Blog Archives

You’ll Notice some changes around here

Ok, so, you may be noticing some changes to the blog soon if you haven’t already.

  1. I have gone to a “private” setting so I can better mod things on here. (People seem to think I’m a “dbag” and an “ahole.” (My gut response is to say **** you haters, but…well, I’m trying to make money here, lol.)

  2. If you like the changes, let me know.
  3. If you don’t…let me know. *grits teeth*
  4. I have all the things linked. If a link is broken, TELL ME!
  5. If anything at all doesn’t work (a video, a stream, a telekinetically thrown goat, etc. etc. etc.)… LET ME KNOW!
  6. Don’t be a dbag to me or others on here.
  7. I have the final say in who is a douche and who isn’t…MWHAHAHAHA. This isn’t a democracy, this isn’t a “cheerocracy” (as Chuck Wendig put it *wink wink nudge nudge*), this is a Pagan Republic.
  8. All that being said…
  9. HAVE FUN.
  10. BE SAFE.
  11. …VOICE YOUR OPINIONS!

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A White Boy in Downtown – Part 2: At the Trashcan Fire That First Night

I drove my 2001 Chevy Cavalier with the hanging passengerside headlight bulb and smashed bumper to downtown Fresno for the first time (other than for Jury Duty) in late January of 2012.

Why? You might ask. Why would a relatively affluent male WASP (white, anglo saxon, protestant) suddenly decide to go into such a dangerous, impoverished, and crime-ridden area?

Well, I suppose the root cause, dear reader, stretches back deterministically all the way to my childhood. So, because a life-story isn’t really necessary in this context, let’s just leave it at this: I wanted to try LSD or some other kind of “mind-expanding” drug in order to increase my creative and spiritual abilities.

What did I find in Downtown? Well, let’s find out together as I cast myself back in memory and time.


After an initial unsuccessful sojourn yesterday I know pretty much how to find free parking in the heart of Downtown. Passing the drab, dark stature of the Fresno Superior Courthouse and jails, streetlights play beautifully off the white paint of my Cavalier’s butt-imprinted hood. Occupy Fresno tents and signs lay, seemingly abandoned, to my right on the sidewalk of the Courthouse park.

I continue on smoothly thanking the Gods traffic isn’t horrific this time of night in Fresno. Sure, other cars pass by, but I’m so excited and anxious about attempting to buy an illicit substance from a genuine drug dealer for the first time that I just smile and crank the radio.

Brighter lights burst off the windshield and I squint a little before my eyes adjust. “CLUB ONE,” screams the casino sign on the corner of Tulare and old Van Ness. I smile more widely as the Chevy glides past into the relative darkness of Fulton Mall.

Once to H Street, I turn right. Finding an empty parking space is easy in Chinatown. No one really wants to be there other than bangers, hustlers, patrons, residents, and the owners of the shops and restaurants it seems.

I greet and pass by the few that are out in the area at this time. On my way down toward the deep dark of the industrial park on the North I begin to feel even more excited. I walk faster, both to stave off the chill of the night and the jitters of slight fear. Eventually I come across an old black gentleman.

I mention I am looking for LSD and he waves for me to come along. We walk toward the “Pov,” the Poverello House for the homeless and jobless, and I continue to make conversation. The man claims it is only about twenty for the tab of acid and I will have to stop. He succeeds in scaring me into staying away from the Poverello house.

I wait for half an hour just around the corner, hiding in the shadows of houses and trees lining the grungy, trash-heaped sidewalks. When I realize I’ve been played, I decide to venture around the corner.

Passing around the bend in the road to the left I am greeted by a dark street with what appears to be several squat encampments. Closest to me are clearly Mexican and Chicanos. I walk down the street toward the end of the Poverello house and its gates. I am hailed by a large, tall black man who I can’t see properly in the light of a washer-tub fireplace.

Apparently wearing a black leather jacket was a poor choice.

“You a cop white boy?” the man demands in a deep, booming voice.

“Fuck no, man. I’m just trying to score some acid,” I say.

I am invited to join the huddled people around the fire. Subjected to questions and scrutiny I am shortly asked to snort a tiny bump of coke from a key to prove that I am no police officer.

The coke is somewhat gross because of the drip, but it isn’t as repulsive as I heard it was.

After taking the little hit of cocaine, Teardrop, as I now know the first tall man to be, insists that even an undercover cop might snort coke. He demands I try crack. Perhaps it was the cocaine beginning to hit, but I feel very good and invincible. Shrugging, I take the pipe and follow his instructions.

I hold the lighter a little bit from the end of the “horn” and begin to inhale. It doesn’t taste bad at all. Except for a chemical flavor there isn’t much taste at all aside from an afterglow of butteriness.

It hits immediately and I understand why people enjoy the feeling, but the hit was no where near my best of the beginning days of my travels into Downtown. I feel faster, more intelligent, and elated. This is a form of flying.

I spend a few hours with Teardrop, just driving around to various hoods and to the motels. I am not offered another hit of crack the rest of that first night. Teardrop seems to want to keep me off the stuff when he realizes I truly had never tried the junk before.

After around 2 in the morning I announce it is time to go home. Teardrop demands I drop him back off at his particle board shanty and I do so before hitting the freeways to go home.

Why Modern Activism Is Often Merely Lip Service To Bullshit Ideals

NOTE: This is opinion,and personal analysis. I am usually a fairly accepting, friendly, respectful, and kind-hearted individual so: Take what you will from this, but watch the fuck out when dealing with me in person. If you can’t quite understand what I mean by that last…you will shortly or you won’t at all.

I am an Anarchist. No bullshit. No façades or delusions there.

366px-Anarchist_black_cross_logo

Long Live Anarchist Black Cross! Хай живе Нестор Махно! Vive la Résistance! ¡Viva la Revolución!

The problem with announcing anarchic politics is that Anarchy, true Anarchy, is not political at all. True Anarchy is the insanity of believing and espousing the belief that individual living things should have the basic right to do pretty much anything they want.

Anarchism becomes political because, and only because, we live in a politically governed system of linked sociological groups. A true Anarchist is, by the very definition, incapable of overlooking the vileness of politics imposed on inherently non-political species.

Most politicians, political analysts, philosophers, and activists want to make the ways of nature into some kind of political system.

NATURE IS NOT A FUCKING POLITICAL ENGINE YOU IGNORANT STATIST MORONS

*Ahem* Now, with that microrant off my chest we may resume this soap-box proselytization.

At some point you, reader, might wonder why I seem to take things so personally.

It. Is. Personal.

Whoever you are, no matter what philosophical, political, national, regional, or familial allegiances you might have, read carefully and buyer beware:

YOU have NO right to tell me how to live MY life. YOU have NO right to tell ANYONE how to live THEIR life. YOU have NO right to impose YOUR moral/philosophical/political ideals, rules, laws, and/or regulations on ME or ANYONE ELSE.

Grow the fuck up. Stop making things that absolutely DO NOT matter into personal attacks in your own twisted and brainwashed mind.

The next time someone with no direct authority, under the law or not, tries to enforce their own ideals on me someone is leaving either in a body bag or on a stretcher whether its me or not. That in mind: Be careful what you say. Words have meaning people. I am a snake in the fucking grass: Tread On Me At Thine Own Risk.

Human beings are human beings. Living things are living things. Regardless of any other observed status given to or accepted by an individual, everything living has a natural and unalienable right to three things: life, personal liberty, and the pursit of happiness. Your regional/national/state governments, laws, politics, and customs CAN NOT take that away from me and I will fight to the death to defend those rights in others if forced to do so.

I would rather die than live any other way.

If you don’t see things the way I do…get behind me or otherwise stay the fuck out of my way. Period. There are worse fates than death and some things more than worth enduring any possible outcome of fate.

Anarchy, libertarianism, non-Marxist socialism, anti-establishmentarianism, anarcho-socialism, anarcho-capitalism, equality, love, righteous anger, vigilante, punk, hippy, tree-hugger, world citizen, American, Native American, European, tolerance, peace, spirituality, collectivism, activism and humanism defined is me. (Assuming you must label me with anything as useless as human labels and words.) Economics, politics, and other contrived human bullshit has nothing to do with it. I don’t care what socio-politics we all end up with on this planet just keep your racism, sexism, misogyny, patriarchy, matriarchy, statism, liberalism, and conservatism away from me. Capitalist? Fine…be the best capitalist you can be. Communist? Same to you. Socialist? OK by me. Something else entirely? EVEN BETTER. We aren’t a conglomeration of labels and hash tags. We are human fucking beings. We are Alive. So live mother fuckers!

My rights, your rights, and the rights of those humans and other living things around you are divinely given. Pandora trapped Hope in the jar for all of humanity.

Stepping down from the soap box now.

Have an unbelievable day! 😀

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

P.S. For the other activists out there:

If you aren’t willing to die for your cause and your ideals why do you have them? Think on that. Hard. And with feeling.

On Being a Misfit, an Outsider, a Lone Wolf

I saw this post on “vic briggs | a writer adrift” and it inspired me to write on the topic too. I saw that daily prompt (from yesterday the ninth) but didn’t really feel moved to post on the topic with how I was feeling that day. Frankly, yesterday (Thursday, Jan 9th) was just a shit day in most aspects.

In any event, I felt that it would be great to post a sort of personal response to Vic Briggs’ post explaining how I feel about being a writer and a weirdo (“weirdo” is my own addition and shouldn’t be misconstrued as calling all writers “weirdos”… though many are, 😛 neener-neener).

I’ll begin with a bit of a cliche. I always felt different.

In my case, however, that feeling different felt normal and I never felt as if I did not “fit in” as a child. That may not make a whole lot of sense to you presently, but, please, hear me out and I can explain.

You know that feeling, in the summer, when you go inside from the screeching heat? That feeling of complete and utter relief? When the thermostat may be turned up to a mere couple degrees below the outdoor temperature and it doesn’t fucking matter, you still feel relief?

That’s kind of how “feeling different” from all the other kids felt like when I was young.

I accepted the fact that I was different and also the fact that I could still fit into the social groups I was expected to fit in with. I could still “succeed” by the standards of my parents and teachers while remaining true to the fact that I was unique. Yea, even at a young age I could get a little grandiose and overly cocky.

Once, in the Third Grade, another boy and I made a game of prank calling the police from the pay phone (sorry, kids, many of you younger folks probably haven’t even seen one of those 😛 ) just outside the office. It was a blast! We knew deep below the surface that what we were doing was wrong. We knew this was forbidden. Someone had taught us this lesson already: calling the police when there is no danger is dangerous for other people. That was the FUN part about the game!

J.J. and I got away with prank calling for a few days just fine. The office personnel were always inside or far from the office during recesses. We figured as long as no one caught us in the act, it would be fine. Of course that meant I had to go off on my own and push the envelope just a hair too far and get caught in the act. (I usually knew/know when to call something quits, but in that case I completely misjudged the location of the stopping line.)

That was embarrassing! That single event, I’m sure, is the reason I tried so hard in the years stretching from then to now to do whatever I wanted without getting caught doing the things authorities looked poorly upon. I managed to cute-ify* and manipulate my way out of the prank calling incident and if I could do that I figured I could do it again in other situations.

See, from a very young age I was a rebel. A punk. A misfit prince of thieves and deception. Even as a toddler I was 95% pure mischief. Its that outer 5% of cuteness, innocence, and wit that kept me from ever getting into serious trouble.

I always had a relatively large group of friends and never had any trouble getting along with anyone, adult or child. My mother supposes that my learning to talk and read at a young age coupled with her own propensity to speak to me as if I were an adult while I was still in my crib helped me to learn excellent social skills in general. I am grateful (more than I can ever say) for my parents both, for their encouragement and nurturing. It sure wasn’t expected that I’d do anything other than what I wanted within the household. They just did their best to teach me how to want and like the things that would kill me, harm me, and do neither of those things to others.

Upon reaching junior year in High School (I believe it is generally also called “secondary school”, for non-American readers) I met her. That girl that I thought I would marry in my youth and naivete. Yea, well… dedicating everything of myself to anyone at that age and in the ensuing years was a major mistake.

So, it happened, that at the times I wanted to rebel the most I wound up with someone who opened my eyes to many truths I’d never had to face before. We were so different and so bull-headed and determined that somehow the relationship worked for us. Sadly, it didn’t work for any of my large family or enormous friend base.

Now, just over 8 years later, my life is only just beginning to regain some semblance of togetherness and health.

During those 8 years running from 11th grade to November of 2011 I went through the soul crushing experience of morphing from a confident and independent young man into a groveling, lying, thieving, wretched, crack addict. I had no friends. My family had all but given up on me (except my parents, they, of course, always held out hope). I was that lone wolf I always thought I wanted to be. I chose the Wolf and the Wolf chose me.

Moving from conservative Christianity to anti-Christianity to vague neo-paganism to Hellenismos was a hard process alone. I’ve been a Hellenic polytheist since late 2007. (Which happens to be the year I graduated High School and began attending California State University, Fresno and living, for the first time, out of my parent’s home and on campus.) I only just got the courage and fortitude to tell my parents mere weeks ago.

I’ve been a Misfit. I’ve been that Outsider of which true artists and vainglorious frauds speak. I am the Lone Wolf.

The only reason I’ve survived thus far? I also happen to have a pack.

I don’t walk alone as much as I felt I did for so long and as much as I thought I wanted to. Sure, it’s a marvelous feeling to “go your own way,” but humans are social creatures and no amount of lying to yourself will change that. The only way to survive for long as a “misfit,” “outsider,” or “lone wolf” is to find a “pack” of other outliers that you fit in well with.

That’s how I survived when multiple situations should have found me dead or in prison upon reaching their ending.

  • I’ve overdosed on cough syrup (just robo-tripping) and wound up in the hospital on saline IV drips twice then was 5150’d and brought to the Community Behavioral Health Center in east Fresno where I was 5250’d and only released ten days later because my parents signed me out on my own recognizance in their care at my begging and pleading
  • I’ve had guns in the hands of those more than willing to shoot aimed at my car
  • I’ve had people threaten to beat me up or kill me
  • I’ve been surrounded by gang bangers, cutthroats, and dope addicts who might have attacked or murdered me for little more than a sideways glance at the wrong moment
  • I’ve been addicted to opiates (mostly stolen hydrocodone pills, but sometimes oxy if I could get it free) as well as crack cocaine (sometimes using them both within a brief time frame)
  • I’ve been on the verge of murdering other men on more than one occasion (by on the verge I mean “so pissed or otherwise upset that I actually had plans for killing them in cold blood and getting away with it and came very close at least three or four times to actually acting out the plan”)
  • I’ve been handcuffed and arrested (then released) by Clovis PD for having smoking paraphernalia (a little glass crack stem) in my pocket while one of the brake lights in my brother’s jeep was out [NOTE: If you are on or coming down from powerful stimulants, have some drugs or paraphernalia in the car, get pulled over, and have never had to face the police while in such a state before… you’re probably screwed. Sorry, that’s just the way it goes. Those guys are trained to recognize the symptoms.]

I won’t go on here, this post is long enough. Still, if you’ve read this far: Thank you very much.

You few that read this and take something from it…I’d like the message you take from it to be whatever message you need to hear from such a topic at this stage of your life.

In the end, people cannot survive for long or very happily without other people. Even if you never associate with anyone in “mainstream” society somehow and cast yourself out as a misfit/loner/outsider/reject/lone wolf… you need socialization. Sure, you could survive for a while on the company of animals or imaginary friends, but you won’t thrive.

Surviving. is. NOT. living.

So, thanks for reading! I hope you take something out of this even if that one something is the conclusion that I am completely insane! ^_^ I AM!

DING-DING-DING-DING!! We’ve got a winner folks! Give this guy-girl/girl-guy/person (because honestly who can tell these days anyway and why does it really matter in the end when gender is more cultural myth than physical status?) the booby prize for recognizing the obvious!

😛 I learned a few years ago that claiming insanity actually means I’m not crazy. (Run that one through the old noodle and see what shakes out. Bahahahahahahahaha!)

Have an unbelievable day!

In Earnest,

 

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

King of Delusional Grandeur,

Prince of Thieves on Earth,

Demi-god Son of Zeus and Leda,

did the scribe list “King of Delusional Grandeur”?

Oh…so he did…good

ta-ta for now folks!

*Derp* Here’s the daily prompt!

Nominated for the Sunshine Award – Thank You Afsheen!

As the title suggests, I was nominated for the Sunshine Award by my new friend Afsheen Anjum.

شكرا جزيلا

Thank you very much for selecting my blog as one of your ten nominations. That is amazing for me after only 7 days on WordPress. It means a lot. 😀

Everyone should go look at her blog and her art! She has a big heart and great passion.

So, here is how the award works:

  • Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.
  • List 11 facts about YOU!
  • Nominate 10 other blogs to receive the award.
  • Announce the nominations to the nominees.

Facts about me:

  1. I am a writer, poet, novelist, blogger (well d’uh, right?), and freelance writer (I am fairly inexperienced at commission/freelance work but I have samples of my fiction and non-fiction available if anyone is interested in future.)
  2. I am a musician/vocalist
  3. I am a Hellenic Polytheist with Reconstructionist tendencies. If you have no clue what I’m talking about there, check out the Wiki article on it, it isn’t perfect, but its a good overview. Otherwise, if you are more interested, you could check out the Neokoroi, of which I am a member
  4. I have been called an “old soul”
  5. I am an unlicensed Information Systems technician/computer repair tech and amateur web designer
  6. I am a recovering addict (addicted  to crack/cocaine but I would have used anything I could get my hands on)
  7. I am Irish, Scottish, Native American, Welsh, British, Norwegian, Mexican, and all manner of other nationalities/ethnicities so I usually identify (affectionately) as a “mutt”
  8. I can see beauty in just about anything and anyone
  9. I do not believe in “good” and “evil” by any conventional or traditional standard and I do not believe in “sin”
  10. I go by so many names/nicknames I’ve forgotten some (seriously, though: Adam, George, Lykeios, Lyke, Pollux, Georgie Porgie, King, Aam {the way I used to pronounce my name as a baby and, consequently, the way my mom sometimes refers to me to my chagrin}, White Chocolate, Doofus, Spazz, moron, and, recently: Faggot, Asshole, Crackhead, Whore, Man-Whore, and so forth)
  11. I truly adore all the people I’ve met on WordPress thus far and am still blown away by the support and encouragement I have received. At 30 followers, this is the most readership I’ve had for any blog I’ve ever made! You guys are awesome, thank you so much! If it wasn’t for you…I wouldn’t be writing nearly as much as I am. So, as gaeilge: Go raibh míle maith agat!

My Nominations:

  • SFoxWriting – Good poetry, awesome writing, and, he helps his sister get her photography out there. Check it out, Steven deserves a click!
  • I Love Painting – Amazing paintings, good writing, and all around blogging excellence!
  • Let’s Reach Success – I adore this blog as well. Lidiya is kind-hearted and driven and her work is fun to read.
  • Gotta Find a Home – Another very good blog on a topic that is near and dear to me. Give Dennis some more clicks, people! 🙂
  • Writings of a Mrs – More awesome poetry and just plain good writing. Jennifer certainly has a way with words as well. Also, thanks for the re-blogs and the advice on getting more of a readership built up! 😀
  • Megan’s Musings – Yet another epic blog. I enjoy it and she writes so well about difficult topics.
  • Lightning DropletsVery pretty blog with pretty words and pretty pictures. I’m loving this one too, so she can have one of my nomination spots, its well earned.
  • The Vintage Postcard – Awesome pictures and writing from all over the world! Great information for anyone interested in traveling on a working salary. Can’t wait to read more.
  • Margot’s Blog – Still another blog filled with epicness. Each day I look forward to seeing Margot’s pick for the word and pic of the day.
  • Live Simply, Travel Lightly, Love Passionately & Don’t Forget To BreatheDefinitely in my personal Top 3 of Travel Blogs. Elena is inspiring to me and her blog is just plain made of awesome. Живи Россия!

Again, thank you so much for the nomination, Afsheen!

Also, thanks are deserved by all of my followers and readers. You are all the best and biggest audience I’ve ever reached in blog format. Keep looking here for some little rewards. I plan, now that a working computer is on the way from eBay, on cranking out some music and art for you all. Love to all of you beautiful, amazing people!

Stay Frosty, my friends! Oh, and, as always, have an unbelievable day!

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

P.S. To anyone I didn’t choose to nominate this time:

I’m sorry! I follow so many amazing blogs through Word Press that it was hard to decide which to nominate. However, if I didn’t choose to nominate you…I still love your blogs! 🙂 Much Love to everyone, here! No hard feelings, huh? 😉

Still Procrastinating

Well, no editing has been done on any of my works. Anyone surprised?

Hey, look at me! I’m the over-caffeinated, nicotine poisoned, bi-polar, egomaniac come to save you all from your doomed existence in frivolity and slavery!

On the plus-side, I did get my “laptop” up and running again after I accidentally corrupted its BIOS.

Huh? What’s that Sis? Oh, I didn’t tell them that story yet? Well, I’d better do that now. Sit down, brothers and sisters and friends, and read well. Iiiiiiiits…

Story Time with Pollux!

A few weeks ago, back in late November, I moved out here to Mechanicsburg, PA to live with my “twin flame” and her parents. She has a nice shiny iMac and I’d brought my little Gateway laptop.

So, I was playing around with some security auditing and “hacking” tools just for fun, right? I rooted my Android phone, then Admin-ed my Windows 7 OS and rooted my Ubuntu OS (both on my laptop).

I was doing simple things, you know, SSH-ing the iMac, pinging networks and gaining administrative privilege to them, and decided to backup all my systems. So, I backed up both partitions on the Gateway (that’s Ubuntu and Windows 7, keep up) as well as my JellyBean Android OS. Uh-oh! Big problems.

My “sister’s” expensive five-year-old Apple began acting up. It grey-screened. By then she was almost hysterical and I completely baffled.

“What the FUCK did I do?”

See, other than the rooting and secure-shelling, this is all stuff I’ve done safely and under the supervision of an Information Systems teacher. (I forgot to mention I dropped out of the IS certification/degree program when I left California. So, I usually know what the hell I’m doing with computers and such. I’d never broken any computer on accident before and never FUBAR’d one so thoroughly without being able to fix it almost immediately.) Cansas, my twin, used to repair/refurbish iBooks and other Apple systems, so she is also baffled as well as pissed the fuck off.

We tried turning off the network (I’d setup network boots on all systems, we still don’t quite know exactly how the hell I did all this without so much as touching the iMac) and wiping the Mac’s hard drive to reinstall/upgrade the OS. Even worse.

At this point I’m shitting bricks and my sis is beginning to calm down and say “This isn’t possible. How did you do this to an Apple system without touching it? What the hell did you do!?” My only response was “I am so so so sorry! I don’t know what the fuck I did! I showed you everything I was doing.”

Well, my laptop fails at about the time we realize that the iMac just had a failed hard drive. The thing was scheduled to go out in the near future anyway, so the strain of trying to update to Mavericks and being wiped a couple times caused it to just say “buh-bye.”

I tear my laptop apart (mind you, this was a gift from my parents, so it really sucked) and try to boot from a USB rescue disk. Its still sitting on our counter-top down in our apartment, a bare motherboard and peripheries.

frankenputer

There it is booting. Oh, my creation lives!

Finally, after weeks of stressing the fuck out and screaming at various electronics (as well as a couple of bewildered tech-support agents), I’ve got the laptop working again. Turns out…factory reset usually does the trick. Thank the Gods I had backups of all my files on the external drive.

The iMac is still collecting dust, but we have all the necessary tools and components to fix it. Yea, Cansas procrastinates aaaaaaalllmost as hard as I do. (Sorry, sis, I think I win this booby-prize.)

Moral of this story, kids? Don’t hack an entire sub-domain of Verizon fiber networks and then upload your OS…it WILL corrupt the kernel of any system it touches.

(Still…the heady rush of gaining admin power over any network I touched was freaking awesome. Mwa…ha…ha…ha. Beware the Crazed PenMonkey Rainbow-hat Haccker!)

In any event, I need to get some editing done soon.

Have an unbelievable day you all!

In Earnest,

King Pollux ~ Adam Kristofer Walkingstick King

On the NEXT exciting episode of Story Time with Pollux:

Will the two-hundred pound net of writhing stuffed caterpillars and assorted insects fall from the ceiling to crush our intrepid Hero Twins? Tune in again next time!

Daily Prompt: Beyond the Pale

Well, today’s prompt asked about the last time I did something NEW and out of my “element.” That…is a topic I can sink my teeth into.

Last time I did something NEW? November 25th found me on a plane to Phoenix, Arizona so I could catch another flight to Philadelphia. See, I moved to Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania JUST before Thanksgiving.

Little background:
I am 24 years old (born September 6th, 1989) and was raised in Clovis, California. Before now, the longest I ever spent out of the state was about 10 days for vacations and such. I’d been with a young woman for almost eight years and was engaged to marry her for nigh on six.

This past November (2013), I did my first (official) NaNoWriMo novel, which was also my second novel ever (the first having been completed in rough draft form on October 9th, 2013). Through http://www.nanowrimo.org I met a bunch of crazy awesome writers obsessed with smashing through the 50,000 word minimum. The OverAchievers. In that group I met HER. My twin flame. My Better two-thirds. My sister. The cheese to my macaroni.

I was wrong. That other girl I spent all those years with in love and anguish…she wasn’t who I was really meant for after all. (Really, we went through hell together multiple times…and, there I was, breaking the engagement off with her after we barely began recovering from my addiction. I won’t bitch about the many reasons the relationship was toxic…but, it was actually best that I moved away.)

So. After knowing “Freddy” (AKA Cansas AKA Castor) for only three weeks or so…we came up with a radical idea: I should move in with her and her parents in Mechanicsburg: a monumental proposition for someone who’d never so much as BEEN to Pennsylvania, much less lived outside of California.

Oh, and did I mention I am a recovering crack addict? (7 months clean as of December 14th or so.) Well, really it was never about the rock, I am just an addict. Also, I am a punk, an anarchist, an artist, a writer, a poet, a musician, a singer, a daydreamer, a misfit, a crazy motherfucker that once overdosed on cough syrup and spent ten days in a behavioral health unit (Yea, I was in the nuthouse on a medical 5150 AND 5250. Most people don’t even know 5250s exist, but they do. It’s a 14 day hold…5150 is 72 hours. Oh, and they suck. Don’t ever overdose or go bonkers. Those places are terrifying.). I always dreamed of doing something radical like moving across the country with nothing but the clothes on my back and a backpack filled with a laptop and notebooks. Now, I finally had the guts to do it. Thanks to Cansas, my soul-twin sister…I can live and breathe again.

So, yea, I’ve done some new things recently.

Cheers to 2014!

Now is all we have. Orizontas Forever!

In Earnest,

Adam King ~ King Pollux

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Prompt

Reveries of a Hellenic Jedi

My thoughts on Jediism and Sithism

Novel Writing Festival

Monthly Festival : Turn your book into a movie and get it seen by 1000s of people. Or garner FULL FEEDBACK from publishers on your novel and help your next draft. Or get a transcript video of your novel performed by professional actors.

Glitchy Artist

Screenshots of the Universe

The Seeds 4 Life

Seeds of Inspiration, Wisdom, and Positivity

Geekritique

Movie & TV News | Book & Comic Reviews | Everything In-between

The Renegade Press

Tales from the mouth of a wolf

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