My Literal Therapy
by Insert Name on May 14th, 2008 • One Comment »
May 14th, 2008
Episode Nineteen
…Canada.
Someplace in Minnesota to be exact.
It will take a couple of paragraphs to get you there, but I promise to do my best to do just that.
My need to run at that time, is still a mystery. Maybe it was the winter, who really knows. I was a much different person back then and just didn’t have to intestinal fortitude to man up. Leaving/burying my problems seemed like the logical solution. My Cavalier and myself, full of gas compliments of mothers stolen gas card, headed first to the Minneapolis where a few days would be spent couch hopping until I ran into a friend of mine named Joe.
Joe was my first gay friend.
I had met him through a friend of some girl who knew someone that knew a person who knew something. It is pretty irrelevant to the story. Joe, who flamed hotter than the sun, had eventually turned into a pretty good friend of mine.
No, not in that way.
Joe, who I hadn’t seen in months of course, had recently hooked up with a new boyfriend who had a little cabin/trailer way up north. Now for you Wisconsin citizens who are familiar with bitter cold, it’s no biggie really. For you others who have the luxury of living somewhere pleasantly warm and tranquil, listen to me when I tell you it was cold as ice, are you willing to sacrifice your …
Sorry.
I drove up there with Joe and ended up staying a month, which consisted primarily of long marijuana smoking sessions accompanied by hours of staring at Joe’s enormous salt water fish tank. That fish tank was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. Joe’s boyfriend, whose name I can’t even remember, was gone on a regular basis. Joe, also worked periodically, so I ended up being alone most of the time, staring at this stupid aquatic museum for weeks on end. It was alive twenty four hours a day which somehow supplemented the dying that was going on inside. It was a world away from mine, that’s all that mattered.
That was the coldest winter I have ever spent, Wisconsin boy and all. In the end I don’t know if it was the serenity of the woods, the hours with the fish tank, or simply being completely welcomed and comforted by the oddest of couples. Regardless of reason, somewhere in the course of that month I decided it best that I go back to Wisconsin and face the music. One day, when everyone was gone, I just left.
I never thanked them
I never saw Joe again either.
My Cavalier and I headed back to Stevens Point, Wisconsin. Plenty aware that I was in going to be in big trouble for stealing my mother’s gas card, I also happened to be driving a car that was funded by a loan co-signed by aforementioned mother and not paid for in months. Dilly-dallying, it took me a couple days to get there, not arriving until I had spent every last dollar, staying in hotels, deathly afraid of what was most certainly an inevitability.
I arrived at my mother’s house in the dead of the night. I inaudibly parked the car in their driveway, gathered a small duffel bag of belongings, and started what was about a twelve block walk to the Stevens Point police department. At that time, Stevens Point’s fine badged gentleman resided in a building that instead of a door, had a little drive up window.
Belongings in hand I went up to the window and blurted, “I stole my mother’s credit card, and I have a warrant for my arrest.”
(L O N G L O N G P A U S E)
“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t have a warrant for your arrest. Come back tomorrow.”
“ ”
I really didn’t stick around to argue. I only knew one person in Stevens Point, so I went to his apartment. To go back a little bit, when I had done my previous stint in drug treatment I acquired what any person forced to twelve step will tell you is called a sponsor. I went to ‘the sponsors’ apartment, slept the night, and early in the morning found myself banging on the door of the treatment facility.
Hello, it’s me again.
For the majority of you, or those who have never had the prestigious privilege of living in a drug treatment facility, let me take this opportunity to get you up to speed.
The first thing you need to know about a drug treatment facility is that they are the best …
(Stay Tuned for Episode Twenty)
The Roy's
by Insert Name on May 13th, 2008 • No Comments »
May 13th, 2008
Today I rest. It has been a long semester for this thirty something, and I need to clear my head. I need to mow my lawn, I need to play with my dog, I need to do nothing.
I cannot thank those who read this blog enough. It has become a wonderful and fulfilling experience. I ask that you come back and continue to check it out often.
The Roy’s should be available on Thursday or maybe even Wednesday if all goes well. If you have some catching up to do, now is the time.
Now I must veg.
Some Inspiration in the absence of The Roy’s
Blog
by Insert Name on May 10th, 2008 • 2 Comments »
May 10th, 2008
Episode Eighteen
… strip club.
Yes, you heard me correctly. Right there in the greater Wausau area. Yes, girls with little to no clothes, dancing on poles while doing unspeakable things to their body for money.
Um, okay you talked me into it.
Like I said, I had never been in or ever had a desire to be in a strip club before. Corralling concubines had never been a real problem of mine, I hadn’t known anyone who had gotten married, and quite simply it was not high on my things I must see in the near future list. But there I was, in ‘the booth’ with absolutely no clue on what was about to transpire. The ‘proprietor’ was a big man in his fifties. I could go on with a tirade of adjectives, but to save time just imagine what the stereotypical owner of a sleaze saloon might look like and I guarantee you’ll be pretty close. He gave me about a thirty minute overview of my duties.
Then the naked girls came.
Now by no stretch of the imagination were naked girls new to me. However, naked girls just standing there talking to me while other naked girls poked and prodded every inch of my personal space was an entirely different story. In fact, it was downright uncomfortable. I mean seriously, how can you not look? It was extremely hard to keep focused; I equate it to winning the lottery after taking a work boot to the nuts, full force.
Hurray!
For the most part it was a sink or swim situation. Like I said before, I was good in ‘the booth’ and this time would be no different. Besides hot, (well most of the time) naked women roaming around everywhere, this club, from a disc jockey’s standpoint anyway, was a little non-traditional. I was more of a glorified MC than anything else; dancers are very particular about what they want to dance to. Although they gave me some leeway eventually, at first they pretty much determined their own set lists and my job was to talk them up as much as possible. You learn quickly not to argue with a dancer. It is a super bad idea.
So talk them up I did.
They must have been awfully surprised that first night. Since I had never been in this situation before, I was also naïve to the often degrading phrases used by the majority of strip club jocks. I am sure they expected to hear something like…
“Gentleman, put your hands together for the rack with the back, and the bod that treats the rod. Please welcome to the stage Miss Brandy Boom Boom and her Triple F treasure chest. Get your wallet out guys; she’s working hard up here to keep you hard down there.”
Instead, I introduced them with a little class. Except for one isolated spray painting incident, if there is one thing I am not, it is disrespectful to women, and this instance was no different. I talked about how beautiful they were, how well they danced, and how their smile lit up the darkness. They raked it in that first night. They loved the new baby faced blued eyed DJ.
Then the real fun began.
The list of girls that became a part of life that winter is long and clouded. Girls with names like Dakota, and Torii, Amy and Sweet Pea, Miss Kitty and Mercedes revolved the door on a weekly basis, each girl with a different act, a different personality, and a different story to tell. I can’t count the number of times I have received a rogue lap dance when I least expected it. They loved having me around and I loved having them. Dancers are a breed of their own; there are a few bad apples as there are anywhere else. But on the whole, most of them are intelligent, hard working, and in my personal opinion usually quite lonely. I feel comfortable making that last statement as I have spent many an hour talking with dancers one on one, the most memorable being early in the summer of what was nineteen-ninety-four when three of them decided to pack me in their car and take me on the road as their personal disc jockey.
I am not worthy.
Now if you’re expecting an orgy story with assorted objects and other substances I will apologize in advance. Although surreal in every aspect, it was one of the most enjoyable two week vacations I have ever taken. These three girls treated me like a prince. They paid for everything. The paid for my hotel, my meals, my travel, and even forced me to go shopping so they could buy me the appropriate outfits. In turn, I talked them up from club to club in what turned out to be a stream of money the likes of which I had never seen before. These girls were pros and it showed. Throw in a guy who owns his booth and everyone goes home happy. I have the fondest memories of these three women. It was an unforgettable experience and although it wasn’t a scene from Caligula, for historical purposes, I will mention that they never wore a thing in the hotel.
Except a smile.
As with many things previous, I eventually started to get bored with the entire venture. I continued to live in Merrill and had not seen ‘the girl’ or the ‘the baby’ for many months. I started feeling an enormous amount of guilt, pain, and general self hatred. One day it got to be too much for me to handle. I couldn’t function, depression had won. So I ran.
I ran so far away.
I went to my Mother’s house, stole her gas card, and hit the road back to cities for a minute, eventually taking a detour that would end up on the border of …
(Stay tuned for Episode Nineteen)
The Roy's
by Insert Name on May 8th, 2008 • 5 Comments »
May 8th, 2008
Episode Seventeen
(No upset contributors here folks)
…she told me to come back another day.
And I did come back, on the very next one. I don’t know if they had a change of heart, or were merely doing the ‘right thing’. Either way, twenty four hours later I got to hold my son.
Naturally, he was way cuter than any baby you have ever held.
I attribute that previous statement to my complete lack of knowing what to expect. But, when I held my son in my arms for the first time it was instant water works. For some reason it really had never crossed my mind that this baby boy would look just like me; but he did, and it was absolutely amazing. I know, it sounds silly, but he was such a dead ringer.
Now there is one lucky kid.
I will give ‘the girl’ credit; she made it through, delivered the goods, and started protecting them immediately. I can’t take a single ounce of credit for that, I wasn’t part of the process. I don’t believe I was ever asked to be either.
Fair enough I guess.
Over the course of the next couple of months, ‘the girl’ and I almost made a go of it. I remember going over to her apartment complex on what was to be the first time we would ever be alone together with ‘the baby’. It is absolutely astounding to spend time with ones newborn, and that day was one of the most indescribable experiences of my life. We didn’t need to speak, a glance was all it took to say everything that needed to be said. We both were completely mesmerized at what we had created.
Totally and utterly awestruck.
Riding this rush of possible redemption, I knew if this thing was going to work at all, I needed to get a job and get one fast. Now I am about to tell you that I fell back on old faithful, which will in turn lead you to believe I went back into the pizza business, however, you would be mistaken. In reality, old faithful is what I have always considered to be my second home.
The DJ booth.
I started my career as a club jock at around age sixteen at little teen hot spot in Schofield called The Ultimate. It was run by ‘the owner’ a former sheriff’s deputy in his forties. I didn’t know anything about ‘the owner’ except he had opened up a teen bar in which I could shoot pool and smoke cigarettes while drinking large quantities of caffeinated soda in a entirely parent-less environment. It was filled with dirtballs and misfits, and wreaked with the fine odor of Marlboro Reds.
I was pretty happy about the whole thing.
In any case, I had a friend named Chris who was currently employed as the establishments’ sole entertainment director. I started hanging out with him in ‘the booth’ and the rest is simply history. To this day it is perhaps the one and only thing I have found, that I truly love to do. Leave it to me to love something that pays so very little. I also find it pertinent to add that being a disc jockey does not mean you pick out a song and press play. In fact, if you ever said that to me I would most likely have someone else punch you. Being a disc jockey is an art; just like music, just like painting, just like writing. It is about taking your audience on a journey, seamlessly, in an ever changing and demanding environment. It is about decision making, atmosphere, and a deep seeded need to find the perfect song. It is also polluted with as much trash as your local bookstore. Please don’t lump me in with the guy who busts out YMCA at midnight every Saturday. I loathe that person; I hope the construction guy sticks a steel-toe right up his Come on Eileen loving ass.
I own my booth.
I worked at the Ultimate for two years. It was a place of firsts for me. It was the first time I felt like I was bucking the system, it was the first time I smoked pot, and it was the first time I realized that being a disc jockey gets you laid.
A lot.
It was a trip from AC/DC to Led Zeppelin with a little bit of Michael right in the middle. Ultimately, (pun intended) ‘the owner’ got arrested for molesting underage boys. Yes, right smack dab in the middle of your fine town. He never did anything to me, although I slept at his house on numerous occasions. It was an absolute shock the day I found out. I was standing right next to him the day the police came and took him away. He had been a father figure of sorts, and personally denied the entire thing to me on many occasions. The detectives I was forced to visit with previously had convinced me otherwise. I hope he has asked for forgiveness.
I think he will need it.
Anyway, back to the whole needing to get a job thing. Like I said, I went back to my roots and got a job in ‘the booth’ at a little night club in Rib Mountain. The girl and I stayed relatively close. I got to see ‘the baby’ on occasion, taking care of him at ‘the girls’ house once in awhile, and generally trying to stick my head into the mix whenever I could. It went okay for awhile. But the romance, at least from her perspective, was gone. It hurt me.
Real bad.
While working in Rib Mountain I had met a girl named Carmen who was married to a guy named Kris who lived in Merrill with their daughter Kristine. They offered me a place in their home and I readily accepted the invitation. As ‘the girl’ slowly fell out love with me I saw less and less of ‘the baby’. Suddenly words like support and supervised replaced mesmerized and awestruck. It was uncomfortable and I didn’t handle it very well. I have run many a time from ridicule. This time was no different. Although we were twenty minutes apart, it might as well have been light years.
While continuing life in Merrill, I found myself opening up the paper one day to the strangest advertisement for employment I had ever encountered. I called, I got an interview, and I got hired on the spot.
You start tomorrow.
The next day I would be back in ‘the booth’ while at the same time finding myself smack dab in the middle of my first ever …
(Stay tuned for Episode Eighteen)
The Roy's
by Insert Name on May 6th, 2008 • 3 Comments »
After finishing the final episode of The Roy’s, a mob of enormous size has been chanting for a continuation of the story. Here at blog headquarters we were hardly prepared for the onslaught that has ensued. The author, wishing to keep a more traditional style blog, had been prepared a return to a previous format that revolved around more current events. Do to public outcry, a meeting was called with staff and advisors. I have pasted the minutes below for anyone interested. All issues voted on and approved today are hereby considered official and pretty much the way it is.
MINUTES OF THE ROY’S PERSONAL COUNCIL
WEDNESDAY, MAY 6th, 2008
007-1040
VOTING AGENDA MEETING
EAU CLAIRE, WI
PRESIDENT “The Search For Redemption” PRESIDING
PRESENT: [8] Gary, Kristen, Mosaic, Samantha, LeChat, Meredith Vieira, and some really stupid fat dude.
(9:00 a.m.)
Ron Jeremy(*9:36 a.m.)
ABSENT: [0]
The meeting was called to order at 9:00 a.m.
The blog secretary announced that a quorum of the council was present.
The invocation was given by Fred Phelps, Pastor of Westboro Baptist Church.
Board member Gary led the pledge of allegiance.
CITIZEN SPEAKERS
In accordance with the Council Rules, the council provided “open microphone” opportunities for the following individuals to comment on matters that were scheduled on the voting agenda or to present concerns and other general bitchings.
OPEN MICROPHONE –BEGINNING OF MEETING:
SPEAKER: Bozz_2006, Minnesota
REPRESENTING: Himself
SUBJECT: Bring back the Roy’s or get beat.
SPEAKER: The Author
SUBJECT: Apologies for obscene language, drugs, and his personal belief that punching policemen is not cool.
SPEAKER: My neighbor.
SUBJECT: What are you doing with your boat?
END OF OPEN MICROPHONE
CONSENTS
Councilmember Kristen requested that consent be given to continuation of “The Roy’s” (although there are no Roy’s) and referred agenda items 20, 25 in addition.
The author requested that consent be given for daily blog updates non-Roy related. The author stated that consent agenda items 20, 25 were not an option.
To Councilmember Kristens’ request Councilmember Gary requested that consent agenda item ”The Roy’s” be considered individually.
The author stated that consent agenda item ”The Roy’s” would be considered as an individual item later in the meeting, there being no objection voiced to Councilmember Garys’ request.
The author moved to approve all items on the consent agenda with the exception of consent agenda items “The Roy’s” which would be considered later in the meeting.
Motion seconded by Mosiac and unanimously adopted.
Council Member Jeremy moved to bring the continuation of “The Roy’s” in addition to daily blog posts to a vote.
Seconded by council member LeChat.
The author moved to approve the continuation of “The Roy’s”.
Motion unanimously adopted.
After all business properly brought before the council had been considered by the author, council adjourned at 9:37 a.m. at the request of council member Jeremy.
* Indicates arrival time after invocation and pledge of allegiance.
Blog, The Roy's
by Insert Name on May 4th, 2008 • 4 Comments »
May 4th, 2008
The Final Episode
The girl and I had been in the cities for several months now, and life had been grand as far as this twenty-two year old was concerned. This may sound kind of silly, but the happiest day I ever remember having with ‘the girl’ revolved around nothing more than your everyday pack of hotdogs. It was a beautiful day at the beginning of September. The kind of where the sun is shining so brightly that everything around it, no matter how worn, seems to come back to life enriched somehow by the magnificence overhead. It was the kind of day that makes me very, very happy.
I don’t remember where I was coming from but I was walking down SE 7th to a little corner market that was right next to my house. I wish I could remember the name of the place because it was quite legendary in its own right. I specifically was headed there to pick of some hotdogs as they were to be the main feature on my planned lunchtime menu. As I got about a half of a block away, out the door of the corner store pops ‘the girl’ with a bag in hand, containing what else but the same hotdogs I had been craving. She had almost read my mind, although most likely not, as ‘the girl’ had a great affection for hotdogs as well. However, seeing her come out that store, there to surprise yours truly, struck me as utterly amazing. I know it sounds like such a simple thing, but to me it symbolized something far greater, a connection, a bond, a sense of unity. This unexpected appearance by ‘the girl’ that day is the fondest memory of this young female that I have. It was perfect.
So, life continued quietly, I with my opportunity filled world of pizza delivery and ‘the girl’ with hers at the University of Minnesota. Life with Roy continued as well. He was such a spunky little guy and by this point had become quite a good friend of mine. Since he stayed in my apartment I got the privilege of spending the most time with Roy as he grew from a kitten into a young adult. As everyone knows the great thing about animals is their unconditional love.
Roy was no different.
I had started to feel a little bit bad for Roy, as both ‘the girl’ and I were spending a lot of time away from the apartment, immersed in the burdens that life demanded. A lady I knew at work bred cats and her labor had just produced a fresh batch of puffy black and white kittens. I had previously staked a claim to one of them and affectionately had named him Ron. It had been a well kept secret to both Roy and ‘the girl’ as well.
The day Ron came into my life I had picked him up from work, strategically placing him in a tiny box, and somehow managing to get him home on the city bus as quietly as possible. I absolutely couldn’t contain my excitement. The girl had planned to meet me there for dinner and I was anxious to greet her. I would have Ron in hand and looked forward to the beauty of bonding that occurs with any infant of any species. After what seemed to be an eternity I finally made it home. Proudly, I walked through the door and in a moment of delight proudly displayed the tiny black ball of Ron to the tiny girl.
“You have to get rid of him,” garbled the girl.
“Why,” as a look of shock started to spread over my face?
“I’m pregnant.”
I honestly can’t tell you what transpired after that. It was a tear filled ‘what we are we going to do’ kind of moment (I think). It was such a flash of shock for me that the entire evening is a complete blank in my head. You would expect some kind of delicate emotional coddling had taken place at this point. However, throughout this entire drama, the only thing I can tell you that we discussed is one single thing.
Get rid of the kitten Ron …
… immediately.
You all should know by the past thirteen thousand words of this story that I am obviously not any kind of baby doctor. But, ‘the girl’ was convinced that this new kitten was going to kill the baby. Now, I know that Toxoplasmosis and other harmful organisms can be a danger to unborn fetuses, but as far as I have been told, simple hygiene and care have been sufficient for years.
The girl didn’t really give a rat’s ass.
Ron was to go without delay.
I put it off for two days, in which ‘the girl’ refused to even come over. I don’t know what she expected, I didn’t have anywhere to take Ron and she knew it. I couldn’t find anyone who wanted a kitten, I didn’t have transportation, and I didn’t want to take him to the pound. To add to the craziness that was, Roy was being allowed to stay. In some delusional realm of stupidity it was somehow determined by ‘the girl’ that Roy, now her cat, did not pose nearly the same health risk as Ron, now deemed my kitten. She absolutely and completely put her foot down. If she was going to remain in the equation the kitten was to go.
I loved her.
I left Ron on a sunny park bench downtown the next morning.
I never saw him again.
I have hurt a lot of people emotionally in my life. Until that day and since that day I have never hurt anything physically. I have never been in a fight, I don’t discipline my pets with force, for Christ sakes I don’t even like to step on bugs. If you ask anyone who knows me, they will tell you the exact same thing. I find it hard to even keep a fish when I’m on the water. Leaving that cat there was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. To this date, it is the only time I may have purposely caused physical harm to any species deemed to have a level of higher thinking. It is also the first time I have ever told anyone, including ‘the girl’. Although I never will know, as far as I am concerned I caused that kittens death. I try to tell myself that someone picked him up and he lived a long and happy life. The truth of the matter is he probably never made it through the fall. I still cannot forgive myself for that day. I re-live it every time I look at my now three cats and dog. I still cannot forgive ‘the girl’ either. In all of her morality she failed. She forced my hand and I wasn’t man enough to take off the rose colored glasses.
I don’t care if it was just a cat.
We both should be ashamed.
From the day ‘the girl’ told me she was pregnant, she never looked at me the same again. I was no longer Alex the talented boy from high school with the cool friends and the bright future. I was now just Alex, the pot smoking pizza delivery guy, and future father of her child.
Not good enough for ‘the girl’.
Within a matter of days, the call to ‘the girls’ parents had been made and it was swiftly decided that ‘the girl’ would leave school and return to Wausau with her family. This plan in no way shape or form was to include me. This arrangement however, was to include Roy who would be removed from my premises and transferred back to central Wisconsin along with ‘the girl’.
It has taken me almost thirty pages to get to this point, but the next few paragraphs are the driving force behind this entire tail.
It was the moment of change.
I did get one final night with Roy. When it had been decided that ‘the girl’ would leave the next day, I was eventually left with one chance to say goodbye to my faithful feline. I was a complete wreck the entire evening. Roy had always loved ‘people’ food and I hadn’t ever been one to deny him much of anything. That night I went to a local restaurant and picked up a large feast of fowl complete with all of the fixings. I had crispy and regular, potatoes, biscuits, gravy, and pretty much all the usual suspects you would expect to find in a proper fried chicken dinner.
I set the table for two that night.
I had a large plate and silverware for myself, and a little plate and cup for Roy. We both had glasses of milk, and proportionally of course, commenced to feast. I with my large plate of food and Roy with his plate, carefully arranged in bite sized pieces. He sat on the table right next to me and licked his plate clean. I don’t know if he had ever been happier. We slept together one final time on the couch that evening.
The girl would leave the next morning.
“Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”
I never saw Roy again.
I have never been the same since.
I tried to maintain myself for awhile. But as the months wore on I just completely lost touch with reality. It was abundantly apparent that ‘the girl’ and her ‘absolutely wonderful’ family wanted nothing to do with me and I really didn’t do anything to change their mind. I was completely hurt, equally as bitter, and my self esteem was non-existent. I would spend the next few months couch hopping, stealing from my friends, and avoiding any contact with ‘the girl’ or the situation whatsoever. I imagine that those months of pregnancy were hard on her. I am sure this was not the way she had planned her life to turn out either. At the same time, I was so angry that I really didn’t care. Truth be told, I didn’t make a single attempt to redeem myself either. I had no money, I had no ambition, and I had no desire to be ridiculed. I tried briefly to turn things around by admitting myself into a drug treatment halfway house in what was in reality a half assed attempt to make people feel sorry for me. Although I had been a career stoner, on the whole I was opposed to most other chemicals and neither myself or the treatment facility really ever considered me to be a hopeless addict. Instead I was considered to be ‘at that age’, and labeled grandiose which I suppose wasn’t too far off. I was a product of the self esteem movement, bred to be better than everyone else. The problem with that is when you find out your not, it is a hard pill to swallow.
I remember getting the call the day the baby was born. I was not allowed at the hospital. What they ever imagined I was going to do is still beyond me, but they had thought it best that I shouldn’t be present.
I went anyway.
I was met in the lobby by ‘the girl’s” mother and a security guard. Someone had tipped them off that I was coming, and they decided that the lobby was as far as I could go. The baby boy had been born healthy. The girls’ mother had a single photograph to give me. She told me to come back another day.
That was May 4th, 1994 …
… fourteen years ago, almost to the hour.
Happy Birthday.
(To Be Continued as ‘Glass Boxes’)
The Roy's
by Insert Name on May 2nd, 2008 • 3 Comments »
May 2nd, 2008
Episode Fifteen
… Roy. The thought of ever falling in love with a male had never crossed my mind. I also had never imagined you could fall in love in an instant, with a single look. The moment I met Roy both of those statements came true.
He had the deepest shiny brown eyes I had ever seen, augmented with this brownish white hair that you just wanted to run your hand through for days. Unfortunately, that was impossible because Roy at this time could fit his entire body in my hand, except for his tail that just barely stretched outside the cup of my palms. The first time I met him he was sleeping, motionless, except for the tiny but deep purring sound that pulsed from his entire body as it amplified his content.
I hope I had you going for a second.
For any of you that may be overly pissed off that you have now read thirty some pages to find out that Roy was a nothing more than a fluffy feline, let me assure you he is main player in this never ending story. Not only is he my first pet as an adult, he will be the focus of many things to come in the future. Besides, you should be happy for me. In an instant ‘the girl’ had come back into my world and brought along a little bundle of joy that I would personally grow to adore. I tend to identify the stages in my life by my emotion at that time. There has been only one other time I have felt happier.
It was a beautiful thing.
I can’t begin to describe how unbelievable it was to have ‘the girl’ around again. She got a job at a shoe store right down the road and we started to explore life in concert, taking this opportunity to spend time together on our own terms. This caused our relationship to blossom as the chance to talk and live in unison finally took our friendship to the next level. I truly felt loved and in turn I also started to feel motivated again. Now that ‘the girl’ was finally a fixture in my life I had to come up with a plan to keep her there. I had to figure out a way to be twice as cool, twice as witty, and twice as irresistible. So I did what I thought was best.
I joined a rock band.
Rich Eruption and the Volcanoes we were called. Yeah, I know the name is strange, but it was the age of grunge and weird shit was the theme. It worked just fine for us. In case I hadn’t mentioned it before, my parents had spent most of my childhood investing thousands of dollars on an eduational machine that would eventaully mold and spit out quite a piano player. Adam, my neighbor from Australia, played the bass and was friends with a guy named Scott who hammered a very mean kit. To round out the crew was a skinny long haired dude named Rich whose voice and Fender front lined the frenzy. I have been immersed in music in one form or another since the day I could walk, so I feel that I am qualified to make the next statement.
This band was tight.
The band was so tight that they even threw me for a loop one day. We practiced religiously in the ‘dungeon’ which was in reality was Rich’s basement. One day during a rehearsal I had gone upstairs to use the bathroom. While I was upstairs I suddenly heard one of the finest most progressive sounds pulsing throughout the house, reverberating off the walls with pure energy and emotion. I thought I had heard the tune somewhere before but I couldn’t remember where. My initial thought was that whatever CD those guys were playing definitely had to make it as a cover in our current playlist. As I walked backed down the stairs to inquire what compact disc was spinning, it unexpectedly hit me. It wasn’t a recording, it was our band, they were playing my song, and I couldn’t believe it.
That would kick off the most amazing summer. The girl, Roy, and I spent countless hours together while any remaining time was spent banging with the band. We played most of our gigs in Wausau that summer, usually at a little bar called Gerard’s, a tiny little pub that was one of the most wonderful venues I have ever been a part of. It was just a little hole in the wall, but it was loaded with personality and reeked of blood sweat and tears. This miniscule little joint was shoulder to shoulder every time we booked the place. This picture of us at Gerard’s, my keyboard, and the face of ‘the girl’ amidst the sea of those watching are burned into my brain like they happened yesterday. Never has a summer gone by so quickly.
By late August, ‘the girl’ and I had become quite close. So close as a matter of fact that we had started to explore spending our lives together. Roy had started to grow into a strapping young lad and the three of us had started to look like something that loosely resembled a family.
Then of course ‘the girl’ threw me a curveball. She had decided to go back to school but this time choosing instead to attend at the University of Minnesota. In what ended up being one of the most emotional discussions I have ever had, it was decided that I would follow.
I was so in love.
I was so in love in fact, that everything else became irrelevant. I immediately went back to Minneapolis and found an apartment for myself and for Roy. Due to a parental preference, the girl would be staying in a dormitory on campus. I would live about a half a mile away, tend to Roy’s every desire, and amazingly walk right back into the same Rocky Rococo’s that started this story and once again secure employment. I had a plan, I had a purpose, and I had ‘the girl’. I packed my things and I left the band.
I never saw a single one of them again.
To this day I can’t watch a band live without tearing up.
That September we proceeded to pack everything we had into the back of ‘the girls’ mother’s Jeep and headed back to the cities. They dropped me off at the apartment with Roy in tow and ‘the girl’ headed off to the dormitory to carry on her with her college career. The next day I also resumed my profession in the pizza industry. During the early fall ‘the girl’ and I spent a lot of time together getting to know each other as people and as companions. It was true love, right out of the movies.
Then, the entire thing went to shit.
(Stay tuned for the Final Episode)
The Roy's
by Insert Name on April 28th, 2008 • 6 Comments »
April 28th, 2008
Episode Fourteen
… there was a warrant out for my arrest.
Boy, talk about the exact phone call I was looking for at that instant. Now, as I watched my entire life race away in an escaping Escort, I couldn’t even alert the authorities.
What goes around baby, what goes around.
To set the story straight, before I left Wausau for the greater Minneapolis area, I had been employed at a ‘not to be named’ pizza establishment in town. This random pizza place had also contained a random gumball machine in which I had randomly figured out how to open and remove quarters from. Well eventually, someone had started to notice an irregular gumball to quarter ratio and had finally put two and two together.
I got about four bucks.
This was of course my first warrant, so I had little to no idea how warrants worked. As far as my dear mother was concerned, there was most likely a state wide APB out on me and I better go into hiding immediately. After hours of garnishing me with guilt, it was decided that my mother and step father would come down to Madison, pick me up, and I would turn myself in. I swear it took them less than an hour and a half to get there. That was probably a good thing, any more time to think and I probably would have hit the road. That would have changed everything.
By the time we got back to Wausau it was pretty late at night, probably around ten or so. We drove downtown to the courthouse and somehow managed to find where to go. Now when you go to the jail, you don’t really run into any signs with arrows that point to the ‘turn yourself in’ department. Eventually, we located a very intimidating side door area, brightly lit, and for lack of a better word quite shiny. I nervously stuck out my hand and rang the buzzer on the door located on the side of the jail.
The night guard that evening was a woman. I will never forget this woman for reasons other than one might think. When I pressed that dreaded buzzer, she responded immediately, inquiring on the nature of my business. In what must have been the most anxious articulation in history, I revealed why I had come. Suddenly, out of nowhere I hear…
“Well great job!”
Of all the things that could have come out of that squawk box, that particular statement had not even made the list. I just couldn’t believe it; this woman was congratulating me on doing something right, in the midst of doing something wrong. She is one of the few people who have ever done that. I hope she has had a great life.
Now that my not meant to be ‘shout out’ to the Wausau police department has been shouted.
I was on my way to my first night in jail.
Firstly boys and girls, if I could teach you one lesson about going to jail it would be to not go there. Once you arrive, you’re life will no longer be yours. They have you … forever. Best advice, stay away, it’s not worth it. The second and most important thing that you need to know is just to pay attention to that first point.
Jail is not good.
Luckily for me, I got coddled that first night. They put me in this little cell with huge windows right smack dab in the front. I was right in the middle, dead center in the hub of activity. I was only in for the night and I am sure they were just your traditional holding cells, but for a first timer, being put out there for the world to see was repulsively revealing. I wasn’t scared, but I was entirely embarrassed. I don’t remember if I got a jumpsuit or not, but I do remember not sleeping a wink, being freezing cold, and holding any departing body fluids for just about as long as I could. I watched as the procession of prisoners continued around me, people coming in and out for the night, and even started a little game I like to call guess the transgression. A game in which I try to guess what everyone else was in for, while realizing the whole time that I would never know the answer. Oh yeah, I got one of those five star jail meals as well.
It was fine dining at its finest.
I sat there and molded until morning when I got my initial appearance in court. My family, including my father was there and it was horrifically humbling. I felt terrible for letting my family down, which in turned fueled my feelings of hopelessness. When everything was said and done all I got was a slap on the hand. I was ordered to pay restitution and placed on probation as well. It sounded pretty good until I found out that with no current residence, in order to avoid further time, I had to move to Stevens Point and live with …
… my Mother.
Nothing more grounding than moving back in with your parents now is there? I was at their mercy for the most part, but bless their hearts for taking me back in. I knew it would never be a comfortable situation. I was now shackled by the hand of the law which meant being tied to a home that wasn’t really mine and continuing a life that wasn’t really going anywhere. I needed to do something remarkable.
So I got a job at a gas station.
When you’re on probation you best better always have a job. You check in with your probation officer once a month, and as long as you keep your head out of trouble and pay your restitution, you are left with most of your basic freedoms. Good thing, because that winter was my twenty-first birthday.
I spent the evening at the bar, with my brother (who I wish I could hang out with more), a friend of mine named Krista from way back, and her boyfriend Adam a college student from Australia. It was one of the best nights I have ever had, and not in the drunk and puking way at all. It was plain good times. This still may have been the last time I hung out with my brother one on one.
My birthday passed and as it does every year the winter just seemed to drag on. I continued to work at the gas station for most of the cold months, meeting a good friend Pat in the process, getting stoned a little bit, but for the most part keeping myself intact. I also started hearing a little bit from the camp of …
… ‘the girl’.
It seems ‘the girl’ still had a mild interest in this late night purveyor of petrol. Since I worked the graveyard shift, which consisted mostly of me ingesting snack food, while waiting on the occasional, albeit rare, customer, I would call her once in awhile when I got in at eleven and we would talk late into the night. These conversations, although still friendly at best, left me feeling fairly content to at least have those few minutes once in awhile.
As spring neared summer, my friend Krista, (who for history purposes was a former girlfriend of my best friend Andy) and her new boyfriend Adam from Australia, lived in an apartment building across the hall from a man named Steve (breath). Steve, who would be leaving for the summer, needed someone to watch over the place in his absence, and Krista and Adam told him that I was his guy.
I couldn’t agree with them more.
I promptly packed my personals and headed to the other side of Point. My newly acquired arrangements were not more than two blocks from the Square, which for all you out of town folk, is bar central. Guess who just happened to be twenty-one? Life was good. In one swoop I had found a place to live, gained a little freedom, and started to lift my head a little.
Looking back, I should have bought a lottery ticket that day, because in what is becoming a re-occurring theme, out of the blue I got a phone call from …
…’the girl’…
…who wanted to move in …
… and bring a very special guest along named …
(Stay tuned for Episode Fifteen)
The Roy's
by Insert Name on April 25th, 2008 • 2 Comments »
April 25th, 2008
Episode Thirteen
… a skank from Wausau.
Like I said, ‘the girl’ had left me emotionally empty. The rest of my tank was also empty as I was out of money and out of time. I needed a place to go or I would be finding myself homeless by weeks end. I decided to turn to my best friend Andy from high school who was now living in Madison. I finally caught a break and true to form my best bud said that I was more than welcome to come if I could muster up a horse to get myself there. It was a relief; with absolutely no place to go I had found a friendly face in what was a selfish attempt to avoid a night on the blacktop. Regardless, I needed to find a ride and find one fast.
Enter one of the hottest chicks you will never meet.
Shortly after high school I was lucky enough to become friends with a blond haired belle that would leave you breathless. She was from Wausau and her name was Heather. Her father owned a little photography shop in town and we had become what I would consider to be quite tight. I can’t stress enough just how amazing this little ‘piece of perfect’ truly was. She was ungodly gorgeous without a piece of plastic in her personality. She was absolutely the most delicious dame I had ever met. I did pretty good back in my day, but Heather was from top to bottom completely out of my league. Over time she ended up being more of a little sister. But believe me; I had been trying to close the deal for years.
I guess I’m not much of a salesman.
Now completely out of options, I picked up the horn and honked this heralded Heather. As it turned out, Heather and a friend of hers (whose name I can’t remember) were on a carefree ‘let’s get out of Wausau’ and explore the world phase. Subsequently, they were more than willing to come and hang out in Minneapolis and then fly south to Madison.
So they came.
Heather’s friend had a old tiny red Ford Escort and they hopped in it and hit the interstate to the inner city. Now I hadn’t seen Heather in a year or so and was eager to put my best foot forward. Unfortunately, I had a huge problem.
Dale.
I don’t care who you are, the first time you meet Dale anything even remotely cool is sucked out of your body like liposuction for losers. As soon as these two tasty tarts met him, there was no way they were staying. The perm alone screamed helped me – then he opened his mouth - spewing forth the secret formula for a female repellent so strong that even Deep Woods OFF would be impressed. These sizzling senoritas weren’t going to have any of it.
I finally convinced them to at least stay one night over at a friend’s house that I thought Heather might appreciate. Dale had no idea I was headed for the hills, so it was imperative that the girls stick around until I could pack all of my belongings into ‘what’s her names’ car the next day when Dale was at work. They agreed and I gave them the grand tour of the city and we headed over to this casual acquaintance of mines apartment. Heather had a good evening, gaga because my buddy looked like Jim Morrison, which was for all intents and purposes was a prerequisite of hers at the time. I also managed to cuddle up to Heather’s friend a bit, nothing big, just someone to hold onto until morning.
When the rooster crowed, we returned to Dale’s to get my stuff and get outta Dodge. Ever try packing your life into on Escort? I certainly don’t recommend it. Somehow I got it done, laboring intently as the queens preceded to petrify as I moved every single little bit of my existence on my own. Eventually, I got just about everything that meant anything to me into that pint sized pony. With one final look I was out the door.
So was Dale … evermore.
Heather decided that she wanted to go back home, so her friend and I dropped her off in Wausau. We then headed to my mothers home in Stevens Point for the night. We left for Madison the next day and I must note that as a passenger in a vehicle commandeered by an easily distracted young female it was quite a gripping experience. But we made it, and I was elated to see my best friend Andy again. He had the tiniest apartment on the face of the planet, yet we all managed to pile in and have one hell of an evening. For the first time in months I felt happy. Andy had always been one of the most fascinating people that I had ever met. Our friendship was long and deep seeded and the bonding time alone was enough to lift my spirits immensely. That is until I woke up the next morning to find that…
…the canine crotch and the auto were absent.
She took every single thing that ever meant anything to me. All my personal objects, treasured keepsakes, and most importantly the artwork from my friend Andy that I treasured more than one can imagine. I lost it all.
She plain disappeared.
I still to this day cannot remember this nasty little nymph’s name, but she knows who she is. And if and when I do remember your name, or someone reading this reminds me of it, I shall make sure it is known for the world to hear. If you still have anything of mine, return it or you shall forever be literally lashed right here.
In River City.
Why didn’t I call the police you ask?
Well, it just so happens that seconds after I realized my possessions had been stolen, I received a extremely uncomfortable call from my mother informing me that …
(Stay tuned for Episode Fourteen)
The Roy's
by Insert Name on April 24th, 2008 • No Comments »
April 24th, 2008
Today I suspend The Roy’s for a little while. School is piling up, life is piling up, work is piling up. In two weeks it will all be over. Today, I must be mentally healthy. Sometimes I get too excited about new projects - this morning I do a reality check.
I will be back in full force in twenty one days (until then just sporadically). Come May 15th, I shall continue with a flurry.
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