(For the sake of easy reading,
I cleaned up a lot of the misspellings.)
***
Larry,
Hey, whatcha doing? Me, I’m burnt. I went to the desert for Memorial weekend and got
burnt. 50 Proof sun block my ass! I was playing with the little kiddies all weekend.
Well, see I have this notebook that I put in all my pen pals, addresses & shit and once
I got that non-profit org. stamp I wrote everyone back and my penal in MD sent me an
MRR and there you were.
I had a real bad drug problem. I loved pot. It was probably my favorite. But mixing that
shit with alcohol, pills, crystal, no thanx. I haven't done crystal in 3 years. I barely even
get drunk. I smoked pot a couple of times a few months ago. God, I had a blast. My friend
has HIV positive so he has Xanax and all that trippy shit.
Last 10 years, hmmm. My friend in LA overdosed on heroin and coke (speedball) so that
pretty much fucked up my life. I was listening to too much Nirvana than Kurt killed
himself so I was really screwed. Then I started to go to jail and ended up in prison for 8
months. Prison was like a Nazi camp. I’m surprised I didn’t see no swastika flags. It was
lame. I was put in a room with 7 other black people and half of them were murderers
doing 20-50 years to life.
Then I got heavy into drugs. I started on the prescription pills and about OD'd 10 times
but I kept waking up. I started stealing pot from my friend. I made lots of money (Ha! Ha!).
Then I went to Indiana and got busted for a meth lab. They had no evidence on me. I just
slammed the door on their face (12 pigs). Then I went to Canada. It sucked. Then life
sucked real bad. Then I tried to commit suicide. I took 50 “Simply Sleep” and a bunch of
Advil and kept thinking, "Okay, my heart is about to explode." I passed out then all of a
sudden I fuckin' woke up. It was the weirdest trip I ever went through. I should of just
got a knife.
But then a week later I was in California. Everyone changed. Hell, I changed. Everyone was
all pissy and shit. It would of been better if I wasn’t here. Like anyone would fuckin' care
anyway. I’ll get it right next time.
So I’ve been here oh 2 years now. I don’t talk to half the people I used to. I got busted by
my dad for taking a big tequila bottle my friend drank a couple of months ago. Gee, I
haven’t been in trouble for a long time. They’re threatening to kick me out. But I doubt it.
I almost got killed in a car accident three months ago. My friend was drunk listening to the
sucky Smiths too loud and went into oncoming traffic then he slammed on the brakes. Three
windshields fell on my head. I ran from the scene (I have a warrant in Indiana) then the pigs
picked me up and I had 6-7 Xanax in my pocket. I swallowed them dry when the pigs weren’t
looking – I almost OD’d on that shit!
Hell, I don’t want to live that fuckin’ long! Any chance I get, something always pulls me back.
Well, I’m going to Longs. I’m getting out some reprints of NOFX, Face to Face, GBH, Green
Day. There’s a picture of me with GBH.
So I’ve been reprinting all my old negatives. God, I gave away a lot of fuckin’ pictures. Pictures
that I’ve never seen before. Ha! Ha! I have 5 albums of pictures…the olden days.
Here’s a picture of some bands. I think its Unwritten Law back in 1993. I was talking to this
guy back stage so that’s why I took his picture. Who the fuck is it? It’s a San Diego band.
Well, I know the law in San Diego is a lot stricter than Indiana. My “friend” in San Marcos would
never put a meth lab in his house 10 doors down. Once I knew the chemicals were in the house,
I’m all, “Oh, shit!” They got busted with ether in the freezer. If I wasn’t home that night they
could’ve got busted 10 times more if I didn’t scream bloody murder. I didn’t touch nothing,
especially when the house could blow up. That’s why I stopped using. Like that shit could ever
happen to me. I didn’t want to turn into a junkie like everyone else. And smoking the shit was
a totally different high than snorting it.
Las Colinas is like Snoopy’s camp. The food is horrible and you get to meet a bunch of criminals.
Lot’s of fun. A halfway house might be better than prison. I mean you don’t want prison on your
record, but prison is a hell of a lot better. The food is wonderful (no shit!) but then you have to
deal with the lifers and the child abusers that you want to smash their heads in.
Well, hey thanx for the zine. You don’t have to send it. I just want to know what’s up.
Did you use those envelopes yet? I need to buy a bunch tomorrow.
Take care,
Tina
PS – I got a picture of a transsexual who looks like Cheech. Wanna stick it in you last zine?
Hahahaha! I was really high that day.