November 1995, Oak Hill neighborhood, St. Louis

After finally getting a job, my day started to assume new routines..

Provided I didn’t walk (no time/inclination that day), I would be gone by 8:40.

*Walk to Arsenal.
*Get on the Grand Boulevard bus by 9:00.
*Get out at the Grand Bridge.
*Descend the steps to the Grand Metrolink stop.
*Get on the train.
*Get off at the Central West End station.
*Walk to work.
*Wait tables.


By 3:30, I was done with work. And the reverse path led me back home again.


I have few friends here, and almost no money. I stay in more than ever before. I write more. I treat myself to a six dollar haircut every two weeks (with a two dollar tip), groceries at Aldi twice a week, and a trip to White Castle once or twice a week. I am close to financial oblivion. But I am taking care of myself.

I have no other choice.

Sometimes a rose is a rose…

St. Louis is a little rougher than previously imagined. People who don’t look alike don’t like each other here in gray St. Louis. The sky is about the only thing that isn’t black and white. Your neighbors can be Italian, Asian, Black, Jewish, Moslem, Hoosier (city Redneck), or Armenian, and you still wouldn’t like them any better. Instead of “hello,” people say, “What are you lookin’ at?”

On foot, people perceive you as a stranger invading their territory, even if they are just passing through also. I am also guilty of that line of thought. People here, many, many people here, are tough. No matter the ethnicity, they’re lookin’ for a fight. So you grow accustomed to being “on the lookout.” One is usually in a defensive posture here in St. Louis. Lots of gang activity in 1995, too.

A few Sundays into my new residence, I had the paper spread out over the futon and the little yellow Elvis TV is on, broadcasting the weekend news. There had been a gang killing in North St. Louis. The banger shot the guy on the porch of his own home, in full view of multiple witnesses. His gang name is “Homicide.”

And yet, his girlfriend declared his innocence. “His name might be ‘Homicide,’ but he ain’t no killah.”

She had no comment about the multiple witnesses’ corroborating descriptions of the murder.

Wow.. Huh.

Lafayette Square, St. Louis, MO, November/December 1995

Johnny and I used to drive to Lafayette Square to buy pot. His dealer lived in an incredibly rehabbed building close to the park. He was crazy. The girlfriend or wife was always in the living room while he ran his business out of the kitchen. She never came into the kitchen, only occasionally looking our direction while we were there. Their boy-child, however, ran wild through the house, and did so noisily, only stopping occasionally to ask daddy what he was doin’ in a manner that suggested he knew what daddy was doin.

The dealer’s demeanor suggested a heavy intake of coke or some other amphetamine derivative. He could not ever sit still. He loved amethyst and snub-nosed handguns, and he liked hearing how cool his toys were to others. He was always pointing his guns and jewelry at us. Anything was an excuse to show them off, accompanied by variations of the same stories for each possession, and of course, more pointing.

His skittish, longhaired Hoosier buddy was always there, too. It didn’t seem like they gave a shit about us being gay, which, given the way those two looked, dressed, and behaved, was surprising. I guess they felt our money spent as easily as the straight potheads did. But they were just too damn jumpy!

Buying weed from Johnny’s dealer became a little.. too much, after awhile. What with the psychic and/or legal heat (Which is not all that uncommon a sensation pertaining to the residences of drug dealers..) surrounding the apartment, the kid running around, the jewels, the guns, their mullet-cuts, the gun pointing, and general discomfort of being in their presence, the process became too…wrenching to even consider. Too, too much. Hey man, I just wanted to get some pot. I don’t know about this other stuff..

I never felt safe until returning home and re-locking the door, already anticipating that first bowl.

Sometime in 1995, while living in St. Louis, I began to feel again..

“..On these long, dark, dusty roads, lookin’ there, no way to go.. I guess I gotta hide away, far away, cause I gotta find a way, to find my way. I gotta hide away, far away, cause I gotta find a way, to find my way.”
-Bubba Sparxxx, “Deliverance.”

The beginnings of stability, after a long period of turbulence,
I am almost in sync with the world (most days, anyway).
But then..
There are days when I’m just not sure of anything.
I feel a bit more(maybe too much), over-analyze a bit more, and, consequently, I don't quite connect..
With what is actually happening.

I walk everywhere. I am a solitary figure wearing sunglasses, a Walkman and big headphones, walking, watching, hoping, cautious on the street, and cautiously beginning the search for myself, and a way out of this present situation. Amongst the falling autumn leaves, I began to explore and mentally map the city.

While walking, I began to do the same within me. I had time to do both simultaneously, traversing on foot, slowly crossing the vast expanses of territory feared on some level, but ultimately respected. I am internally rich, complex, under-rated, and beautiful, like the city in which I now live. I will believe that eventually, even if I don’t now.

Astrological events, November 1995 to August 1997, while living in St. Louis, Missouri

“The only way is up…”
-Coldcut, “The only way is up.”

1. Excerpts from Emazing.com Horoscopes, “Capricorn.”

“Our real blessings often appear to us in the shapes of pains, losses, and disappointments; but let us have patience, and soon we shall see them in their proper figures.” -Joseph Addison

“Capricorn, the planet Pluto symbolizes the transformational part of your personality. Its job is to motivate you to Get-Rid-of-Whatever-is-Obsolete in your life and make room for New Growth. When you refuse to Let Go and Get On with your life, the Pluto part of you will give you Hell. It will do whatever it takes to pry you loose from the past. From November 1995 until January 2008, Pluto will be in the sign of Sagittarius. During this 12-year period, Capricorn, you will experience Pluto’s powerful presence in your Twelfth House of ‘Hidden Aspects of your Self.’ You’re going through a deep, inner Purging Process. During this 12-year period, you will confront those aspects of yourself that you usually keep secret or that you don’t even know about. When your old buried feelings and emotional garbage come to the surface, you’ll be tempted to Escape or Numb yourself. Even though it will often be painful, realize that it is Good for you to go through your cleansing process. Seek out opportunities to get in touch with what’s going on at the Unconscious level of your personality. Capricorn, this 12-year passage of Pluto through your Twelfth House can be a time of great Spiritual and Psychological growth. Don’t be afraid to Look Inside your self.”
-Nolan Myers, August 22, 2001

2. January 1996/Capricorn/Rob Breszny, Details magazine.

“While other signs of the Zodiac will be squirming and whining in the wake of two splashy cosmic events that lie ahead, you Capricorns will most likely be celebrating. The first astrological wake-up call comes courtesy of the melodramatic planet Jupiter, which expands everything it touches. On January 3 it’ll finally exit your house of old business, where it’s been blowing all your problems out of proportion for about a year, and slip into your house of fresh starts, where its big, bright, inflationary effect will prove much more profitable. For example, you’ll quickly be itching and twitching with thousands (okay, hundreds) of brainstorms, a portion of which should be translatable into an increased cash flow. As your bottom line shines with more luster, interesting new folks of all genders will gravitate your way. And all the ancient, worn out ways of doing things-from making love to making a buck-will suddenly seem about as fascinating as your boss’s stories about his teenage sex exploits.

A second cosmic marvel hits town on January 12, when the revolutionary planet Uranus quantum leaps out of Capricorn, where it’s been ensconced for years, keeping you close to the edge. It’s been almost like living next to a power transformer that crackles and hisses around the clock. But no more. While all the signs of the zodiac will feel the rush as Uranus moves into Aquarius, for you it’ll signal a glorious wave of relief and relaxation. Combined with the sweet arousal of Jupiter, this will leave you facing a year of refreshing ease, and probably more fun than you’ve had in eons.”
-Rob Breszny, Details, January 1996.

Dusk when he would go to work/February-March, 1995

“This is the lion’s den; I hope you knew that before you came in. This is where the Angels and Devils fight, and they’re choosin’ up sides tonight.”
-The Rainmakers, “Snakedance.”

June 1996

Stoned, walking into the bathroom, the window open and the wind blowing, and the light, the glow of the light really, casting the spell that, just for a minute, that took me from the now of the sweltering third floor brick walk up St. Louis studio, to the other existence, the windy temperate twilight that was Key West as sunset.

The apartment was small but airy. It was the middle apartment of a three-story Conch house on Elizabeth Street. The neighborhood was quiet and the neighbors rather amiable, for the most part, but a heaviness of undefined nature lingered when the wind was still. There were two decks (one a wide walkway, really) on the front and back, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and an open living room/kitchen.

He would be leaving for work when I arrived home. Always. We would exchange the day’s events, some pleasantries or sarcasm, maybe kiss but mostly not, and he would bike off to work. Then I would go upstairs and smoke pot.

The cat would be there sometimes, and she’d watch me from under the table or on the couch while I paced and smoked. The weed would kick in and my pace would slow, or maybe I’d sit and undertake some project like writing or making a collage. Or maybe I’d lie down and watch TV. The cat would sometimes lay on me, digging her claws into my stomach, the motion of kneading bread, like cats like to do.

If the day were still, the smell of pot would waft through the neighborhood, as a lot of my neighbors were potheads, too. The stillness made the residents of Elizabeth Street a bit louder, a bit more annoyed in temperament, a little smellier. But when the wind blew, outside distractions melted, making way for the dense rustling of the plants and trees, its calming sound a relief. The rush of the wind, the feeling itself, was physical comfort.

I would open all the windows in an effort to circulate as much fresh air as possible. Sometimes the wind would blow so hard that it would knock things over. The setting sun reflecting through the hanging prism, swinging bursts of glow bouncing everywhere the wind instructed. The show of light soothed my nerves as well.

And it was during this time that I would submit to whatever insanity might be running rampant through my mind, apparitions sometimes, sometimes situations, and heavy analysis of good and evil within my good and evil selves. Sometimes I was Jesus. Sometimes I was the Anti-Christ. Sometimes I’d be so fuckin’ tweaked on some major manic tangent, connecting all sorts of peripherally related issues really fast I didn’t know who I was.

You tell me

You tell me..

Who are they, the ones I might be jealous of?
Show them to me; point them out.
I’ll take ‘em all on and we’ll see what happens.

A teacher of mine told me repeatedly that, when you’re flying so high above the others, it shouldn’t really matter what they say, anyway.

Time is a relative state.
Some feel free to waste much of it.
Others view this progression as a precious commodity, to be used wisely and effectively and efficiently, wasting no time, but missing the little re-affirmations that color our world.

And then there are some that know that everything that should come due comes due eventually, and the best one can do in the meantime, is prepare and wait.

Problems.. are nothing but unmet needs.