Straight was so much fun. To this day, I catch a smell of someone's fucking cheap ass shampoo that I happened to have used in a loving host home back in the day, and WHOOM, there they are, sweet memories of the days when a bunch of human beings destroyed by other human beings in turn sought to destroy me. They really thought they were helping though. They really loved me because they were special recipients of a special message.
I loved that first host home with Margaret in Springfield. VA. Fucking hallucinating cigarettes. Plus the look up my asshole by junior staff on my intake to make sure I didn;t have DRUGS up there. AS IF!!! There was not any fucking trainspotting fucking heroin! DUH PEOPLE! But anyway, honestly, right now I feel sorrier for that poor unior staffer who had to look at EVERYONE'S ASSHOLE that came through. I mean, today, who is more likely to kill themselves? Me, who had to bend over for a few people in a small room, on a day of infamy? Sure I lost my parents forever and for good on that day, but really, I think that was ust a clarification of the reality that existed with or without Straight... I was saying, I think that staff person just might have the image of all those butts sticking out at them...
Oh, but another thing was fucking losing everything, the friends I had before, the PRIVACY of mind and word. But gaining do much more, like oldcomers who really loved me, and whispered "puh! hair!" everynight in line-up. Well exCUSE ME, as Steve Martin put it so well.
I ficking love getting high. Pre-straight, post-straight, load me up.
I love being ficking Irish, too, dude.
Another good memory, the trees in spring, with all their beautiful flowerness bloooming, and me in the car with the oldcomer, rolling along, catching sight of the spring night and the pink sky. The spring that happened in between the fan blades, executive (how do I remember these things!) rap room, with the orange rug, all you Springfield kids know what I mean! Up and to the left! That is where Spring happened that year!
For real, y'all, the real thing is, I lost my self-respect. I failed to run. I was too afraid.
