who is this guy?
My name is Chris and I was born in Sioux City Iowa. I lived in Riverside. I have four older brothers and one big sister. I was raised as a Catholic and attended a Catholic School from kindergarten through eighth grade. I was sure that I was going to be a professional baseball player as a child and still have over 300 Ken Griffey Jr. cards. I lack that little thing we call a filter. I lost my virginity when I was 12 years old and was always in detention. My writing passion developed early as I wanted to be a gangster rapper. I loved No-Limit and Tu-Pac. I remember the feeling as if I was part of the rap music. I strictly listened to rap from age 12 to 18 and have a shoe box full of my old rhymes. I was in a rap group called the Blunt-Brothas and my homie Neil was always bustin’ the tightest lines. He has a talent.
?I eventually found out that I didn’t ever actually write gangster rap lyrics and that I was a poet. I went to 10,000 lakes festival in 2003 and found a broken bongo drum and six months later I was in an alternative-reggae-punk band as auxiliary percussionist. I was in that band from age 19 to 22 and fit right in with the hippies of Sioux Falls, SD.
?In 2006 I took off and went to Wakarusa festival in Kansas and decided to tag along with my new best friend, for the moment, off to Bonnaroo. I recall doing way too much ketamine and landed myself in a K-hole. That’s just what ignorance called getting tranquilized. Who knew that if you if snorted too much tranquilizers that you may become tranquillized? Oh, the joys of youthful ignorant bliss.
?I didn’t have any money at the time; but I had a credit card. This is a good story; I must divulge.
?I bought several cartons of cigarettes because in Kentucky they were dirt cheap. We drove through Kentucky on our way to Tennessee. That was after driving eight hours out of our way to Chicago so that our junky companion could get his fix. I was slightly taken aback when he was rigging up on the traffic congested freeway of Chicago. It was all good because I was paying for the gas with my credit card.
?I was planning on buying my admission into the festival at the gate with my card, but the event was sold out. My mother isn’t going to appreciate reading this. However, I made a promise to myself to be fearless with my writing.
?So, there I was, on the outside looking in. They had the gates guarded with uniform police officers and staff. I was left with only one option. How am I going to sneak into this party?
?No glass bottles were allowed into the festival grounds. They were confiscating all glass by searching coolers and vehicles; inside and out. Let me tell you, there was a mountain of booze; literally. I straight up asked security if I could have my way with the otherwise; Alcohol Abuse!
?I got wasted. I was drinking liquor, imported beers and any other glass container of booze. My goal to sneak in was put on hold coincidentally at the same rate as my drunken stupor. I made several failed attempts to get in.
?My lacks of bright ideas were as blurred as my vision. I only can recall my one failed attempt. I made friends with some party people who just so happened to have an R.V. I climbed on the roof top of the vessel and played possum. I closed my eyes and laid flat and I was sure that I was invisible to the naked eye. Well, I heard the all too familiar voice of authority calling me down. I pretended that I had passed out and then casually obeyed the police. About four or five police officers questioned me while they ran my identification for any outstanding warrants. Needless to say that didn’t work but I was relieved when they let me off with a warning. It turns out that its fairly easy to spot a person atop a motor home in broad daylight.
?I could hear Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers from the distance and it was officially dark out. I drank myself straight enough to realize that I had a golden ticket right in front of me the entire time. The booze was my right of passage. I searched for the needle in the hay stack of confiscated alcohol. I managed to find some top shelf chardonnay. Then I found a back route that was less patrolled and I went to investigate.
?I was gifted with two beautiful young ladies that were acting security at that gate. Being a ladies’ man, I used my charm and coaxed them into letting me in with my irresistible dimples coupled with that fine wine and the opened the gate and I was in!
?I don’t remember much after that aside from waking up to a beautiful Australian woman asking me if I was okay. I came right out of the k-hole as if nothing had even happened. I was too intoxicated to make any love connections. Besides, I was just happy to have made it into the campgrounds.
?The party gods were on my side because somehow, some way, I was right where I was supposed to be and my friend’s camp site was right there. I continued to black the night out and the following day was one to remember.
?My friend had all my cigarettes and I started selling as soon as I could see. I was selling smokes for three dollars and something cool, four dollars, or five dollars just to be cool. Three dollars and something cool landed me on the acid trip of the ages. I must have taken over twenty doses in that one day. I can only recall being at “My Morning Jacket” and gravitating towards the guard rail of the sound stage. I put my arms out like a pillow and rested up onto the railing. I’ll never forget this because I looked to my left and saw a bunch of dudes doing the exact same thing. It was like they were my mirror images. I got so lost in this moment.
?There’s more too, I was hanging out with a cool cat from Alabama all day and I didn’t have a wrist band to get into the gates to see the shows. I was hanging out with this guy for what seemed like the whole day and then I remember saying this; “It just sucks that I don’t have a wrist band to see the shows.”
?I am a good writer and I can make up stories, but I shit you not, he pulled out a pocket full of wrist bands and I talked him out of one for ten bucks. He was cool, but as soon as I put that band on my wrist, I was gone.
?It was the most amazing festival grounds. There was everything imaginable there. They were even giving away free American Spirits cigarettes. At one point I was enjoying the waterfall area and I even fell in love for a moment. She was so beautiful; we made a love connection and kissed. Her friends did what they do and dragged her away. I told her that I would meet her at the sound stage during Radio Head that night. I was thinking about her all day and couldn’t wait for ShowTime. I showed up ready to track down my love. There were only about one-hundred thousand people to block my view and my heart was crushed when I discovered several sound stages. I know she looked for me, I bet she was let down too. Those connections are rare. Even if she was as promiscuous as I was at that juvenile age.
So I survived Bonarroo of 2003 but my friend turned on me and left without me. I was left to find my own way but I wasn’t deflated. I caught a ride to the bus station and thought that since I was already in Tennessee, I might as well catch a bus to Palm Bay, Florida to visit my sister.
The Atlanta bus station proved to be the worst stops that Greyhound has to offer. I asked a couple of hippies to watch my pack while I took a smoke break. I was half way through my smoke and I see them outside smoking too. I said, dudes, what about my stuff? They weren’t very level headed and I hustled back to my post and my pillow and blanket were long gone. You know you got it bad if you are stealing pillows and blankets.
I made it to Florida and partied with my pops. Okay, I am going to just leave you to your imagination as to my shenanigans that lead up to my return to Sioux Falls, SD.
My first born daughter, Avril, was born in 2007. My boy, Paxton, followed in 2009. In December of 2011, I was a married man. In 2012 we packed up and moved from Dell Rapids, SD all the way to Stanwood, Washington. I had neither friends nor family in northwest Washington and I got a good job as well as a place to stay within 3 days of our arrival.
My wife left me in November of 2013 and I was left rolling solo. I managed to keep my job and solid bi-weekly visitation with my wonderful children up until September of 2014. That was when I lost my job due to my incompetency. My boss is still my friend and I reference him in this novel.
I went from a highly paid construction worker to a low paid line cook. This caused my relationship with the mother to have financial conflicts. Consequently, my contact with my children took a negative occurrence. I continued to fall of the handles ever since. My internal mental struggle has fueled my writing to its peak but I have many obstacles yet to overcome. I believe in my writing. Every word that I write is from my soul. I am an emotionally exposed individual. I am truly grateful for both the good and bad memories. Everything is a package deal. Even my most hated enemy has gifted me with potentially positive perspectives.
?Society
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