traveling story so far

okay, so i'm just going to start talking to my blog, cause humanity sucks goat roaches. here's my traveling story so far. the most i can remember. and it stems back from before it actually started.

june of twenty twelve, i met my wife. long story very short, we were only together for a year and a half, and for that part of the story, look for that blog post. she left me december thirtieth, twenty thirteen, day after my son's birthday, day before new years, leaving me alone for new years. and her birthday was january twenty fifth, she was turning twenty two, and it was to be very special.

because she left, i lost the apartment we had just gotten to overcome homelessness. her and i became homeless in july of twenty thirteen, because of the mother of my children, that scagly goat wrench. vile horrid hell hound from which i hijacked a couple vital souls. long story. but july twenty thirteen is when everything fell apart, and i lost everything, and kept on losing everything, until i lost my wife. when i had gotten the apartment, i called my mother asking for my cat back as well, and couldn't get a coherent answer from her as to what happened to him. he's either dead or otherwise gone, though, which breaks my heart, but i haven't even gotten to grieve over him yet.

in the months after losing my wife and the apartment, my fragile sanity woke up on wet pillows every morning, sleeping in my mother's hospital bed in our vail house, while my drug addict knuckle dragging neanderthal crackroach piece of shit scumfuck goatpuke uncle ruled the house and slept in my old room. fatfartsmellystinkin' fuckin' loser reject. i'm sure he's the one who put my mother in the coma just to get her out of the house. but that's another blog post.

there was a gap of tears and weirdness between january and june of twenty fourteen. i felt like the shell that had been me had cracked and fallen away, leaving a reborn little boy, but with the same eighty year old turd fuckin' body, just dragged through more streets.

but, one weird morning in april, the mother of my children called me. basically, through a long and confused and chaotic series of events, which was her nature, she somehow got herself up to spokane washington. she was sent up there too look after some douchebag that needed no help destroying his own life. she calls me, and asks me if i want to come up there. without hesitating, i said yes, because hell had just destroyed my life yet again, and i had been waiting, praying, begging, and dying to get the fuck out of that turdfest for so long.

the last time i got out of there, ties in with my acid story, which is another blog post, but my first trip was when i was eighteen, it was a bad trip in hell, because hell is a nonpsychedelic city, hello, welcome to shitty wok. my second real trip, was up in oregon. i left hell when i was twenty years old, june of ninety nine, i was working at a place called convergys, selling at&t to old fucks who didn't know what their phone was, and got the chance to move up to oregon. when i was up there, i had two good trips. first one was perfect, second was liquid lsd, cracked the sky wide open for me, i've been on ever since. read my poem morons.

so i waited, and prepared, and looked forward to the day i would leave that ghost town of death. i packed my shit up, broke my uncle's phone, cut the stereo and television cords, reported him to the police, and drove off just before the sun rose. the sun was rising over the airport just as i was taking off in the plane. it was beautiful. a sight i never thought i'd get to see. that sunrise was the last day of may, twenty fourteen.

june first was my first full day in spokane. i was staying in a trailer with the fat scagged goat gash that birthed my children, the dinglewhopper that she was supposedly helping, and two douchebag fucking wannabe lesbian teases. total skank wanks not worth the time it takes to puke and put the condom on. tazra beck couldn't sell a beer if her bush were a bottle opener. i fuckin' tweeted that.

anyway, that horrid story only took nine days to fall apart, believe it or not. that's the magical wondrous work of that fat scaggy goat whore. she's a hurricane of destruction, and looks even uglier. on the morning of june tenth, i woke up in a car, to have her be the one to come out and tell me that i was no longer wanted there, and she of course had to blame it all on me, of why the whole house took nine days to fall apart. uh... unless you're retarded... she was living in a trailer. it doesn't take three little pigs to blow that to shit, it takes only her. i challenge you to prove me wrong. hell, at this point, i challenge you to track her scugly ass down. i used that change to spin her off in a bad direction and finally get her permanently the fuck out of my life. i had to.

and for all you idiots who think everyone needs to fit into the standard christian societal mold of what a family should be, i'm going to tell you right the fuck right now, there's an evil organization in this delusional world called cps. before you go telling me any shit about how i lost my children, like you know my story better than i do, and think i need to be taught a lesson from your dumb ass, you need to shut the fuck up and do your research, because i know that closed minds always have open mouths, and i'd just like to prove myself right every chance i get, because i fucking deserve it after listening to your fucktarded ass so many years, you're fucked in the head, and i have proof, so you need to shut the fuck up and do your research, i would start by going to fightcps.org and memorizing the mutherfucking site like i did. i went warhead against a government organization for two years of my life, do you think i'm stupid? i think i have a better understanding of this delusion than you do. in fact, i'm betting on it. and i'm not dumb enough to gamble.

anyway, morning of june tenth, i found myself homeless in spokane. i got myself to a hospital, got signed up with health care, got myself to a (whatever type of fucking mental place they call them at this point, you fill in the fuckin' blanks, that's no longer my fuckin' job), got signed up there, got myself to a shelter, showered with naked men, woke up the next morning, talked to a couple doctors, got free food, showered with naked men, woke up the next morning, got myself a girlfriend, although she was a nineteen year old version of the horrid kanker cunt we'll just refer to as putrid gash at this point, because by now you know who the fuck i'm talking about. i don't know why that's the only type of girl who's attracted to me, besides my fucking soulmate. keep the date in mind at least, though. i got a girlfriend on june twelve. one of my days. you won't get that till a later blog post, so for now just think of it as my own floyd song. one of my own wall times. for what sense that makes to you. you can tell how much i give a shit at this point. if i had two turds in my pocket, i wouldn't give you one. they're worth more than you being used as ammo toward a white house of a particular shape. hell, i'd use you as ammo if i could drag you that far. but anyway.

so i dated that wretch for about a month, till i figured out i wanted to be alone. after i was away from her, i was standing one evening, watching a sunset over a river, with nothing but me and the trees and the earth and the sunset, and the river, and myself, and my music, and i had this big revelation that took about an hour or two to wash over me, and i felt immense enjoyment for the first time in years. i had to realize in that amount of time, that i was alone, for the first time in my life, i was truly alone, my feet stood alone on the earth, i had no more hands hanging onto my feet any longer, i was free to walk this earth as i pleased, for the first time ever, free to just walk in any direction without something pulling me back, calling me back, dragging me back, begging me back, i was fucking free. free. god, i couldn't say that with a deep enough breath in my lungs. free.

i stood there, looking at the river and the sunset, and i thought to myself, if i'm going to rebuild my life, i'm going to do it right, i'm going to the big city. i bought myself a greyhound ticket, and got myself to seattle. pay attention, i've already succeeded at way more than my family ever thought i would, and it's only august twenty fourteen. fuck them. fuck them with a very hot branding iron pulled straight out of satan's ass in hell. fuck them with it. fuck them with it till they'd make a good burger patty. i want to see the word 'angus' burnt into the meat.

so i got to seattle on august seventh. it was a wonderful time. for the seattle part of the story, read that blog post. i ain't your fuckin' google docs slave.

anyway, i got sick of seattle, after spending the winter freezing my ass off up there, so i asked someone where i should go next. a couple cheap skanks working in a jimmy john's because they couldn't get a titty job at shiny schlong's, told me to go up to bellingham, because it was a good place to be homeless and panhandle. bullshit. for their punishment, they get to go up there and try to panhandle their way out. dickropes. ooh, missing lunch, gotta go.