|
I went from parent to parent, to grandparents, to foster homes, and back through the loop many times.
They both hit me pretty well, that may sound ironic, but they always connected solid, so I say they hit pretty
well. And usually it was often. My father grew marijuana, which caused us to move more than the nomads of prehistoric
times. We moved back and forth between Cali and Oregon so many times I can't even remember all of the places that we lived.
We even lived out of hotels for a while. Out in the mountains, in big houses, lots of money, poverty... I pretty much experienced
both sides of the fence.
My mothers houses were always raided by the police, task force, and always had lots of run-ins with
the police. Where they almost always found drugs or a reason to put her in jail. Which resulted in me going somewhere else.
I am not saying these things to get attention or anything, I am just saying them so you can understand
where I came from, and how I grew from the experience. I don't do any drugs, but I don't look down on anyone that does them
either. I have had too much of both worlds not to understand people, and what addictions do to them.
My mother has no artistic qualities whatsoever, which points directly at my father. He is a killer
artist. The first thing that he ever taught me how to draw was flames and skulls. My great grandmother used to think that
I was possessed,(She is a preacher), because I used to draw skulls and flames everywhere. My father can paint like a madman,
draw like no other, and he is the toughest mother fu#$er that I know.
That pretty much sums up my life in a nutshell and my history, but I don't think I could ever quite
get it acrossed to anyone unless I wrote about 2000 pages how my life really was. Well that's me, and thanks for reading.
|
