BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yeah… I know. But sometimes that happens…

I have met some wonderful people throughout my touring, etc. I have made some very dear friends. Hell, I’ve even made a few enemies, probably. But, this blog is about one of the friends.

In reality, what this is about is his blog…

While I have some widely varied opinions on controlled substances – for instance, I believe Marijuana should be legalized. It’s not my thing- Scotch, Bourbon, Martini’s and Vodka Tonics are (in moderation) – but I still think it should be legalized. Just my two cents.

However, there are other drugs which are so insidious and addictive that they literally destroy lives. I have seen this happen with former friends who were unable to shake the addiction. Fortunately, in a few instances, they were…and, by their own choice, after succeeding in breaking the cycle have chosen to move away and start new lives, forsaking their pasts – even the good parts. While I miss them, I am supportive of them in doing this…If that is what it takes for them to stay clean, and have a liveable life…

But, the point behind this was my friend’s blog. He has seen far more than I have, and has written something from experience which is more powerful than anything I could ever say on this subject. I would like to suggest that EVERYONE read it. It is important… It brings the reality home… And, it promotes a deep understanding of the real victims of someone’s addiction.

With his gracious permission, I have reposted the blog below…

Thanks…

More to come…

Murv

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A Taste-Johnny Seitz

Sinus pills. Cough syrup. Drain cleaner. Hair spray. Fertilizer. Paint thinner. Freon. Brake fluid. Battery acid. Lye. Epsom salt. An inability to sleep. Loss of tooth enamel. Increased sensitivity to noise and light. Paranoia. Confusion. Razors. Syringes. Baggies. Foilies. Smoke. Snort. Shoot. Amp. Ice. Speed. Glass. Dope. Crank. Meth. An amphetamine derivative in the form of a crystalline hydrochloride. Used as a stimulant to the nervous system. High. Spun. Hopped up. Doped. Tripped out. Tweeked. Zoomed.

It controls you. Changes you. Breaks you down and rebuilds you. Nothing else matters. Not your house. Your bills. Your kids. Your job. The next fix. That’s all there is. That rush. That boost. Feeling alive. Being awake. Clean the house. Make some money.

No.

Generalities. Cold fact. Words…

See all the holes in the wall? Those are where the under cover’s had put the wires to listen in. And those trash bags covered with blankets stapled to the windows, those are to keep people from watching. Why is the carpet gone by the couch? Because that mother fucker hid some dope in here somewhere…I saw him messing around over there and I know he put that shit under the carpet. All these clothes are in a pile because I’m sorting through them. All my jewelry? I have it in a sandwich bag hidden in the fireplace so people don’t try to steal it. I took the TV apart so I can rig up a camera to watch the door so I know if people are sneaking up on the house.

“Did you hear that?”
“No.”
“Shh! The dog’s barking, fucking cops must be outside! Get on the floor!”
“Why get on the floor? The window’s are all covered?”
“FUCKING DO WHAT I SAY!”
“The dog’s probably barking because you haven’t fed her in a week.”

Three a.m. You’re 14. Your bedroom door swings open and screaming and profanities stream in. Before your eyes are even open you hear the sounds of breaking glass. The light comes on and you see your mother, naked and brandishing a hammer, screaming and smashing in the middle of your room. You can’t follow what she’s saying, it’s too sporadic. It’s too loud. You sit, stunned for a moment, taking in what is going on. Trying to make sense of a senseless situation. Then the hammer takes out your TV screen, and your pictures on the wall. You try to stand up but as you move, something flies at your head and shatters next to your ear. It’s a glass bowl. The screaming is getting louder and the hammer is finding more and more targets. The floor to ceiling mirror. The stereo. Knocking holes in the wall. Throwing object after object at you, who is still struggling to free yourself from the sheets. The noise. The chaos. And then the hammer comes at you, grazes your temple, and smashes through your bedroom window. You’re mother is trying to punch you at this point. You don’t know where the hammer is. She’s screaming in your face, you still can’t understand her. You can see the whites of her eyes as you try to squirm away. Her pupils are as big as dinner plates. By the time you’re out of your bed she’s trying to throw you into the wall. You try to restrain her but she’s so slick with sweat and squirming and fighting against you so hard that it’s like trying to hold onto a live fish. Your nose gets bloodied. All you can do at this point is try to get her out of your room, so you push her toward the door. She fights back but you catch her off guard with a hard shove the second time and she falls through the opening. You slam the door and lock it. She kicks and beats and punches the door until you hear the wood splinter on the outside and her let out a wail of pain. Then it stops. You sit back and try to take in everything that went on, but you still can’t comprehend what just happened. So you focus on the destruction. Your things destroyed. Your room, your sanctuary, in shambles. Glass everywhere. Blood on your face. A short while later an armed policewoman kicks in your door. Your mother had called the police and said that you’d attacked her and were out of control. The officer handcuffs you and puts you into the back of the car. And you cry.

Arguing from the next room. I turn up the TV to try to drown it out. It doesn’t work so I decided to go outside. As I stand up I hear a loud noise and feel a burn on my cheek. I hit the floor. Mother and her boyfriend are spun and fighting. And he shot at her. When it came through the wall it was so close to my head that I ended up with a powder burn on my left cheek.

“GET OUT!”
“What are you guys doing in my room?”
“GET THE FUCK OUT! NOW!”
“I need my backpack..”
The door slams and I turn and head up the stairs to catch the school bus without any of my books. As I’m almost up the stairs I’m passed by the people who were in my room.
“FUCKING RUN!”
And I did.
Boom. The lab blew and took many of my things with it. Why was it in my room when there was a whole basement around it?

You can just sit and watch people die when they’re cranking. It really reminds you of watching one of those videos in health class on fast forward. In a months time you can see someone physically change to an extreme. You can watch them loose weight and teeth and hair. If you weren’t there every day, you’d easily not recognize them in a short period of time. Being around this mess makes you numb to everything. There is nothing stable. There is nothing you can count on, it’s just a lot of waiting for the next horrible thing to happen. And it will. The neglect is remarkable. ’I’m not eating or sleeping so why should my kids?’ People in and out at all hours. Your possessions being stolen or traded for drugs. Even your pets. The kids dog, traded for a blast.

One day you’ll get that knock on the door. The police will drag you outside in cuffs and raid your house. Eventually, you’ll convince them that you’re only 15 and they’ll un-cuff you and make you sit in the back of the car. You know what’s coming. You see your mom trying to make a run for it, and being tackled. You see her get sprayed with mace and dragged back inside at gun point. What’s horrible about it is that you don’t feel anything. Nothing. You’re completely numb. Your dad comes to get you and your sister, who’s been inside through all of this. On your way through to get your clothes your mom tries to hug you, crying, and saying how much she loves you and how sorry she was. You don’t hug back. You’re too disgusted. She goes through the system and gets out of trouble, but doesn’t change her act. You see her on and off when she wants something or is trying to steal all your dad’s change off his dresser. Three years later she doesn’t even come to see you, her first born child, when she finds out that you had stomach cancer. And soon enough, she’s in prison.

Meth. It controls you. Changes you. Breaks you down and rebuilds you. Nothing else matters. Not your house. Your bills. Your kids. Your job. The next fix. That’s all there is. That rush. That boost. Feeling alive…

…to elicit a prescribed response.

Yeah, I stole that from Roadhouse. Why? Well, because I think it is a funny line when heard in context, but mainly because I just came back from Texas. Okay, okay, you silly movie purists, I know Roadhouse supposedly took place in a fictional town outside of Kansas City… But, it might as well have been Texas, so just bear with me a bit, okay?

Get your coffee and settle in. This one is going to be long…

So, Texas…

First off, I did manage to find my passport. While the hat police did have a bit of an issue with me when I got off the plane at DFW, they finally granted me a Visitors Visa and due to my nationality (US Citizen) the cowboy boots and hat ordinance were waved – something to do with diplomatic immunity or some such. Anyway, that meant I didn’t have to wear a hat or spend four thousand dollars on a pair of cowboy boots, which is all good. Not sure I could have expensed that one and gotten away with it.

As soon as the Visa was issued I walked 916 miles from terminal A to terminal B (had it been over 1000 I would have taken the skytrain/tram/thingamajig). After arriving there I grabbed a 99 cent turkey sandwich from Starbucks. (AKA Star-make-a-Bucks…Note, I did NOT say I actually paid 99 cents for it. In fact, I think I paid something on the order of 6 bucks for it…And these were real bucks, not “star” bucks… It was, however, still nothing more than a 99 cent turkey sandwich if you get my meaning.) After that I did my good deed for the day by opening a bottle of orange juice for a little Asian boy whose family couldn’t read the instructions on the side of the bottle. Only then did I catch my connecting flight, which was interesting in itself. Why? Because we took off, had a glass of water really quickly as Nancy, our flight attendant, did a wind sprint up the aisle and back, then we landed. Yeah…short flight. REALLY short flight. I’m given to understand it would have been even shorter but we had to fly around Dubyah’s ranch…National security and all.

Arrive Killeen/Fort Hood…I had been told that everything in Texas was big. The Killeen Regional Airport, however, was the exception. 6 gates and a parking lot. Let’s just say the average K-Mart is a LOT bigger than this airport. But, they had my luggage, so it was all good…Now, speaking of luggage, as I wait for it to arrive I look out the front windows of the airport…Across the parking lot I can see Morrison waving her arms. But, she wasn’t waving at me…she was simply talking…(You see, if you were to tie her arms at her sides she wouldn’t be able to talk…So, no gag necessary. Just don’t let her wave her arms and she’ll be quiet.) With her she has the sisters. As in, the Sisters of the Earth and Sea. Now things get really interesting…

I really don’t want to bore y’all with a long and drawn out diatribe, so I’ll touch on the important points…

1) We were assigned “handlers” so that everything would run smoothly. You’ll see why I tell you this in a minute…

2) We have these ABSOLUTELY INSANE rooms at the hotel… And, when I say insane I mean they are the size of my living room and dining room put together, with enough amenities to make them self-sufficient. See below…

3) We had baskets full of cool stuff like cigars, booze, and the ever necessary Texas to English/English to Texas dictionary. Very important while visiting a foreign country when you don’t speak the language.

4) We had itineraries which included times blocked out for fabulous dinners. (Yeah, they FED US! Can you believe that? I didn’t even have to beg an MRE!)

So anyway, I suppose I should get to the good stuff.

Day one – We do a meet and greet that evening after being checked into the hotel and given some time to freshen up. The Meet ’n Greet goes off famously. We meet and we greet a ton of wonderful folks at a local restaurant bar, where they have our promo posters hanging in the windows and everything. We even get a visit from several members of the local Chamber of Commerce.

Day two: Our handlers retrieve us from the hotel late morning. Morrison and I have had plenty of time to relax, have leisurely breakfast, and sit around shooting the breeze while downing several pots of coffee.

When our handlers arrive at the hotel they have the front desk call us from the lobby. I had not yet perused my Texas to English dictionary and that combined with the fact that I am hard of hearing to begin with led to a bit of confusion – It went something like this:

Ring! Ring!

Murv: Hello?

Front Desk: Is this Mister Sellars?

Murv: That’s what it said on my driver’s license when I checked it this morning.

Front Desk: (confused silence) Ummm, okay… I was asked to call you and tell you that the Bride is here.

Murv: (chuckle) She is? Well, what’s she wearing?

Front Desk: (VERY CONFUSED Silence) Uhhh… Ummm… Multi-colored tie-dye.

Murv: Okay, tell her I’ll be right there.

Front Desk: Ummm…yeah. Okay.

During the elevator ride to the lobby Morrison and I discuss the confusion on the part of the desk clerk. It finally dawns on me that she and her Texasness had said to me “The RIDE is here.” Rather than allow Morrison to use this as a story to embarrass me, I make a preemptive strike and tell everyone about it myself, effectively turning it into a great anecdote and reaping the humor benefit for myself (2 points for me.)

Anywho, after having a good laugh over this we get taken to a wonderful lunch, then off to the store (Sisters of the Earth and Sea) where we meet up with many of the wonderful folks we had met the night before such as, Helga the Evil German Woman (also known as Althie – she owes me Sauerbraten next time I’m there…), Stephanie the adMINION, Tiger, Mark, Spanky the Wonder Monkey, and a whole mess of other folks. Morrison goes in the back and plays cards. Rumor is the house paid out, so she must have done pretty well. Oddly enough, the folks who walked out of the card room seemed happy, so I’m guessing they didn’t lose too much money. Me, on the other hand, I hung out with the rest of the folks since Morrison was being antisocial with her card game, and I even presented a seminar on writing and getting published. We had fun, and what was supposed to be a 1 hour talk turned into 2 hours. Morrison got a little pissy about that, but that’s just because people decided I was more entertaining than her. I’m used to that, so I just ignore her. (LOL)

After that we had dinner at a place where they serve big ol’ hunks of dead cow. Life was good.

Day three: Ostara Fest 2008. Now, as it happens, this is the reason I felt a need to quote Patrick Swayze’s character from Roadhouse…Why? Because Ostara Fest ’08, presented by The Sisters of the Earth and Sea, was held in a real, live Texas roadhouse. Yeah. No kidding. Big ass building with bars everywhere, huge dancefloor, stage, and…well… huge. Really big. GI-Normous. Gi-Hugic. Hunormous…Extra Large… XXXL… You get the meaning…

And, it was a Roadhouse. I kept expecting Swayze and Eliot to walk through the door at any minute, but I guess they weren’t really needed because everyone was very well behaved. (Grin)… And, I have to tell you, I had never attended a fest in such a place before, but I can’t wait to do it again. It was an absolute blast! They even had a belly dancing troupe that did some kind of two-step line dance thing wearing jeans and cowboy hats instead of the regular dancing outfits.

The attendees were amazing. Being an Army town the was a huge percentage of military and military family. Some of these people had only been home from Iraq for a month or two. Others were going to be on their way to Iraq before long. I have to say I was proud of all these folks, as well as humbled. Some of these kids were less than half my age but have already seen more than they should have ever had to face in an entire lifetime. I literally lost track of how many books I signed for these folks, and what amazed me is that they were all so genuinely appreciative of me simply being there…Not that I am saying other festivals aren’t… Please don’t take it wrong… But, to put this in perspective, I will usually get the “thanks for coming to xyz fest” from 2 or 3 folks at any given festival. Not so at Ostara Fest, and by “not so” I mean very simply that I cannot count that high even if I take off my shoes… Everyone I spoke to thanked me for coming. That, in and of itself, was worth the world to me.

And…as if they hadn’t given me a humbling enough experience, at the closing of the festival Dorothy, Ellen, and I were each presented with a coin… But not just any coin… These were commemoratives that had been specially minted for the members of Victory Base Open Circle, the largest open circle in the military based in Baghdad, Iraq. It was as if we had been adopted by these people, and I’ll be honest with you, I almost started to tear up. No matter how much I thanked them, I don’t think they will ever know how much that meant to me…

I know… I’m not being funny anymore… I’ve turned all serious and stuff… Sorry, but sometimes I have to do that…

Now…Back to the funny… It’s this whole “Handler” thing… You see, I was assigned to Sister Earth.. AKA Laurie… AKA Lolly… So, everything is cranking along… Morrison’s and Dugan’s handlers are seeing to it that they have everthing they need. My handler, however, is nowhere to be found…Gets to be time for Morrison and me to give our workshop. My handler shows up and asks me if I have eaten yet. I say no, but I figured on eating after the workshop – besides, I had a big breakfast and wasn’t really hungry. Fast forward… It’s after the 2 hour workshop and Lolly asks me if I have had anything to eat. I say, “No”. She says, “Okay”, and disappears. Time passes. Lolly shows up again and asks me if I have had anything to eat. I say, “not yet”. She says, “Oh, well they ran out of food.” I say, “No problem. I’ll survive until dinner.” Time passes. Lolly shows up and asks yet again, “Have you had anything to eat?” I say, “No.” She says, “Oh Shit!” I say, “I thought they ran out of food?” She says, “They got more and scurries off.” She returns with a brisket sammich just for me.

Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea here, I’m not complaining at all…Laurie was busy as all hell with the fest, and if I had been that hungry I would have found something. I certainly didn’t expect anyone to wait on me. I’m not like that. The only reason I told this story is because Laurie felt soooooo bad about “forgetting to feed me” that it became a running joke for the rest of the fest and weekend that “my handler was falling down on the job.” Well, nothing could be further from the truth, but I have to admit, the joke was fun, and Laurie is so good-natured that she rolled with it and spent a lot of time making fun of herself over it. They told me when I come back they are going to assign me a different handler, but I really hope they don’t. Laurie and I got along way too well and besides, I bet she won’t forget to feed me again (ROFL!!)

Anywho – Later that evening, another fantastic dinner, this time at the hotel restaurant. Here is where I have to give kudos to our waitress, Samantha. She had been our waitress that morning for breakfast as well. She was working a double shift with only a half hour or so break, but she was still right on top of things. Pleasant, cheerful, and really took care of us. When we found out she was working a double the next day as well, Morrison and I arranged to be seated in her section for brunch so that we could see to it she got a gi-hugic gratuity. And, as always happens when Morrison and I are together with her gray hair and my gray beard – we got a senior discount. (ROFL!)….

Day four: This was the day all about seminars. Following the most amazing brunch buffet I have ever seen, with shrimp the size of small lobsters, Texas shaped waffles, and damn near anything else you could dream of to eat, we visited with Samantha for a bit then were picked up by my handler. She was running a bit late due to some issues she had to deal with at the store, but that just made for something else I could rib her about, and it was all in good fun. We did our seminars and chatted with some wonderful folks about all manner of things. Then had a relaxing evening at Sister Sea’s (Joyce) house, visiting with her, her husband Butch, their daughter Jenn, Granddaughter Emma, and Laurie. They served a spectacular meal of Red Beans & Rice, and Chicken Gumbo…I was stuffed.

The next day, Monday, they actually allowed me to emigrate from the Republic of Texas and back into the United States before my Visa expired.

So…There you have the basic rundown… If you are ever in the area, or live in the area of Killeen/Harker Heights, TX, you really should visit the Sisters and tell them I said hey. Tell Althie she needs to get going on that Sauerbraten, and let Stephanie know what a great job she is doing. And, not only should you shop there, you should make it a point to attend Ostara Fest 2009. I’m telling you, it was fantastic, and if that was only their first festival, I can’t wait to see what 2 brings…

So, in the end, other than leaving all those wonderful folks behind, there was only one real disappointment for me – Fort Hood shares the airport with Killeen so when we landed I saw a tarmac full of Apache Helicopters sitting there. What’s the disappointment with that, you ask?

I didn’t get to ride in one.

More to come…

Murv