HisStory

No recap: Here's an index to these pages of blabbering.

Forward momentum: 5/2 11pm

Damn I just started cooking.  Yea I know. Wah wah. But what a long day. I'm pooped. I started at 1 outside looking for amanitas then I think 3 looking for oysters. Then it was like 5:30 at the store. Whew. In the end I'm just drinking the wine. Fuck putting it in the sauté. It's not sweet enough. I got a moscato but I got a flavored one. I was hungry fuck give me a break I wanted to try a flavor. It was lemonade. Yummy. 

Moscato holds a special place in my heart. There's only been two that got away that I kick myself for and this one was never mine but she got away as in broke my heart. Sure I was heartbroken w every time I got dumped. Every time but 2 were different. I can only see it looking backwards. Jennifer was the second one. My first domme. My baby moms. 

She showed me so much. She showed me sex could be fun. That people actually liked sex. She had a few quirks that were interesting. Should couldn't get off unless there was semen inside of her. Just could not. Kinda creepy yea but I was fixed. I looked past that. I was still drinking then. She was trying to, I think she wanted to get less attached, put some distance between us and I was protesting. I fucking said "but I left my wife for you." Nuclear bomb. If she didn't hang up on me she did in her mind. There was no other thing I could have said that was as wrong as that. Poof that instant I was alone.

She was my savior coming out of my marriage. My wife had given my ring back and I hers. But she still had a key to the house. But rings were given back I thought it's divorce city and I was acting that way. I took Jennifer out one Friday. My first date with her. I got more fellatio that night that in my entire ten plus year relationship with my wife. We went out for a beer and left the sex toys on the bed. Half way through that beer my phone rings. I know the ringtone and it's her. I went ashen white. I knew what was happening. She was at the house. I answered. I was right. I found out then that even though we had return the wedding rings and she was living at her moms that she thought it wasn't over and I was cheating. My voice got loud and I argued my point of view. Poor Jennifer looked like I was raping a dog. I was embarrassing her. And boy was the ex irate. I was loud. But you could hear her through the phone and she was louder and more audible than me. The whole bar heard everything. My clothes and the toys and all my shit was going to be ready for me on my lawn. Now the neighborhood was getting involved.  

But that was only the start. We were scared. Jennifer wanted her stuff and I wanted to die. Five minutes before was the happiest I had been since 1997 and this was 2012. Wtf do i do. Jennifer suggested we get a police escort. So we did that. The police informed me that the rule was it doesn't matter that the house was in my name only. We were married still. Possession mattered and she had possession of my house and I didn't. They made sure she stayed in the house while we gathered my shit off the lawn. We had to ask for the bag of sex toys because they weren't there. Luckily they came out not covered in gasoline. Fifteen years of my life was over and all I had to show was my clothes. 

I had an apprentice weed grower. Oh yea, we had three times the legal limit of weed growing and if you counted the clones it was 5x. Anyway I had Jennifer drive us there. Jeffrô gave us his upstairs room. Actually the whole upstairs. He was a big boy and couldn't climb the stairs. He consoles me and we went upstairs and fucked away the memories of the night. In the morning she cut the weekend short and went for comforting to her dom. 

I was alone. I was in disbelief. I had only my clothes. I couldn't have my dogs. Nor anything else. Jeffrô was paying us 1/3 of his crop 3x to learn how to do it the right way. He hasn't finished his first crop. He fed me and bonged me until his first crop then I took that money and rented his friends house in oakville. I was dui probation and had no car. This took 6 weeks. By then my ex and I were talking. Of course because she couldn't grow and needed money. So I was gardening both places. She actually put more stuff in the 4Runner we had bought together. It was a 2011. This was 2012. I was doing well. I mean financially. But she loaded it up and came to get me and dropped me off at my new rental in oakville with my dogs. And no food. And no car. Cold. Very cold. Literally because it was November. In January it snowed so much the highway shut down. 

Somehow I made it. I started a crop. I started an outdoor that spring. I walked to the store there and got rice. I had people bring me food. Jennifer spent her food stamps to make sure I didn't starve. My friend Joanna, who housed me in 2020 when I got out of jail, she would buy tincture off me and I would use that money for food and vodka.  I can't believe I made it. About June, it was the hottest summer on record with the longest stretch of no clouds in history. I got my house back. 

I continued my outdoor in oakville. By that time my buddy had moved in from North Dakota. He watered the crop. Oh. We were on well water. If we flushed too much, the water went dry cuz the well was super shallow. We had a cast iron claw foot bathtub. I loved that thing. Fill that tub with hot water and I could listen to two albums back to back and have to pour myself out of the tub with the water still warm. Super nice. Anyway so you could only poop inside. Not enough water for the plants and pissing. But anyway Ken kept control of the crop and I moved back to Tacoma and retook the house. Mind you, the whole time I was tending crops at Tacoma, Toledo, and Oakville. My ex wasn't sharing any of her money but she did buy me a van I couldn't drive cuz I had no license. I took the test and paid all my fines when I got the house back and got a breathalyzer in my van and drove it. But that took 6 months. Of course, I was splitting my crops with my ex wife cuz I'm a fucking nice guy. I got the $25k for that outdoor. 

My ex was the salesman she knew the shop owners. I was just the grower so she sold and I grew. Why I split the cash with her and allowed her not to reciprocate is just one of those anomalies. I thought it was the right thing to do and demanding was beneath me. I gave her half my outdoor cash. Freely. You know how she thanked me? She had paid a thousand dollar lien against me and demanded that money. After I had donated $12500 to her. But I had my house back. 

At the one year mark after we split on that sex filled and furious ex wife night we got the divorce finalized. The crop came in a few months later and I gave her half. The bitch never even thanked me. I was hurt. But I had my dogs, my life was getting better. I had my second domme. This one was a number. Oh boy. Literally she was 97. I was 84. Hence my brand. What? You say? Wtf? Well there's this Ancient Greece thing. The golden beauty meter. It's divides your face yo into almost thirds and rates it accordingly. I got an 87. Yea not 84. An 87. I told my then domme about it. She said 'run my face through it.' I said 'but you won't get above me and I don't wanna do that to you'. She insisted. Son of a fucking bitch. She got a 94. I had only an 87. I bowed down to the greater beauty. I was a little pissed but also happy. I was owned by a 94. I knew I was cute. Now I had the math to prove it. And she was hotter. 

We were going to the sex clubs and I had gotten a Mohawk. She would tie a leash to my ahem and lead me around. I loved it. We were doing dxm every weekend. Blowing our brains out, just flabbergasted. I was so in love. Literally and with dxm. I was seeing life and the universe in a whole different way. I had seen my own birth. I felt the doctor spanking me like they do to get a kid to breathe. I had experienced the birth of myself and more. It was magical. The drug really is. We were pushing its limits. I was contributing to the dextroverse site and going further than everyone else. Right close to the ld50. I could have easily died but I kept going. I loved that stuff and I loved being a sub. I soon got my own sub. We would play, the three of us. It was fun. 

I was having a simultaneous midlife crisis though. Hence the Mohawk. But I was learning how to let go. I. Had always been in control.  But I was doing it backwards. I maintained a strict control over my life and its players from the bottom. Playing the top from the bottom. It's a bdsm thing. It's frowned upon. I started doing it there too. That's where I learned who I was and how I was controlling my life and how I decided to let control go.  Bdsm taught me the lessons that allowed me to let go of control. It was exhilarating. Finally I was having fun. I was enjoying myself and loving every minute. 

But it wasn't perfect and I was still looking for something. I didn't know what but I could feel the void. I was still codependent. That was my misery and my void. Alcohol was in control really and I was puking blood. I was done with DUI at this point, had gotten through the mandatory rehab and won accolades in AA. But I was puking blood. Waking up with my eyes crusted shut. Shitting pure water because I was continually rupturing all my cells all at once by drowning then in alcohol.  That's how it gives you the shits. Or so I read. I was killing myself while having the time of my life and finally loving this awesome dude and simultaneously killing him. Crazy. And doing dxm twice per week. Every night when my domme and I would get together. So it was starting to show me a picture of myself. One that scared me. I was unable to see me from my own eyes looking from the first person point of view that is your own narrative. But I could see it through a third person point of view using dxm. I didn't have a shaman. I wasn't really putting the whole puzzle together but I was seeing it. 

I would wake up after drinking having the shakes, sometimes seizures and many times I couldn't make it to the booze store fast enough and start puking blood and dry heaving on the way there. Guzzling vodka on the way home to kill the detox and the stop the seizure t and shaking. Keeping the delirium tremors at bay.  I knew it was bad but I didn't know what to do. At one point I had blood dripping out of my eyes while puking up purple things after I had just shit blood. I was losing my ability to speak. I could still think but at times my mouth couldn't do its part. It was that bad. Dxm was trying to show it to me. My domme and I.  Sitting in the hot tub one night on a come down off dxm. I had been reading about Nicaragua. My dad had just died and instead of getting my half he gave it all to my sister and she offered me $5k instead of telling me she got 5 million. I gladly accepted because I was ignorant of life insurance policies and the fact that my father had a decent sized one. I paid off all my credit debt and used the rest to go to Nicaragua. I decided it that one night in the hot tub with the domme. I packed up my stuff and brought it to my moms house. Just a few too if it. 

Oh yea. I was still growing pot. The market had collapsed from $4400 a pound prepaid to begging shop owners who were just 20 year old punks to buy our weed at $2100. Half my income was gone and I had a bimonthly $1600 power bill and $1600 monthly rent nut to continually cover. It wasn't working.  But I was trying. My last crop was about to harvest in late February 2014. No early march. 

On february 14 I got my last Mohawk but the gal that knew how to cut it was gone. The lady said sure I can do it no problem. But she didn't know the trick. She just cut the shape but you can't do that with a tall Mohawk. You gotta cut a V in the top to get it to fall on itself and stay up. I was heartbroken. My first domme. My baby's mom had just died that february two years after she had broken my heart. February was a bad month. It ended up being the month my mom died a few years later. 

But it was Valentine's Day waiting for my last crop to finish so I could take my backpack and live out my life in Central America. I didn't know Spanish but I was gunna make it happen. Heidi. My domme. Assured me we wouldn't starve. She insisted that the world will take care of you and that people don't die of starvation. . She was the boss. 

Anyway I was driving to Bremerton to get her after my last mohawk had been cut and my van died on the highway. AAA came and towed me home with Heidi following. We unloaded my van into the driveway and something wasn't right. The door wasn't locked and I had locked it. I was good like that.  And inside it reeked of fresh growing pot. Despite my air filters. In all the years growing there it hadn't smelt this way. Ever. Then I noticed. My change jar was on the couch. My iPad was gone.  My iPod was gone. My house was always immaculate. Everything was always in its place. Except tonight was different. Everything wasn't. Things were missing. 

I fucking bolted down stairs. My grow room door was open. My back door was open.  My crop was in the yard.  We had came home while I was being robbed and stopped them without knowing it. I hadn't lost any of the crop. But I was missing a couple hundred dollars in quarters and my iPod and iPad. Magically I was safe except I wasn't. Someone knew. 

I didn't leave my house until I left to get on the plane. I had people come and sit there while I went to the store because after all they got basically nothing and knew what I was up to. We later traced my iPod to the ghetto. Assholes. They had robbed a dispensary and gotten the logs and robbed a bunch of us. But I got lucky. I bailed on the flight to Nicaragua and never felt more free. It felt right. It was right. 

I haven't had a solid place to live since then except for the house that put me in jail and here. And that's the story of my metamorphosis from stoner boy has it all to tweaker man who doesn't care. I just ate my last third of my oysters and cooked three pork chops and they're done. It's 1am. I started this letter at 11pm and dinner prep started at 8. Wow.