When I was growing up, I wasn't fortunate enough to meet anyone to tell me that I would be a good writer. The 1st time I remember getting to do anything with creative writing was when I was in 2nd grade as I was trying to increase my vocabulary and they would have me write a sentence using that new word I learned. I had no imagination and I couldn't think of a word to use in that sentence and I really hated having to do that. By the time I was in 5th grade I had been through so much horrible shit, but at least lucky enough to be exposed to some cool things, like cool TV shows and music that I was having to increase my vocabulary some more and I had to write these words in a sentence. This time I was able to build up enough creativity to write spelling sentences using humor and it made doing this a lot more fun. I can't remember any of the words or sentences that I wrote, but I took a class on computer literacy as an adult. 1 of the words I needed to add to my vocabulary was "cells", which is spreadsheet cells. I had to write a sentence with that word in it and the sentence I decided to write was. "What the world needs now is more spreadsheet cells and fewer jail cells." I read that sentence out loud and some people found that to be funny, but someone said that we need the jail cells to keep us safe. Most people in jail cells are not a threat to our safety but our fascist scumfuck fascist imperialistic government and corporate media have duped so many people with their propaganda bullshit. Oh, don't get me started!
By the time I was in junior high I knew that I had some writing skills and I remember writing this stupid ant-drug story about a haunted house that was run by drug dealers. It was also when I was in junior high that I was put in special Ed and my special Ed teacher liked that story. By the time I was a sophomore in high school I was sick and tired of being in special Ed and treated like a 2nd class citizen just because I happened to be different so I started writing stuff that was dissing special Ed and my special Ed teacher didn't like that and I was no longer told that I would be a good writer.
In 1988, I took a workshop called "The Experience Weekend" which is something that is supposed to empower your life and I had no idea what I would get out of it. Going through Friday Saturday and about half of Sunday I didn't seem to be getting anywhere with this. Also there were people crying all the time because they couldn't deal with being human and seeing all that worked my nerves. Finally late in the day on Sunday, the person leading this workshop decided that everyone should write some stuff. I am not supposed to reveal what was to be written. The people found what I had written to be so funny and unique and told me that I should be written and the stuff I wrote was written a lot differently than the way anyone else there had written stuff.
By the time, the weekend was over I was almost to the point of crying. People told me that I would be a good writer, but I was so depressed because I would be back into the world of shit and not know how to go about writing or even what to write. There was a party after the workshop with lots of food to eat and I felt a lot better and very empowered. It was a high unlike I ever experienced before.
I felt so empowered right after doing that workshop with the ability to make any of my dreams become a reality. Guess how long that lasted? Not long at all. Less than 12 hours after the workshop ended, my parents were in a serious car accident, which knocked down things quite a bit. The following day, I broke my ankle and had torn ligaments from roller skating and the injury was so bad that I needed to have surgery which would cost $8000 and I didn't have medical insurance and I had to go through all kinds of belching bullshit even before I could get into a hospital to give me the surgery. I was finally able to get into a hospital and get my ankle operated on 3 weeks after breaking it, which was totally ridiculous in this "wonderful" country where I had my basic human right violated by not being able to get affordable medical insurance. It was not fun going through that surgery and broken ankles can cause other complications as well. For example, the anesthesia made it difficult for me to take a piss. About 12 hours after my surgery, the nurse comes into the room and she asked me if I had urinated lately and I told her "no". She told me that if I didn't urinate soon, she was going to take a catheter and shove it up my dick. Now that is a fate worse than death! I forced and forced and it was so difficult to piss, but I was able to do it, thankfully and I was spared having to go through that unspeakable act of torture.
By the end of 1988, I wasn't even close to experiencing empowerment, considering that the slime that I was working for decided to lay me off on Christmas Eve, but at least those seeds had started to grow, but too fucking slow. It was at the end of 1988 that I figured that I might be good enough to do a stand up comedy act on an amateur night at a local club, but I never did. While I was unemployed, I just wasn't sure what I could write, yet either. I figured I had to write something mainstream or I just wouldn't get anywhere if I wrote something that was too weird.
By 1989, I ran into more disempowering bullshit than cool stuff. I was having all kinds of issues and problems and I needed help. All the people who claimed they would help me were greedy money grubbing con-artist pigs who were going to rip me off. I had another medical problem in 1989. I had problems with my balls itching. The problem started in 1987 and got better for awhile, but it got real bad in 1989. What would happen is I would scratch my balls. Then they would get irritated, but they would at least stop. Then they would itch again while they were still irritated and I would scratch them and they would get more and more irritated each time I scratched. I went down to the drug store and got some Tinactin which claims they are supposed to cause your balls to stop itching, but those bastards are liars because it failed to cause my balls to stop itching. I sprayed the Tinactin on my itchy balls and it stung like Hell too. My balls felt better for about 2 hours. Then they started itching again and I would scratch them and they continued to get more and more irritated. Those people who make Tinactin are total fucking bastards. I wasted $8 on their product and my balls would not stop itching. That made me so mad, I wanted to go into the drug store and put a sticker on all the cans of Tinactin that would say, "this product is total bullshit and it will not cause your balls to stop itching," but I never did because I was afraid that I would get caught.
I had to go to a doctor because of my itchy balls and I hate it when a doctor has to look at and fondle my balls. He gave me a prescription for lotrisone, which is a tube of cream that does work on itchy balls, but it was so fucking expensive. Back in 1989, it cost $26 for a tube of cream to cause my balls to stop itching. It now cost $65 just for a tube of cream to put on my balls. That is outrageous! I also can't understand why it is nessasary to be required to need a prescription just to get a tube of cream to put on my itchy balls.
It was going through all the shit basically since I was born, but the continuation of more shit after doing that workshop in 1988 that finally lead to me writing my 1st story, "Killer Queen" in late 1989 which is about a drag queen who comes back from the dead and kills people. I will talk about my stories, next time. Click here to go back to my 2002 vision of the world page.