Introduction

I had an epiphany today. It happened while I was driving to my mom’s. She’s in a retirement community, she’s 78 years old, and she doesn’t remember things so well anymore. She needs a lot of help and a lot of the time, it’s up to me. It’s gotten way worse since my dad died right before COVID hit, a little over two years ago now I guess.

Anyway, I was driving alone in our family mini van, thinking about all of my problems. Thinking about how my wife discovered that she’s gay and wants a divorce. Thinking about what that’s gonna mean for our four young kids aged 3, 5, 7, and 8 soon to be 9. Thinking about how all of my friends have significant others and how it seems like I’m the only person in the world not getting laid right now, and it’s been months. Thinking about how COVID isolation has taken away so many friendships and relationships, so many people whose support I could use right now. How when I was at church this morning and my three oldest kids were in Sunday school, I was alone in a room with the youngest. How everyone there probably knew I’m getting divorced soon and they all seemed to be avoiding me (this was probably all in my head, maybe…).

It seems everyone’s going to either treat me like a pariah now or feel sorry for me and try to help me like I’m some sort of victim. There are the true friends who really do want to help and are really there for me, and then there are the ones who want to cross the “help a divorced friend” badge off their Boy Scout list. Reminds me of when I was recovering from drug and alcohol addiction. What I really dread is when they start trying to fix me up with their divorced and widowed cat lady friends.

So here I am driving down the road thinking about all this shit and my million other problems (too many to list here), and the epiphany I came to was that I really don’t give a fuck anymore. About any of it. I don’t give a fuck that my wife is gay and I’m getting divorced. I don’t give a fuck about not getting laid. I mean that’s what porn and hands are for, right? Besides I’ve gotten laid enough to last several lifetimes now and I realize it’s all bullshit and illusions anyway. If you don’t know what I mean then maybe you’ve just never gotten to the point where I am now, or maybe I’m insane.

I realized I don’t give a fuck about any of it. I don’t give a fuck that I’ve been rejected by five literary agents who didn’t even care enough about my query letter to read my book. I don’t give a fuck about the other guy who hasn’t gotten back to me yet. Maybe he’ll reject me, maybe he won’t. I can self publish on Amazon anyway so I don’t give a fuck.

While I was driving, I started shouting “I don’t give a fuck!” while I was driving down the street over and over. “I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck!” Just like that. Anyone who saw me and could read my lips probably thought I was a crazy person. I don’t give a fuck about that either.

And at first I was maybe trying to convince myself, but by the time I got to my elderly mom’s retirement community, having screamed “I don’t give a fuck!” all the way there, it was a truly cathartic experience. I truly didn’t give a fuck anymore, and it was an amazing experience releasing all of that. I was laughing hysterically. Just letting it all go.

That’s when I realized it’s time to write my memoirs. And I think you’re in for a real treat. There’s drugs, sex, and rock and roll, and more drugs, sex, and rock and roll. There are cross country mystical adventures where I ended up in Mexico, sleeping in a parking lot using a concrete block as a pillow. There’s the time cops pointed guns at me ready to shoot until a close friend stepped in and saved my life. There are countless courts, a few jail cells, some beautiful women, plenty of insane lunatics, and more late night epiphanies than you could ever hope to shake a stick at.

I’ve come face to face with death many a time and realized that either he didn’t want anything to do with me, or maybe I’m here for some strange reason I just haven’t figured out yet. I’ve totaled many a car, had some serious car accidents I walked away from without a scratch. I’ve stood up to gangsters, drug dealers, and mafiosos with just plain intimidation getting me through unscathed (with very little to back it up most times).  I’ve won a few fistfights, and lost several, sometimes very badly. I’ve squeaked by with barely enough money to buy food, and I’ve lived it up in the lap of luxury, eating at fancy restaurants and going on trips all around the world.

There have been hospital beds, skinny dipping adventures with stinging nettles, legendary drug and alcohol binges, stages where I played music and read poetry, sometimes to hundreds, sometimes maybe thousands. Enough LSD to make you go insane several times over, ecstasy and raves, cocaine and manic depressive episodes ending in psychiatrist visits. Hundreds of black outs. One time when I came out of a blackout, I was driving on a highway. Still can’t explain that one.

Celebrities I made friends with for a night, acquaintances who would go on to become celebrities. There have been God moments, coming to Jesus moments, religious epiphanies, all sorts of questioning and doubt, and ultimately faith and peace (though not always). I could go on and on but I’ll just start writing it and let you read it.

Don’t worry. I’ll still post plenty of depressing poems, too. But as I feel so inspired, I’ll post stories that’ll make you laugh and cry, sometimes maybe both at the same time (is that possible?). I’m not gonna pull back any punches. If you want family friendly shit with no cuss words, these won’t be the stories for you, because I’m gonna be completely honest, and honesty has a shit and a fuck in it every once in a while. Maybe even a dick and a cunt here and there.

I’ll change all the names because I don’t want to incriminate anyone or ruin any reputations. And all of this is true. Though for a lot of it, I wish it wasn’t.