“You should write all these stories down.” Meh, you douches which one to write first?

Acid, XTC, pot, alcohol, drugs, music, sex, food – I figure I would just hit this blog with every word I could think of that I might use and will probably piss off this service right from the start.

Let me get this straight, in my life I made choices they were mine, they involved everything above and some things I am not sure they have invented accurate words for, and regret none of it. I am not pro drugs or anti drugs, but I am pro choice. Humans need to choose their own life experiences. In my life now, at the start of this blog I really don’t have of the above vices in my life. Drugs don’t work anymore, the sex left, when my tongue took took over my life. Oh that cruel tongue of mine, leading me from buffet to buffet, destroying my lust for highs and women and replacing it with sweet juices of raw steak and warm peppered blood in my mouths and on the edges of my lips. I won’t tell you I am “clean.” “Clean,” is such a silly word and a ridiculous concept listening to people tell me over and over all my life they were clean. The ignorant people who made up that tem never touched a drug; never experienced a drug lifestyle. Because of their lack of experience that can’t see through their filters that to choosing to do drugs and live a life surrounded by drug culture is no different then choosing to be an athlete, or a tech nerd or a factory worker; all choices you make about the culture you choose to live. You live a life, and during that life you are many different things, you might be jock in school, then a college student and pull away from sports then move on to a starving artist, then maybe a married father, a religious man of faith, a divorcee, a broke drug addict, a recovering drug addict, a bus driver, a musician, a retiree, and professional consultant, and a grandpa all in one life time. All these thing you may be, and others will be different. A person’s drug lifestyle or time in drug culture is nothing more than that. I see my own drug and party past as no different as that of a ball player, I played ball professionally; that was who I was and what I did. I am not that person anymore those days were left behind. If want to play ball now or in the future I will but I even if I do, I can’t ever play ball like I did then, and I just don’t care too. It’s just who I was.

Over the years in secret I have shared stories of my life that are just unbelievable. Even I don’t believe them and if you believe them you are an idiot. But they happened and if they hadn’t happened I have no idea who I would be; maybe a fat WOW player sitting in an apartment working at a convenience store to help pay for my internet and debt to Blizzard.

Make no mistake, I feel inside that these stupid stories will bring lots of negative attention to something like my parties, something that I believe to be positive and great, but my parties are not this past, my parties are not me, and my past shouldn’t reflect the creation of the events I am honored to manage but really are the creation of the attendees. Some people my not understand what I mean, and those cruel lame monsters will attack, but fuck it they will attack whether I share these pasts or not. Monsters who hate and devoir can never stop devouring what they believe to be food.

No, not all the stories will be about drugs, or sex or food, but that will come up, and people will ask about it, and the monsters will dwell on each of my words about it. So before I write word one, just in case the monsters are already here, I might as well explain myself on page. Simply, my friends have asked me to write about my past because it was odd, and in that past I did drugs, cope with it.

I have no idea what to write now. I just wrote this confusing explanation of this journal blog thing and that’s all I got.

“You should write all these stories down.” Meh, you douches which one to write first?