Just when you think your brain belongs to you...

Oh my God... As life has gone for the past couple of decades, I left behind the demon that accompanied me along with my blithering alcoholic binges. It was most certainly the enemy that masqueraded as a friend and never failed to place me in the exact bad position. We're not talking about a little rise in blood pressure; a red flushed face or a few stomps of the foot... horsie like, you know? Nah, this is hard edged and steely eyed rage and it comes from having my mind kidnapped by something deep and dark that I can't see and don't want to see.

You see, my brain has holes in it that open and close at random intervals. I can normally keep the rage holes closed. But when any number of the right things build a scaffold to climb up to the lowest and easily accessed hole, whoo boy, it can get gamey. They creep around in my thoughts, like rats in a sewer, and gnaw on the lines that control my emotions.

It's like a "Lost Weekend" for mental patients instead of drunks. Since I gave up the sauce quite a few years ago, in theory, I shouldn't have any of these Ray Milland kinds of freak-outs. Evidently, the big guy does not see it that way and continues on his mission to try and force me to end my life prematurely. Sorry, Pal. Ain't happened yet. You throw your best pitch and I step in for a bunt. Right. Knock it out the park? Not in this lifetime. I get the stuff that is only intended to hurt if you're paying attention. Had I still been a drunk, I could have gone through it all immune to the emotional torture that came with sobrering up. Brother Mark was almost a year of sheer mental ice picks being hammered into your head. Every day, watching someone you love deteriorate into someone who fears not of death, still wants to live, but can only wait for which choice will be made for him. For he has no choice in the matter.

And don't think for one second that I don't, at least, understand the pain my brother was going through. I looked in his eyes and held him tight. I looked in his eyes when he slipped from this life and I saw his soul go from this world to the next.

And then came Pierce. Wonderful;  fantastic; endearing; intelligent; witty and the second of the three people on this earth that carry a piece of my soul. I'll not go far in this room, as the books all read the same. My heart slowed noticably the day that he died. But I never did give thanks. I think, that for MY OWN SANITY, I need to give thanks to those who assisted in taking my Pierce away from us all.

• 
  
  Pierce himself. "Thy flag I fly is mine and it displays excess"... Forgiveness is yours and yours only.
• 
  
  The scum who have already been tagged. Enjoy your time in jail, Ladies. Gary Toca, you're next on the Price is Right, Jailhouse Edition.
• 
  
  The scum who haven't been tagged. You know who you are; You were in the room: I will never rest until I see you pay dearly for what you took from me. I hope your sleep is riddled with nightmares of how you took someones life away because of your own selfish actions. I hope you see blackness descend on your hearts while the reapers carry your souls to the bowels of Hell.
• 
  
  The NOPD Multiple Awards and the Coroner's Office - All for the callous, mean, disgusting and inhuman way you treated an family insane with worry and grief trying to find the "baby" of the family. Your cold demeanor and refusal to give not one inch of information made our wait for confirmation an agonizing ordeal. The NOPD Crime Lab did a fabulous job in collecting evidence in the room. You left behind two laptops, a cell phone and a wallet after your CSI like sweep. It showed how seriously you took your jobs. After all, it was just a little white boy who OD'D. What foul play could have gone on? Maybe the kid didn't KNOW he was doing what killed him? Body positions; things left behind. OTHER PEOPLE IN THE ROOM WITH DRUGS! NO ARRESTS! If I drove down the street with a gram of coke on my console and was stopped by a cop, do you think I would go to Jail? Without a single "Get out of Jail Free" card. you know.
• 
  
  Lets not forget the Marriott Hotel for the fabulous job they did getting rid of the security tape. That was after they rented a room to a nineteen year old boy and allowed booze and who knows what else up there. Mardi Gras! Drink up and fall down! And they get an Honorable Mention with the Coroners Office for stonewalling a grief stricken family trying to find our anything.
• 
  
   A special high five "THANKS" to Holly Wood's Mommy. She took it upon herself to call a good bit of the family and spread the news of the death. Much appreciated! Only she told three different stories that fit two different cities. All I can say is that you're a dumb bitch and as stupid as the dumb bitch of a daughter you have. What possessed you to take it upon yourself to spread such a horrifying message to people that you weren't even sure were related to Pierce. YOU are an idiot.
  Maybe one day someone will deliver the same message to you in the same way. The way your daughter lives, it's a bet that Las Vegas would take...
• 
  
  Edit for someone special. - Had I been told about the Pierce instances, maybe...just maybe I could have been involved as Pierce's FATHER. This is where my ire is based; the fact that I was robbed completely of the role as father to both John AND Pierce. Robbed because the actions of my second wife gave them a convenient excuse to do so. There were other options in the school situation. But since I was eliminated from the situation, I could not help. Again, who gave her the right to exclude me? Does she know how far the knife sunk in when I found out about the trail of deceit that ultimately ended with losing Pierce?
• 
  
  And last, but not least, Susan & Tony. Special thanks for letting him live the way you let him live. All tolerance and no discipline. Oh, I know you fought him for his educational achievements and he excelled there; But in the long run you were all "friends" and no parenting. For hiding from me the fact that he totalled his Explorer at Fleur-de-lis under I-10 - I pray for your soul. For hiding from me the fact that he was caught doing things in the LSU Honor Dorms that caused him to be asked to leave - I pray for your soul. For getting him his own unsupervised apartment after being kicked out of the dorm, INSTEAD OF MAKING HIM FACE THE MUSIC, allowing him to continue underage drinking and smoking and drug use - I pray for your soul. He could have stayed with my parents or me and commuted to school. "Selfishness-Self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles." And Susan, lets not forget how you have left me out of the investigations. Just who died and made you any more special than me as his father? You place yourself on this pedestal, yet you lie about anything you like. "Stepfather" Tony? I sure wasn't invited to the wedding. The only brother Pierce had was Johnny. Why don't you drop the facade and tell the truth yourself. It's interesting to note that Pierce's "stepfather" obtained the room for him at the Marriot for the party thet led to his death. What a responsible parent he is... I pray for both of your souls. Maybe he'll extend his hand to you when the day of reckoning comes and tell you how nice it was to see you on your way downstairs...
  
  Try as I might, I can't think of any excuses for you. In the time I spent with Pierce, there was none of the underage drinking or drug use that occurred. I was able to be his friend, but there were guidelines that he had to follow. What angered and still hurts me the most, is that you were so sanctimonious concerning the way you raised the kids in your constant attempt to punish ME for leaving you. You were the "perfect" mother. Such devoted sacrifice. Everyone could say "Poor Susie and that rotten bastard, Jes!" Fifteen years later you seethe and you STILL can't let it go... The best part about what I write is that it is MY opinion and you have nothing to say about it.

 At the Gunfighter Pro Shop 2nd anniversary dinner...

Pierce with E-2 at McClellan "Silent Night" MOUT

All of this anger and grief has built up inside of me and it's begging to be let out. I jumped on someone very close to me yesterday who didn't deserve it at all.

Jester and L'il Jester having a strategy discussion...

Big Brother John... "Joker"
Soon to be Officer John Sharai!
I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!

From the Corner of His Eye...

Cute personified...

If you've never read this author, you should consider it... 

"So when you're lying in bed tonight, kept awake by grief, don't think about what you've lost with... Think about what you have in this world that you've never known in some others... Whether God's a Catholic, a Baptist, a Jew, a Muslim or a quantum mechanic, He gives us compensation for our pain, compensation right here in this world, not just in those parallel to it and not just in some afterlife. Always compensation for the pain... if we recognize it when we see it."

From The Corner Of His Eye Dean Koontz

E=MC2 or Insanity Bohemian Style

Ritual ideas relativety

Only buildings no people prophecy
Timeslide place to hide nudge reality
Foresight minds wide magic imagery


- Big Audio Dynamite

Misery goes by the name, "H1N1", and she doesn't like to leave once she moves in. Almost two weeks ago, I managed to unknowingly invite the nasty stuff into my insufficient immune system. It was worth a solid week, flat on my ass, a good bit of it filled with fever of 101 degrees or more. Even taking the, what-should-be-illegally-priced, Tamiflu wonder drug, I still suffer with the lingering symptoms. The Tamiflu does NOTHING to alleviate the symptoms of the bug. It does kill the virus and supposedly knocks a few days off the whole deal. That is, as long as you take it before you are two days into the fight. I'll be glad when it finally goes it's way. If you haven't gotten the immunization, get it. No kidding. Toss all the bullshit about "Oh, I never get a flu shot". Do yourself a favor and take the word of someone who wishes he could have gotten it. If not, suffer when you get it so I can laugh at your dumb ass.

This is you if H1N1 gets you. I swear...  

January 20 was two years since the spirit of my life was extinguished. Could I ever stop thinking of him? Never in a million years. And with his anniversary falling during the week when I am ready to beg for death as a relief to the damn flu, I was five times the normal miserable personalty that I am under regular circumstances.

He'll always be there for me when I think of him. And I don't need an anniversary or birthday to make it happen. I like to think that I've been reciprocal with all the good things I've done concerning him since he's been gone. I wish others would.

And I can't forget Johnny. How filled with pride I am at his continued accomplishments. Today he informed me that he had been elected Class President of his Kenner Police Department Cadet Class! Ho he has matured and taken on responsibilities. From a frustrated boy who longed for direction to a man standing tall among his peers. I thank God for the blessings he has given my oldest son.

when the truth is found to be...

My Lirette has a birthday today!

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!

While I am almost never at a lack of words, here is one time when I am. Fear drives me from saying what I know.
As to say it would cause hurt and that is just not me. All my adult life I have been accused of intentionally inflicting hurt on those close to me. I hope and pray that you've seen through all of that.

To see you in the grocery was a treat. To see you now is even better. To see how you've grown into a beautiful young woman and mother is the best.

My goodness. You have matured with Taylor's arrival.

How fantastic it is to see it from the outside.

I pray the year ahead is your best yet!

Yrf/Trg

I believe there's a reason for everything

Magrathea ("Maggie") the Chameleon

What keeps our hearts beating inside of our chests,

with the droning buzz-zuul of a hundred bee's nests?

We tap on time like we pick on a string,

and we hope and we pray for just about everything.

But just what is responsible for our hearts and our time?

Could it be the civilizations who drew mountainous lines?

Is it the mighty creator who goes by names many?

Or some ancient astronauts of whom we haven't seen any?

And the most burning of questions that grips us through life,

is where do we go at the end?

Maggie doesn't worry, nor care, about her end. She cares about crickets and misting. She is a fortunate creature because she's been "adopted" by someone who cares about her. Her crickets show up on time and she throws out that huge tongue and snaps up the poor little gourmet meal. I so wish that Pierce was here to meet her. He would be facinated and amused by this little creature. I relate so much to her. She can hide out as much as she can and she literally hates anyone coming and watching her or holding her. It is how I feel, too. Not always, but a great deal of the time.

Not long to go before the 20th, Pierce. I miss seeing you. I miss holding you. I miss showing you all the new and neat paintball shit. I miss travelling to games with you and Johnny. I miss watching you thrilled over your Alienware laptop. I feel like an ass for ever saying anything about it. At the time, all I saw was losing you and trying to grab onto anything that was a small part of you. The only thing I have of you now is the photos I took when we were playing or running a game, and your gear. And I hold them and cry. I hear the music we enjoyed together and cry. I am thankful for this... Sweet dreams, wherever you may be.

I've been out walking for hours.

I've got something on my mind.

How did we get here? Where are we going?

and why is life so hard?

I read the stories, see the photographs.

Worlds in a crazy space.

I've got to hold on to my dreams;

There's just no other place.

I believe...

We can change everything.

I believe...

We can rise above this.

I believe...

There's a reason for everything.

I believe...

In my dream.

"I Believe"

Joe Satriani

its coming its coming its coming DAMN!

Ever notice how my writing spins toward songs?

"This Monkeys Gone to Heaven"

screamscreamscreamscreamscreamscream

What is in my heart? What is in my soul?

Here is my existence. Here is the twitch and spasm in my eyelid as I try to express my feeleings over what I cannot do. At times like this I hate my life. The times when I cry so hard that I have to put my hand over my mouth and hold it down hard while the lithium salt in my tears burns my eyes.

The twentieth approaches. Will I be able to ride it out?

Tears roll down and I don't want them to stop. They wash away the pain... for a little while, at best.

"Exit, Stage Left"

And so it came to pass, my friend, Val Huther Hufft, moved from this world into the next. He left behind friends and family who loved and cared for him. I was fortunate enough to be asked to pen and deliver a eulogy for him at the service on January 5th, 2010. It is my pleasure to present the text of that tribute...

The character, “Maximus”, said in the movie Gladiator, “I knew a man who once said, "Death smiles at us all - all a man can do is smile back."

What can I say about Val that most of us don’t know already? He was opinionated, hard–headed, he walked his own path that most of his friends followed with him rather than walk away. He was not afraid to walk that path, no matter what the consequences or results. For that, I always admired him.

He brought me to several things that held our friendship together over the time and the miles. When in the music business, he always managed to come to the shows I was working and listen to the bands. We also went to the big shows, saw other bands and found the weirdest music we could find, (and no, that wasn’t Roulette). When I moved to San Antonio, I remember calling him every time I’d find a new release by one of the bands we enjoyed. And he was always introducing new, esoteric bands to the mix. Knowing how important it was to him, I sent compilations of music on CD to him when he was going back and forth from North LA after Katrina. Music was a tie that bound us, and others to him.

And who could forget the poker games? I’m glad I couldn’t participate on a regular basis, as I’d more than likely be totally broke. A self-admitted horrible player, I could only sit and watch for most. But the ritual of the games themselves was “Val-induced”. You could always count on the drink on a coaster and ashtray in perfect placement with cigarettes and lighter. These were almost items of luck. The names of the games themselves were interesting enough. Bouray, Ten-em, Day Baseball; we could have an entire conversation about the correct spelling of Ten-um. Was it Ten-EM or Ten-THEM? The games were designed to be fun, not to mention profitable.

Val was a strong creature of habit. Again, to him, his path was clear to see and he walked it the way he wanted; from simply the times that he would allow himself to talk on the phone, to his amazing work ethic. From Delight Distributing to AMA Distributing, his work was as paramount to his life as his recreation. No matter how late the night, he was always present and accounted for the following day. I always admired that trait in Val. I guess it was because it took so long for me to develop anything close to it.

I remember when he and Joe were at Delight Distributing. Val was a buyer and Joe was the warehouse manager. I was in need of work and they hired me as a warehouse worker. It was hard work. Of course, Joe and Val, being the practical jokers that they were, managed to put me in the worst positions of the job. After an extended period in the fittingly named, cold storage order department, I called it a day. All they could do is laugh, knowing well from the start that I could never stand an extended stay in the world of manual labor. I definitely learned my lesson.

One of the funniest moments that I can remember with Val wasn’t so funny at the time. It was a very cold January night in the 80’s. We had gone to Maxwell’s, our favorite haunt at Conti & Burgundy in the Quarter. There may have been some other stops, but I think that it involved some drinking. It was raining when we started for home and somehow I thought that he was in better shape than I to drive my 1972 340 Duster to Harahan. With the music and the spirits, I fell half asleep on the ride. I fully woke when I felt cold water on my feet and the engine revving. Val had dumped us in the ditch at Clearview and Jefferson Hwy and was trying to back out. Unfortunately, it sucked water into the carburetor and killed the engine.

Now this looks bad, but it gets better. Cell phones were not around, and neither was anything else at that corner, as it is now. We had to walk… in the freezing rain… to the 7-11 at Dodge and Jefferson Hwy. That was the easy part. It was 3AM and we had to call my Dad to get us out of this mess. As he always has done, Dad came down and met the wrecker he called and had them bring the Duster to the house on Colonial Club. Then he dropped Val at home and brought me home, both of us with our tails between our legs.

Now the fun begins. The next morning, at about 9AM, Dad woke me up and said, “Time to go to work”. He made me call Val and put us both in the driveway with the Duster. We had to pull the seats and carpets to dry. Then, remove the hood and pull the spark plugs. With Val on one side of the front end and me on the other, he turned the engine over and all the water and oil and grudge came shooting out of the cylinder heads and all over us. We had to be two of the most disgusting looking guys in the world. And all we could do is stand there and laugh.

My Dad looked at us and grinned, saying “I don’t know what you two are grinning about. Put it all back together now”. And he walked back inside. Not one of our better escapades.

But Val was indeed unique. From his unmistakably funny, “Like ya know Man” to his participation in our own Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie watching nights. And what could you expect from the man who introduced us to Mid South Wrestling and the antics of Skandar Akbar and Mr. Wrestling II. From the time in high school that we double dated with each other’s ex-girlfriend, to the nightclubs and the trips to Ft. Walton Beach; you were one of a kind. I’ll miss you, my friend.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

From "Death" by Khalil Gibran

And with that, another chapter closes on life. For none of us have the option of "Time Stands Still"; all we can do when our call comes is to "Exit - Stage Left". Thanks, my friend, for making the stay a bit more interesting and a Hell of a lot more fun. Give my Pierce a big hug and talk to him about Jeff Beck. You'll be surprised how much he knows...