Today was interesting. I was alone in the student cafe early this morning like at 6, writing Jordan a 20 page letter at the table, and this girl named Lilly from Montana Academy came up and sat down next to me and was just like "Hi, Bob." We ended up talking for almost a full hour about lots of things, from music to our hometowns to our problems. It was really awesome. She's from Memphis. I've always wanted to try living in Memphis.

Picture time.

( Ready yourself... )

Same shit, different day.

I just completely blew away my speech class with a dramatic speech on how to peacefully subdue your cat. It was priceless, really, everyone (including me) was in stitches for a large part of it. I'm REALLY proud of my public speaking skills!

This weekend wasn't much different than last weekend. I didn't do much. I ate a nice piece of cake and took my weekly shower. Lifted weights a bunch. I benched 260 this weekend, which in my mind is unbelievable. If I were to backtrack one full year, I could never have seen myself even getting very far past 200. It's cool because I don't look all bulky either, and if I wear bigger shirts I look like a skinny bitch.

The snow has been melting, yesterday was a hair above freezing and it was nice to be able to be outside in shorts and a t-shirt for long periods of time. This morning I woke up around 5:00 and went out on the roof for a "still dark early morning smoke" and busted ass when I slipped on the ice.

I've been sending out a multitude of letters lately, I sent out 7 this weekend and received just as many throughout the week last week. I went through my letters and put them in a binder, I have an assload, over 200. I'm so grateful for all of you - Letters like the ones you send let me know who my real friends are, who actually cares, and who I'll want to spend time with when I get home. There are those who haven't sent me much at all, and I'm disappointed but I guess that's life. I'm thankful for everyone who has taken the time to write to me. It's like a breath of fresh air every time I see a letter in the mailbox for me. I love you guys.

CHECK THESE OUT!

( Pictures from yesterday )

Today was cool to begin with. When we dropped the kids off a High School, I decided that I would get out too, so I could see Aly and Jen and get some stuff out of my locker. Sure enough, they were in there, and Jen pretty much tackled me. It was so nice to see them. Mail is great, I mean, it's enough to stay in close correspondence (I'm doing that with someone back home), but it was really great to see them. God, I needed that.

Anyway, my week has been ok. I've been eating a lot of strange shit lately and doing a lot of pushups, which is cool because I hardly ever do pushups. I can do 80 at a time. I was impressed to see that I could do so many.

Also, for my creative writing class (which is amazing) I wrote a character preview. We are writing "stories" but I think mine will be more of a book. I wrote down a grabbing preview paper to give the reader an idea of what the story is going to be about, and I think it's the best short story I have EVER written. I'll put it on here next Tuesday. Also, for speak class, I wrote a how-to speech called "How to Peacefully Subdue Your Cat", and it IS amazing. I'll post it as well.

Anyway, I'm super bored, class doesn't start for 2 more hours. I think I'm going to go back to the student body room and hang out with everyone.

Until next time...

So today is the first day of college, and I'm sitting here in my first period class. So far it's fine, althought I really miss Flathead High. This morning I got here around 8, so I sat around in the student lounge with and laughed with a couple fun girls from the other halfway house called Montana Academy. It's about 10:39 now, which is cool. I got a couple hours to just sit and chill with people, and I'm pretty sure it'll be this way every Tuesday, which is nice - I would have liked for things to have been this way in High School. The student lounge has an Xbox in it, and a TV, and food, and a foosball table... awesome. I ate some this morning, and hid my jacket in there so no one would find it. Blah. I feel very scatter-brained right now. Anyway, the building I'm in right now is very pretty, and if I had to describe it, I would describe it as just a big window. It's awesome.

Anyway, I'll write more later. I've got a lot of mixed feelings about a certain something, it's confusing, but the USPS will help me figure it out. Hooray for mailing people.

I awoke to the droning thumps of the afternoon bell. Groggily, I raised my head from a smelly puddle of drool that had pooled on my desk. Rubbing my eyes with the collar of my shirt, I pushed my chair back with the backs of my knees and stood. I had no books to carry. Walking through the doorway and into the hall, I converged with the flood of underclassmen darting around, the football team whooping, and cheerleaders yelling at their parents through their cell phones. The whole school of over three thousand walking into the forum, I heard talk of parties, beer, weed, McDonalds, and summer trips. My eyes cast low, I followed the flux of raging hormones toward the final destination. The glowing monolith of the front doors, it almost seemed unreal that I was about to pass through them for the last time. As I approached, the light grew brighter and brighter until my vision nearly whited out... and I found myself bathed in golden sunlight. The wind tugged my hood off, and I felt the autumn sun warm the top of my head. School's Out.

...

So today is a finals day. Barely anyone is here, and I have no finals to take today. So, I’ve been sitting here in the computer lab with Mr. Hanson reading through my old journal entries. I have finished my reading and I have come to the conclusion that I used to be a huge douche. One can reason that it’s ok because most of us were, but I was a HUGE douche. I also read that I lost a lot of friends when I began to change and go through the stages with “glam” and being a scene kid. HA. I’m glad I grew out of that. I didn’t have the slightest idea of what fashion really was. And I had no fashionable clothing. I’m glad to be a man. Also, my first time drinking was on October 2nd, 2005. http://this-is-poetry.livejournal.com/92577.html “i can barely WALK I JUAR had 2 cups of jagermeister and 2 beers. i also smoked abut 4 cigaretteS. IM hwere mentally but my body is so woozy. i love you jilliAN” HA. That’s jacked up. It was a very controversial issue, and I got like 20 comments from people, including Dustin who called me a faggot. It’s so weird – Dustin and I have been best friends for over a year now. We’ve done a lot of things together and we’ve been through a lot. He and Christina even met through me, yeah, Christina Winslett, closest friend in the world. They went on to date for a long ass time. It’s weird how all the people that used to think I was a joke became my best friends. Like Vincent Darnell Wynn II! Haha, I remember how we used to hate each other. And Dustin too. The Loganville group that I almost “fought” http://this-is-poetry.livejournal.com/103800.html Well, I ended up spending EVERY single day for about a year with them. I became attached at the hip with guys like Zach Debroka, Jarod Chase, Reese Blalock, Trey “Stumpy” Hodges, Cameron Paris… etc. And all of the girls too. It’s so strange how contradictory life experiences are. It’s just plain FUCKING CRAZY. And now I’m in Montana. In a rehab aftercare program. FUCKED UP!

So anyway, I today Aly and Jen presented a gift to me during lunch. It was a collection of spoons (I have begun collecting spoons since I have been in Montana) that they went and bought for me at different thrift stores. They’re all different, and each one represents something Aly says. I love them. They’ve been so good to me, and I could never ever forget friends like that, even after I return to Georgia.

If you are on my friends list, I encourage you to go through my journal. Almost my WHOLE teen experience is documented on this thing.

It’s crazy.

Love, Drugs, Depression, Fights, Friends, Bands, Girls, Guys, Music, Styles, Clothes, Religion, etc… fuck.

A numbing chill gnaws at my face as I push the door to the rooftop deck open, an unlit cigarette dangling idly between my lips. Instantly I feel the hair in my nose freeze; it tickles, and I push on my nose as if it were a tingling red button to crack the hairs. I hear the door shut behind me, and I mechanically pull my hood down over my forehead and start toward the butt can on other side of the deck. The butt can is an old red coffee can, and surrounded by benches on three sides. I smile to myself; it almost looks like the benches are frozen people, dead, huddled around a dead, metallic fire long since extinguished by the cold. I tap my jacket’s pockets in search of a lighter, and I curse myself when I find myself picking up the smoldering butt of an old cigarette and holding it to the end of my own. The wind picks up again, and I feel a shiver shoot down my spine, rattling every inch of my body. I huddle for warmth beneath the clear nighttime sky, periodically taking drags from my cigarette. The ground almost seems lit with the snow reflecting the moonlight so strongly; even the trees seem to be shimmering in the moonlight. Sucking in smoke, I inch my way over to the edge of the balcony – over the balcony I can see the city lights scattered out below for miles and miles, And above the tallest of blinking radio towers is the celestial deity scientists call the Moon. The trees, the radio towers, and even the mountains almost seem to reach to it. I exhale a thick stream of smoke, and even it seems to dance upward into the moonlight. My eyes fix on the it – It’s beautiful, yes, but the main reason for my attention is the energy I feel coming from it. As I fall into the craters and valley of the moon’s luminous surface, I can almost feel your presence. I can feel you next to me, I can feel your warmth through the deadly cold. Still fixated on the moon, my eyes begin to close – I can feel your loving hands on my back, working their way up… and a shiver shoots through me again as the wind picks up. I blink, and shake my head a little. The moon seems so far away now. I take one more drag, stare over the balcony for one more icy moment, turn, and walk to the butt can. Exhaling, I drop the cigarette into it, and walk across the deck, to the door. I stop, my gloved hand paused on the doorknob – and I think back to the times this year I felt most alive. I think back to the beautiful experiences, and I think of you. Suddenly, the wind picks up, and I snap out of my brief daze. I hastily go inside, and slow my pace as I pass the window on the walk toward my room, for I see the smoke from my glowing cigarette butt still ascending up to the sky.

The new guys are chill but they both seem really burnt out, and neither really seem like people I would hang out with outside AYC. But, they are from Georgia. So that's cool, I suppose.

Oh, and last night I went and registered at FVCC. It was a tedious process, but I'm taking some cool classes. I'm taking Digital Photography, Creative Writing, and Public Speaking. COOL!

I got my memory card back from Emily, and she put a bunch of pictures on it for me. They ALL make me want to cry. I just keep reminding myself that I'll be back. I will fucking be back.

That's all for now, I guess. I'll write a more in depth entry sometime soon.

Today we're supposed to get TWO new guys. In the next month we will be getting 7 new people in the house. That's a back breaking number, considering that we're losing a lot of guys too. We may experience some rough times with this, with all of these new guys going through their struggles. So begins my second generation at AYC.

Today has been ok, there is really nothing on my mind other than that I want to buy a composition book when I get home and use it to document a series of bicycle expeditions that I'm going to go on. I want to have a polaroid camera for quick shots, and lots of #4 pencils to use. I want to actually do something with this - maybe I'll write a book about my travels. All I know is that I need more of them. SOON.

It won't be so long now. One more semester. I've done one. Time to start over again, go to a new school, meet new people, and complete one more.

That's all for now, I suppose. I've been listening to a LOT of Cult of Luna lately, and this band called Simian.

I wore sweats to school for the first time ever (in all my years of being in school) today. They are grey and size youth large. They fit pretty slim but are also really slouchy. I like them. I started off wearing jeans, but halfway to school D-Man told me and Pat that we were going back to the house instead of school. So, we went back and it turned out we were to get Montana I.D. cards (which means that when I turn 18 I can buy cigarettes, among other things). But, I didn't have my birth certificate on file, so I just ended up smoking a bunch of cigarettes and changing into sweats. Then I went back to school. And shit broke loose. Everyone commented on how much they like them. Jen kept studying my crotch. Some people commented on my ass. IT RULED. It kind of felt like wearing pajamas to school. This is just a really new experience for me... I have never in my 17 years worn sweats to school. And now I finally have.

Also something weird happened just a second ago. I found MY special coffee mug from IB Theory of Knowledge in my 5th period classroom, right next to this computer.

My buddy Aly is giving me all these mixed signals about shit and it's making me really annoyed. I don't know what to think so I'll just think nothing of it. I don't like this inconsistency between us, so whatever. Maybe I'm just clingy because of where I'm at in life. I have to take a shit.

I'm really stressed and distressed lately. The blood's boiling inside me. My head is a mess. I mean, I could give it all up and walk out of Alternative Youth Care when I turn 18, or I could tough it out for 3 more months after I turn 18 and possibly drift away from the close friends I've made in Kalispell... only to return home. If I left at 18 I would continue to be with my friends in Montana and also have a way to fly home. But that would mean throwing out 7 months of AYC and 9 months of treatment! FUCK. That's so irrational.

I also need to get off this strattera bullshit. It makes me feel sexually docile. No joking around... it's fucked up.

My grades are ok. That isn't enough to make me feel better, though. Oh well, hopefully this will pass. Life has it's ups and downs, I suppose.

I miss everyone.

Christmas was alright. I hung out with Aly a couple times, which was awesome. My parents like her. I'm sad, though. It feels like everyone I grow attached to just ends up getting taken from me. I really need to figure shit out and decide what's gonna happen. I can't decide what's next. Soon I will be faced with a choice.

FUCK. So it's 2008. I'm clean and sober. I feel almost refreshed... starting the year off like this. It's a good feeling. I have been in treatment for 7 months now... that's a little less of a good feeling, but it has done a lot for me and I'm thankful.

Love to all of my friends.

I wrote this recently.

Beads of sweat trickle down my face – it is a hot day, but as I coast along the weathered sidewalks of Lawrenceville, the wind keeps me relatively cool. I power over hills and idle across the streets, crossing to the left side of the street, where an intersection approaches. Up ahead, Buford Drive (Highway 20) laterally marks the end of Highway 124. I pedal hard and propel myself into a left turn onto Highway 20. Dropping off the sidewalk first with the front tire, and the rear tire following shortly after, I make my way to the right side of the road and ride the solid yellow boundary line on the far side. The wind gusts hard, sand and city dust sting the exposed skin on my face; dirty, brown, dirt stained areas around a pair of thick, vintage aviation goggles that used to belong to my great grandfather. Great arms of ancient trees crisscross the street ahead as they reach for the sky, providing me with temporary relief from the blistering afternoon sun. To my left, I spot an old, out of commission bus depot, a public housing establishment, and several auto shops and even more pawn shops. I gently squeeze my rear brake, and veer to the left, hopping the curb, crossing the sidewalk, and slowly beginning to glide down the grassy shoulder of the road as it drops off. I squeeze my brake harder and eventually come to a silent stop at the bottom of the hill. In front of me is a billboard, covered in vines that droop down from it and cover the ground below. The kudzu vines partially cover what seems to be a forgotten basketball court. Through the loose web of vines that mask the concrete, I can see that it has begun to turn brownish, and it is riddled with elaborate graffiti paintings. I hop from the seat of my bicycle and walk it into the shade of the billboard, resting it against a black pole beneath it that looks like it used to be a basketball goal. I groan under the stress of wiggling off my heavily overstuffed pack, and set it down next to my bicycle. I can feel the wind cooling the sweat-drenched valley between my shoulder blades. The shoulder and waist straps have left dark sweat marks on my grey shirt. Spreading my arms, I tilt my head to the sky and welcome the cool breezes as the envelope me. I promise myself to come back to this urban sanctuary more often. Sadly, I haven’t been back yet.

The break was pretty good. For Thanksgiving, we ate in the main foyer, and it was good, I guess. There were only 9 of us in the house… and that was the best part, trust me. I went on a day pass with Patrick and his family. At Best Buy I logged into myspace, and commented some of my friends. It was cool, I guess.

EDIT: I am in big trouble for getting on myspace. I guess we aren't allowed to go on it on day passes.

I haven’t slept very well for the past couple of days. I’ve been up all night thinking about the bridges I burned in the past. I’ve been thinking about all the damage I did to my body. Constantly jacked up on amphetamines – I can only imagine what that did to my heart. All the nights I passed out on the floor too fucked up to speak. That must have fucked up my liver quite a bit. And I still continue to smoke to this day - regardless of all the times I have stopped, I keep starting again. At least I don’t drink anymore. I used to smoke way more when I drank. Sometimes at night, if I lay a certain way, I can’t breathe. Sometimes my whole chest just hurts.

I’ve never been sadder in my life. My shitty attitude isn’t going to work for much longer. Honestly. Either I get my spirits up, or I am fucked.

“Sometimes I find myself staring out the window, afraid to die without truly living, but thinking that perhaps if that were to happen – I could be free. I am surrounded on all sides by majestic, white-capped mountains; mountains I will never climb, and snowy peaks I will never scale. As gorgeous as they may be, nothing could ever compare to the green, lush grasses that enveloped me as I slept next to my bicycle beneath the ancient Georgia oak trees. The hills that I effortlessly glided down on my bike are more breath taking than any cascading mountain range. The pale, clean moonlight that illuminates the sky here holds no comparison to the golden streetlights at home that once illuminated my SOUL. Sometimes I feel like attempting the supposed suicide of leaving and trying to fend for myself on the streets in the snow. I hear that it is suicide, but what does my heart say? Am I willing to risk my life for freedom? Always I ponder as I stare down from our balcony to Highway 93: What is living if you feel as though you were dead? On March 31, 2008, I am going to begin my walk down US Highway 93 North, and pick up my life where it left off. I will find my way home by any means necessary. I’m counting down the days. No fireside in-house meeting will ever warm my heart like the report card and cereal box fires we had in Christina's backyard so long ago. It may just be the snow, but my heart is getting very, very cold.”

- August 19, 2007

I'm not going to walk out on my commitment. I can't. For myself, and for the ones I love. I need to finish this program. The only way I'm going to progress further is if I pull myself out of this pile of shit that I am sitting in. Things are not going well right now, but I'm determined - if I strengthen my program, I can do this.


M83 - FAREWELL/GOODBYE

I'm not going to be able to update until Monday.

This is a fictional story.

As the meeting began, I sat back into a deep, blue loveseat located in the corner of a dirty, ex-trading post called the Alano Club. The walls were the same color as the tables, which was a retro brown color, covered in a thin layer of dirt with a touch of coffee staining. The sofa smelled faintly of cigarette smoke; the old piece of furniture had seen many an NA meeting. I subconsciously tuned out the speaker of the meeting as I fingered a tattered piece of upholstery that dangled from the sofa’s arm. From across the floor, I noticed a slight movement. The speaker paused as the door opened, and a figure came in, pulling her hood off as she emerged from the night. As the room came back into focus, the figure across the room looked to be about my age; she had soft blue eyes, autumn brown hair, defined cheekbones, and a thoughtful facial expression. Needless to say, she was beautiful. She didn’t take off her tan, YSL looking overcoat to hang on the hook next to the door. Instead, she made her way over to where I was sitting and sat in a chair across from my loveseat. I had seen this girl once before, at the same NA meeting at the same time the previous week. I could not take my eyes off of her – her beauty isn’t what caught my attention, it was the vibration that I could feel almost burning my eyes when I gazed at her. I knew that she was from Charleston, South Carolina, and I began to create scenarios in my head, possible lifestyles, good memories, and mistakes that had built her up to the point that she was at now… a recovering addict in a nowhere mountain town called Kalispell, Montana. I also knew that she had been sober for nine months, but she still doubted the possibility that she was an addict. I remembered all of the good times that I had on Sugarloaf Parkway, in Atlanta, on North Brown Road, and all of the good memories and wonderful people who helped to build me. I assigned a similar life to her silhouette. She was just like me; maybe she had lived as I had. I could tell that she had surrounded herself with her best friends, wonderful music, and happiness while she was at home. Maybe she was just like me in that on autumn nights she would lay on her roof and watch the trees twinkle in the moonlight, their leaves dancing in the wind. “My name is Jill,” she began, “or Jillian. And I feel empty, empty like the tree in the front yard of my boarding school.” my stomach lurched. Jill folded her arms across her lap, and began again, “I don’t know why I feel this way. I’ve been looking at the moon lately. It’s so full, and so gorgeous. I guess one could say that it is my higher power at the moment…” she trailed off, “and that’s all I’ve got...well, for now.” Everyone replied in unison with an impersonal Thanks Jill, and the room fell silent once again. She was just like me, and her home was right next to mine. I was convinced that our paths had not crossed again for nothing. I was determined to talk to her. I told myself, this could be the girl that you eventually marry, or maybe you’re unknowingly looking at your closest friend, or your life partner, and I couldn’t let her go again without at least letting her know that I existed. For the rest of the meeting, I sat in my seat and fed off of her wonderful, artsy, intellectual aura… it was unexplainable. And as the meeting ended, we all stood up, and I felt her warm right hand in my left as everyone joined hands. For some reason, it felt so right. I hoped that maybe she would have some deep meaning later in my life if I only could let her know that I was just like her. "Take our will and our lives," We recited the prayer together in unison, "guide us in our recovery, and show us how to live... clean... free." and the chain of strengthened Narcotics Anonymous hands broke. My eyes fell low, and I watched her feet shuffle out of the room, onto the front porch. I took a couple deep breaths, and shuffled out right after her. The teeth of Montana’s cold winds gnawed at my face as I went out onto the porch, and I looked around for her. She was holding a long, slender pack of cigarettes, and had put one to her mouth, ready to light. Trying to remain unnoticed until a good opportunity presented itself, I pulled out my own pack of cigarettes and put one to my lips as well. I could hear the end of the cigarette smolder as I took a long, nervous drag. I looked over at her. She was almost done with her cigarette, and I could sense that she was about to leave. I chewed my finger in disgust at my own nervousness, and without further thought, walked over to her. She turned to me, exhaling her uneasiness through her nostrils. The smoke wafted away, dissipating into amorphous wisps that twirled and danced until they disappeared into the night. I stood there for a moment, studying her face and eyes. She looked calm. Calm, and sad – the kind of sad that has been present for so long, it not only cements itself onto your face, but manifests throughout your soul, leaving you feeling empty. You feel empty, and after a while, you forget why. I asked her “You miss your home… don’t you?” and for a split second, I saw a spark ignite in her soft, sullen eyes. She was quiet for several seconds. She whispered, “Yes.” And dropped her cigarette on the concrete of the porch - It lay on the ground, smoldering. With that, she turned and walked away – the wind bit hard, and as she trotted across the gravel parking lot, I heard the tip of my cigarette smolder as I took a long, reflective drag. By the time the wind died down, she had already blown away.

( Joe Preston )

We turned from the dirt and gravel road into a ranch of some sort. Above the driveway was a wooden monolith that read “Wilderness Treatment Center”. Upon arrival, I got out of the SUV and took a seat on the front porch of the dining hall. A moment later, a group of rag-tag, dirty boys wearing work gloves walked up and surrounded me, outstretching their hands, and introducing themselves. Among these people were Jacob B. from St. Paul, Keene D. from Detroit, Patrick C. from Atlanta, and Grant from Estero, Jake L. from New York, and Kraig S. from Sacramento. Jacob offered me a cigarette, and I accepted it with thanks. I was lead by a counselor, Jason, and he took me into the treatment center and did my intake papers. He asked me what drugs I abused, and other questions like that. At first, I did not know what to say. I thought that I was at a behavior camp, but I actually was at a rehab center. I did not think I was an alcoholic, or a drug addict by any means. So began my long journey.

For a while, I flew under the radar, not getting into any trouble and being very compliant. But after a while, I started getting angry at little things and got a bit defiant here and there. The night staff – Ken, Chris, Kevin, and Jim would look after us from 4pm until bedtime at 10pm. I will never forget those nights, sitting on the porch of the dining hall, smoking cigarettes with everyone and talking about life. I will never forget working out in the recreation cabin, nor climbing the trees outside the treatment center and napping within the soft, yellow leaves.

One thing though, that I will never forget, is the wilderness trip. I went with Kraig Smith, Alex Lefkowitz, Jake Lifson, Charlie Ruggiero, and Brad Franco. We hiked over 100 miles round trip, traveling deep into the Bob Marshall Wilderness. Each of our packs weighed about 80-85lbs depending on what tools we were carrying. I had two pulaski axes. The trip lasted 21 days, and in that time, I saw many, many things. I almost died falling off of a steep cliff (I still have several scars), I climbed a mountain, and I helped remove over 200 trees and re-open trails for pack trains that had been closed for years. There is no way I could ever truly describe the things I saw on that trip. We hiked over mountain passes and through lifeless, eerie burn zones where our footsteps echoed through the dead forests. We camped at the purest of rivers and fished in the most forsaken lakes. I have pictures, and only they can truly show you the things I saw. I received clearance to go to a place where the average person would dream of going. I will always remember my trip as a member of WTC 4.

(more tomorrow)

OH, and the show was so fun. I hung out with Natasha and Jen almost all night, and met all of their friends from Glacier High School. All of their friends were so nice, and really interested in me. It gave me a big old dose of what I used to love about meeting new friends back home. The show ended around 10, and I got some girl to get me home around 11. It was really fun.

( Wilderness Treatment Center )

Right as the boxcar passed a large sign that told of train depot around Griffin, I decided that I had to jump out. I had noticed that the train was beginning to slow gradually, and I knew that if I were found in the boxcar I would either be shot with rock salt/rubber bullets, or taken to jail. Concerned about my bicycle, I didn’t know whether to wait for the train to slow more or to jump off, so as another sign passed, I decided to take my chances. I lowered my bike out of the boxcar as close to the gravel as I could, and let go. My bike flipped and tumbled, but came to a stop in a patch of grass. The train had slowed to the point where I was almost sure I could jump out and land on my feet, but it didn’t quite work out that way. I jumped off, my feet dug into the gravel and I was sent somersaulting head over heels down a small grassy hill. I came to a stop, my knees both in a lot of pain, fearing that I had broken something. I lay in the soft grass with my eyes closed for a little bit, waiting for the pain in my legs to subside. Eventually, it did, and I managed to stand up and brush myself off. My arms were a little scraped, and my legs were sore, but I was fine. I opened my pack to check on my laptop, and sure enough, it appeared to be unscathed. I hobbled over to where my bike lay in the rocks, and tipped it onto its seat and handlebars. A lot of screws were loose, and the handlebars were twisted almost completely the wrong way, but with a little elbow grease and about 15 minutes of work with my tools, I stood it up and mounted it. I began biking in the direction that the train was going, and assumed that they would think that I had been riding my bicycle the whole time. I arrived at a terminal after a while, and turned toward it, finally getting my wheels back onto cement. I eventually got into Griffin, and found my way to 41 North, and rode along the side of 41 all the way to the perimeter of Atlanta. I made my up to the Little 5 Area and eventually took Ponce back to 78, and biked along the highway back to my house. My parents weren’t there, but I had the key, and went in. I picked up some tools in the garage, and a couple cans of beans. I then went to meet up with Killah.

I spent the night hanging out with everyone at the Coughlins’, and spent the night at Tyler’s. No one came over, so he and I just hung around and talked and eventually went to sleep. The next morning, Tyler was still asleep and I wanted to go see Killah again, so I asked him if I could use his bike (I had always wanted to ride it since I had seen it in his garage) I rode all the way to Killah’s, and we decided to go down to the river. We walked around back in the woods for a while, and I found a toy gun. Little did I know, that was the happening that would put me where I am today. We came out of the woods, and walked back to her house. On the way back to her house, I held the gun in my hand, and some kids saw. They must have thought it was real, because they told their dad I pointed it at them (even though I didn’t.) We got back to Katie’s, and Lauren came over for a while. I decided to go out to eat with Tyler and the gang, and Katie stayed at her house with Lauren. Just as Tommy was coming to pick me up, (I was at Killah’s neighborhood pool, and there was swim meet going on) some enraged parent comes up and throws me against a wall, and socks me twice: once in the face, and once in the stomach. I kicked at him, and got up. I was going to pull my pocketknife on him out of fear and anger (he was about 150 pounds bigger than me), and then some other parent came up and threw him against a wall. They began fighting, as I watched in horror, and the enraged father managed to throw me inside the pool clubhouse. He was attacked by more parents, and shortly after, the cops arrived. I was put in shackles, and searched. I didn’t have the toy gun, I had left it at Katie’s house. I was put in a police car, and the last people I saw were Tommy and Brandon. They just stared in disbelief at my bloody nose and my shackles. The cop drove me away, and in the car, the last song I heard for 64 days was Yellow, by Coldplay... it was on the radio. I was checked into jail, and they took my shoelaces and belt. I waited for 3 days in a holding cell, sleeping on metal benches with dirty old men and other people. It was mind rot. My parents would not answer my calls. On June 16, I was released from the jail, and immediately shipped to Wilderness Treatment Center in Montana. I didn’t even hug my parents goodbye.

When I arrived in Kalispell, Montana, I met a man named Rick. I got in the car with Rick, and we began our drive out to Marion. I would spend 60 days there.

(more soon!)

OH, AND TONIGHT... I'M GOING TO MY FIRST SHOW IN 6 MONTHS! The show is at FVCC (Flathead Valley Community College) and I am working at the door. A band called the Flip Wilson's are playing, and some others. I am stoked to see my friends there, and just see a show for the first time in so long.

Things To Do When I Come Home!
…All of these things involve my bicycle, except a couple. But all of the ones that involve going somewhere or stopping somewhere involve my bicycle.

1. Smoke a cigarette on the top, open lot of the parking deck outside the Discover Mills movie theater at 2 A.M. or around that time.

2. Rest beneath a streetlight on a one of those benches off to the side of Sugarloaf, near Discover Mills, coming up toward North Brown… also late at night.

3. Wander around in the woods behind Chattahoochee Run with Killah and my friends.

4. Listen to Teenage Riot by Sonic Youth while sitting on the front steps of the Gwinnett Arena… also at night.

5. Buy cigarettes from the QT on Five Forks near Brookwood, the one across from the old Chevron where I used to buy them underage.

6. Eat lunch while sitting in the tall grassy field next to the IHOP on 124, headed toward downtown Lawrenceville.

7. Take 124 all the way to its intersection with Buford Drive (20), and lay down on the old, vine covered basketball court next to the bus depot.

8. Go walking starting at 5 A.M. from my house, and follow the route on 78 that Rhett and I used to follow every morning during summer of 2006. Also, smoke a cigarette on the steps that we used to sit down on every morning… the ones that connect the Subway with the Publix parking lot.

9. Hang out with Christina at Waffle House all night, and go with Dustin to the old Waffle House we used to hang out at with Ariel on 124.

10. Walk around the grounds of my old high school.

11. Bike to Athens with SHAUN, go to a show, and then spend the night in a cheap motel room.

12. Get my septum pierced.

13. Chest/Collar tattoo regarding Christina and the days of BobXCrew.

14. Ride to the Hamilton Mill golf course and wander around it, just like Jordan, Lauren and I did last January.
15. Check out that shopping center that I always wondered about… off of Peachtree Industrial on the way to Killah’s from Sugarloaf, with Fresh Market and some other stores.

16. Find an Alcoholics Anonymous group to call my home group.

17. Job / License (I shouldn’t have put it off so fucking long)

18. Eat the complementary breakfast at the Hampton Inn on the corner of North Brown and Sugarloaf.

19. Roast marshmallows at the old clearing in the woods near Rhett’s neighborhood where I used to get drunk off of stolen wine, camp (drink) out, make campfires and eat when I was without a home, and hang out with Rhett. I want to use that spot for things that don’t involve drugs/alcohol.

20. Take Satellite Blvd. from Sugarloaf to the Mall of GA., and stop periodically to explore the landscape like I used to do.

21. Cook a meal with Vince, like we used to do. Spend time with Vince, doing all the random, seemingly lame things that we used to enjoy.

22. Spend time with all the ones I love.

23. MEN vs. WILD with TYLER!

24. Show Katie Hillstead what the real Bob Basile is all about.

It was nearing the middle of May, and Rhett and I finally decided that what were doing was not going to work. Rhett had the police after him, and I was simply a tumble-weed looking for a new town to blow into. I ended up getting in touch with a good friend, Shaun, and he said that we could stay with him for a little bit. Early on Saturday morning, we made our way to Highway 124, passed the Avenue and all of the strip malls and restaurants, and stopped at the last one, an IHOP… for what would be our last real meal for a while.

After we were done eating, we made our way down 124 all the way two Buford Drive (20). We passed through downtown Lawrenceville and crossed 316, turning onto Braselton Highway, and heading toward Shaun’s. Just 2 hours after leaving IHOP, we arrived at Shaun’s house. By the end of the night, I had made plans with a girl named Katie Austin. She and I had been talking for a really long time, but we never got the opportunity to hang out. I left Rhett at Shaun’s house for the night and went to meet Katie and a girl named Emily Coughlin at the Gwinnett Arena. Little did I know, these two girls (who would become two of my most trusted friends in the following months) would introduce me to a whole group of other people I never knew existed. We went out to eat at a Mexican restaurant with Katie’s family, and continued to hit it off from there. That night, I ended up meeting a guy named Tyler Marlow and a whole group of other people that I had never met. One of them was Katie Hillstead, who in the following weeks would touch my heart like no one else had before. We went to a midnight movie, but Katie Austin (Killah) and I decided to skip it and wander around the parking decks at Discover Mills. We had some really deep conversations, and I’m really happy she and I shared that time together.

In the following days, I would be at Killah’s house constantly, walking around in her woods, napping with her and Emily on her basement couch, watching movies, having French toast cook-offs, and wandering around with them in Killah’s neighborhood. I spent the night at her house, and tried to get her parents to like me – for a while, I think they did. I attended a couple of her parents house parties, and I was drunk a little bit of the time. But that was before the party, and I was alone in the woods waiting for Killah to call me. I spent a lot of time with Killah… and a lot of time at the Coughlin’s house.

At the Coughlin’s house was the first time I really talked to Katie Hillstead. She intrigued me immediately, and we started talking a little bit over the net at night, whether I was at Shaun’s or Tyler’s. The first night I stayed with Tyler was one day Killah and I decided to drink a little bit of vodka. Actually it was my idea, but that’s just the kind of person I was. One thing I want to make clear is that I would never consciously exploit a friend for their assets, especially alcohol. That being said, we drank. After an hour or so, Killah’s parents were about to come home, so we made some plans for later, and I told her I would see her later that night. I called Emily, and she was with Tyler in his car, and they were in the area. She said that he would pick me up, and they did. When they drove up, I was laying in the grass singing at Killah’s neighborhood pool. I got in, and that was the first time I really connected with Tyler. I got to talking to a guy named Michael too, and I eventually started hanging out and talking with him more as well. We drove to Tyler’s neighborhood, and met up with a large group of people – I could tell from the start that I was going to like all of them. A few of us ended up smoking a little bit of weed, and that got me into a state of seclusion. Tyler asked me if I wanted to stay at his house, and I said sure. A lot of people who I would later see as my friends spent the night at Tyler’s. One of them was Katie. We decided to watch a movie, and by the end of the movie, Katie and I were cuddling. We had a long talk after everyone left the room. I was shy and awkward because I was high, but she saw through that and talked to me anyway. The next month would be the best month I had ever had.

Tyler and I got a lot closer, forming a good friendship. I stayed with him for a while, and we just drove around and hung out with everyone. Tyler is mostly responsible for me meeting everyone that I met. I started hanging out with Katie more, and talking to her on the phone. We made plans to go to Tyler’s lake house one night, and the next day we went. A couple of us went, and we had a lot of fun. From late night chess games to trying to cook a bird egg that we found on an island, I had so much fun. Katie and I cemented our bond and were essentially together as of the first night there. We stayed up all night talking, and we fell asleep together in the boathouse after watching a movie. The ride back from the lake was one of the best experiences of my life. Holding Katie and hearing Brightly Wound by Eisley brought me to tears for the first time in a very long time.

Over the next few weeks, we did lots of other fun things. We went camping at Unicoi state park, bummed food, lived the mustache summer, and lots of other things. Occasionally a lot of people came over and I drank a lot of beer. I was happy, however unhealthily I was keeping myself up. After a while, I decided I was burdening Tyler, and decided to leave his house too. For the next few weeks, I would be biking around constantly, camping outside with Rhett and Shaun and sleeping over at Shaun’s. I was also alone a lot of the time, too. I experienced some things that I thought I would only experience in dreams. I biked hundreds of miles, sat under streetlights at night, explored woods, and breathed in life ten times more deeply than I ever inhaled a stupid joint or blunt. I jumped a boxcar, and brought my bike… I went to Alabama for a couple days. I never told anyone about it, and I jumped the same train route back to the area around Griffin, GA. During my travels, with my feet hanging out the side of the boxcar, eating baked beans with a knife… I truly experienced God. He spoke to me through the trees, and the hum of the wind in my hair, and air in my face. It is one of my most treasured memories. I made up my mind during that trip.

(More tomorrow.)