My first recollection of any happening in my life was not that glorious.
I remember being in the hospital and they had me in an ice bath for an extremely high fever.
I knew right then, Hey I'm hot, but alas it was just the fever.
My father was a military man, every three years or so, we packed up and moved some where new.
It is a strange life for a kid, always either making friends fast or having to fight some one much bigger, to prove a point. What the point was I never knew. So, at a very early age it was easier to be the class clown or act as stupid as possible, if people thought you were slow, you could really find out things about them, as you are not considered a threat.
My father was assigned in North Africa, Tripoli, Libya, at Whellus Air Force base.
We lived there for the better part of six years.
We traveled all over the Mediteranian, visited all of the countries both in North Africa, and Europe.
When we returned state side, well, I never quite fit in.
Too small for football, and soccer was not yet popular, so sports was out of the question.
I was in the tenth grade in Michigan, eleventh grade in Arkansas, and graduated the Texas.
Then went to college in Louisiana.
I became a needle freak in the tenth grade, a little just to cope, and a lot just because I was lost.
So from the time I was fifteen until I was twenty one, I was hooked on some hard drugs.
I never wrote anything, other than my excuse slips for school.
It is a miracle that I even graduated, oh I made good enough grades, but I never had a desire to do anything.
Then, one night, when I was trippin on some L.S.D. I stood and watched my best friend die.
Right in front of me, while I was stoned, in a Bob world stupor, my friend Bernie died.
Not cool, not fun, and most of all unforgettable.
What to do now?