This is just gonna be a giant clutter of information in random order. The first 51/50 I was taken from a 7-11 after acting histerical. I don't even know what the hell I was doing there or how I got there, the only thing I recall is the police showing up and the ambulance arriving shortly after. They loaded me on to a stretcher and hauled me to the nearest hospital. As I was being taken one of my gorgeous friend was crying. Shorty prior to that, some events occurred that had eventually lead up to her being evicted from her apartment. I wake up in the hospital, I think they drugged me on the way, I remember laughing and repeating the lyrics, "we don't need no walkie talkie, no, no walkie talkie." These lyrics were repeated in reference to my strong belief and practice,at the time, of being able to tap into and utilize telepathic communication. As the home girl and the homie sat beside me at the hospital, I kept laughing historically and the laughed with me.
It was a strange discomforting, schitsophrenic savagery I experienced for two months on end. This was only the first instance. I was shot up with atavan and put to sleep as I was on 72 hour watch. They released me and I got a ride home. Back to the purple hell hole of a room which was once a paradise. At a certain point I began thrashing the apartment as I believed I was hearing and feeling the neighbors thoughts through the walls. I had consumed so much drugs that my senses were hyper-sensative To my surroundings. I began to shatter 3 foot long purple lightbulbs, throughing skateboards through the walls, damaging some paintings before some fag got stole most of em. I have very little artwork left from that era but I keep producing like the mad man I am. There were times where I could not find any socks so I would walk around barefooted in thin glass covered carpet. Somewhere along the way I ran out of contacts (corrective lenses ). And the last pair of corrective vision glasses I owned flew out of my friends car window as we were driving back from a trip to the Monterey Peninsula on the northern central California coast. My vision is 20/80 in one eye and 20/100 in the other. Far from 20/20 my vision was fucked. For the duration of those months I couldn't destiguish if I knew the person or not until they were 1 meter away from me. I feel that my vision being compromised was a big part of my frustration and inability to cope with society at the time. Everytime jets or helloicpters flew overhead I was certain the thermal reading scanners were on me. In my mind I had the irrational fear that I was being threatened by a greater / powerful group of people. The loud overhead flights symbolized death for my team. I was alone and flipping the fuck out. The only time any sense of normality came over me was when there was people around. The sense of I and great self importance flooded my mind. I didn't know who was working for who and who I could or couldn't trust. Throwing gallons of paint off of my balcony onto the street. This was some of the events and thought processes that surrounded me. Plus there were local pimps, like literal pimps, and members of three different neighboring gangs that would stop by to smoke meth and drink. That was an awkward feeling cus on the streets they're supposed to be sworn rivals but we all hung out. Then there was the cool tweaker from down the street that spend alot of time at a nearby frat house. There was the two army veterans who were also in the drug circle and hated eachother. All of the charachters kept changing. At one point I had no keys to the art mentioned which was upstairs, so I would climb my downstairs neighbors fence, jump and pull myself up on the balcony to enter my place through the sliding door. I stopped buying food cus I had no source of income. I broke my phone and it got disconnected anyways. So there was no way for me to contact anyone. It was very apparent on my Facebook that was experiencing a severe compromise of my mental health. My Internet was disconnected, I gave away my television. It was bad. Ocassionally people would stop by and feed me. On another occasion I ended up at a ranch near the base of the sequoia mountains. That was the funniest 51/50s of them all. Someone near the friend whose ranch we were on called the sheriff because of my strange, out of touch with reality behavior. As usual they put me in th car called the ambulance, strapped me into the fucken poetable bed with wheels, (stretcher) and took me into a small hospital in Reedly. It was hilarious because in a moment when the nurses weren't watching, I got up, removed the straps that restrained me to the bed on wheels, and walked to a gas station across the street, there I acquired 50 cents from a good Samaritan and proceeded to use the pay phone. I called the home girl and she drove 45 minutes to come and get me. There were 3 other occasions in the United States in that time frame that I was taken in, but it's too much to type as I blog on the phone.
The last time was when they shipped me off to the mental hospital where they fed me powerful drugs and I also ate like a king. People at mental hospitals eat like champions. plus they had a gym and beautiful bat shit crazy women.
That was the last straw before I was eventually shipped off to the mental health / drug and alcohol rehabilitation center in Mexico. Now that was some CRAZY CRAZY SHIT!!! Mexican rehab is no fucking joke! It was way worse then American jail. I know because I went to American jail in 2008 for graffiti. And jail was a 5 star hotel compared to Mexican Rehab.
