Don Ritchie arrives I pour us each an appertiffe of cherry brandy called kirsch. We exchange plesentries and I get to the point and show him 2 watches that I think are worth a lot of money. They have serial numbers and he calls his jewelry expert for confirmation. We wait about 15 minutes and there is a knock on the door. I go to open it and a Big Man throws a hood over my head and says shut the fuck up or your dead. He than proceeds to shoot The Don who was reluctant with the hood. I hear a lot of scuffling and than silence. I wait awhile and try to free myself from the plastic cuffs they have me secured in. It takes me about 15 minutes and I remove my hood to find The Don Dead as Dead could be and all my assets gone. I still have my wallet, watch, and ring plus $17,000 in my inner pocket of my suit. I am just leaving this mess and New York Cities Finest are coming down the hall. I turn and they run to catch me and throw me on the floor and handcuff me. I am not told a thing until we are at the local precinct. There the F.B.I. takes charge and begins to question me. I don’t know anything. I was just walking by and saw the body through the open door of my room on my return from shopping. They show me yesterdays events at the restaurant and business with The Don and say I will be charged with Murder if I don’t cooperate. When I tell my story to two agents in an office space, they both are looking at me with a raging hard-on, These Special Agents are looking for some sex after hearing of my many mistakes in judgment. They confiscate everything and give me prison clothes and turn me over to the Military Police for Custody and Trial. I was so High and Mighty and now so Low and despised. One agent told the M.P. that came to pick me up that I was a fucking queer that took it up the ass 50 times in the last 6 months and sucked cock all over the U.S. and wore women’s clothes and was going for the surgery in Chicago. What the Hell was I thinking when I started talking??? I am fucking ruined for my entire life, because I joined the service a dick at a time. How was Booty Camp? Did you suck the Drill Instructors Dick? How was your Hormone Therapy? What size dress do you wear? Do these earrings go with this wig? I love my makeup. I Love my panties. I Love Coco Channels Red Lipstick…..Fuck Me, Fuck Me, Fuck Me Harder. Why did I admit all that I did??? Well, for one thing nobody keeps quiet about that and when I arrived in Ft. Dix, New Jersey everyone welcomed me with kisses. It was going to be a “hard” time. Even the Guards would come up to my cell and put their penis through the bars and ask me to suck it. I didn’t mind because they would do things for me in return. Sneak candy and cookies, and soda’s into my maximum security cell where I was placed for safety and security. It was safe except for the guards and the investigating Officer. He was called Capt.Young and was a handsome captain in the Staff Judge Advocates Office, or legal eagles as we called them. After reading my transcript from the F.B.I. a three and half hour long winded confession. He stands up with a raging hard-on and proceeds in my direction with a glazed look on his face and sticks the cock up against my lips and tells me He loves me. Well, as long as He Loves me. I blew him standing up and I am sitting in the chair and he starts thrusting and holding my head to a point that I swallowed his large cock until his balls rested on my chin. Where does it go? I feel like I have a vagina for a throat, because when he cums in me I cum at the same time. I manage to swallow all his juice and keep sucking until his dick shrinks to a shadow of its former self. I am pretty good at this. I am a very good cocksucker. I have a set of pussy lips. Can I say that in court? He professes to set me free and visits me everyday to discuss the case as I blow him into oblivion. Now he wants me to undress and bend over the desk, as he applies KY jelly to my anus and his engorged cock and begins a session of wild gyrating and deep stroking movement that drives me wild and crazy. I have to pay out the ass for this representation. My Military experience should earn me a medal for tolerance. I realize that I surrender every time and these men all make me be the female role and I really enjoy it. Maybe, a little more if I was dressed like a woman and had panties and falsies and makeup and perfume. I would be waiting for Capt. Young with anticipation, like a dog waits for a bone. I was falling in Love and obeyed him as my Master. He became more direct and than abusive in his communication and started to tell me how fucked up I am and I will have to be transferred to Valley Forge Hospital in Penn. For the Crazy Vets awaiting discharge. A helicopter picks me up and flies me there for my final exams and determination of the Article 32 Investigation concerning all charges. I am placed on a ward of homosexual deviants and crazy people like me. Just guys trying to get laid and stoned on whatever substance they can find and sometimes accidental overdoses. The staff is treating everyone to the latest physco control Lents and drugs for nutz and coo coo’s. I am hit on even when I pee, someone is trying to fondle me and when I am sleeping I wake up to a cock in the mouth scenario. How do you run a Government based on a bunch of sick perverted employees??? Easy, they have been doing that for centuries. Ancient Sparta was an all gay army. Sex with men was a sport in Greece. The baths, spas, and washrooms were always gay retreats. I will never ever ever have sex with another man if I get out of here. A battery of tests, interviews, and seductions by the staff and patients alike makes me feel wanted and needed like a nurse on the battlefield. If only I could get a nurses outfit I wouldn’t feel so dirty sucking my Doctors Dick. I am suddenly approached by The Legal Eagles and sign a bunch of paper work and receive back pay and an Honorable Discharge. They give me $5,000 and a ride to the train station where I am returning to New York City. Bright Lights, Big City, I have the G.I. Bill for school and they give you money every month to live on. I want to be an Artist/Oil-painter and completed my internship in Greenwich Village at Club 54 and Andy Warhol’s Factory, as well as a stint as Calder’s helper. I swept up and emptied trash for many artists living and working out of an apt. or studio. It was a creative and fun time of heavy drinking, dancing, and doing drugs with great food that nobody ate. We were going to live forever. We were Stars that Shined forever in a Galaxy of Love. I haven’t thought of my paternal family for a few years since I joined the service. I was reluctant to visit the past and in the present I was only giving head to beautiful women. Some gave me presents and gifts of money as well as treated me to food and drinks in the best restaurants. I was dressed to the 9’s and always had good shoes and hygiene as well as manicured nails. I hadn’t slipped about my past and never succumbed to advances by cute guys my age. I was doing just fine. My life was on a good track. I thought that I needed to find resolution with my real family and one day on a bad LSD trip I found myself hitchhiking on an on ramp to the Penn. Turnpike headed to Chicago, Milwaukee, and Home.
　
　
　
　
　
　
BARBED WIRE
　
It’s not so much to ask out of Life to be content, peaceful, living in Harmony with all of Creation, to a ripe old age. We should expect it, maybe even demand it. I have age old beliefs in the Creator, God, in every form of Life there is. I have experienced this world and met first hand occupants in 54 countries, a few aliens, lizards, and toads. The major cities of this world are entirely different based on the cultural attributes and diversity in religious beliefs. Moscow, Beijing, Washington D. C., are each a controlled environment, but a different political system that ensures the survival of its leaders, even if they have to escape the wrath of revolution by living in outer space. All the many naysayer’s of today preach of the End of Days as though they are saying something New. I believe that Nero played a different tune and enjoyed watching it all burn down. Life begins again in the ashes, as we continue to make the same mistakes of all the previous generations, by not getting along in perfect Harmony. It is as though the future will unfold much the same and on and on until we have consumed everything in a gluttonous feast that ends up starving us. The Dream of Wealth is always elusive, because when you finally reach your goals, somebody has to protect the crap you’ve collected from the thieves in suits and ties with the hidden charges and interest. Tax is another trap for the unwary dollar. I don’t believe in any government that exists having any good intentions for anyone, anywhere. We have been duped into believing this and that, of the past and present, and never realize the wellspring and totality of God and Creation. Any and all of Life is determined by the actual State of Grace we live in. You can think you have wealth, until you have ill health. Like a dung beetle pushing a ball of dung around to raise a family and secure a food source, we continue to overlook eternity and cease to communicate with occupants of the Celestial Heavens. In our History we had a direct communication with “GOD” and appearances with “Angels” working on mankind’s behalf. Today, we only have magicians like Chris Angel using tricks and illusions to entertain us. There exists secrets, that can affect life, by collaboration of the collective consciousness. If we all get together and believe something at the same time, it might become true. Has any Government or Religion ever respected The Commandments of Life as purportedly given to Moses? It was the Christians that developed and used Nuclear devices on women and children in the factory towns of Hiroshima, and Nagasaki. The negotiations for peace were already in the works, but the scientific community wanted to see how much destruction would happen if the bombs were dropped, and what effect it would have on people over the long haul. They only waited 7 days to send in the scientists with their Geiger counters and recording devices, to document the deadly aftermath. After that willful destruction it was noted to be a success that was blessed by all the religions, of the Allied Countries, as well as the Atheist Regime of Russia. I believe it is time for a New Religion based on a system less deadly than the Christians, Jews, Hindu, Moslems, Buddhist, Krishna, Shinto, militia’s that exist today. This New Religion would focus on communication and direction that arrives in the nick of time to save all mankind and every living species. A Unification and disarmament of a world on the path of self destruction. Would you buy into a program like that? Most people are satisfied with their own salvation and really don’t care about anyone else’s survival. They are your average dung beetle mentality, just pushing a big ball of crap around, that is the future for their offspring. Until you see the beauty in everyone’s life and respect the sovereign rights of the individual, we will never have Peace. Land ownership is a misconception by modern man of the good life. We only exist to pay tax that supports all the evil our government represents and never are free to travel because of borders, fences, and barbed wire. Yes, that barrier is the final stroke of containment in this world that is our human prison. Barbed Wire has advanced in design to shred, slice, and dice you if you try to cross the line. We are inmates in a collective consciousness prison of our own creation. No parole or release, as this mentality increases and everyone is ready for the final battle. Build a compound, surround yourself with a protective barrier and invest in weapons is the call of the day, as man continues on his progression toward the inevitable end, of his own demise. Damn Barbed Wire!
　
　
　
THE DREAM’S OF PARADISE ARE FOREVER EMBLAZONED ON THE MINDS OF WORKERS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. IT’S LIKE AN IDEA THAT IS FUELED BY MYTH AND LEGEND, EVEN IN THE BIBLE.
I REMEMBER MY FIRST TIME OF VISITING THE ISLAND OF OAHU, IN HAWAII. WE LANDED SAFELY AFTER 8 HOURS IN THE AIR, ABOARD A PROPELER DRIVEN PLANE. THE RIDE WAS ROUGH AND STRESSFUL, BECAUSE THE MOTORS COUGHED A COUPLE OF TIMES, AND WE WERE ENCOUNTERING WIND GUSTS, THAT TOSSED US AROUND LIKE SACKS OF POTATOES. DRINKS WERE FREE AND WE ALL GOT DRUNK AS WE ATE SANDWICHES AND PRETZELS, PEANUTS, AND CHIPS ABOARD THAT TWA FLIGHT IN 1970.
EVEN FROM THE AIR OAHU IS MAGNIFICENT AND GEORGEOUS AS ANY ISLAND IN THE WORLD. I PLANNED ON WORKING IN THE TOURIST INDUSTRY AS A BARTENDER, WAITER, COOK, OR CHIEF BOTTLE WASHER. I HAD GROWN-UP IN THE RESTURANT AND FOOD SERVICE INDUSTRY AS WELL AS BEING TAUGHT MIXOLOGY SINCE I WAS 11 YEARS OLD. MIXOLOGY IS THE PREPERATION OF DRINKS THAT CONTAIN ALCOHOL. I COULD GET YOU DRUNK 99 WAYS AND DISQUISE THE FLAVORS SO YOU WOULDN’T KNOW. AS WE DECEND, THE BLUE OF THE OCEAN AND ALL THE SWAYING PALM TREES ARE SEPERATED BY THE WHITE SAND ACTING AS A RIBBON TO SEPARATE THE TWO. HIGHRISE DEVELOPMENT, AND ALL THE MANY HOMES CONGESTED MAKE A SHARP CONTRAST, AND ACKNOWLEDGE THE POPULATION BOOM IN THIS ISLAND KINGDOM. THE AIRPORT WAS DIVIDED INTO A LOCAL ISLAND AIRPORT AND THE INTERNATIONAL ONE WHICH CONTAINED A BAR, AND WAS MY FIRST STOP TO RELAX AND GATHER INFORMATION. I WAS EXCITED TO LIVE HERE IN “PARADISE”. THE TIKI LOUNGE WAS DECORATED IN FAKE POLYNESIAN STYLE. IT HAD PALMS AND PARROTS WITH SPEARS AND SHIELDS AND MASKS THAT LOOKED MORE LIKE PAPAU NEW GUINEA ORIGIN NAILED ON THE WALLS. ALL THE SERVICE PERSONEL WERE BROWN SKINNED, BUT NOT HAWAIIANS. TOURISM DOES THAT TO AN ISLAND CULTURE. I INQUIRED ABOUT CHEAP ROOMS AND WAS DIRECTED TO HOTEL STREET NEAR CHINATOWN. THAT SOUNDED “KOOL MAN”. I FOUND A CHEAP ROOM WITH A PRIVATE BATHROOM AND CLEAN SHEETS WITH A FAN FOR $15 A NIGHT, $75 A WEEK OR $250 A MONTH. I GAVE THE OLD CHINA WOMAN $250 AND THEN SHE GAVE ME A HOTPLATE, AND SHOWED ME WHERE THE REFRIDGERATOR WAS, THAT I WOULD BE ALLOWED 1 SHELF TO USE. THERE WAS A COURTYARD IN BACK OF THIS OLD WOODEN HOUSE WITH CHICKENS AND PIDGEONS ON THE ROOF. THEY EVEN HAD A SMALL GARDEN AND A ROW OF BEANS AND SQUASH GROWING ALONG THE BACK FENCE. IT WAS A WORKING FARM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY. I BET MAMA-SAN WOULD HAVE HAD A COW, OR GOATS, IF THEY ALLOWED IT. SHE WAS ABOUT 80 YEARS YOUNG, AND HER NEPHEW WAS IN HIS 60’S. THEY ALWAYS WERE YELLING AT EACH OTHER IN CANTONESE, AND I THINK IT WAS A HABIT OF REASSURING EACH OTHER,THAT THEY WERE STILL ALIVE. THE OTHER ROOMS WERE RENTED BY A COLLECTIVE OF LOCALS, TRAVELERS FROM ALL OVER, AND HOOKERS THAT WERE IN TOTAL DISBELIEF, THAT THEY WERE IN FACT WHORES. THEY THOUGHT THEY WERE LADIES, THAT DATED A LOT OF MEN, WHOM WERE GENEROUS ENOUGH TO PAY OFF, THE DEBTS OWED, AND EVEN TAKE THEM OUT TO DINNER EVERYNIGHT. I DATED A DOZEN OF THEM IN THE 3 MONTHS I LIVED AT THAT ADDRESS. I FOUND A JOB, AT A BAR IN WAIKIKI CALLED, “HOLLIHANS” WHERE I BARTENDED AND GOT DRUNK, FOR $5 AN HOUR AND TIPS. MY TIP JAR WAS FULL EVERY NIGHT, AND I WAS SAVING ABOUT $1,000 A WEEK AFTER ALL MY EXPENSES. I SPENT EVERYDAY, SURFING, AND WORKED EVERY EVENING I COULD. I LEARNED FROM LOCALS THAT, “THE BIG ISLAND” WAS WILD, AND PRIMITIVE, WITH A LIVE VOLCANO, AND JUNGLE ACRES FOR SALE, AT $5,000 AN ACRE. I HAD ENOUGH MONEY SAVED, TO BUILD A BAR AND RESTURANT IN 1970, AFTER 3 MONTHS OF GETTING DRUNK. I STARTED A SPORTS BETTING OPERATION, THAT MADE ME BELIEVE, THOSE GIANT MOKES HANGING AROUND WERE LOCAL THUGS, INTENDING ON CLOSING MY BETTING PARLOR DOWN, AND CRUSHING MY HEAD. SO I MOVED DURING THE NIGHT, AND HEADED FOR THIS PLACE THAT I COULD BUILD MY DREAMS UPON, “THE BIG ISLAND.” I LANDED IN KONA, HAWAII AND FOUND A JOB WITH A LARGE PROPERTY OWNER , “TOMMY DUARTE SR.” FROM HULUALOA, WHOM, OWNED PROPERTY FROM THE MOUNTAIN TO THE SEA. I WOULD BE THE CHIEF MR. FIXIT, AND MAKE IT WORK KINDA GUY, FOR $400 A WEEK. I WAS GIVEN ACCESS TO A DESERTED CONCRETE BUNKER, THAT I RENOVATED. IT WAS MY HOME , A TOTTALY LOCAL HAWAIIAN COMMUNITY THAT TAUGHT ME ALL THINGS HAWAIIAN, EVEN SOME OF THE LANGUAGE. I PLAYED MUSIC AND CREATED ARTS AND CRAFTS, AS WELL AS CELEBRATED LIFE, WITH “ALOHA”. AFTER 6 MONTHS I PURCHASED AN ACRE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ISLAND, IN THE PUNA DISTRICT. IT WAS LOCATED IN EDEN ROC ESTATES, WHEREVER THAT WAS? I PACKED UP MY FORD F150 WITH ALL MY BELONGINGS AND QUIT MY JOB, UNDER DUBIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE, BECAUSE THEY LIKED ME, AND CONSIDERED ME THEIR SLAVE. 100 YEARS PRIOR I WOULD HAVE BEEN KILLED FOR BREAKING AN AGREEMENT WITH A POWERFUL FAMILY.
EDEN ROC ESTATES WAS A ROAD CUT INTO THE PUNA DISTRICT, OFF THE VOLCNO ROAD ,AND HAD AROUND 450 INCHES OF RAIN A YEAR, MAKING LIFE ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE. RAIN, RAIN, RAIN, AND MORE RAIN. I ENDURED TO BUILD MY FIRST “ARK” OR HOMESTEAD AS THEY CALLED IT. IT TOOK ME 40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS. I WAS A RESIDENT “HAOLI” OR “FUCKING HAOLI“, AS THEY USUALLY REFFERED TO ME. I BECAME “KAMAINA” AFTER A FEW YEARS. I LEARNED HOW TO BE “AKAMI” AND “PONO”, I LEARNED HOW TO LIVE, “ALOHA AINA”. MY ISLAND HOME WAS GROWING ON ME. LOCAL GIRLS STARTED TO TREAT ME LIKE ANYONE ELSE, AND I WAS PASSED AROUND LIKE A SWEET TART, AMONGST THE SINGLE WOMEN. THE “PAKALOLO” INDUSTRY, WAS THE MONEY MAKER, AND I WAS A FARMER AND DISTRIBUTOR FOR THIS AMAZING PLANT. THE YEAR WAS 1971 AND LIFE WAS FANTASTIC. I LEARNED HOW TO SURF, HUNT WILD PIGS, AND COOK.
　
　
　
EVEN THOSE PAPAYA’S ARE FOR FREE, AND THE PINEAPPLE’S AS WELL AS, GAUVE, MOUNTAIN APPLES,
FERN SPROUTS, MAC NUTS, AND AN ASSORTMENT OF GARDEN VEGGIES AND AVO’S, BANANA’S, SEAWEED, AND SHORELINE SHELL FISH AS WELL AS FISH YOU CAN CATCH WITH NET OR POLE. THE SECRET IS KNOWLEDGE AND ACCESS. I HAVE THAT INFORMATION AND THOSE CONTAC’S. IF SOMEONE I KNOW HAS A TREE FULL OF FRUIT, I WILL PICK IT, MARKET IT, AND SPLIT THE MONEY. SO, IF YOU GOT….I WILL DO THE SAME FOR YOU.
IN THE LAND THAT EXISTS CLOSE TO THE LAVA VENT THAT EMPTIES IN THE OCEAN, YOU EXPIERANCE A MOONSCAPE WHERE THE MOLTEN LAVA FROZE INTO GLASS. IT ALSO COOLED AND REMAINS SMOOTH AND FLOWING IN TEXTURE AND DESIGN. THE END OF THE ROAD NEAR KALAPANA IS ALSO HOME TO THE BEST MANGO GROVE ON THE ISLAND. SOME OF THESE FRUITS WOULD WEIGH 2 OR 3 POUNDS. “NONI”, A FRUIT USED IN HEALING MANY AILMENTS ALSO IS BEING CULTIVATED THERE. I LIKE THE MOUNTAIN APPLE, LYCHEE, SOUR SOP, TAMARIND, AND OTHER INTRODUCED FRUITS LIKE KAU GOLD ORANGES, SOUR FRUIT, AND 1 POUND LEAMONS THAT ARE SO TART IT’LL SCREW YOUR FACE UP WITH THE SOURPUSS EFFECT AND THEN THERE IS THE COCONUT. I MUST BE IN PARADISE.
　
　
　
　
WHAT IS AN “OPIHI” BRUDDAH? WELL, IT’S LIKE AN ABALONE IN A HALF SHELL WITH A MUSCLE, THAT GRIPS THE ROCK IT CALLS HOME, IN THE OCEAN. YOU CAN EAT THEM RAW OR OFF THE GRILL WITH CHILI PEPPER WATER AND SHOYO. ANYWAY IT IS THE MOST DANGEROUS METHOD OF FISHING ON THE PLANET.
TO BEGIN YOUR JOURNEY, YOU NEED “GEAR”. A“TABEE”, WHICH ARE REEF WALKING SHOES OR SOCKS WITH FIBRE SOLES. A KNIFE THAT IS “OLD SCHOOL” BUTTER KNIFE GROUND INTO A POUNDER, WITH A LEASH MADE FROM AN INNER TUBE RUBBER. AN THEN YOU NEED A GAME BAG WITH A SNORKEL SET. LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION. YEA, BUDDY! IF YOU POUND OPIHI THEY STAY LOCATED ON THE SHORELINE ON THE ROCKS SIDE FACING THE WAVES. YOU ALSO SHOULD HAVE SOME RUBBER FACED GLOVES, BUT LOCALS DON’T USE THEM. WHEN YOU SEE A COLONY THEY ONLY ALLOW QUARTER SIZED ONES TO BE HARVESTED. SO, THE BABIES CAN GROW AND PROLIFERATE. IF YOU GO OFF THE CLIFF’S OF KAU, THEY GET AS LARGE AS A “TITTY” CUP SIZE “D”.
I BELIEVE THEY GIVE YOU THE NECESSARY MINERALS YOU CAN’T GET ANYWHERE ELSE, AND THE PROTEIN THAT WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE WHEN YOU ARE IN THE SURVIVAL MODE ANYWHERE IN THE PACIFIC. IT BELONGS TO THE LIMPIT FAMILY AND IS EXPENSIVE IN HAWAII, COSTING $250 A GALLON OUT OF THE SHELL, SUSPENDED IN HAWAIIAN SALT. IT IS A MUST FOR ANY CELEBRATION THAT IS REAL HAWAIIAN.
THE REASON THAT IT IS SO DEADLY IS THAT THE OCEAN HAS ROGUE WAVES THAT CLAIM THE LIVES OF ALL OPIHI POUNDERS. YOU HARVEST THESE TASTY MORSELS YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, UNTIL THE OCEAN HARVEST YOU. THAT IS THE MYTH. A GOOD DAY WITH A SPOTTER, CAN MAKE 5 GALLONS. HE, (THE SPOTTER) WATCHES FOR ROGUE WAVES AND LETS YOU KNOW, SO YOU CAN CLING ONTO THE ROCKS LIKE AN AMA CRAB. ALL GRADUATION PARTIES SHOULD HAVE A GALLON, ALL MARRIAGES, CELEBRATIONS, AND 1ST BIRTHDAYS TOO. IT IS REALLY A HAWAIIAN TRADITION. I ONCE MADE A PASTA DISH AT THE BEACH WITH “OPIHI” GARLIC, ONION, AND PARMESSAN THAT TURNED OUT FANTASTIC AS WE DANCED NAKED IN THE MOONLIGHT.
　
　
　
I am 62 years of wonder and mystery. Designed to do what I seem to do. Perpetually, creative in things I like to do. Like pictures, music, poetry, and laughter. I like to cook and eat like Royalty at every given chance. Fine Wine and a little herb, sometimes a little Romance.
So in my possession are thousands of Images that need printing. They could be a Guinness World Record when I print them up. At 5 min. per print it would take 5,000 minutes to complete 1,000 and establish a record collection of Original Images by anyone since the Dawn of Time.
A Gallery Exists that will allow me a show, I just have to want to and that’s not what really appeals. I just want to do what I want to do. When I want to do it and How I want to do it, without the containment of a Boss or Overseer of my activities. Let’s establish mutual Respect or Just a Right to Privacy.
I have enough Images to hang that could become a Museum of Contemporary Art shared with everyone for an entrance fee of $5.00. It is a tax exempt, totally self perpetuating Reality that could Educate Future Generations with Culture. A Gift Shop and Sales Person Professional Greeter Island Style. I would get a Large Format Printer and canvas pre-gesso kind and wood for framing with a staple gun to complete the Image process. Right in Front of the Gallery you could sell hot dogs from a cart.
To Dream is like Heaven
But not having a Dream is truly HELL.
ALOHA
THOMAS JOHN TAYLOR
Thomasjohntaylor@gmail.com
808-250-7504
175 Banyan Drive Rm 311
Hilo, Hawaii 96720
　
NO WAY…..GET…..ALL DA KINE….
2FT, 4FT, 6FT, AND ROGUE…………….
PUMPING FROM DA “OUTSIDE”.
BREAKIN CLEAN FOR DA SURFRIDER…..
THE SPORT OF KINGS, AND BEAUTIFUL QUEENS…..
PADDLE OUT, WAIT AWHILE, LOCAL STYLE.
WAITING FOR THE PERFECT WAVE…..
LIKE A WAVE SLAVE, SLAVING WAVES, FOR MEMORIES.
FIRST LEARN HOW TO SWIM.
HEADSLAM OVER THE FALLS AND SURVIVE ANOTHER
BEACH, BLANKET, BINGO, PARTY
OF INTERMINGLING JUICES
AS THIS “NEW” GENERATION DECIDES WHAT IT CREATES IN ITS PETRIE DISHES
THAT WERE LEFT OVER
FROM PREVIOUS
INFECTATIOUS
SPECIES OF
MAN
SURF.
THE ONLY CLEAN WAVE.
WAS ALONG TIME AGO.
　
I remember my youth in the “French Quarter” playing, creating, hustling, moving fast all around the town to experience the music and dance the night away. The supply center for “Art” was Jackson Square and its adjoining Café’s and Bar’s with my favorite one being, “The Alpine La’ Boheme” run like a European Artist Retreat and Support System. Taking care of the characters that frequented the establishment. You could always find what your looking for at this friendly place that always had an aroma of marijuana on the patio, and loads of people laughing and playing music, as they drank booze from the break of day, until midnight. Then “Johnny White’s” was the late night hangout. “Tipitina’s” was all the way uptown, but the Live Music was always Top Shelf. I loved the Character of the Architecture of The Quarters and its Old World Charm with Horse and Carriage’s still in use to this day. A Walk down Bourbon Street at Night was always like a Human Carnival where The Rides were each other, in every conceivable position, in every available space. A Non-stop Orgy of Human Decadence, that could be a young persons transformation into
Hedonism as a Lifestyle. Prostitution a daily reminder of ways to make money, to pay for the drugs to keep you going, making money, and on and on. I thought beyond labels, and acquired friends and lovers, all over the City for decades of “Art” as the Binding Cord of Our Lives. I chose to become more Creative every day, and develop my own style of “Creationism”. My prayers go out to all those, “Old Friends” whom were consumed by The Streets of New Orleans, and Never Had a Chance to Escape from, “The House of The Rising Sun”.
　
　
　
Something is really wrong with the gene pool, when 4 generations related to “Crime” are incarcerated in the Prison System in 1 State for The Same Crime. “Rape”, as described by Law means that these men and boys just take women, without a consideration, without regard to that woman or girls individual rights. Start with Grandfather Raymond Pohl Sr. who has been locked up most of his adult life and entered the system as a youth of 11 years of age when he raped all the little girls, and the little boys, in his 6th grade class at St. Joseph’s Catholic School located on 65th and Mitchell in West Allis, Wisconsin. He was infamous. He believed it was generosity, as he passed out candy everyday to his next victim. The kids were lured into his den and told to take their pants down for a ritual. They all complied, and some cried as he greased their ass with butter. He would get excited and take his hardened penis and insert it into the anus and pump it real fast, in and out, until it smelled like popcorn, and he would spurt a little squirt of semen. That was the ritual. The children all had the same reaction, and never told anyone. They would not even stop his advances unto other children in fear, of a repeat performance.
After, the school year on the advent of summer vacation, he decided to confess his sins to Father Ray. When He entered the confessional, he wasn’t thinking about what the reaction of the Priest would be, but he never expected it when it came. Father Ray instructed the boy to meet in the Priests Dressing Room, for a more personal consultation. That was the room with the locked doors where all the secrets are stored. A solid oak door with a relief of Jesus Christ carved on the front and back of it, to give a sense of Religion. When the door was locked and the priest took his pants and underwear off, Raymond got a visible erection, in his dirty blue jeans. He always thought this fair haired and skinny Priest, as a Queer, and now it was true as he was going to ream Father Ray up the ass, in Church, in the room next to the alter, right under the watchful eyes of “Jesus Hanging On The Cross”. The Priest bent over a small table, after he placed a pillow on top, and spread his hairless ass to show a clean hole, that looked almost like a vagina, where Ray inserted his 4 in. penis. He was fucking a Priest at 11 years of age in Church and would continue for 7 years of the incarceration at “Wales School for Boys” in Waukesha, Wisconsin. That is where the Judge sentenced Raymond Pohl 11 years of age for sodomizing 23 children in a 12 month period. So, Father Ray was his only visitor for 7 years, because his family had deserted him at the onset of the trial. He confessed to his crimes in vivid detail and even said that he fucked The Priest, but nobody believed that story, they just held him accountable for the children he abused. Father Ray became his personal Tutor and Confidant ,and visited him every weekend for 6 years of his incarceration. After his stint in Kiddies’ Prison he was firmly institutionalized, and related to anal sex as a normal interaction, with everyone he met or socialized with. That was the beginning of the sperm bank for this social deviant family, that seemed to spring from that evil well. When Ray Sr. was released at the age of 21 in 1968, The Free Love Generation was in full bloom, and LSD made everyone so High that Ray Pohl Sr. was in Heaven. He was a Poster Boy for Sexual Freedom, and dressed in all leather and chains. He was acquiring tattoo’s and advertising , the fact that he preferred anal sex with boys and girls that were around 12 or 13 years of age. A girl of 15 got pregnant, and they got married right away because the parents were Catholic, and the father of the girl had a shotgun available, if there was any argument from anyone. Raymond Pohl Jr. was born and baptized in the same faith of his parents by Father Ray at St. Josephs Catholic Church on 65th and Mitchell in West Allis, Wisconsin on February 12th, 1970. Ray Sr. was working for his Father-in-law and too tired at the end of each day, to have sex with anyone including his wife, Elaine. This went on for 7 years with each days passing influencing Ray Sr. to wear normal clothing, and cover his tattoos when out in public. Ray Jr. was 8 years old when him and his buddies from the neighborhood discovered an old Hoover vacuum cleaner, and used it to achieve a climax by inserting their penis in the tube and turning it on. A Modern Circle Jerk contraption that made them a Wanker Gang, that showed up everyday after school. By the time he was 12, he had an 8 in. penis that swelled up to be as thick as the end of the Horny Hoover. He was only 5 ft. tall, but the girls always squealed and cried, when he forced that fat cock up their ass, sodomizing them just like his Dad used to do. A Nun discovered a young girls bloody panties and mistook it for a sign of menstrual behavior, but was shocked to find out that the child was reamed, by a second generation Booty Bandit, in The Same School, St. Josephs Catholic School on 65th and Mitchell in West Allis, Wisconsin in the year 1982. The trial judge made a notation that He had tried the Father, and Now was going to Sentence The Son, for the same Crime 20 years later. Before, Ray Jr. entered Wales School for Boys He had impregnated a 16 year old girl, that carried the baby to full term delivery at home, and raised the off spring, as a one parent family, because her family disowned her for having a child out of wedlock. She supported herself and the child as a teenage hooker that charged $50 an hour on the East side of Milwaukee, on Brady Street, where she also sold drugs on the side. 1985 was a Big Year for “Cocaine” and Ray Jr. was schooled in Kiddies’ Prison and had made contacts in the Gay Clubs sprouting up all over the country. He looked older than his 16 years and had phony I.D.’s that allowed him access to all the Bar’s in the city. When He found out about his offspring, he paid $50 for an hour with the child’s mother, because she had a Big Mean Pimp, that had to be paid. The baby was 3 years old and already constantly playing with his dick. The little fucker was a spitting image of his Dad and His Grandpa. At 8 years of age, “Joey” was up on charges for molestation and sodomization of the neighbors kids, aged 4 and 7. The little girl testified that the boy hurt her anus real bad, and her brother also, after bribing them with candy, just like his Father and Grandfather before Him. A Genuine Pedigree Booty Bandit was heading toward a future life, of anal abuse wherever, and whenever possible. It was 1991 and the Honorable Judge Seraphim, of The Circuit Court, having taken this case was of the families, of the victims relation, in a distant cousin sort of way. He presided over the hearing that sent Joey up the river until he reached 21 years of age. He spent everyday of those 15 years incarcerated in Wales School for Boys. The Warden was Roland C. Hirschman and he had a niece move in the Big House, while making Joey his houseboy, when he reached 13 years of age, and had acquired a large reputation of sexual prowess in the showers of the boys school. Old Roland was Gay and in the closet, except with Joey, whom was always ready for some anal penetration on Old Uncle Roland, or his 23 year old Niece, whom was surprised a 13 year old boy had an 8 in. dick and fucked like an energizer bunny on steroids. Needless to say she, “Henrietta” got pregnant and kept the baby, “Joey Jr.” in The Big House the entire time of his fathers incarceration. This new baby was another constant masturbator, from his birth origin, and at the age of 14, in the year 2005, received a sentence to a new jail for kids in a northern county, for forcing himself upon a few kids at the local pool and gym complex in the previous year. When asked about this peculiar attitude toward sexual preference for 4 generations of sexual predators, the Grandfather expressed that it was an age old Love, and normal in their Ancestral Nordic Background. All Vikings were Booty Bandits and always would be. Well, Joey Jr. also liked his ass reamed and for 2 packs of Cigarettes anyone could use his ass for a trampoline and bounce off his ass to their Happy Ending. 4th Generation Great Grandchild turned into a transgender, cross-dressing, titty implant, with a bubble ass, Hooker on Brady Street in Milwaukee, Wisconsin for its 21st Birthday. Just Like his Grandma, and even had some of her Characteristic’s. He/She had Acquired a reputation for the Best Head in Town. It pissed Granddaddy Pohl off to find out, that his family had turned into a bunch of Fags, that received rather than gave at every orifice. He found his great-grandson perched on a Barstool in a Gay Bar, wearing a dress, cosmetic’s, and lipstick and was tempted to abuse that tranny’s ass, but it would have been incest and that wasn’t something his conscious could live with. You have to keep to your value system or the whole world could explode, was his way of thinking in these, “End of Days”. When Joey Jr. got out of kiddies prison maybe they could find some fresh meat together and party as a family of ass fucking degenerates, get busted and serve time in prison together. That would be the families Legacy and perfect for Old Ray Pohl Senior. He was Dreaming His Dreams of Ecstasy.
　
　
　
I ALWAYS WANTED TO TRY SOMETHING, BUT WITHELD MY DESIRES SATISFACTION, BECAUSE OF FEAR. A PROGRAM OF RULES AND REGULATIONS, SOCIAL GRACES AND BOUNDRIES, FENCES, DOORS, LOCKS,BOXES,DESKS,AND SECRET HIDDY-HOLES. MY DESTINY WAS TO BREAK ALL THE RULES AND REGULATIONS OF CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY, IN AN “ARTISTIC” MANNER. I AM TOO EVOLVED TO ACCEPT ANIMINAL BEHAVIOR IN MYSELF, AND THAT IS WHERE THE LINE IS DRAWN. I EXPIERANCED THAT MY ENTIRE LIFE, UNTIL I RECOGNIZED THE IDEA OF INVENTION. TAKE THE DIRECTORS POSITION AND MAKE THE MOVIE.
1. HAVE A CAST OF WILLING ACTORS, MUSICIANS, GAFFERS, STUNT PEOPLE, EXTRA’S, A CATERER, AND A HALF A DOZEN PORT-A-POTTI’S.
2. GET PERMITS FROM THE LOCAL PERMIT OFFICE AND SEE WHO WILL LET YOU USE THEIR PROPERTY FOR THE ADVERTIZEMENT VALUE OF THEIR ENVOLVEMENT.
3. PROVIDE TRANSPORTATION AND INSURANCE WITH WORKMANS COMPENSATION PACKAGES. HAVE A MEDICAL TEAM WITH EMERGENCY VEHICLE AND FIRE EXTINGUISHERS.
4. NOW YOU NEED AN ACCOUNTANT AND OFFICE MANAGER THAT RUNS A PHONE ROOM ONCE THE WORD GETS OUT THAT “A MOVIE IS BEING MADE”, A HUGE CROWD OF INSANE PEOPLE WILL GATHER TO SHOW THEIR STUFF FOR 3 MINUTES OF FAME.
5. YOU INVITE A DOZEN GIFTED PHOTOGRAPHERS USING A VIDEO FORMAT TO CAPTURE THIS CIRCUS WITH THEIR OWN DIRECTION, VIEW, AND PERSPECTIVE. IN THE EDITING ROOM IS WHERE THE MAGIC HAPPENS. YOU VIEW EACH PHOTOGRAPHERS WORK AND CREATE A STORYLINE THAT VOICE ACTORS NARRATE, INTO A TALE YET TO BE TOLD.
6. THE FIRST “COLLABORATIONIST” EFFORT.
　
　
　
Sometimes it takes a Lifetime of mistakes to become self-realized in whatever representation an individual wants in their career goals. A certain refinement or honing of skills, until the presentation is acceptable and the work completed is of the highest order. The ordinary level is surpassed and the best work completed at every opportunity, until a large body exists to represent oneself in the world as a “MASTER”. Social Acceptance is based upon skills in communication, and temperament of the personal responses in business, and social Grace in personal appearances. Religion, Politics‘, Race, Group Affiliations, and Personal Hygiene, as well as Vices are a contributing factor. Any unacceptable trait can ruin a career, and keep even the most talented individuals locked in the shackles of rejection.
Management of a career by the creative personality is difficult because, a business mind is a whole different type. full time deployment of concerted energy is what it takes to run a business, with all the advertising, messaging, accounting, purchasing, sales, taxes, and negotiations incurred on a daily basis. If you don’t accomplish these tasks on a timely basis, the previous efforts, up to that point could be destroyed by the slightest infraction.
Drug and Alcohol have destroyed many careers as well as breaking the laws within society. Sexual Identity and proclivities, also add to the level of social acceptance or rejection. Gossip, whether true or false can improve or destroy a career also.
I have taken my personal Life and examined My attributes and deficiencies and came to the conclusion that I would have succeeded in this life as an Artist, if I had followed these rules of the road, but I didn’t. I have always been “Arrogant” and “Hedonistic”. I break the rules and regulations at every opportunity. I have been arrested, and convicted, for assaulting my critic’s, and received punishment to the letter of the law, with no remorse…….HAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHHA
　
　
　
Living in a Resort Hotel on Reeds Bay in Hilo, Hawaii
As an Artist, and somehow ends are met, deals completed and appearances kept up to a certain level of Respectability. All of this in a Recessionary Economy with nobody paying true Value for Contemporary Art. I eat salad as well as Fish, Shrimp, and Steak whenever.
Next Friday, I am invited over to MR. ROLLY, the esteemed Painter from Waimea, Hawaii and will spend a few days in “Creationism” with Him and His Guest whom is a French woman “Painter” and we are going to use a lot of material to create “ART”. My neighbor isn’t feeling well. She is Donna Butterworth, the child “STAR” and a talented entertainer with a wonderful CD of her own compositions. She worked with ELVIS when she was 9 and I think He diddled her or something to have her feel the way she does. Her whole life traveling and playing for strangers, and NOW there isn’t any refuge, because she can’t pay rent, and will be Homeless in 10 days. Somehow I make ends meet, but can’t afford a tooth extraction. We live an illusion that makes sense to us. I drive a Mercedes-Benz and drink Fine Wine, as I Pleasure myself at every opportunity, I am so Decadent. Living Life To The Fullest in Paradise at the expense of someone else, because I can Paint and I can do it anytime, and anywhere. I have literally taken tubes of paint and mixed with “Licquin” thrown it at the canvas and worked it with a samurai sword until it was exchanged for a Volkswagen Westphalia, that I sold for $5,000 USD. That is ART!!! I only want more time in this existence to enjoy the company of Strangers, all of my Birth Family, Wives, and Children have disowned me, because I live like a Hedonist.
　
　
IT IS IN THE BEST INTEREST OF THE FUTURE OF “ART” THAT OLD SCHOOL METHODS OF PREPERATION AND APPLICATION REMAIN ALIVE. THE CONSTANT TREND OF “DIGITAL CREATIONISM” USING COMPUTERS, SOFTWARE PROGRAMS, LARGE FORMAT PRINTERS,
ARCHIVAL INKS AND PAPER TO CUT COSTS, AND STILL HAVE A LONG LASTING IMAGE ON CANVAS. THE INCREASING COST OF QUALITY MATERIALS FOR THE TRADITIONAL “OIL-PAINTER”, HAS SKYROCKETED, AND THE STARVING ARTIST WILL STARVE IN A DOWNWARD RECCESSIONARY ECONOMY, UNLESS THEY NETWORK, AND JOIN FORCES WITH OTHERS, TO STIMULATE THOSE CREATIVE JUICES. SO, I RECEIVED AN INVITATION TO VISIT THE STUDIO, HOME OF MR. ROLLY OF WAIMEA, A FANTASTICALLY TALENTED PAINTER, AND A SECRET GUEST OF FRENCH ORIGIN THAT IS A FEMALE AND PAINTER. WE ARE TO MEET FOR A SABBATICAL RETREAT. A THREE WAY FESTIVAL OF PLEASURE. WE ALL LOVE FINE WINE, GORMET FOOD, GOOD HERBS, GREAT MUSIC, AND PAINTING EXPRESSIONISM. I WILL SHARE MY VISION WITH A NEW IMAGE OF LOCAL TALENT IN A SPORT ATMOSPHERE, TO BE USED IN T-SHIRT DESIGN, LOGOS, AND DECALS. IT IS THE LOCAL DONKEY THAT IS WILD, LIVING ALONG THE KONA COAST, AND IS THE COLOR “BLUE” WHEN OBSERVED UP CLOSE. THAT AND AN IMAGE OF A “MENEHUNE”, THE LITTLE PEOPLE THAT USED TO LIVE HERE BEFORE THE HAWAIIANS ARRIVED AND WERE EATEN UNTIL THEY WERE NO MORE THAN MEMORIES OF THE TASTY MORSELS THEY
WERE. AFTER MY SABATICAL I WILL SHOW YOU IT ALL.
　
　
　
It was an eternal prison, and there wasn’t any appellate review. I had simply offended the hierarchy of the Heavens, with my questions and answers, which were just a little too much. Take for instance the one about “Creationism”, and the origin of this state of Consciousness, that I was presently trapped into believing. I remember a birth into a family of European descent, that consisted of parents that seemed to be hard working and Catholic, but not really capable of independent thinking or interested in self-realization, but rather just interested in getting along and staying under the radar. Not flashy, nor Loud, unless they were bolstered by large amounts of alcohol, that fueled arguments and physical fights over senseless acts from the past. This was the second marriage for Alvin and Ann. Alvin had a child by his previous marriage, and the same for Ann. These offspring were both boys whom were never really accepted or supported by them, rather just ignored as one would a club foot on the neighborhood cat. George was the eldest and the son of Ann. Johnny was Al’s son and lived with his paternal Grandparents whom were the Kosmas. The reason they married was because Ann got pregnant with Joanne, and Ann’s Grandmother owned a home that Alvin had his sights on as owning someday, when the old Lady died. The marriage was blessed in a civil ceremony by the Devil himself. Every four years after another child was born to fulfill a debt owed to Existence. These were factory workers chasing The American Dream. After Joanne, James Allen was born of dubious heritage, looking like one of the traveling salesmen that canvassed the neighborhood. He was a blond haired blue eyed wonder, in a dark haired family. Next was Thomas John the handsome and mischievous boy, tutored by his elder siblings, into becoming a gifted thief, at a very early age. Linda was next, followed by Deborah and that made up The Taylor family in a factory town called West Allis, Wisconsin. The Grandparents on Al’s side lived up north in Nekoosa, Wisconsin on a farm without any animals, but busy with visits from there offspring, consisting of three daughters besides Al, that were of Gypsy Origin, named Margaret, Barbara, and Elizabeth. Each of them had children, and those children had children, whom had children, creating a clan of dysfunctional factory workers, that had annual gatherings on the farm every 4th of July. The men also joined together every deer hunting season, to share the kill and get drunk as they played cards for pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters. Education was not a priority, nor personal hygiene as an example. It was a Life based around trying to adjust in a new country by immigrants from Hungary that were Americans through naturalization. The grandparents still spoke with their ancient tongue and broken English that sounded like grunts and groans. They did know how to survive in the cold and dreary climate of Northern Wisconsin, that had snow for 6 months of the year.
I am Thomas, and when I was born we lived on 65th street in West Allis, Wisconsin in a wooden duplex owned by my Great Grandma whom was referred to as “Bakka”. She Loved me dearly as a child and took care of me everyday, when I was 3 until I was 5. One day my Father couldn’t wait any longer to own her home, and got into an argument over the deed and title. Oops! She fell down a flight of stairs, and broke her hip, went to the hospital, caught phenomena and died. I witnessed the fall, and it looked like a shove to me, as my Father glared at the body falling and tumbling down the stairs. She was in her 90’s and too old to recuperate. The guilt was too much, so Dad sold the property and moved into a brick house on 52nd St. in West Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I was distanced by my Father and his knowledge of my memories, which gave him flashbacks of his crime. In this new house George was inducted into the Army, failed to report and was dragged out of the house by M. P.’ s in the middle of the night, to serve in the U.S. Army. I was about 7 years of age in the 1st Grade and playing in my fathers workshop in the basement, where I was taking some bullets apart to retrieve the gun powder, for a home made bomb, as instructed by my older brother James. My neighbor was Eddie Ott, the son of Sergeant Ott, of the Milwaukee Police Department. BANG!!! One of the bullets discharged in the vice, and struck Eddie in the thigh. Needless to say, I was in deep trouble, and Dad sold the house and moved to 57th Street, into a larger 4 bedroom wooden structure, on an elm tree lined street, with a large yard, and plenty of kids in the neighborhood. He bought a new car with fins, a “59” Chevy. James always had it in for me and one time when I was 8 he almost killed me as we played cowboys and Indians. I was on a chair with a rope around my neck, my hands tied, and just when he was about to execute me for some “crime” my Mother stepped in and saved me. I was a kid and stayed away from him for a few years. When I was 11 years old, James was 15 and had a summer job at a local car dealership cleaning and detailing used cars for resale. I had a bicycle and rode over to see him work, when he presented me with a car as a present. He had prepared me with knowledge of starting and stopping, extending my legs with small stilts to operate the pedals, and giving me instructions on moving my 1958 Mercedes-Benz without getting caught by the police. Well, as soon as it was dark outside I could take my “New Car” and store it in my friends empty garage until I was old enough to drive and get a license. I was so excited, I had to pee and hosed down the tires for good luck. James never gave me anything before and I was really Happy with his improved behavior. Nightfall came around 7 P.M. on that humid, sweaty day in August 1958 in West Allis, Wisconsin. Carrying my newly built stilts and carrying the keys to my car, I moved on the lot with stealth and determination. I had driven a car up north with my cousins down an old dirt road, but only for a short distance. Tonight I needed to go about a mile and safely park in Bobbie Cantwells garage. This was so much fun, that I shook with glee, laughing all by myself. There she was, that beautiful new car with an automatic transmission and a radio that worked. It was a dark blue sedan with a wooden dash and steering wheel. I inserted the key and the motor sprung to life. Wow, I had 2 phone books to elevate my seat so I could look over the dash and stilts on my feet to reach the gas and brake pedals. Vaarooom, Vaarooom, the engine purred like a kitten. I turned on the radio and let it warm up like my Dad did with his car. The car had a magnificent radio tuned into a country and western station that sounded like a lot of wailing discord, so I changed it to a station that played the new sounds of Rock and Roll, Boogie, and Blues more suitable for the occasion. Here we go, as I shift it into the “D” position. Well, it was some getting used to as I shot forward into another car with a loud crunch and bang. Now I was hooked up onto another cars bumper and had to get out of my car to assess the situation. The car had conked out and everything was silent in the humid night air. Looked like I could dislodge it if I put the shifter in “R” and the pedal to the metal. Yea, lets try that and see if it works. Those stilts didn’t have the same sensitivity as my legs, but I was Optimistic and Confident it would work. I got back into my car and it started with ease, so I put the shift lever in reverse and gunned the engine. A loud screeching noise occurred as the bumpers dislodged and I shot backward. A loud “BANG” as I flew backward into another vehicle’s side causing a great amount of damage. I didn’t count on that happening over and over again for a full 20 minutes of bumper car activity, just like at the County Fairgrounds ride making a lot of racket and causing extensive damage to my new car. Someone noticed this loud destructive activity on an otherwise quiet summer night and called the cops. They arrived in time to see a little person with stilts on exit a damaged Mercedes-Benz and try to run, looking like a Geisha with bound feet, make a get-away. They scooped me up and the tall cop carried me under his arm like a sack of groceries and deposited me in the cruiser’s back seat and closed the back door. I knew then I was in deep trouble and would be punished by my Father with extreme measures after a beating, that might cost me my life. The cops took me to the station without saying a word to me, but discussed it between themselves with hearty laughs and chuckles. Maybe, I’d get off easy, because I was just a kid. They confiscated my keys and stilts, marked for evidence, and questioned me about the crime. I divulged all the information about my name, address, school, and home phone number, but never ratted on my brother James. I would take the fall for my inability to drive my car off the lot. I told them it was my car and they laughed like hell thinking I was a little screwy in the head. They called my Dad whom was yelling in the phone and could be heard across the room. He was yelling that they should lock me up for my own protection because he was going to torture and kill me when he got his hands on me. He brought me into this world and he was going to take me out. They than transferred me to “The Galena Street Hotel”. It was the Milwaukee County Juvenile Detention Center. The year was 1959 one month before my 12th Birthday. I was the youngest car thief in the Recorded History of Wisconsin Law Enforcement. I was checked into a cell with another boy of 16 years of age whom belonged to a gang called, “The National Street Rebels”. His name was Jose Cartagena and he was involved in a gang fight with a rival gang, and got caught after stabbing a boy in the stomach a few times. He told me stories for a few hours and then we slept until morning and Breakfast. I was sure hungry and the food wasn’t too bad as eggs, toast, potatoes, and milk were served to a room full of other kids arrested on various charges. I had to appear in court on Monday with my parents and answer to the charges that included destruction of private property in the amount of $29,000.
The facility stressed education and group sports like basketball, and dodge ball, with checkers and books to read for the weekend, until my trial. I got to shower and freshen up before I was transferred to the court in handcuffs. I saw my parents in the back pews as I was ushered into a regular court room full of spectators and other juvenile’s awaiting judgment. The whole courtroom rose up when the judge appeared and the trials began. I was the last case as the court room emptied and realization it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. My parents were called to the front and asked about their disposition considering my age and the severity of the crime. My Dad was nervous about the cost of damages and if he was going to be responsible never even looking in my direction. My Mother was his timid wife sobbing as he stated that I couldn’t return home for fear of killing and dismembering me with an uncontrollable rage. The Judge agreed and soothed my Father with the knowledge that the car lot had insurance and I would be committed to Wales School for Boys in Waukesha, Wisconsin until I was 21 years of age. My parents left with my Mother sobbing and me bawling like a baby unable to go home ever again. I was transferred to Wales in the morning along with a half a dozen other boys, but I was the youngest and the youngest in the history of that institution. This was a kiddies prison, just like the adult one with a guard shack and fences with razor wire on top, surrounding a compound, consisting of many buildings, with landscaped lawns, and hundreds of boys strolling around the campus. It was a lonely feeling to be disowned at 11 years of age amongst a population of bad boys. The Superintendent was Roland C. Hirschman whom was appointed by the Governor for lifetime, unless he committed a crime. You entered through a gate and were dropped off at the orientation center and assigned a room that had a locked door controlled by a counselor or guard as he really was. When the door unlocked we were marched into a room and given seal brown clothes to wear, with nothing in my size, due to my small stature. I had to roll up the sleeves and pant legs, looking lost in their dimensions. All of the kids pointed at me and remarked about my age and size calling me pee wee, shorty, and even baby cakes. About 50% of the population was Black with 25% Mexican or Hispanic and 10% Native American as the remainder 15% was Caucasian or a near derivative. After, a 30 day orientation we were assigned to cottages that housed 60 boys and I was assigned to Cottage 8 reserved for the most adolescent of us little guys. I was young and dumb streetwise. Some of these kids were murderers, but mostly runaways. Each cottage had a dayroom with a T.V. and library as well as a weight set and a punching bag. Every evening the lights went out at 9 P.M. and the doors were locked, but you could hear the lonely sobbing of boys that missed their dysfunctional families, or single parent households. I received my first visit from my Mom in a month and than at least once a month thereafter for the 2 years before I was allowed an off grounds pass to visit my family. Never did any other member visit or write me during my incarceration. George was home from the service and Joan was in High School blowing all the jocks she had for boy friends. My Dad was busy starting a hamburger joint called the Butterbun Restaurant. He was still angry with my criminal history. A Gypsy that had a witness to his Evil Deed. Heh! Heh! Heh! His Son……. Well, when I arrived for the weekend it was like walking on gilded splinters I think every fart was a wet one, and I should have brought 2 pairs of underwear. My Father was a fireplug built kind of guy and I was a muscular 15 year old that had trained for the past 4 years or so and could knock out any man regardless with a 6in. Punch. Yea, Yer Right, He got the fuck knocked out of him, in the bath tub, from the kitchen room 12 ft. away. I was Grown Up and He called the cops to haul me away. I went back to Wales in chains, training for a life of “CRIME”. They have Trusties working on the grounds that were short time prisoners, from the Big House. It was “Waupun”, a walled prison with sexual deviants for Guards. They had a Dairy Farm and a License Plate Factory. Everyone got 50 cents a day. I was Fresh meat as they sent me into the “RING” to soften me up, with a fighter that was a Pro….. I knocked him the fuck out in less then a minute….His name was Dennis Miller and received 30 stitches for the effort. I am a hard hitting dude and know how to fight after all that time training in kiddies prison. When I was at Wales and went home for the weekend, my Father didn’t trust me in the house around his stuff. And when I returned to Wales they had the Pro trying to knock me out. 2 knockouts in one week is extraordinary and I got pictures shown to me at my disciplinary board hearing showing my Father unconscious in the bath tub, which I took as a souvenir. Now, I’m classified as an adult and sent to the young men’s reformatory in Green Bay, Wisconsin. It was a prison and I was already earning my stripes. Real cells and prison suits that were a day-glow orange and too bright on your eyes. The cells were opened for work call, meals, and recreation
As a monotonous routine continued until your release from this eternal “HELL”, that housed Real Monsters, and Ghouls, with an assortment of wannabe’s. ‘After a month I was transferred to the Farm and a job in the main barn as a milker, and a shit shoveled. I smelled like crap the entire time I worked there. My behavior was so good that Roland C. Hirschman heard of my attitude change, and got me transferred to be his Houseboy.
I was going back to “Wales”. Upon arrival I was given a room in “The Annex” where all the convict’s lived that were trustee’s from the Big House, Waupun. In the morning I would walk outside and up the hill to Uncle Rolli’s House to make Breakfast for him and His niece. I was a good cook, housemaid, chauffer, handyman and runaway catcher, when any of the kids tried to runaway. Uncle Rolli would reward me with a hundred dollar bill and a weekend in Madison, or Milwaukee to do as I pleased for 3 days. I had turned 16 with no contact from my 3 brothers or my 3 sisters. Even my Mother shunned me. I was horny as hell and a queer offered me $100 to jerk me off in his mouth. Hell yes, I was making money and getting my rocks off. I also was treasured and adored by all these professional people working in Government. I returned to Wales after 1 weekend and had made $500 without anyone making me into the little girl, and was literally passed around as a “TOP” in the Hustler’s world of male prostitution. I got caught by an undercover cop and knocked him out. I fled back to Wales School for Boys where I was questioned by Uncle Rolli about an unusual circumstance that occurred at the YMCA. Someone matching my description had beat up a cop and rendered him unconscious. The description matched me, and I was surprised at Uncle Rolli’s response.
He directed me into his bedroom and disrobed and climbed under the covers. He motioned for me to enter the bed fully clothed and started rubbing my penis into a full erection. He than zipped open my blue jeans and started to lick my erection, and masturbate himself at the same time. I was getting head from my warden, upon promises that he wouldn’t get me busted for assaulting a police officer. That was blowing my mind as well. I figured I was going to get busted anyway, so when he fell asleep, I stole all the valuables and money as well as the keys to the car. I might as well go all the way. I planned my itinerary to include a fast ride down the Mississippi to New Orleans where numerous clients told me I would make a mint of money because of my good looks and well endowed penis that was handsome as well. I even had a credit card for Shell gas and in those days there weren’t any computers to track your movements like there is today. I had a few hundred dollars and a box of jewelry along with a silver tea and service set. A few antiques and a memorable blow job from Uncle Rolli. Life was good and I felt FREE. It was 5 years since I was incarcerated and my siblings never even enquired about my health. I guess I was shunned for LIFE.
　
　
　
In all societies exist the “ONE” that is weird, outside the circle, belongs in a box, (type of character), or a straitjacket and mask, to keep him or her from biting, as you help transport “IT” to the lethal injection room, for the 5th time. She was a He that had the first triple transgender surgeries, because “IT” was also obsessive compulsive and schitz in the head. When “IT’S” Doctor said no to a demand for a reversal surgery “IT” got so pissed off, “IT” jumped on the poor old , and chewed thru his jugular, making news, as a hungry cannibal and werewolf/vampire, in the tabloid papers on the news stands. So the trial lasted 2 years of testimonies, from every Expert, in any related field. The outcome was, Guilty on all counts, and Death By Legal Injection, was the sentence. It was to be carried out Immediately and that was 6 months ago, because 4 previous attempts failed to phase this Freak, rather it seemed to fortify “IT” with diabolical results, that led to the quitting of staff personal, because of that slant on these strange occurrences. The dosages of barbiturates were doubled each time, causing 8 hour rest periods rather than death. The attending physician has changed 3 times. Tonight, pure poison in the form of arsenic is being added per instructions of the Governor, against the wishes of the Christians against Capital Punishment Outside the prison. 12 witnesses are seated in the viewing room looking all sheepish as “IT” gets strapped on the table. A side room is where the Executioner mixes and sends the lethal dose thru an I.V. setup. He put enough poison in this time, that could kill a herd of elephants. WHAM! You could see the body jolt and vibrate for a few minutes and than go still. Everyone was as quiet as a rock until a full 5 minutes passed, and the Doctor attending took his stethoscope into the death chamber to declare “IT” dead. “DAMIT, DAMIT TO HELL! THIS FUCKING FREAKSHOW IS STILL ALIVE!!!!!” was that Baritone Yelling coming out of the attending physicians mouth. A few people fainted in the viewing room, and the Executioner got paranoid, and left the area, to hide in a motel room, with a bottle of booze and a bible. The crowd outside cheered when “IT” was injected, but upon discovery of the renewed vigor in the freak shows body the Mob decided to take matters into its own hands, and stormed the prison, to kill the Anti-Christ. The Guards had orders to shoot and they did. 87 civilians, ministers, nuns, and priests were killed and another 343 wounded in the 4 hour mob riot. No amount of lethal injection seemed to work, so the Governor decided to use, “Old Sparky” the electric chair immediately. They dragged the body still drugged on poison, and seated it in the chair of a thousand deaths and pulled the switch, making the smell of bacon enter the room for a full 5 minutes. When the Doctor checked the body he fainted, and than died of a stroke because “IT” was still alive, and laughing with uncontrollable glee. The ACLU found out, and before anyone could try to execute “IT” was whisked away, by Federal Agents and protected, because “IT’S” rights were being violated. The Governor would not be reelected, after the civilians rioted and got mowed down by overzealous guards, given the orders to shoot by the Governor Himself. He was mumbling incoherently right before he shot himself in the neck. The bad part was that he didn’t die, he just blew out his vocal cords and severed the spine so he would be unable to communicate, except by blinking his eyes. The class action suit was won by the families of the deceased and wounded, but it bankrupted the State and The President himself overruled the decision, on the grounds of National Security, and made the payment a maximum of $10,000 per deceased or wounded claim. The Governor on the other hand already cost the taxpayers over $1,000,000 in Emergency and Life support systems and care. “IT” was housed in a supermax prison, in a specially equipped cage surrounded by 4 guards armed with automatic weapons, with instructions to kill anyone attempting to kill “IT”. In this cage “IT” was kept like an experiment gone wrong, with scientists documenting each and every noticed action. Every so often “IT” would laugh uncontrollably, with full-on Rapture. So, “IT’s” latest sex change left it a female with a nice set of jugs and a beautiful ass implant with extensive facial reconstruction and hair removal. The electric current fried the hair into an afro of sorts, but more electric making “IT” freakishly sinister. Having consumed major amounts of poison had altered the consciousness into believing “IT” was invincible. So one day the new Governor won an appeal that allowed “IT” to be executed immediately by any means possible and made the call to the guards protecting “IT” to shoot until “IT” was dead. Well, guards are not usually intelligent and they just pointed and shot until the body was riddled with bullets, and surely dead as dead can be. A total of 136 bullets entered and exited the torso and bled the body of 6 quarts of blood. After the smoke cleared, a deep death rattle and a hearty laughter, exited the haunting corpse. Till this day the guards swear they hear “IT” laughing in the death house, late at night, and some death row inmates claim they have been seduced, in their sleep and have had sex with a ghost.
The body was burned in the prison incinerator, and the ashes flushed down the sewer system which coincidentally broke, and had to be replaced at a cost of a few million dollars. The 4 guards that executed “IT” won a labor dispute, over their claims of PTSD, and received a million each for their haunting disability, and reoccurring nightmares of the Freak and “IT’S” final laughter, that they still hear every night, in their dreams. Who really had the last laugh when the tally was taken? What was “IT” really? Somehow, someone should have known that this was all caused by a Deliberate Malfunction.
　
　
　
ITS NOT JUST THE BRUISE’S OR THE BROKEN TEETH. I CAN’T EVEN MENTION THE SEXUAL ABUSE. A MOMENT IN HELL, NEVER TO BE REVISITED. I THOUGHT “ART” WOULD BE A NEVERENDING JOURNEY INTO A LIFELONG ATTEMPT; IN CAPTURING LOVE, JOY, PLEASURE, AND PEACE. WHAT WENT WRONG??? I WAS THINKING A LOGICAL SOLUTION TO A PROBLEM THAT DOESN’T EXIST.
I AM 62 YEARS OF AGE. ALL THE DESIREABLE LADIES ARE UNDER 21 AND FRESH AS A GEORGIA PEACH. IF I LET MY LOVE DIRECT ME IN ADORATION OF A YOUNG LADIES BEAUTY, I AM CONDEMNED AS A PERV. AND WORSE FOR MY NATURAL INCLINATIONS. SO, I PAY YOUNG LADIES FOR THEIR ATTENTION AND MINISTRATIONS. THIS “DONATION” HAS MADE WHORES OUT OF ORDINARY SLUTS.
IT STARTS OUT AS A SESSION OF “SKETCHES” THAT ARE TO BE USED IN THE CREATION OF A CONTEMPORARY “MASTERPIECE”. I PAY $5 AN HOUR, FOR THE FULL MONTY AND PROMISE OF BEING THE MUSE, FOR THE MASTER. AFTER SHE AMUSES ME, I DUMP HER FOR THE NEXT “BIMBO”, DUMB ENOUGH TO FALL FOR THAT OLD GISMO. IT HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR 40 YEARS HERE IN POLYNESIA AND LOOKS LIKE I MIGHT MAKE IT ANOTHER 40. I AM SAFE AS FAR AS STD’S AND ALWAYS CHECK OUT THE NUBILE YOUNG LADIES FOR VISIBLE SIGNS, AND I HAVE BEEN JUST DARN LUCKY.
THE OTHER DAY A 23 YEAR OLD ATHLETICALLY BUILT YOUNG LADY THREATENED TO KICK MY BUTT, BECAUSE I HAD MY WAY WITH HER AND ONLY LASTED 3 MINUTES. A NEIGHBOR SHOWED UP AND SAVED ME FROM AN ASS KICKING. I APOLOGISED, BUT SHE WOULDN’T ACCEPT. SHE SAID I WAS A PERV THAT PROMISED IMMORTALITY, BUT THAT IMMORTALITY ONLY LASTED 3 MINUTES. I HAVE TO AGREE, THAT’S WHY I AM AN ARTIST. I LOVE BEING ME. IF ANYONE WANTS TO BE MY MUSE, CALL ME……808-250-7504
　
　
　
NEW AGE
NEW WAVE
SAME OLD PLANET
TO SAVE.
DON’T SHOOT!
DON’T POLLUTE
WE’VE GOT TO
FIGURE OUT A WAY, THERE’S A WHOLE PLANET
OUT THERE WE’VE
GOT TO SAVE.
NEW AGE
NEW WAVE
　
　
IT BEHOOVES THE STUDENT,AS WELL AS THE “ARTIST” TO COMPREHEND CERTAIN PRINCIPLE’S OF HUMAN NATURE IN RESPECT TO SELLING THEIR IMAGES.
1. PRESENTATION: DOES THE IMAGE LOOK LIKE A MILLION BUCKS?
THE FRAME AND MATTING IF NEEDED, AS WELL AS LIGHTING TO REVEAL ITS TRUE POTENTIAL AND GRAB YOUR EYE.
2. LOCATION OF DEAL: IS THE GALLERY PRESENTABLE OR IS IT A GARAGE ON YARD SALE DAY? A PERSONAL CAFÉ, RESTURANT, OR BAR IS AN EASY DISPLAY SPACE, FOR A LOW COST ITEM ON THE MENU.
3. CLOSURE: WHO IS DOING THE DEAL? A SMELLY “HOMELESS” DRUNK IS NOT AS GOOD AS AN ACTIVE ARTIST WORKING IN PUBLIC THAT HAS GREAT HYGIENE.
4. PATRONAGE: YOU HAVE TO ASK IF YOU WANT TO RECEIVE. EVERY MAJOR BUILDING PROJECT HAS AN ART BUDGET OF 10% AND CORPORATIONS NEED PROPOSALS SUBMITTED, THAT ARE
REVIEWED AND TAKE TIME AND PATIENCE. ASK YOUR FAMILY’S.
5. TRADE: DURING MY LIFE, TRAVELING THRU 54 COUNTRIES I HAVE TRADED FOR LODGING, FOOD, CARS, BOATS, TRIPS, AND GOODS LIKE CAMERA’S, LARGE SCREEN T.V.’S, BEDS, AND ORIENTAL RUGS, GUITARS, DRUMS, AND A FLUTE. (SILVER) ALL TOO MANY TIMES AND THINGS I CAN’T REMEMBER. LAST YEAR I TRADED FOR A MERCEDES/BENZ, AND A VOLKSWAGEN VAN I SOLD FOR $5,000. A FEW MONTHS AGO, A PATRON GAVE ME A 10 DAY VACATION, AT AN UPSCALE GOLF COARSE WITH 4 AND 5 STAR MEALS, AND ALL THE TOURIST EVENTS, LIKE OCEAN FISHING FOR A HALF A DAY, HORSEBACK RIDING, ATV RIDING, SNORKLING CRUISE FOR ½ A DAY, AND WHALE WATCHING. I HAVE DONATED TO VARIOUS CHARITIES AND ORGANIZATIONS IN HOPES OF PUTTING LIGHT IN DARK PLACES. I MIGHT TRADE FOR ANYTHING EXCEPT MY LIFESTYLE, WHICH CONTINUES TO IMPROVE.
　
　
　
DURING THE 70’S ON THE BIG ISLAND HAWAII THERE WASN’T ANY CODE ENFORCEMENT IN THE BUILDING AND CONSTRUCTION SECTOR, EXCEPT FOR UNION AND COMMERCIAL JOBS IN THE CITIES. IN THE DISTRICT OF PUNA, WHERE THE VOLCANO WAS ACTIVE LAND WAS CHEAP. ANYONE WITH BUILDING MATERIALS COULD BUILD A SHACK WITH BAILING WIRE AND BENT NAILS FOUND IN THE DUMP. A ROOF MADE OF THATCHED PALMS AND NATURAL AGGREGATES FOUND IN THE AREA PROVIDED INTERESTING SOLUTIONS TO HABITAT. WE WERE PIONEERS AND EVEN LIVED OUT OUR FANTASY’S IN TREE HOUSES, IN THE JUNGLE, AND IN SHACKS COMPRISED OF PALLETS, WITH PLYWOOD FLOORS, AND TARPS FOR ROOFS, WITH SCREEN WALLS, AND A MAKESHIFT , TO KEEP THE BUGS OUT. INSENSE AND MOSQUITO COILS ALWAYS BURNING, ALONG WITH THE CONSTANT SPLIFF SCENT OF THE SACRED HERB. A TRAIL OUTBACK LED TO THE SECRET GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHT. 100 FEMALE MARIJAUNA PLANTS IN FULL BLOSSOM SCENT OF SWEET MANGO FLAVOR EVEN AFTER IT WAS DRIED AND PLACED IN A PIPE OR ROLLED IN A PAPER. I CREATED 15 PUNA SHACKS IN MY LIFETIME UNTIL 1998 WHEN THE U.S. GOVERNMENT TOOK POSSESSION OF ALL MY PROPERTIES, AND THREATENED TO CHARGE ME WITH MANUFACTOR AND CULTIVATION OF A CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE UNDER THE “RICO” ACT THAT HAD A LIFE SENTENCE ATTACHED TO IT IF CONVICTED. I WENT FOR THE FORFIETURE OF PROPERTY AND THE BREAKUP OF MY FAMILY. THE GOVERNMENT SEEMED CONTENT BECAUSE THEY NEVER PURSUED ANY CHARGES. I MOVED TO MAUI FOR 10 YEARS OF CONSTANT “ART” CREATING, DISPLAYING, TALKING, SELLING, PACKAGING, SHIPPING ART AND LIVING A LIFE THAT WAS A PARTY 24/7. IN 2008 I RETURNED HERE TO THE BIG ISLAND, AND SETTLED IN A STUDIO, IN A RESORT HOTEL,ON REEDS BAY IN HILO, HAWAII. I INTEND ON PURCHASING A PROPERTY SOON, TO RECONSTRUCT A PUNA SHACK, BUT NOW I HAVE TO APPLY AND GET PERMITS, USE MATERIALS THAT ARE APPROVED AND BE JUST A GOOD CITIZEN, AND NOT THE WILDMAN IN THE JUNGLE I USED TO BE. I WILL USE BEAUTIFUL WOOD FROM KOA TREES, AND MONKEY POD TO EMBELLISH THE RESIDENCE. I WILL BUILD A ROCK WALL AND FIREPLACE FROM LOCAL STONE QUARRY. I’LL MAKE IT ON A PIER AND POLE FOUNDATION THAT YOU CAN BACK A HOUSEMOVING TRUCK UNDERNEATH, SO IF THE LAVA FLOW HEADS MY WAY, I CAN SAVE THE HOUSE.
WHERE ELSE CAN YOU LIVE LIKE THAT IN THE U.S.A.???
　
　
　
Since Prehistoric Man’s Evolution The Release Of Gas From The Human System Has Provided The Relief Of One Person’s Discomfort, But Maybe The Basis Of Another Persons Despair. As Society Evolved, (just a rumor) They Forbade It’s Members from Public Displays Of The Rudimentary Tooting The National Anthem Out Of One’s Buttocks. It Was Published In The 18th Century As A Law In Bloody Old England. Farting A Double Deadly Mixture Of Cabbage And Eggs Could Result In A Conviction And Fine As Well As Up To A Year In Jail, If It Caused A Stroke Or Heart Attack In Another Person. Belching Is Similar To A Crocodile Croaking In Ritual Seduction Of The Female. Maybe It Has The Same Effect On All Females. Look At Bikers And Some Of Them Hot Ladies That Put Up With Those Smelly Bikers Farting And Belching At Will, And At Every Available Opportunity. Beer Drinking Bikers Belching And Farting To Their Hearts Content. Let’s Just Say The Essence Of Biker Derrière Is Not Perfume. Some Of Those Real Outlaws Don’t Bathe Or Wash Their “Colors” Ever. I Have Seen The Vests And Jackets Of The “Outlaws” Spit And Pissed On By The Whole Club For An Initiation Ritual In Milwaukee, Wisconsin. “PIG” Jim Besinius was The President and The Club Began Dealing and Smuggling From Florida. You Could Go Into Their Clubhouse and Just Say “Cocaine” and Everyone Would Start Farting. It Had That Effect. Once The “Meth” or Speed took Over The Biker Scene, You Couldn’t Raise a Belch Or Fart In any Biker. They Stopped Eating And Drinking. They all Went Crazy And Their Teeth Fell Out. All Those Beautiful Women Turned Ugly, In A Real Short Time, And Missed The Beauty Of The Long Gone, Belch And Fart, Of The Fat And Hairy Biker Of Yesterday. Now HIV came along and wiped out every single biker rapist of little boys.
　
　
　
When I traveled as an “Artist” I became aware of the reputation granted a traveler. You were immediately placed on an “A” list in the local Party Circuit. If you carried a Portfolio, you were Graciously given the keys to any community you landed. Your Images were recognized and your Business was established. After 2001 9/11 all that Freedom was lost. All of a sudden you were suspect and a relative of a Terrorist if you carried brushes and knives with solvents and pigments and lived “Free”. If you smoked “pot” you were a Terrorist. This National Paranoia isn’t gone, but much subdued, and there is Hope that all our Freedoms aren’t Destroyed. The Deterioration of Our Environment and the willful destruction of the ecosystem to extract minerals, fuel, wood, fish, and pollute the air is a continuous ignorant relationship Man has with this Earth. We are Narcissistic ,and really only care about our own personal Domains. As we beautification of our daily lives, we are improving our existence, but not leaving anything for future generations. What you Create is only a small part of your Life-time Image footprint. I want to be an Important Part of The generation that Saved The Planet, besides being a total Party Animal. Yea, I was a Slut Puppy, and Loved many Women. I played in all the world playgrounds of FUN. 54 Countries of a Hedonistic attempt to Experience Life. “Art” as a means of support, besides, “Music” and “Poetry” is my “Disability“, with No Pension Plan for Survivors. I am 62 years of age and Love this wonderful Life.
Long Live Bacchus, and all the other pleasure seeking gods. My work is my escape from boring, cattle call mentality, images that are acceptable as imitations of imitations, and my Images resonate with content and color specific to that Image and no other in the Universe. “I have danced naked and painted under the full moon, howling like a wolf, for no apparent reason“. I exist only to turn you around from your death mantra. Realize your true potential as one of the Greatest Hero’s of all time. Let “Christ” Consciousness take over, and lead the way to your personal salvation. When our number reaches 500,000 we have saved the planet for all of time. We are not affiliated with the Christian, Catholic, or Lutheran, Protestant, Episcopal, Methodist, Baptist, gangs that have militia’s, and armed camps for Jesus. We are the “Seekers”, who will inherit this earth, NOW and make it produce all our daily needs, without dependence on any government or social system. We are here to enjoy and have fun, in The Only Garden of Eden, we will ever know. We are in “Paradise”, as long as we can preserve that Freedom, and become self-sufficient, and Harmoniously Interactive. All of Life should be saved from pollution, in the physical and mental atmosphere’s. Homesteading is a difficult task anywhere, but can provide the necessary training for survival in these modern times. The more we learn how to create from scratch, and supplement our lives with tools that create less dependency on public utilities and resources, the more we become free from the restraints of Church and State. You will always be a target for taxes, and dues, unless you exist below the radar. Living in Grace, is my sole determined function, because of the feelings of everything is wonderful. When I choose the wrong direction I feel like the dark and scary world of demons is about to unfold. I want to achieve the ability to talk with Angels, just not The Fallen One’s.
　
　
DESPITE ANY BELIEF SYSTEM, HISTORIANS WITH INTELLIGENCE,WILL DOCUMENT THE FACTS OF THIS STUDY
IN RELATIONSHIP TO, PARTICIPANTS HAPPINESS QUOTION.
IF ALL PARTICIPANTS, REPRESENT ALL RACES, COLORS, CREEDS, THEN THEY ARE BLESSED WITH GRACE. IF THEY REALLY GET ALONG, THEN THEIR PERSONAL HAPPINESS QUOTION IS EVER FULL ,TO ITS FULLEST CAPACITY. FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS BROUGHT ON BY “EXPIERANCES” WHEN UNIVERSAL LOVE IS BEING ATTEMPTED, IS THE PERFECT WAY. ANY HATRED IS A SELF DESTRUCTIVE WAY, OF THE PRIMATIVE INTELLECT ,TAKING OVER AND CREATING HEALTH PROBLEMS. WELL, THEY FOUND OUT AFTER 50 YEARS OF STUDIES AND A PUBLISHED REPORT CREATED BY 3,973 PARTICIPANTS OF ALL AND EVERY BACKGROUND. “UNIVERSAL LOVE” CURES EVERYTHING, AND EVERYONE, IF EVERYONE INVOLVED HAS GENUINE CONCERN AND PAYS ATTENTION. THIS STUDY OF A PROBLEM AS LARGE AS RACISM, RELIGIOUS ZEALOTRY, CLASS REBELLION, AND YOUTH RIOTS, AS A NATURAL OCCURANCE. PROVE THAT IF ALCOHOL AND CONDOMS ARE FREE, WITH AMPLE NUTRITION, YOU CAN EXPIERANCE MULTIPLE ORGASMS, WITH MULTIPLE PARTNERS, AND LET YOURSELF HAVE ROLE CHANGES, THAT ALLOWS THE EXPIERANCE TO EMBODY THE SPIRIT OF LOVE ETERNAL. “BOOM SHAKA BOOM, BOOM, BOOM“. ONCE THE PARTICIPANTS WERE FULLY SEXED AND THAT HAPPINESS QUOTIENT FULL, THEY CONTINUED THAT BEHAVIOR UNTIL THE GOVERNMENT FOUND OUT, AND THEY ALL DIED WITHIN 15 MONTHS FROM FULL BLOWN AIDS (HIV). GREAT PASSION IS PERFECT FOR THIS LIFE’S EVENTUAL END, AND I PREFER TO GO KICKING AND SCREAMING. I WORKED FOR THE MEALS ON WHEELS PROGRAM, FOR THE BEGINNING OF THAT EPIDEMIC THAT KILLS IN SUCH A DEBILITATING MANNER. FEVERS, CHILLS, AND NO APPITITE,OR DESIRE FOR LIVING, UNTIL THE END. YOU CAN TELL WHEN THE PURPLE SPOTS OF (SARCOMA) APPEAR. THE MOANING OF THE NEAR DEATH CREATURE.
　
　
　
I understand the concept of multi-level marketing strategies and wonder if there would be any Interest in an Artistic Scheme that makes it possible. I am going all out on this idea and see if I can stimulate transacting 8” x 10” prints in exchange with each other on a Barter System of 1 for 1 amongst us whom subscribe to this. We than join “twitter” and comment on each others work creating a following that perpetually grows daily. This action will influence the “Consciousness” and everyone will succeed in creating a value of those prints of $100 USD in the market place. I invite everyone to trade with me and I already have a few members in mind, but have to wait until the 1st. To send mine, because I am broke until then. I have thousands of “Original Digital” Images ready, willing, and able. So, get with it and send me an Image that I will display at my next “Show”. I will send you an image to your door if you send an address. Please, return one of yours and see how far we can go with this Idea. After a year we will see where this goes. Namastay.
　
　
Out of Blackness,
A Star was Born.
With Talent & Genius,
Expressed in Song & Dance.
That Changed the Planet,
For Everyone, Forever.
His Life’s Acceptance,
Without Hatred or Prejudice,
Opened The Doors for all Those That Were Conscious Of Truths.
Universal Love and Harmony,
Were The Light Of His Being, and The Beacon Of His Soul.
We Really Miss You, MICHAEL JACKSON.
I GUESS NEVERLAND WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE.