Some recent writing...

 This takes place in the middle of the narrative as I am looking at my reflection in the glass of a restaurant.   This is a part of an older story that I wanted to incorporate into this current narrative.  I still believe my older writings were practice for the writing that is occurring now.  The person I call F. Keebler is not the cause of the phenomena that I write about here, but certainly a sinister, manipulative element that may have been a catalyst for me to manifest it.....

I'm still nonexistent to my old friends, family and to most of society. I'm lower than....

Then it happened. A blur in the reflection of the glass suddenly swarmed over my own reflection. I suddenly felt nausea and vertigo watching as my reflection was engulfed. There was a giggle and I turned my head to see who was emitting such a sinister gleeful sound but saw no one. When I turned to look at my reflection again, the blur jumped away and disappeared into the wall and mortar. I felt a tug in my lower intestines as the blur vanished. There was something removed from me because there was an empty feeling now in my guts. It was more than hunger because suddenly the burrito in my hand no longer had any appeal. Nor did the aqua fresca. There was definitely something missing from my viscera and I was afraid that if I took a bite of food or took a sip from my beverage, there would be no stomach for it to digest in.

That reflection of a blur took something from me! I've sensed it before, waiting and watching me. I thought it was simply being awake too long. A sketchy hallucination. A physiological response to lack of sleep. But now it seems to be manifesting a corporeality. It is getting stronger. It is learning how to take what it needs instead of passively absorbing it.

“C'mon Steven...” F. Keebler was ready to turn on Polk Street. Nice of him to wait for me. I could have caught up to him at Jesse's place. I wondered how long he had been watching me look at my reflection. I wondered if he knew what I was experiencing. I usually feel ignored by F. Keebler and wanted to keep this new phenomena to myself. I don't think Keebler is responsible for it. He is incapable of thinking deeply and I did not want to discuss what I just experienced with him. I  hoped my expression did not give anything away. Interesting that he chose at that moment to call out to me. It is as though he sensed my distraction and felt threatened that he would not get my full attention.

I shook myself off internally and put my thoughts in the place I put them when I need to hide them from others, but easily accessible for me to review later. I turned away from the dark glass and walked towards F. Kebbler, the grinning Deamon Imp.

Still Unconscious....

This next section is the second house I had a "dream" of while still unconscious.  When I arrived at the hospital that first night, the doctors did not think I was going to survive.  I made it through that night, but the pneumonia must have felt trapped like an animal and punctured a hole through my lung later that same week.  The prognosis was not good and the doctors expected me to die again.

As I laid in the bed, the blackness in my mind finally turned into a dream.  I was in a house that was not so lovely as the house on the lake.  It was located in the back of a dark cul-de-sac, and was the only house that was built there.  The wood was old and worn.  It was also gritty, smokey and dirty.

The people in the house were less appealing and perhaps involved in more sinister activities. There were orange and red walls with red and orange plastic beads in the shapes of teardrops hanging in all the doorways. Blue and gray smoke filled the air. A guitar solo was continually  playing, looping around the hazy atmosphere, never getting to the hook.

The host noticed me and said, “Hey man, welcome. Cool to have your presence amongst us.” He looked like Jimmy Hendrix. He continued, “We would be honored if you chose to remain amongst us. We could learn things from you Steven. We could learn about humanity. At the same time, we can teach you. We can teach you about acceptance.”

The guitar solo changed pitch and became more somber. The individuals in this house completely ignored me. The host was the only one who seemed interested in my presence. He took a big puff from a blunt that was just handed to him by one of the house's inhabitants. He let out the smoke after holding it for what seemed like several long minutes, and said as he exhaled, “Stay as long as you like. You need the rest. If you want to stay for eternity, that choice is welcome to you as well. If you decide to remain with us, only then will we interact with you. Otherwise, you will be left alone. Speak to me only and I will respond. The others do not see you as I see you. If you decide to stay, then you will be accepted as one of us.” The guitar solo became louder and rhythmic.

Like the other house on the lake, I was offered the chance to hang around for eternity, or could spend as much time as I needed to decide. I was a special guest here and was allowed to relax as long as I needed.

I certainly didn't want to stay in that house, especially if I blew a chance to spend eternity in a nicer house. It would be a great compromise staying in this blurry, run down house.

It did not take me long to decide.

My next memories are waking up very groggy in the ICU unit where it was explained to me that I had been very sick and lucky to be alive.

I was unconscious the whole month of February. Which is just as well because the nurses were complaining that it rained the entire month anyway.

That explained why my fingernails were so long and why I felt like I had been through a battle.

Unconscious

When I almost died, I was unconscious for four weeks.  I had many "dreams" and I believe I was creating out of my subconscious a scenario to keep my mind occupied while my body tried to heal from the pneumonia.  This section describes one of the significant "dreams" I encountered in this unconscious state:

Most of my memories from that point are based on various states of consciousness. But the most significant are the dreams of two different houses. I woke up in the first house which was in the mountains, on a lake, and I was sitting on the most comfortable couch I had ever experienced. There was a wooden porch that extended far out onto the lake, that ended with a pier. Although there were no boats anchored to it. I became more aware of my surroundings as the couch I was sitting on was L shaped, and there were several other attractive individuals surrounding me. Some of them were naked and having sex, while others were engaged in intense dialogues. Each paying close attention to the other while holding a hand gently to the others cheek or simply holding each others hands. I was relaxing on that plush couch, minding my breathing, and looking through the sliding glass doors at the dark blue lake nestled in the mountains. It was nighttime and the star studded sky reflected on the shimmering lake and meshed the dark air with the water. The stars twinkled on the lake, and the waves shimmered in the moonlight. I could hear the wind blowing through the trees in a large whoooosh and smell pine in the air. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace and no one seemed to notice me until the host spoke to me directly.

“Welcome Steven.” He was a man I had never seen or met in my corporeal life. “We have been waiting for you to arrive. We are very happy to have someone as intelligent as you here with us!”

Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and looked at me. There were smiles and nods of acceptance as each person in that fantastic room on the lake acknowledged me. A woman wrapped a towel around herself and sat next to me. She began rubbing my back and cooing. “You're so handsome. You're so smart. We want you here with us. Please interpret some Runes for us Steven...”

My host looked at me with a sincere and empathetic smile holding a brandy glass. “We have been anticipating your arrival Steven.  And now that you're here, we can officially invite you to remain with us for eternity.”

The woman next to me said, “Oh please stay with us...” Then she curled up in a ball putting her head on my lap and purring. Everyone in the room began to agree with her.

“Stay with us, we need you here.”

“We require your knowledge of Runes, mythology, poetry and prose...”

“We need the warmth of your body next to us....”

“We want to feel your mind and body.........”

“We admire you, we love you, we need you.....”

My host interrupted the revelry, “Everyone,” he began in a soothing, intoxicating voice, “Everyone, we are graced to have Steven here, but alas, it is his choice to remain here for eternity. That is a choice that once decided, can not be altered in anyway.” He looked into my eyes while putting his hand gently on my chin. There was an electricity flowing from his finger tips into my skin and radiating blue warmth throughout my body.

“Steven, you have as much time as you need to decide. You are our guest for as long as it takes for you to figure out if you are done with the corporeal world. Take as much time as you need, it is an important decision.....”

He let go of my chin and the people in the room returned to having sex, massaging each other, or carrying on conversations of quantum significance. The woman next to me remained curled around my leg, rubbing her hand along my body, purring.

This seemed like a great offer. A restful, supportive, relaxing existence through all eternity with good looking, sincere individuals in a fantastic house sounded very appealing. I was glad I could take my time to decide, encouraged even, because my body needed the rest anyway.

Everyone in the house was warm, friendly and concerned. Each person wanted what was best for me without pressuring me to decide either way. We had discussions about Runes, gods and goddesses, the state of the psyche in different sexual positions, and society. We read poetry to each other, and shared art. Individuals were getting high but without consequence, truly transcending. Everyone was sensual and wanted to experience my body next to theirs.

As much as I was tempted to stick around I knew that I had more to accomplish than to have it all end at the Adrian Hotel, where my personal belongings were already being picked over by the other residents.

It may have been easy to forget that my physical existence was ending because my consciousness was in a comfortable place for the moment. But if my body died, I don't think my consciousness would have stayed in that nice house for all eternity. Like a switch, everything would then be turned off, dark and cold. Since the breathing machines kept my body alive, my brain would have kept producing the nice house scenario. But for how long?

While I was sitting in that beautiful house on the lake, considering if I wanted to remain there for eternity, I still had a small notion of the physical world from which I came. I sensed there was more for me to achieve. But I sat around there for awhile. That was the nicest house I had been in for a long time.

In hindsight, I believe that house was on Lake Tahoe. I grew up close to that beautiful lake and spent many wonderful times with friends on the beach or staying in cabins. It makes sense that my subconscious pulled from it's memory banks a remarkable, peaceful place for me to spend the rest of eternity. Also when I finally became conscious, after 4 weeks, I had an intense desire to travel to Lake Tahoe and go swimming in the clear, blue water. Also had an intense desire for a milkshake.

Facing Death

I begin my narrative with the evening I almost died:

     I almost died on January 31, 2004. I contracted pneumonia most likely from living in that piss in the sink hotel I called home. I was happy for that piss in the sink hotel because the other option was homelessness. The Adrian Hotel is located on the corner of Eddy and Hyde Streets in the Tenderloin. It is in a bad part of town, in a type of hotel where I hoped I wouldn't ever have to live. I woke up one morning in that lousy hotel with a very sore shoulder, and felt worse than I ever had. I ended up in the hospital, unconscious for the entire month of February. I didn't realize that my sore shoulder was a symptom of what was going wrong with my lungs. I never felt that shitty before and suspected it might be the end.

      I have seriously considered notions of my own death before that evening, including suicide, but faced with an opportunity to end it all I chose to live. Which meant eventually going back to the Adrian Hotel after six long weeks in San Francisco General Hospital. Choosing life also meant that my existence would not end like so many others I knew who were my neighbors, who left in an ambulance and never returned. In addition, I was not going to be one of those individuals that nobody misses for days and days until the rent is due; and the hotel manager is forced to open the door to his or her room to discover they have been dead for a week. So I chose a life of struggle and hardship instead of just giving up the ghost in the face of poverty, drug addiction and despair.

Welcome!

Welcome to my blog!  What I will be sharing here are sections of a narrative I have been working on for the last couple years.  During the course of my life, I ran into some trouble with drugs.  This eventually lead me to homelessness and almost death.  There were several major factors along the way that allowed me to keep moving in a forward direction in spite of drug addiction, self degradation, and poverty.

  Before the drugs and debauchery, I was in a graduate program for writing.  I had written several short stories and was working on a fictional novel.  Then, when my dad passed away, things changed.

I was uncertain sometimes if I would survive being a drug addict.  When I had no where to stay, I often worried about what would become of me.  Since I am here now, alive and thriving, I realized the circumstances I survived were worth writing about.  The experiences up to that point were unknown to me, and I suspect they are unknown to others as well. When I began  to write about this stuff, I realized that the plot, and all the characters were right in front of me.  I did not have to create them out of my imagination.   I can joke about what I went through as research for a novel, but I don't recommend others trying this for themselves.

That said, I want to warn readers that there is some coarse language, and graphic descriptions of situations.  Granted, I will not post anything too gory or disturbing, but if individuals are interested, I could send them more stuff to read in private.  I would be honored if people wanted to offer feedback, critical remarks, or support.  This work is mostly unedited and is a first draft. 

I will start with something that is in the middle of the story, with me having difficulty wanting to go to sleep even though it is greatly needed.  I had great fear of bugs crawling on me while I slumbered and this is a response to that notion.....

 

Scuffle, scuffle. Crinkle crinkle. Scuffle, crinkle, scuffle crinkle. Scuffle, scuffle. Crinkle, crinkle. Scuffle, crinkle, scuffle, crinkle.....

I sit upright in a flash. I hear the scuffling, but don't see anything. I look around my room and everything is in it's place. I'm particular where I put things. I continue looking around my room as my eyes become adjusted to being awake. Everything seems in it's place but the sound.....

Scuffle, scuffle. Crinkle, crinkle. Scuffle, crinkle, scuffle crinkle....

I look down at the carpet, and jump up on the top of my bed in an instant.  The carpet is flowing from underneath the wall of Baby Strange's room. The cockroaches march diligently in an organized chaos. Their dirty thoraxes and filthy antennae brush and rub against each other, sharing pestilence, creating a fervor.

Scuffle, scuffle. Crinkle, crinkle. Scuffle, crinkle, scuffle, crinkle....

The cockroach orgy fills my entire floor. I  look for a place to jump in case the bugs start crawling up the bed. Too late, the end of my bed was filling up with the brown and rust colored critters.

SCUFFLE, SCUFFLE. CRINKLE CRINKLE. SCUFFLE, CRINKLE, SCUFFLE, CRINKLE....

They swarm my legs, stinging my skin. Purple welts erupt on my thighs oozing a toxic pus that burns as it flows out of the wounds. The cockroaches engulf my torso, stinging and numbing my cock and balls. They swarm my chest, making it hard to breath. With each labored breath, I inhale writhing cockroaches. They constrict the muscles in my chest and each breath was more labored than the last. I gasp for oxygen but I taste crunchy, metallic, bugs instead of air. Detritus gets caught in my teeth causing my gums to bleed. I fall to the bed, half my body falling to the floor. More cockroaches swarm my face, entering my nostrils and burning my sinuses. Their barbed legs gauge out my eyes and they charge through the empty sockets towards my brain. The burning, stinging, becomes a throbbing as more and more cockroaches fill up my skull. The rest of my body is bloating, my skin stretching painfully over my bones while warm bugs wiggle and expand in my viscera. It feels like I'm about to burst. AHHHHHHHH.....

My head snaps awake again. I look at the floor, and it is the standard Adrian Hotel dark blue carpet.  That reminds me, when I wake up, I need to sweep it.   I stand up from the captains chair and laid down on the bed.  I pull the blanket up over my body and most of my head. I'm still wearing clothes and boots. I begin to rock back forth. “There is a force field around me. It will protect me while I sleep. There is a force field around me. It will protect me while I sleep. There is a force field around me. It will protect me while I sleep. There is a force field around me......” Then I crashed.