Celebrating and sharing my birthday with some good friends

It’s 3:51 a.m., I am sitting on the beach, and its a beautiful end to a beautiful day.
Woke up, worked on The  Misfit for a bit. Worked hard, met a beautiful gal, and ended up spending a wonderful evening with  her looking at beautiful works of local art, talking, meeting some cool people, and overall, just enjoying one anothers company. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve had a night such as tonight with someone I like.
Now, here is sit, toes deep in the sand, Daman to my right, colin ( his brother) to his right, and angeline to colin’s . Watching the stars blaze up above and at Times, blaze on by……
I’m grateful, and smart enough ro recognize it. Age?, wisdom, both?
Maybe. I think so

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Colin, myself, and Daman. Happy birthday Daman
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Daman, colin, and angeline

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The familiar sting of old memories……

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Did I neglected to mention my twin?……
At the swap shop while visiting with my mother during my “Foster years”. (Age 8-9 1990, I’m pretty sure….)

I wonder what it’s like for those who have the luck of reliving childhood memories with warmth, the memories that put a smile on their faces, and a feeling of happiness, content…..
Is this another of life’s illusions? Something that only happens in the movie’s, or is this a reality for some?
For me, that fondness I feel is one of sadness. It’s a mix of sadness, confusion, and longing. In reality, my childhood was a time of neglect, a constant motion, a whirlwind if you like, picking up speed with each new event. They’re were a lot, so maybe one can imagine how fast life was spinning. So much anger, so much abuse, so much pain. It’s only NOW, at the cusp of my 34 birthday, that I can truly begin to reflect with some clarity, and if I’m lucky, understanding. That’s not to say I had a horrible childhood. Personally, I experienced a little of each, sure. My mother, that’s who I saw take the brunt of all this tumult. HER pain, HER anger, HER abuse,…..and so on, so forth. I catch myself wanting to go back to my childhood, longing for it, not because I’m aging, but because I just want to go back to where it all began, get a better view of it all……
It was TOO quick, TOO fucking fast, and now it’s all gone. Passed me by before I  even knew what hit me.
Maybe, it also has to do with the fact that I don’t feel I fit in with the now. Maybe it’s the reason WHY I don’t  feel I fit in with my generation, my now……..
Spend enough time thinking about this, and before I know it, a lot me time’s gonna pass me by, that I’ve learned. I don’t want to believe that life’s shit, but that don’t mean I don’t feel it, often.

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Obtaining a new title for the Cb350k…..

One of the golden rules of buying an automobile -of ANY KIND- is to never, ever, EVER. EVER make a purchase w/o a legal title.
As usual, I’ve broken this rule ( another addition to the ever growing pile). I purchased my motorcycle w/o the title, or the keys.
I did however obtain a bill of sale, so, my actions  weren’t completely idiotic. What’s more I also obtained a solid lead on a guy who’s business it is to sort out title issue’s, among other specialties. I’ve heard-tell that unusual circumstances call for unusual actions. The story of my life.
You see, before I sent that certified check to the nice couple, I had a bone to pick with this “no title” nonsense. So I did what anyone with half a brain would hopefully do: I searched eBay for a bike similar to the one i wanted. The one sitting 3 miles from my doorstep. The one with the teal paint job, the astonishingly low mileage, that felt SOOO GOOD to sit on. The perfect balance.
Well, quick story is I found one

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The bike I almost purchased. Another’72 Cb350k beautifully restored

I sent a quick email to the seller, he got back rather quickly and after some chatting, that seemed that. Problem was , he wasn’t comfortable sekling to someone who couldn’t look the bike over in the flesh, and I didn’t have the money to take a trip to him, in Maryland ( I think). Among our conversation those few day’s, he told me about obtaining a new title, which of course struck a EUREKA with me. Fortunately for me, this cat is a gentleman and was gracious enough to disclose his source. With that, I wish him the best, and bid him adieu. The mission for the old bike by the sea that felt SOOO GOOD to sit on was back in action. I  spoke with the title guy, -bud- and  made the decision that the actions would justify the circumstances. So I made the purchase, and after a few weeks of back and forth (mailing check, receiving and sending back the bill of sale), the bike was brought home.
Fast forward 5 months, I’ve paid buddy, filled out the info packet he sent. Now im just waiting on bud to do his thang. These are usually the moments in my life where the seemingly simple chain of tasks follow these sorts of things usually go haywire with one setback after another. Lets hope not….
As of present, things look favorable. With a quick run of the vin numbers online, everything appears to be clean. No lost/stolen/missing bike reports.
Fingers crossed!

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Wrapping Your Motorcycle Exhaust >> Motorcycle Riding Gear Online

http://www.custombikebuilding.com/exhaust-wrap.html

I hace decided to wrap my head exhaust pipes.  The color of choice : TAN

That’s right, tan baby.

I see tan balancing out the color scheme of my bike. Think about it : Teal, chrome, matte black,  and…….TAN.

Well, now if that’s sorted , this outta come in handy soon….  ; )

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Complex fool tomery……

I hadn’t planned on using this blog as a personal journal. Christ knows I’ve enough real ones as is  (2 in rotation as of present ). I have the feeling that this post is about to play a role in my future. And we’ll,…. That IS why I’m writing Here. You see, i have a friend, (and the way I’m feeling as I write this, i use that term “Loosely”) so, this person is in the middle of a tug o war with an addiction. His struggle has gotten him kicked out of house & home, an ex-girlfriend,  and jobless. Now, before I go any further I should give a brief bio of our friendship: This is a person i’ve known for roughly, 14 years. A person who became a brother, one of the few I could trust. In the years that we’ve known one another drug abuse has been the biggest issue. For both of us. Only, I’ve been fortunate enough to have outgrown my desire for such. He,…..well that’s obvious. Anyway, there has been quite a lot of water that has passed under our bridge. Sometimes those waters have raged, and other times, calm as a lake. Anyone got a pair of floaties? I feel a storm brewing…..

Last month, my friend found himself homeless on the streets of Overtown,  Miami. On my way down to Art Basel, i get a text, “help is needed” and hey, what are friends for? That’s  a question btw…… So, having a legendary knack for not seeing situations from all angles,  I decide that this is my friend and if he wants to clean up, move forward in life with a fresh start, he’ll have a better chance sleeping on my floor than the streets of Overtown.  My decision conflicted with that of another friend. A friend with whom I share the house I rent with.  His decision not to allow this person to continue staying at the house before this bullshit was due to his kids, he didn’t want an active addict around the house, his kids.   He was right.  We were both right, just about two different points of view.  In the end, I decide to allow my friend to crash on my floor. My thinking: “he’ll kick, clean up,  go back to work, and if need be, we’ll just find a place to rent between us”. On my end, thats how life looked at the moment.  So i did just this. My friend on the other hand, well he has had  A few setbacks. The last of which I wrote a letter to him explaining if he got high again, i would no longer continue to help him. I layed down the law, and i wasn’t fucking around.  That was 2 weeks ago. Since then, as far as I have known, he’s been clean. The problem is This, (and i am getting to the point with it) in the past two weeks he has given me cause to question him. Today, he went through my desk drawer, and took the last of the suboxone I had cut into quarters for us to share. ( I occasionally take this to help counter my moods, it isnt just a detox drug, look it up) and rather than ask, rather than just throw it away, he puts the wrapper exactly as was, puts it back into the bag it was in, and then back into the drawer. Now, I don’t know about you, but i consider that not only sneaky but way outta line. Completely disrespectful. The principal of this one act, that right there shows me that my cause to question him has been correct. It angers me, and yeah, it hurts me. I feel like a fucking asshole. Like i should’ve listened to that voice a month ago that said “don’t get involved “.  I have given a friend safe harbor, an opportunity to clean up and get his life together, food, money for the bus, (my bus pass, when I didn’t need it) money for smokes,  suboxone to help him detox from the heroin. All of my help has been sincere, all of my word’s, sincere. EVERYThiNG on my part has come from a genuine and sincere place. THAT is what pisses me off the most. Fuck the money, fuck the suboxone. That shit means nothing.  I’m in a position I don’t want to be in right now, have not wanted to be put into at any time, and now I’m stuck with the ? Of  “Should I stop helping him, and tell him to leave,  or do I continue to help, but…….?????”. I can’t trust him. Hell, i can’t trust anyone around me, and i don’t!. It’s fucking sad……I have to make a choice that i REALLY don’t want to make. Makes me so angry that after i do the right thing, this is put on me, that i put my ass on the line for a person I’ve considered a friend, and that i could have suffered serious repercussions as a result of his bullshit. It makes me angry that here i am, vouching for him to help him find work, telling those concerned thag he’s doing well. Giving him all he needs to help him, all the while running the risk of being played like a real fucking fool. Well, as far as I am concerned,  he has given me enough rope to hang him. I have done all I could and I’m disappointed that he didn’t produce better results. I feel as though I am the only sincere person amongst a group of 2 faced fucking liars, and cowards. Doesn’t matter, i gotta make a choice. That is what matters.  THAT is what becoming an adult is about. Right?? (Another question btw) I dont know how to  end this, so…. THE END image Posted from WordPress for Android

Where to begin,……..hmmm….

Well, at the beginning, I reckon.
This is probably more a side note then anything.
Basically, this begins @ the age of 29. Well, 28 technically. And they’re is a girl, well actually 3 that are involved  . I’ll get to them later as the backstory progresses.
The backstory will be intertwined with the present ( meaning 28 years onward).
The gist:
A boy is born to a beautiful , mixed-up, mentally ill young woman and a handsome, ill tempered, criminal  father. Boy also goes through his childhood/adolescent/young man phases learning the harsh realities of it the hard way. Father  splits @ 2 years of age, the next  16 are filled with contentious relationships on all fronts, addiction, again, on all fronts, violence, both domestic and non. Mental & physical abuse, constant fear of neglect, loss of loved ones-family, friends, everyone I cared  about-, and living life on the outside. Shunned by those around me, just cause. 
By 28-29, I was still a kid. After graduating high school, I spent the next decade building and destroying my life, again, on all fronts. By the age of  29 I seemed primed for  a major traumatic catastrophic downfall. I was ripe, and you know what? I had it coming. 
As painful an experience, and horrible for me as it was…..that’s when things get interesting. That’s where the fun begins.
So, if ya know me, if ya don’t, if you like good stories that range from funny, to tragic, all the way through to love, drama, blah, blah, then I hope you’ll follow me as I go through my  own personal journey.  A journey which will  not only be  personal, but will also see me hit the road and drift around a few years.
The search:
Myself, where I belong in life, and hopefully a home. My home.
First, a little about me, FROM ME, LOL. I am a great guy. I have a good heart, am both genuine & sincere. Very loving, and sweet. I am also very moody, selfish, self centered, cynical, surly, thoughtless and inconsiderate at times. I keep an open mind, and will drop an interest with as much speed as I picked it up. I am NOT a religious man. I don’t follow nor do I believe in ANY of it. I am a spiritual fella. A “What comes around, goes around” kinda guy, KARMA. I hate money, rascism, sexism. Anything with an “ism” attached it seems. I also loathe the mainstream,& those who follow. I consider them to be “sheep” & the mainstream to be the “herd”. I am an individual, and I believe strongly in individualism. Most importantly, the freedom of it I see people not in color, personal beliefs, class, gender, sexual orientation, blah, blah, +YAWN+, sorry, that subject makes me sleepy. I base people on 2 things: Asshole’s\ non-Asshole’s. That’s it. All of these “Guidelines”, and “Rules” that people have and continue to create and follow, nope, not me. I follow my heart, my instincts, and my morals. I am not special. I just have enough faith w/in to trust that whatever choices I make, they’ll be choices that won’t rape, maim, or kill another. I know that I am a good person, I know that my morals will keep me from making those horrific choices. I am an extremely “Mood-Oriented” person. Everything I say/do is based on which mood I am in @ the moment.
Much love, and cheers to all who give a damn.
Scotty

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