My Personal Stop Message

Copyright 2014 . BeBop

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Contents

From Prison To San Francisco

The Beginning Of Addiction And New Friends

Still In The Tenderloin More New Friends And Deeper in Debt

TeeLancey Exit Recovery Program

Recovery In Prison?

Recycled From Prison Again ‘A Cold Night in August 1990’

Cry Me a Real River September 1⁹ th, 1992

PREFERENCE

It is recommended you do not even touch this kind of truth about life on the down side if you are the ole’ fashion, with its philosophy thinking, very religious individual living with the rest on these lands. It is believed this may be too much for you to try and endure. If indeed you are strong enough in whatever faith you live and you seek to know the thinking pattern and life style of the many suffering the negatives of life then by all means endure this one depiction of a gay, black brotha in what is much of a diary kind of format. It will allow you the truth about life lived by just one unique individual among the many under the guidelines of the negative life so many live. This one life gives reference to many other lives encountered in the same wilderness and the suffering that gets so involved and intense. Be aware that what you are about to endure is a true encounter of only one individual having made it to hopeful safe grounds after the storm; that we as humans make mistakes on levels many would think could never happen. And for you who may be looking for a story of life similar to your own this may be what you seek; especially if you may be thinking of taking your own dirty laundry to the wash house. Many in this category could use some real inspiration to help make that one final and as well real decision to make that change. The truth about making that turnaround a reality will hopefully be endured in this story. For educators, doctors and others wanting more of the scope or picture of life in such a negative world and its thinking process as well, this story may pinpoint a more complete and overall view thus giving those in the mental, medical, counseling and other related fields a better focus on dealing more successfully in this area of life. It is especially noted in this story how those in the study field could maybe look more deeply into the desire for change and how so many years of such a pattern of life has its effects on making such a change. It is known how there continues to be the successful work to date in this area taken from expressed and open such stories and its experiences and I am sure more unique experiences are wanted in this area of study. Pay particular attention to the education sought allowing for depiction of the negatives and even positives in life that lead to decision making. There is included the kind of poetry of a brief and new era nature hopefully allowing for the kind of better understanding in all levels of academics in our total society. For the one looking for entertainment this just may get you some satisfaction but may leave you with questions if indeed you make it all the way through without the excitement turning into the boredom of not really finding the continuous nasty plot sought after. This continues to be my way of making sure I stay alert and on top of a new world free of the past—a past I term Yesterday. This true depiction of life may indeed baffled or get one caught up in the kind of understanding that I believe need the true empathy of one enduring such an account before, during and after the high. Make note how this can be a kind of autobiography as there is expression and its depiction of my childhood, life growing up, my lost youth and the ramifications into today after yesterday. Expressing the period from prison to the time of finding true recovery is done in the order that it follows. The ongoing diction or my diary are the thoughts and actions taken from the point of my last ever hit of and desire for drugs of any kind including nicotine. From this point after the ‘hi’ are what is referred at as ‘Back To Writings" or the hard work encountered to date. These are personal expressions or entries into my diary to come after enduring what I believe is the preparation done up to such a point.

My Stop Message

If more under the power and insanity of addiction could stop long enough to focus on beginning of a fresh new day without the plague of a bottle of wine, a balloon, spoon and its outfit, a hit and its accompanying glass pipe or anything that must be ingested in some way to relieve the pressure and pain felt by addiction.

If such could stop long enough to watch the sun rise and endure its soothing warmth and tremendous energy instead of what has become a pest in the sky burning and getting in the way of another beautiful day that can never be seen.

Stop and try to remember what your teeth were like before this monster called addiction took over the direction of your hygiene. Remember what your bathroom was like around this same time and if you showered or bathed on a regular basis.

Stop long enough to hear an ole jam mastered by one of the greatest of strings being played on a distant radio.

Remember those days and how life was indeed BREEZIN’.

Stop and reflect on the last night’s peaceful and most comfortable slumber. As well reflect on that significant other you cherish to this day and how the two of you awoke to that beautiful dawn. And in such waking, after experiencing a night never to forget, the two of you put a seal on your love aided even more by the dawn and its rising sun.

Recall if you will the times on a regular basis when breakfast, lunch and dinner were hot and tasty meals. Remember if such was the reason for all those diets. Remember the service you were treated with at the local supermarket due to the checks that were always honored because not one of them ever bounced.

Recall, if you will, how your identification to verify checks had been replaced by your wide smile.

Compare your domestic quality today to yesterday. I mean; when was the last time you were complimented for your domestication for a bright and cheerful home?

Stop and calculate the last most consistent lot of paid: rent, gas, electric, newspaper, ebony, jet, playboy, phone, internet and cable bills—not to forget house notes for those of you. And by consistent I refer to that lot of paid bills years old now. And while you’re calculating find those receipts for that wide screen television set with DVR, that stereo system with its thousand plus collection of your favorite music, that gold watch with the diamond midnight mount, other jewelry shared out of love and the late model car.

Pause for moment to think about how peaceful, even with all the bull, life was compared to the mad insanity that is found to only fix that never ending problem of today.

Maybe after just some of this reflecting one may begin to do more wanting, desiring and yearning other than those times we can get backed up against a wall. As long as that need does not arise those of us who keep saying,

hey; maybe I need to, may have a shot at recalling to light that missing sun and all its fresh glory.

You may even find that a rainy day has certain freshness to it for all its intended purposes.

Like the rain after some polluted problem in a downtown or ghetto alley you think of that monster you are polluted by as the very same. And a good hard rain can be thought of as those tears and flow of snot all pouring without the thought of a man crying or a woman giving in both to surrender. And like the rain there is something fresh and clean throughout that is seen and felt as strength, courage and especially humbleness.

On the first sun shinny day after the cleansing rain can be seen and felt the very same intensity after one’s own shower—OH YES! It’s alright to cry! At least for me it was and is still today. As well there are those I walk with in this fresh new world who feel the very same. There are those witnessed on a regular basis who feel the beginning of this brand new world free of the chains of insanity.

And if pride should stand in the way of so much pain suffered by addiction than it is only my suggestion that maybe you wait for one of Seattle’s many rainy days or New York, Chicago or

Atlanta’s many buckets of rain and walk in it. No one except our Higher Power will notice you in the midst of a wet crowded downtown or lonely ghetto street CLEANING HOUSE . . .

BeBop

I

From Prison To San Francisco

October weather is a cooling period from the always beautiful summers in Washington State. In October 1986 I was released from the Reformatory in Washington State after serving a second term. Doing time in this state ain’t no joke. A seven and a half year mandatory sentence indicates one will bring five years three months before consideration of parole. A five year mandatory sentence is about three years four months of this straight time before one is considered for parole. No wonder college and general education (GED) along with social interaction with outside organizations are encouraged. After the second term in the reformatory and a year after found at home in Seattle accomplishing nothing with the two associate degrees and GED earned in prison I felt it was time to leave my home given the first possible chance. Add to this having experienced for the first time in my life the ridiculous out-of-the experience called tweek from smoking crack cocaine. During this period family members and friends and what I will call personal encounters had all smoked or engaged in drugs and alcohol with me. But with crack at that time I could not get the mad rush or effects of a ‘hella-high’. Instead it was better to shoot the powder form of cocaine and get a rush out of this world. Seems almost all of my immediate longtime friends or better termed ‘potnas’ were all experiencing crack with sexual overtones—a luring factor used to enhance the so called beauty or intensity of the high. And that seemed to work for me only temporarily because the first sexual encounter after having smoked crack and shooting powder cocaine found me waking the next day to my cocaine and money stolen. Thus a new life in a bigger city looked, tasted, felt and altogether seemed more and more the adventure that was soon to come. After all at almost 38 years old I had hardly been anywhere in my adult life except prison. Had I got away about two decades earlier maybe the talent for art would be a big plus in my life today. Maybe I could have gone to school to enhance and learn the ropes of being an artist and make a career of a hobby I truly have much love and interest in instead of being the ‘self-taught’ artist that is a part of my vitae. But, like a wonderful full of love voice loved since childhood I’m not going to focus too much on yesterday’s as I too believe so much in such memories. Thus I left after over a year out of prison having worked and achieved the status of an altogether free man whose debts to society were paid and travel outside the scope of parole a choice completely my own. I was now free of active parole and would be off parole totally after a number of months from any trouble with the law—which I became free of. I could now relocate in any state and the many cities in the country. Assessing any possibility of addiction to cocaine or its crack form did not occur at all after the decision became clear in my mind to relocate and as well where to find new excitement in my life. After all the previous adventure with drugs from pot, psychedelics, speed, downers, not to forget the cheap fortified wine known as Thunderchicken; nothing had grabbed me by the neck and choked me more than crack cocaine. I may very well have escaped a life of drugs if not for this awesome form of addiction found in my generation that kept me in constant search for something new—a natural feeling that did not mature as it normally should have. Maybe all the drugs experienced yesterday and how I thought I was never really addicted to such was a setup for what crack cocaine came along and did to my life after leaving my home in Seattle due to, as mentioned, the crack cocaine high not being what it was to everybody else. Work was never too much of a problem as I did not mind it knowing the importance of security. Little did I know that this priority had begun losing its value due to having spent almost all available monies from work and saving prior to finally departing my home in Seattle while on the initial crack cocaine experience. Being furious over the loss of money and dope due to theft really had no violent effect on me except for the thoughts of revenge that were overpowered by the desire to leave my home that much sooner. Add to this an experience in art and a sexual gay affair that I held off and on for almost two decades helping me to make the decision to leave. I remember paroling for the second of three times. I got busy with a job and obtained my own apartment in Seattle’s Capitol Hill area. I also hooked right back up with my Texan, Jay E, after nearly four years away from him as was done the first time paroling from the Reformatory. There was also the intense desire to get to work with my world in art found the very first day in a prison cell as I had even more practice and a desire to put as many of the wonderful music legends on canvas as my ability would allow. The world of music is an infinite one. A very intense experience is recalled the day I obtained a canvas and art supplies, some weed, some alcohol and the company of Jay E. This I thought was the kind of atmosphere and setup wanted to ultimately venture into and create even better versions or portrayals of the music legends on canvas I had created in prison. I recall this day getting all set to put another of many favorite jazz legends I am very fond of on canvas. This canvas I thought would be the beginning of my getting into my work outside of prison. During parole the first time out of prison I never touched or so much as thought about my love for art and what I wanted to create in it. But it was found how the new kind of atmosphere that included chemical addiction—something new to creating art—and Jay E’s addiction and attitude to go along with it all turned out a canvas that had no depth, no highlight, no perception or likeness nor any of the personality in my world of art I had been so blessed to discover the first day in prison. The portrait seemed to favor a stick-man version of Popeye the Sailor man. This caused greater frustration in my life with the horrible feeling of failure. Thus came the decision to gather whatever funds and materials available and go with the choice made