The Lady

I painted her with my brush. She is so “HOT” and she knows it.  She teases me with her sultry stare. She wants to show me more but hesitates, enjoying my sudden urge to stare. Oh how I want to be in her arms and between those legs… Yes!!


Los Angeles


One Sunday late morning went downtown. Enjoyed the food at Grand Central Market but it was a bit crowded. Nice to see Angels Flight with all its colors but still not operating.

I have not been to downtown in well over 30 years and my, my, has it changed. I look around at the giant human habitats that are growing and think to my self… is this really progression?

Those that live in the shadows, will still be living in the shadows and will own the night as they have always, regardless of how many chrystal palaces they build.

But it is a City that I have known for as long as I have been knowing of things.





Being diagnosed with clinical depression after finally finding myself unable to leave my room for work. Waking up in sweats and fear of my work… Working around high voltage wires and transformers gave me nightmares. I found myself having thoughts of a burning death or falling off a building roof. I found myself playing out dangerous events in my mind, which was part of my job as an electrical supervisor. I supervised over ten electricians and that responsibility along with being responsible for their safety equipment of which I had constant resistance from upper management. I would beat the drum about basic OSHA, CAL OSHA, NEC, NFPA, FAA, etc. requirements. In todays world the acting supervisor is personally libel for any subordinate injured or killed while working.

Working 80 plus hours in a high stress environment would cause even the hardest person to eventually crack. Maybe just at first finding yourself enjoying the nice drinks after work, start smoking again. Then not noticing the sleepless nights or even the urge to work even more hours… I fell into my own nightmare by trying to be the “Man” with all the answer’s. Its an endless stream of requests when you work in a big environment with multiple facilities. But I thought I could feed the dragon … give him just enough to feel temporary satisfied. But that didn’t work because the dragons have to eat and if you dont give them what they want then they look to burn you.

Pride will also chip away at your soul. Wanting to “Make it right” in a world that operates in various shades of gray, can also get in the way of everything. If I only had walked away so many years before… when I had a small vision of what was to come. But I thought I was the “Man”, and “They” told me I was the “Man” just to feed my dragons. But my dragons came pouring out of me in the weeks before I broke, but nobody noticed but me.

I headed into a dark tunnel that soon left me standing in total darkness.

A light is finally seeping through after almost 2 years not working… Now the daily panic is if I can return to work, any work. During panics of anxiety, I want to return to my 30 years of experience in the electrical/electronic industry. But then another part of me says start a new… and with that I could possibly ad a cross-over benifit from my past.

Either way I need to eat and find shelter. And keep my dragons satisfied with possitivity and compassion.



So today I herd on the radio that people should keep there fuel tanks filled up past halfway at a minimum because of a nuclear attack by north Korea… Really? People are starving and homeless… do you think they care about fueling up vehicles. Besides, no way are people going to be able to drive anyways once the natural or man made disaster hits areas like Los Angeles. We cant even go 7 miles each day without going through 45 minutes of grid-locked traffic.

I worked at a place that had FBI agents on-site… they were the first responders to any nuclear, biological or other attack. They said that the harbor would be the most probable ground zero other than downtown. And the evac site was in the valley. They had designs made up of cargo and passenger trains taking people from outside the blast radius to “temporary camps” in the high desert areas. Yup, Armageddon, Big City style. They said there biggest concern was the amount of people with home grown arsenals. How do you force people to get on trains even with a military presence when the people have weapons? A group of ultra survivalists actually have taken over entire neighborhoods – they currently have recorded maps of who has swimming pools and generators in there homes within surrounding neighborhoods. Those who are not part of the ” Neighborhood Camp” will be instant adversaries – sure to succumbed to mob justice. For the most part, they predict that people are just going to “stay put”, hold the ground your on. No way your going to get out of the city by vehicle…

Some days I wish it would happen. Go ahead and let the rockets fly… blow the shit up and see what grows from it. A way of thinning the herd. Life will survive or it wont. But it would sure show how insignificant our current busy “fake” lives matter. Find a real purpose called survival. Think of a world that would be unplugged from everything. Who would know if the rest of the world was untouched or was reduced to a slate of black glass?


Sunday’s are for church and resting, HA. I have shards of memory attending church when I was young. But after my step-dad got caught with the neighbor lady, and my step mom was throwing him out, and the same time she felt it was time to tell me about who I was (Age 11), He stopped going to church for many, many years. I stopped too and have not returned. I think he shammed himself away or just didnt believe anymore in all of the hypocrisy. Nope thats not it, because he returned to his religion when he was in his 60s until he died at 79.

I have struggled with the whole religion issue. At a very young age I questioned the whole “Forgive your sins” deal. When I was beaten starved and yes some molestation also occurred, Monday through Saturday but how would Sunday all of a sudden become a day that I felt was the most difficult to be in. Who were these people?

I was told that the “Family Ghost”,  or who I later found out was supposed to be my real mothers spirit, was the thing that would make me hurt or would break things in the house. But would never appear on Sunday. My step–mother was a demented person with a mind full of devilish knick knacks.

These things would not happen on Sundays. Because “ALL” was forgiven,as long as you didn’t fuck up on Sundays.

Thats why Saturdays were like an all day long orgy of drinking and perversion until the final curtain would come down with a slap or kick by the step-father but not just on the boys but on occasion the step-mother would be the receiver of his “love” as well.

But “All” was forgiven on Sundays.

Another Day

Today, I was in my old stompin grounds (What the Ol Man used to call it). I stopped in a bookstore after a Dr Appointment. I had not been in that bookstore in ages, wasn’t sure it was still there on Chandler, but I was happy it was. I picked up a couple of impulse books… I will tell you about them later. I had moved away from So Cal for about 20yrs, only to return about 8 years ago. I made sure my children didn’t experience the LA life…Im planning on leaving again soon. Heading to northern Nevada. Anyways, the books I picked up lit up my memory bank and out came flashes of my life. I always seem to hesitate when I put these words down – I know they are incomplete thoughts. I can only hope that I continue to put them down and eventually they will become more complete and vivid.

Growing up in the San Fernando Valley, particularly in an apartment in North Hollywood during my influential teens during the late 70s and early 80s, gave me a colorful and at times. adventurous experience. Perversion was like a close, sometimes quiet family member… always there in the words spoken by my elder influences. I had a front seat to every peep show under the family circus tent. On days like today when the sidewalk is blistering and the air is heavy enough to suppress even the rankest smells from rotted debris that spot the back alleys, it reminds me of when I would sleep on my small balcony of my upstairs one bedroom apartment that I shared with my “Pops”. I would sleep on the balcony for obvious reasons – with no air conditioning it was the only place I could breath during the summer.

It was exciting to see the neighbors from above. I would have a view of both the tenants within my complex and over the concrete wall that separated our fortress from the next. Across the wall towards the rear, just past the carport was a line of single story duplex units and these had the best views. I would watch during those hot summer nights as couples would open the windows to there rooms, pulling back the drapes to get the night air in. At night, the small but un-obscured shower windows would be as bright as a old drive-in theater. I would catch myself staring and at first I would feel embarrassed, but as time went on I found out that I was not the only one watching. I also found that more than one actually knew I was watching and not only didn’t care but enjoyed letting me in. I was a 13yr old boy and from that age until I went into the Navy seven years later, I had visual relationships with many strangers… more than one became more than visual.

My oldest brother had the biggest VHS porn collection in the Valley, so I thought. He also had all the magazines as well. Playboy, Hustler, Penthouse.. I recall him showing me the first “Scratch n Sniff”, Hustler I think? He made such a big deal out of it and shoved it in my face so many times that it wasn’t long before it didn’t smell like the “Cherry” anymore… more like the dirty grease from his fingers after working on cars all day. Before the VHS videos it was only the magazines… or home videos.

The Venus was just around the corner from my apartment. I and my friends were probably the youngest boys to ever be able to actually get in at 16. A live peep show … I recall seeing girls that would lay on the bed in the middle of the round, and read their school books while laying naked, legs apart. I and my friend would sometimes stand in the same small closet with a window view… and laugh at the old men across the view who looked like they were convulsing or leaning over with there comic faces pressed against the glass. We would make faces back at them…mimicking there moves. We were chased out many times and threatened for our lives if we ever came back. But we would know who was on duty and the later the night went on the easier it was to get in.

Like I had mentioned above, these are random thoughts of my past and not sure where they begin or end. They just are.

White Trash. I came from a mixed family of half-steps… half sisters and brothers mixed in with step sisters and brothers. At one time there was fourteen children in a three bedroom house. Nine boys and five girls of which I was the baby. I was a bastard child spawn from a hot august night affair my mother had. I can only hope it was someone she really liked, because she died at age 31, when I was eleven months old and took the identity of my biological father with her. I was told all this when I was eleven, when the Ol Man was booted out of the house by the step mom for cheating on her with the neighbor lady. I remember her coming over before I went to school, with just a robe on. The Ol Man was home as well. The step-mom was out selling Avon.

I remember having such a sigh of relief, knowing the that sick ass-step mother was Not my mother. I stayed with her for about a month before I chose to go live with “Pops”… I had enough of the ouija board lessons and being told that my mothers ghost was always near me. Before that day, and as far back as I can remember, I was visited frequently by her with the usual spirited beatings with whatever felt good in her hand. I was also prevented from eating properly and kept in isolation. I know what your thinking … am I a sociopath… Well, I think for possibly genetic reasons, I am not what they would specify as having the “Warrior” gene… I have never hit a woman, in fact I found it difficult to even spank my children (of course this is a direct effect of taking beatings from both my so called “Parental” figures). I came to the realization that I was just an object of there discontent. I learned much later in life to forgive and told myself it wasn’t personal… 🙂

Do I have a demented soul… That is without question. By the time this story begins with me a teenager in North Hollywood, I had already experienced some fractured events… of which most I have suppressed so far down that its actually very hard for me to remember before age 11.

I do try to make light reference to these experiences… Like the fact that I know to flush the toilet before you drink out of it…and that I would like to know who invented those damn soap grapes… the ones that looked like a bushel of grapes but were really bath soaps… Yep, I was hungry and took a bite of one. That I do remember.

Wow, I am letting the world into my dark closet. I will keep bringing those short stories of my life to these pages.