Tag Archives: money

Untitled In Progress

 

     He puts on an Affliction exercise outfit, with matching workout gloves, high heel Chucks and grabs a stopwatch. Before we leave he asks me if I like his outfit? I say yeah it’s fine, he tells me it was made for him, exclusively for him by a top designer at the Affliction company. I don’t know what to say. Then he tells me it cost 4500.00. I still say nothing. Which works.

We go to the gym in the complex. After about ten minutes of light weight lifting (between vaping) he says his ribs hurt and we go back to the unit. He spends time with his GF Serenity then he showers. She comes into the living room. CNN blairs. I’m sucked into a mainstream media loop of terrorist hell. She’s wearing a t-shirt only, seems nice but looks crazy in the eyes. If eyes are the window to the soul, well, these windows lead into a dark place. She speaks to me and tells me about his relapse two months ago. He ran away from a Malibu rehab and called her, she stated that they met just weeks before at the ‘Spiritual Solutions By The Bluffs’ meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.

They went to the Chateau Marmont and she says that being from Bellflower she was very impressed and overtaken by his class, elegance, grace, and impeccable taste. So then he coaxes her into getting drugs. So she texts Sinbads and he brings coke and heroin up to the room. She said his disease, the disease, whatever tricked her and she accidentally relapsed but only did two lines. So she immediately blew her nose and flushed it out with Evian water. She said she still has 17 months of sobriety and she’s not giving up her time. To be safe she spoke to her sponsor, she referred to her as a hardcore bitch, Ex-Chola from Venice etc etc…So Sylvia told her that her clean time is between her and her higher power, and IF anyone has a problem with that tell them to go take a flying fuck off the Santa Monica pier, don’t put up with that shit Mija.

Anyway back to the hotel, she said she kept a close watch on him while he snorted coke and heroin so she could save him if need be. But then unfortunately then she fell asleep and when he snorted out of a fresh balloon turns out it was Fentanyl, and when she woke he was foaming at the nose and mouth, she said “Pulp Fiction” style. She called 911 and so then he needed Narcan and those paddle thingys. Then she goes into detail about the relationship, they don’t go anywhere, he just wants to watch the CNN and the Game Show Network. He doesn’t hug or kiss me, he’s really not that intimate and they only fuck occasionally, and the lights have to be off. Or, he won’t fuck her at all.

Her eyes start to water and she says he calls me fat and stupid. Then she asks me if I think she’s fat and stupid. I tell her I don’t know her. She says of course, I’m sorry. I guess you wouldn’t know my IQ. But then she asks me if I saw her on the street would I think she was fat, and am I YOUR type, would you fuck my body type of girl? I tell her that this is all inappropriate and I’m really am not comfortable with this conversation. She goes in the bedroom and comes out with a big purse with a small Maltese dog in it, gives me a dirty look and leaves abruptly…

 

Fourscore And A Little More

Fantastic Scams™

Bait And Switch®

Meteoric Rise©

Easy Money™

You’d be a fool not to fall for a this! Don’t miss the boat! The trains leaving the station! You’ll be living a lifelong vacation! Work from home! Make $8000.00 monthly posting ads for Sir E-Bay & Lady Google!

Jack off or diddle your cunt, while you watch the latest version of Alan Funt!

Excuse the candor and rancor But let’s get to the pointless meaning of what I’m screaming. The easy money is for easy wallets, with disposable Dead Presidents past and present. Otherwise, You’re the pheasant for a ‘Cheney like’ hunter, you’ll be put out to pasture in a dead field of wheatgrass, just what do I mean?

They’ll wax that ass, then put you in the Unseen Museum… Where a thousand dead souls spend recess doing the dance of a thousand recessions, coupled with a line dance featuring the legacy and the lord of this dance the one and only, Sir Ronnie Ray Gun – cutting a rug and a budget with a trickle-down break dancing routine that will have you squirming in your (once upon a time) Wrangler Jeans.

…Meanwhile, Tommy Two times at the outdoor bar repeating, “You know what I mean? You know what I mean?”

If that isn’t enough, Well I don’t mean to get gruff, but you can high tail it (or Low ride) back to Toonerville, Tommy! And take that Pitbull with ya’- He’s bad for business! Seems he ate all the gunpowder and blood sausage. And he makes whitey uptighty. He’s not fixed and his balls collide with the consciousness of dimly lit buffoons. And you there, yes you, where you from, Rangoon? Or another place?

I can’t place the face, but we don’t allow that click-click language in this here saloon so hit the bricks and tell your story walking or face La Migra, who are suffering from maximum migraines brought on by the same paranoia of the simple solipsistic suckas that sing and dance to the drum of Sir Donnie’s Republican Tantrum.

My new Neighbors have been Scientologists for 35 years.

But they haven’t raked in any financial benefits. When they first moved in I asked them about Dianetics (there was a large bumper sticker on the car which appeared to be a serious broken down ghetto sled with the “Dianetics” sticker and the symbol, which by the way, looks like a reworked Swastika.

“Yep, we’ve been with the church 35 years,” said Ray, “haven’t we Sally.” said the 60 something gangly 6′ 4″ Toby Jones look-alike. Sally looks tired, quite older and using a walker. I asked about the “Going Clear” doc regarding the church on HBO. “Bunch of Bullshit, those people didn’t get what they wanted,” He said angrily. “C’mon, what could Paul Haggis possibly want from Scientology.” “What everyone wants! To be an OT! An Operating Thetan!” We sat and looked at each other for a moment. “So Paul Haggis did not achieve “OT” status and quit? that’s not what he said in the Doc.” “He’s lying, they are all lying. It’s a shame after everything the Church did for those fuckers.” He said sadly. “What about the money it cost to get through all those levels?

I mean, I’ve heard it’s really expensive.” He grinned, “So is college, look this is cheaper than any university you go to, it’s less of a scam then university as well.” Ok he has a point there, But, “Well yeah but the money you pay for Scientology is only good for just that.” He was now going through boxes and boxes of books. all Dianetics teachings. “Look I will give you all the literature and info you need on it and give you some free tests, you’ll see once you get involved with The Church, there is nowhere else you need to go.”He handed me what look liked a thirty-five-year-old large (possibly 800-1000 page) book, titled Dianetics: Everything you need to know. “Look read this It’ll read this, it’ll explain everything.” I was already in the middle of a thousand page plus book, “Infinite Jest.” Which were at least 1000 times more fascinating. I looked him in the eye, “I’m never gonna’  read that, but thanks anyway.” I walked away. “Ok but you’ll never know the truth, the church can save you.” Man, how many times have I heard that in my life.

Money Money Money Money….MONEY!

I spent most of my life hustling or making ill-gotten funds through rippin’ and running, scamming and stealing and wheeling and dealing drugs. When I sobered up and got clean off of cornucopia of opiates, copious amounts of crack and vicious amounts of vodka I still tried to do scandalous shit.

But my consciousness just wouldn’t allow it anymore. I felt every lie. I felt it every time I stole, and every little stupid manipulation for a little more money. I was locked into that behavior, and always so filled with guilt and shame. All the shitty little acts that I was committing in a sober state. I was hard-wired for the criminal lifestyle.

I’m not gonna’ blame my father, my mother, my stepfathers (2) or any of my stepmothers (4). But the fact of the matter is I grew up watching people steal, deal drugs, get over on their taxes, profit from bullshit insurance claims, and just the general felonious quick money scams and ideas. (Shameless plug time)

This will all be covered in my book which is coming out on Punk Hostage Press. The real scary thing is I saw that my dishonesty (stealing, lying, and cheating) was completely connected to my next drink or drug. So I’ve had to learn to live a life of honesty and pursue my creative dreams, which were drowned out for so many years by drugs alcohol and a completely low self-opinion. I’ve had to take jobs and make humiliatingly low pay. But I have a solid clear conscience.

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