Am I Dead?

The feeling, the bright light, the love emanating from my family that has gone on before me. I want it back. All I feel now is the need to return to where I had been.. I have read stories of near death experiences and never truly believed them. If that is what I had then I know that they are real. I try and tell my wife what just happened to me but I cannot communicate with her. My mind is working and I think I can talk but I am just lying there, motionless. I look at her and wish she could see and feel what I felt. There is nothing in this world that I can compare to what I went through. I do not know how long I was there but I wish I could go back. I cannot grasp the reasoning behind the visit to the other side. Did I almost die? At this point death would be special. Then I wonder if I actually die will I go to the same place I was previously. I just want to go back and feel the love from my family and friends.
  It felt like my bones were being crushed by a force never experienced. I tried to open my eyes but they were taped shut. As my brain was attempting to process what was happening I felt a warm sensation flowing through my veins. The pain in my body was easing but not going away completely. Sudden bright lights as the nurse took the bandages off my eyes made me think, for a second, I was going to that loving place. I blinked a few times and focused my eyesight to the people standing around me. My Doctors, my earthly family, nurses, and a bunch of equipment. They had brought me out of a coma. The news I was hearing was shocking. I had been in a coma for three months and during that time the tumors in my muscles, a result of the spreading bone cancer, had shrunken in size. Only a minor victory, though. The medical staff tried to tell me that nothing was done to me while I was in a medically induced coma. Diagnostic tests that were done had shown the Doctors that my tumors were shrinking. They had done nothing to cause this and were perplexed. It was not great news to me but the medical staff seemed a bit excited. My mouth was so dry I could not even speak, so, I asked for something to write with. I asked them if I had died. The look in their eyes gave me the answer. I had coded and had to be brought back with the defibrillator. They wanted to know how I knew. I was not about to tell them for fear of being given anti-psychotic drugs. Fuck'em. They don't need to know but I had to tell my wife. It took several hours of tests and questions from the staff before I had the chance to be alone with her. So, I began to tell her my story.                                                         theblogmeister

Not The Same Man

Life sometimes throws you a curve. We get put in a situation that makes us shake our head and ask, "Why me?" I look back on my life and ask myself if I treated others the right way. Did I give others the benefit of the doubt? Did I treat others the way I wanted to be treated. The lights are beaming down on me making my skin hot. I see people hid behind mask without knowing if they are smiling or laughing.The pain is so bad I look for ways to end it, permanently. I feel someone grabbing my elbow and start to shake it. Why are they making things worse, for me? A nurse states that she has to start another IV because the one I have has infiltrated. I look into the nurses eyes and tell her I am gonna die, anyway, so, what's the bother. She states I will need it for fluids. These fluids have no magical properties that will save my life. She says nothing. The years I have been on Morphine has created an immunity to narcotics. Nothing eases the pain. My whole body is racked in imense pain. The doctor came in and I asked him to put me in a medical coma, that I could not stand the pain any longer. Thank God, he agreed. He said he would have to intubate me. I told him that I did't care, I just needed some relief. He left the room and returned with two other doctors and a large pack rapped in blue. After a few minutes he said that he would give me some medication that would put me under and I would feel no pain. I could have kissed him. He hooked a syringe to my IV and pushed. After a couple seconds I felt no pain in five years. That is when I saw a blinding white light. I felt I was being transported to another place. At the end of the journey I saw all my family and friends that had died in the past. They looked the same and they gathered around me and we spoke to each other without talking. Am I in heaven. It was wonderful. This cannot be real. I am not dead. My brother, who I lost in 1989 told me that this was real. I asked him if I was dead. He told me that I wasn't dead that I would be returned to my body. I wanted to cry tears of joy but no tears came. I looked at all that were gathered around me and I could feel their love. I did not understand what was happening but it felt wonderful. I was in no pain, whatsoever. I wanted to ask questions, a million of them. The love was so intense and I knew it was time to leave. My family and friends faded into the light qand I was in nothingness. No conscious thought, at all. I was just there. I wanted to go back to see and feel the love I had expierenced. Nothing. Blackness.            theblogmeister

The Day After

  I wake up with my head pounding. I knew I should not have drank that Turkey. Does it every time.
  Another swimming hole we use is called the sand pits. It's where I have to dive out of trees instead of cliffs. The water is an amazing blue and refreshing as hell. It reminds me of a girl that I was crazy about. We spent a lot of time, there. I used to tell her she looked like a drowned rat. The opposite was true, however. I was 17 and she was 15. I swear she looked 20! I met her at a party and my buddy offered her a ride home. We made out like bandits in the back seat of his car. She had the smoothest lips and after tasting those lips I was hooked. My older brother was dating her sister at the time but in later years married my girl, the little sister, and it broke my heart. I don't think she knew exactly how I felt about her because if she did I don't think she would have married my brother. Then again, I was not even in the picture at that time. I was serving my country in the United States Air Force. When I found out the she was marrying my brother I was kinda relieved that I would be seeing a lot of her. There were a lot of things that happened during their marriage that I choose not to talk about at this time but I will always cherish those memories.
  After swimming at the sand pits for several hours I had to get home and get ready to go to Birmingham to a concert with my brother and his friend. We were standing in line to get tickets to Montrose and Robin Trower listening to my brothers buddy bitch about coming to the concert. My brother had to talk him into going with us. I think the Quaalude was the kicker that made his decision for him. As we were standing there a gentleman walked up and gave a free ticket to our buddy and we heard no more bitching from him the rest of the night.
  Sunday's were a hassle if you forgot to stock up on beer the day before. We had a couple bootleggers we used when the time arose. It cost us $3 dollars per six pack and gladly paid it. My mind was on, I'll call her Whoopie, most of the time. This was before she and my brother were married. I had never met anyone like her before. She loved to go with us to the swimming holes we frequented. Whether it was The Pot Hole, The Blue Hole, The Sand Pits, floating the river, it did not matter. She would climb those cliffs and jump with us. We even learned to rappell, together. Side by side down a cliff about 160 feet tall. She had balls and that was what attracted me to her. Not the balls, the absence of fear. I dream of those days we spent in the sun. I just want her to know that I had the most fun when she was with me. Whoop, Whoop!!                     theblogmeister 

Friday's : They're Not What They Used to Be

  Sitting in class, looking out the window wondering how many people are at the blue hole. The hole is about 5,000 football fields long and 200 wide. Cliffs range from 300+ feet. We had a few cliffs we named. One was called 3 point, because of the way the rocks stuck out. You were pretty bad if you dove off 3pt. We taped it at about 56 ft. Then there was "first drill bit." Its obvious of a name and easily found. Its 78 ft. You better wear your shoes on this one. It wouldn't be that hard to cut class.
  It was about 11 am when I got out of there. The seats were hot as hell as I slid into my 1968 Opel Kadett Hell, the cassette worked just fine. I punched in Molly Hatchet as I made my way down US 431 to get to the blue hole. You can see it a mile away. The good thing about it was the trail, it was a bitch to navigate all the way to the end. That's when you can see who all is there cause you can't see it from the highway. There must have been a dozen of my buddies, there. Everybody had nicknames. There was Road Whore, Cornbread (my brother), Pig, Zak, Porky (my oldest brother), Dawg (my youngest), Spotdog (me), Kilo, you get the point.
  Most were floating on their rafts with one raft designed to carry the beer. There was always music blaring from a stereo. It was mostly southern rock. The mid seventies tops all eras of music, if you asked me. A big hole in the side of a mountain with the bluest water I have ever seen, hence, The Blue Hole. A great place to be on a warm early May.
  You would not believe the people that would come buy and had never been there before. They would ask about the cliffs and where to launch yourself off the ledge. I was a show out. I'd set my big inner tube out and do a one and a half off the rock and land through the tube.
  We did have a guy that decided he was gonna jump off the top. We tried to talk to his friend to get himk to abort. "He's squirely," his buddy kept saying. "Well, I hope he's a flying squirel." I'd say. All our talk didn't change his mind. When he climbed to the top, he finished his beer, and off he went. All of my buddies headed towards their car. Someone had to call it in. (No cell phones). Me and Cornbread was sitting on three point when he jumped and as he fell, he slowly drifted to his back. The sound was something I've never heard, before. It was like a rifle shot.
  We sat there and waited on the rescue squad to direct the guys in the boat where the dude hit the water. They found him on a ledge in 70 feet of water. We had at least one a week drown. Where the path hit the water you had about 15 ft. before the bottom dropped out. I loved that place. Can't get to it, anymore. It's been commercialized and made into a dive shop.It's what we did. Smoke weed, drink a few cold ones and pick our party spot. That seems ages ago. Hell it was! I'll have more stories, later. theblogmeister

The Voices

After I decided to make the trek across the field back to my house my brothers began to tell me what kind of trouble I would be in. We had only one car which dad drove to work. My brothers tried to change my mind by telling me the evil things that would happen to me if I went home. They almost convinced me to stay, except the voices in my head were much, much stronger. I could not tell if the voices were evil or benign. I just knew I had to follow the voices.

 How can so much pressure be put on an 11year old when the most important thing is trying to figure out if was losing my mind. I don't like horror movies and believed that wasn't the culprit getting on a good 11and under basketball team. after verbal abuse, I made my way.  I didn't think I was crazy but I was convinced the voices were real and there were a reason for them.across the field, walked into the house and I got it even worse from my Mom. I was afraid to tell her that I heard voices, so, she parked me in front of the television with instructions not to move. While I was watching Loony Tunes my thoughts kept wondering if I, indeed hear those voices. I'm not the one to make up stories for the sole purpose to stay out of school. I loved school and it made me that much more to find out where these voices came from. I spent the better part of the morning watching TV when I heard my Mom scream out in agony. I rushed to her bedroom and found her on the floor clutching her chest. She could not speak only making gurgling sounds. As a ten year old, I was flipping out. I did not know what to do. I remember my Dad' work number written on the fridge so I called it. I got the plants' operator and I told her that I needed to speak to Herb Riley it was an emergency. She asked me what extension he worked in. I'm ten years old. I don' know the difference between an extension from a Bison. I then spouted out " extension 36" not knowing what I was saying. My Dad immediately came on the phone and I told him something is wrong with Mom. He said to go hold her hand and an ambulance would be on the way. It seemed only minutes when the medics pulled up, loaded her, and whisked her away. I thought I would never see my Mom, again. Two days later, she was having quadruple by-pass heart surgery in Birmingham. She was 33 years old. The first woman to have open heart surgery in Birmingham, Al.I know,now,why I did not want to go to school that day. God used me to save my mother's life. My mother passed away in March 2007 and I that God for using me so we could have her around another 38 years. I love you, Mom and miss you everyday. Your son and savior, Markie 

My First Meeting With Death, Not My Last

     I met death at the age of 15. It took me months to get over that first meeting. I kept my promise. I had a son born in 1985 and I named him Lance. That one was for yLancno.  As I said before my seior year in high school was a long one. I  ould not wait until it was my turn to join the Air Force. It never occured to me that I would not be stationed anywhere near my brother. He was a Shaw AFB, outside Columbia, SC, and I could very well be stationed out of the country. I just knew I had to join, period. I spent 8 weeks in basic training then
spent the next 12 months at Shephard, AFB in upstate Texas for my medical training  that was equal to a paramedic in the free world. I loved every minute of it, too. I was clear across the otherside  in the chow hall across base and a guy walked up to ask if I had a brother named Chaz. I was not familiar with his name, at that time. He threw me off and when I told him that I did not have a brother named Chaz. My brother was not named Chaz. In the military they go by your first name, which for bread is Charles. He qyuickly recieved a shorter version, Chaz. The airmen that approached me said that I sounded exactly like my brother. He was blown away. It tripped me out, too
    I joined the military in late fall and by the time I got the chance to see Chaz it was springtime. Which is not a bad time seeing how I was stationed in Ft. Walton Beach, Florida and he was stationed 80 miles from Myrtle Beach, SC
   I had bought a new 1977 Toyota Celica and loved to drive that thing, so, I convinced Chaz that I would  drive up there and then we would spend the weekend on Myrtle Beach. I had a buddy that worked in the pharmacy and he loved to smoke weed but didn't know where to get it. We worked up a deal that every payday, twice a month, I would get him an ounce of weed and he would get me a 500 pill bottle of 10mg Valiuhm. By the timgot to Shaw I must have had 700-800 blue valiums.
  Chaz worked in medical supply and had a blue tank of nitrous oxide, commonly known as laughing gas. When we got to the beach we were the party. After checking into our hotel and smuggling that tank to our room we head out to the beach recruiting folks for our party. When the word got out we had free V's and laughing gas, plus a keg of beer, we could have charged a cover and made a killing. We didn't charge and had so many people we had to move it to the pool. I think we had a good time cause I sure don't remember anything. The next day people I did not even know told me we sure knew how to party.  I had to take their word for it. I told them we had moved to another Hotel and there would be a party. Shit, when people hear free anything they will come in droves. The next party that next night was like it was in another city. I did not recognize a soul. Apparently Bread did cause I went to look for him and found him naked, in my bed! "Ya'll couldn't
use the floor, couch, or wait a minute, your own damn bed!" Guess they couldn't make it any further. It was still daylight outside when we started the second party so a few of us decided to take the water slide down. I was gazing off into the wild blue yonder when Bread huit me on the arm and said, "Look at that chick, she has a dick" I thought maybe there were some residual nitrous in his system or he hadn't gotten enough sleep when I looked at the girl he was pointing to and I'll be damn, she had a dick. He offered me $50 dollars to go ask her why she had a bulge in the front of her bottoms. As bad as I needed the money I waas not feeling up to getting a right hook from a female. We stared and tried to make sence at the hard-on she had when a dude from our party overheard us talking and he volunteered to ask her to, in some way, pay back on the most fun he had had
in years. We warned him that it might not turn out that well but he didn't care. I think he had one of those benzo hangovers from hell. We watched him walk over to her, talk to her for what seemed like a half hour then walked back where we were standing with our curiosity about to kill us. He didn't say anything and Bread screamed, "Well, what did she say?" the dude stared at us with a confused look then stated that he forgot to ask her about the bulge in her pants. We went apeshit. I'm not gonna tell you who actually asked the girl/boy but I will say it was done Democratically.  theblogmeister

My Brother Before Cornbread

Since 6th grade I had a friend that we considered brothers. His mother was the PE teacher at our high school, so, Lance and I found ourselves doing tricks on the trampoline and other gymnastic stuff. Lance and I spent a lot of time together. Spending the night with each other doing things together that made us inseperable. In about 1973, Lance's mom and dad got a divorce and his mom married my grandmother's younger brother. That was great for us. We were know calling each other cuz. It was a great friendship. In October of 1974, I was at the hospital where my mom worked. I used to love to go to work with my mom. Everytime an ambulance pulled in I would tell my mom that I was going to the ER to watch the Doctors and nurses work. Mom was not worried about me because she had many friends who worked in the ER to keep an eye on me. October 13, 1974 my grandmother happened to be in the hospital and as I was standing at the window I saw the flashing lights of an ambulance and quickly made my way to the ER. When I walked into the ER the first person I saw was our football coach with the front of his white shirt covered with blood. I did not know what was going on and was afraid to ask Coach Darnell when in walked the door was Doug Prater, Lance's brother. He had Buddy Massaro helping him into a treatment room. I grabbed a shoulder and helped Doug into the room. Soon, the nurse came in and wanted Doug to give a urine sample. He was not visibly hurt but I could tell that his mental state was not right. My questions about what had happened came without any answers. After sitting in the waiting room for a while I saw Lance's mom and dad come through the doors and were immediately taken to a room for family, only. While I was racking my brain trying to figure out what was going on I saw a guerney rolled out of a treatment room with the body covered in a sheet with massive amounts of blood at the area of the head. The nurse that was pushing the guerney by me stopped as I stood up. I reached for the sheet and uncovered his head and it was Lance. I do not remember walking to the 7th floor, where my mom worked and starting crying and could not stop. Mom called down to ER and found out what happened and immediately called my dad, who came and picked me up. It took several months for me to get back to some normalty. I made a promise that if I ever had a male child I would name him Lance. On June 3rd, 1985, I did have a male child and his name is Lance, who is attending U Mass with the hope of getting into Harvard Med. I have no doubt in my mind that he will accomplish this goal. He does have an angel named Lance looking out for him.        theblogmeister

Cornbread

The second of four boys, Charles H. Riley II, was named after my Dad because he was the spitting image. We called him Bubba his whole life until we became teenagers. I don't remember who gave him the nickname Cornbread but it stuck. Bread was a fighter early on in his life. In the first grade he was diagnosed with a degenerative hip condition called Leggs Perthese Disease. For two years he had to wear a harness that kept his left leg off the ground. It never bothered him. He played little league baseball using one crutch and could outrun most others.   Cornbread and I did not become real close until we were in high school. When he got his drivers license we were almost inseperable. Concerts, pool halls, juke joints is where we could be found. In the 70's, you did not have to worry about someone pulling a gun, so, fist fighting became our favorite passtime. We did a lot of it, too. Cornbread was not a huge guy he just knew how to fight. If anyone went places with him you could almost guarantee getting in a fight. It was a lot of fun, back then. Foosball was our thing. Buddy's gameroom on Hoke street was the place to go. We could put down a quarter on the foosball machine and play for hours. The winners kept playing and we were a very good team that played, a lot. My brother decided to join the Air Force when he graduated and when that day came I had lost my partner. My concentration went towards school. Not acedemically, it was more for entertainment. My senior year in school was a blur. I graduated but honestly don't know how. After my graduation I did what Cornbread did the year before. I, too, joined the United States Air Force and trained to be a medic. I was in Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. and Cornbread was at Shaw A.F.B., S.C. eighty miles from Myrtle Beach Me and Bread met a knew friend, Jimmy Buffett, and we became full blooded parrott heads. Soon, came the second worst day of my life. It went down hill from there.   theblogmeister

Youth Is Fleeting, Dammit!

  Summertime! That is what all my friends and I could not wait for. We had our hangout where everybody that was somebody found themselves there, daily. It was a huge hole in the mountain about 6 or 7 acres. The best part was that it was full of the bluest water I have ever seen surrounded by cliffs ranging from 20 feet to over 300 feet. The name happened to be the blue whole. You can't say us rednecks were dumb. Dozens of my classmates, and others, would meet with our floats, inner tubes, john boats, canoes, whatever would float because floating was very important. The depth of the blue hole no one knows. There is one place you can drive and park, walk down to the waters edge to access the beauty of this man-made playground. There is an area about twenty feet wide to wade in if you stay close to shore. The water depth drops off some ten feet from shore and it is deep. We didn't care how deep it was until someone wanted to dive off one of many cliffs. You never had to worry about hitting bottom. Legend states that it was an old mine and when the miners reached a certain level water ran them out. They had to leave all of their equipment and save themselves. It was said that the hole filled in over night. It is full of small bream and I could not begin to tell you where those fish came from. If you happen to have an open soar that is exposed on your body, somewhere, those fish will attack you like piranhas. It doesn't hurt. Those fish are tired of eating each other, I suppose.
   We spent many days floating on that beautiful water, making sure that the beer stayed cold and in the upright position. Newcomers would stop by and marvel at our place, because that is what it was, ours. I have seen many men, with a gut full of beer and balls as big as cantelopes, attempt to jump off the top of the blue hole. Only to meet their maker. I sure hope when I die, I am not drunk and running my mouth. Don't want to piss off the Big Man, on my first day. There was one time that I thought I would die. I had a half case of Buds in me and thought a nice swim across the thing would be a good idea. Wrong, again, Bob! It looks to be a hundred yards until you start swimming it. After a long time, I finally made it across. Don't know how. Never tried it, again.
   These two bikers pulled up and, having never been there, started bad mouthing our hole."Hell, I thought they said it was a high jump from the top." said the drunk on the Harley. My brother and I started taking up money to get this guy to try his skills at cliff diving. We scrounged up around $80 dollars and offered him a chance to make some money. I'll be damn if he didn't start the long trek up the mountain to get that money. We pleaded with his buddy and tried to get him to talk his buddy out of it. We even said the money was a joke. The biker kept climbing. The closer he got to the top you could see some of the regulars start to leave. They said that they could not watch him kill himself. There were no talking him down, either. All we had was floats. No one had a boat there at the time. He took three beers still in the plastic can holders and when he reached the top there were only one left. His buddy actually thought he could succeed at this suicide mission. We all watched him as he opened the last beer praying that he would soon jump up and yell, PSYCH"! Then laugh and climb on down, however, that was not the case. There were ten of fifteen of us left and we stared at awe with our slack jaws. I guess awe is a poor word choice for that situation. After about thirty minutes of the biker sitting at the top listening to our pleas to come down he stood up. Hell, I believe the birds stopped chirping. A faint breeze could be heard, that was all. I don't know how long he stood there, seemed like hours, when he jumped. People looked the other way but I was absolutely intrigued. It was almost like he was in slow motion. He drifted backwards and then you heard a shot. It sounded like a rifle. I saw him hit flat of his back. He was dead when he hit the water. His buddy was whooping, "I told you he would do it." My brother and I made our way to the first drill bit, a landmark we used to see how high we could jump. I heard someone say they were calling the rescue squad. We gad no cell phones back then, so, he had to drive to the nearest store. After ten minutes no one could see him and his biker buddy started hollering his name swimming in the direction he hit the water. I was following Cornbread, my brother, up to first drill bit to get a birds eye view of the situation. By the time we got there it must have taken thirty minutes and the jumper was nowhere in sight. We decided to sit there at the edge and watch the rescue people drag for his body. You could hardly see us from where the squad put thier boats in. We watched them until they found his body. I felt so bad for his buddy because he was taking it very hard. It was not the last time someone died at the blue hole nor was it the last time we spent lazy days in the hot Bama heat.   theblogmeister

She Entered My Life, It would Never Be The Same

It was the year 1974 when I was first introduced to her. We hit it off, immediately. Soon, we we're inseparable. Following the concert, that Wet Willie performed, we left the place together and spent the next 6 years side by side. In that time our whole life was dedicated to going to concerts. Back then, concerts were big, I mean Big. We lived in an ideal location . Two hours to our east sat Atlanta, Ga. One hour south was, and still is, Birmingham, Al. Three hours North and we could be in Nashville, Tn. About 2 hours north we found ourselves in Huntsville, Al. Finally, 6 hours due South is the beautiful white beaches of the Gulf Coast. I have a scrap book that has all my ticket stubs and an impressive guitar pick collection. You see, back then there were general admission seating, only. Not like today where you can't get up out of your seat. Oh no, when we got into the door, we made a mad dash to the stage, so I could add to my pick collection. We are talking about some of the best Rock bands in history. I saw Lynyrd Skynyrd at Rickwood Field, the oldest baseball park still standing. Ronnie Van Zsandt and the boys were jamming, running late, that did not matter to the city of Birmingham, about 11;30 pm the power was cut off to the band. There were around 40,000 pissed off fans, not to mention Skynyrd. The next time Skynyrd played in Birmingham, they were told that they could play all night, if they so desired. It did not matter, if a band was playing within a 100 mile radius of Gadsden, Al. me and my love were there.
    Even though I had a companion, my older brother was right by our side. Life was good and I could not see it changing, anytime soon. Until I heard in late 1975 that my brother was joining the Air Force. He was to graduate in May of 1976. As a farewell party, I took him to the Boss Music Hall, in Destin, Fl. to see a band that was recommended by a dear friend. They were still playing copy music but man these guys were awesome! Every now and then they would play an original song on their upcoming debut album, yes all we had was vinyl, back then. The band we saw performing I had never heard and believed they were gonna be special. I might give it away, here, but the original song was "Gator Country" by a band that had been on the bar scene. After the release of their debut album called "Molly Hatchet" they never played in a bar, again. These guys were fantastic! From the mold of "Southern Rock" they climbed the charts like a rocket. It was unbelievable.
   Now, I had a dilemma. I was soon to lose my best friend to the Air Force and as a junior in high school it would be awhile before we would be able to maintain the concerts that we so desperately loved. I decided that if he could not go, with my love having no say, at the time, I decided to , also, join the Air Force. My brother and I were 2 years apart and we're the best of friends with a huge influence on me. This is the beginning of wild ride for my readers and I hope you tell all your friends. No more talking about politics and that other bullshit, this is for real and I survived it.                            theblogmeister

At The Edge of The Cliff

That is as close as I'll get right now. Thanks to my readers,  theblogmeister

It Was Not The Colonel, Last hight I was at the edge.

I have absolutely no idea who was hacking into my blog, last night. I thought it was a joke, at first, then he began reading my blogs without going to the actual blog. It was crazy, to say the least..
   If I go crazy will you still call me Superman if I'm alive and well will you be there holding my hand? Three Doors Down I am having for breakfast this am after a very strange night.
   Dreaming right away,nothing seems to fill this place, I need this every time.just take your elastic off my case and someday I will find a love that flows through me like this and this will fall away ..this will fall away .I'm getting closer to pushing me off life's ledge, cuz I'm a  loser sooner or later you know I'll be dead you're getting closer to holding the rope and taking the fall. Cause I'm a loser, I'm a loser, yea.
    This is getting old, I can't break these chains that I hold. My body's growing cold There's nothing left of this mind or my soul, addiction is a pacifier, the buzz of this poison is taking me higher and this will fall away this will away,this will fall away i'm getting closer closer to holding the rope and taking the fall, cause I'm a loser. That is what I had felt like after keeping a dark secret for over twenty years. I may sound stupid but if there is a kid out there that reads this blog and it touyches them somehow, please, leave me a comment and I will get in touch and save your life. That is a promise. Now, that I rebuilt my computer, minus the code, I will be making an entrance daily. I'll make you laugh, cry, get mad and most of all I will help you find your way. Finding my way, I've been gone for so long. I lost count of the years. Yes, I sang some bad songs and I felt some bad tears. RUSH I'd cry, too, if I didn't have the great Neil Peart, the professor. Later,  theblogmeister
  
   

I don't know what the hell I am DOING!

Another day, another dreary-eyed homosapien dragging my claws with a break when I scratch my nuts. It has been so long since I have posted and you want to know why? I have been in a vegetative state thanks to Morphine Sulphate. People do crazy shit to get their hands on this drug. All I want is to get off it. Maybe soon. I met a Neurosurgeon last week and he told me there was a real problem with my Lumbar spine.Spondylolisthesis and spina bifida occulta. Both were aggravated by my service to our country as a United States Air Force medic. After the problems with my PTSD, it is well documented in these blogs. Just go to the archives. My addiction to pain killers started many, many years ago. You know what the say about doing drugs? Jails, institutions, or DEATH. Fortunate for me, I was sent to the Alabama Department of Corrections. A new life I would have to adapt to make it, through. Well, It was in the middle of August in South Bama and the only place that had air conditioning was the Law Library. One problem; You had to have a case number to get in. If you didn't have that number, you awesome getting in, period. I had to think fast. I had to get off this farm squad and get in that A/C.

   Looking back on the run-ins with the law in a small town, everyone knew everyone. I had to find me a case, and fast. I thought about the Task Force busting in my house and that was it. There are at least 2 constitutional violations. So, I filed a 1883 form in Federal court pleading informa pauperous. Hell, I'm ain't got money for a filling fee. I sued everybody involved, both personally and professional, What is mos important, I got my case number and could go the the A/C anytime. Two years into the case, the lawyers of the cops flooded me with motions and pleadings trying to make me think it isn't worth it. I had a Federal Magistrate in the Norther District of Alabama send me the civil rules of Civil Procedure. Thank God he sent it, soon because I was about to lose by default. Imagine all those lawyers the way the looked. When the Judge ruled there was significant issues that should be addressed by the jury. That, my blogger friends is called The Summary Judgement Stage. It is where frivolous lawsuits are thrown out. I knew I had the rest of the summer and most of the next next summer working on my case. I spent better part of 6 years in this last trip to the ALABAMA DOC. Staying cool, working my case then about 3 years later the boss at the camp woke me up at midnight and informed me I was on transferr. I told him there must be some mistake, and there was. I was to be transported by then US Marshals to the Hugo Black Federal Court Co-use. I had asked for a lawyer and never heard from one. When the Mars halls got me in the side cell at the court house when a man walks in and introduces himself as my attorney.

   I freaked out, especially when the trial was to start a 9am. My lawyer could tell I was extremely nervous and assured me that everything would be fine. He held up about an 8in thick of notes, pleadings, notions, you name it. Kenneth, my lawyer, told me that I did a hell of a job on this case and I should have been a lawyer. The trial lasted 2 days. All the prosecutions case was eyewitness from three police officers. I had the truth. Kenneth laid  the wood on Gadsden's Narcotic Task Force He asked why did about 12 officers show up at my clients house, with the canine squad," Isn't that correct?" Yea I guess the wast that many, Harbin spoke through his dip. "   Mr. Harbin, you came to my clients house with the expressed intention of violating his constitution right by search his house without a warrant." " No, we just wanted to talk." What a gomer. or, he underested me.    theblogmeister

The Colonel Is Back

After all this time I thought that I had the Col. put in my past. I was wrong. Last night I feel asleep in my recliner with the footstool in the upright position and stretched back as far as I could go. I was wrapped in a blanket, just about to fall asleep when my footstool hit the bottom with my feet slamming into the floor. This was not an accident. It takes my right arm to physically force the arm down to lower the footstool on my recliner. There was no way it could have accidentally been me doing it. As I said before, my arms were inside the covers. The noise woke me up with a jolt, my heart beating loud into my ears. It took a few seconds for me to realize what had happened. I opened my eyes and saw the door to my den closing. I knew it was not my wife. If she is not in the bed I can find her in the recliner next to me, and she was not there. I quickly got up to see if I could find who or what was responsible for closing the door. I saw nothing. I eased my way back to the bedroom and my wife was purring softly in our bed. My mind racing, I did not exactly know what had just happened. Was it a dream? No, my whole body was under the covers, there was no way I could have been responsible for letting the recliner down. My next thought, it must be the Colonel. Why after so long is he back? I went back and sat in the dark, straining to listen for any sound out of place. That is when I heard him. A low whispering laugh. I started to get real scared. It had to be him, who else could it have been? Maybe after all these months of not talking about him he felt like I had abandoned him. Hell yes, I abandoned him. Was he out for revenge? If you have read any of my blogs you will know that I am not a writer. I write what I see, feel and believe. What is the Col. after? As I was pondering these thoughts I heard the bathroom door close, hard. I know my wife, she never slams a door and is always after me for doing it. I got up, once again, and made my way to the bathroom. The light was on with the door locked. I retreated to my bedroom to check on Lorri. She was still in bed. Who the fuck is in my bathroom? I left the bathroom and came to the computer room to write this before my mind forgot. I here banging on my bathroom door. I have to check it out. I hope to get back with you, soon.   theblogmeister

Crazy?

Does Jesse have any credibility as to what he is saying? It is rather interesting, I must say.    theblogmeister

The Demon Visited, Again, Last Night

  For thirty years I suffered with a demon that haunted me every night. For the first time this demon was the very same demon that terrorized me all those years. Why was it the colonel? I guess he still resides in my subconscious mind, he has never left, is my guess. The Colonel tortured me until he had a reason to stop. I guess he has found a reason to start, now. If you are familiar with The Colonel of my past then you should know why he wanted me to end his life; it was because of pain. A pain so severe he could not take it, anymore. I am not, by any means, saying my pain is in the class of his. His body was eaten up by cancerous cells. My pain is severe enough, enough that 240 mgs of Morphine a day does not even touch it. My question is why am I getting visits from The Colonel? I am sure he knows what I an going through, but why now? Surely he doesn't think that I will want to do what I did to him? So, what is his motivation? To give me pointers, to tell me what it is like in the new realm that he is in? I don't even know where the hell he is. The visit I got from him last night was creepy. It was not the evil apparitions I used to get. He actually looked  like he did when he was first admitted to our floor on 2-east at Eglin Regional Hospital at Eglin AFB, Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. He looked great, with that white hair blowing in the hot Florida sun. He was tanned like he had spent the whole day playing golf in the Florida sunshine. As you may notice, I really thought the world of that man. Even though he terrorized my psychological mind for many, many years, I have considered him a friend, a mentor, almost a family member. That was before he almost ruined my pcyche. Of all the trauma he put me through, why has he chosen to enter my life,again? Is he trying to tell me something. I don't know. I guess we will find out.                                   theblogmeister

The Demon's Are Back

Severe pain will make a person do some very crazy things. I have heard of people killing themselves because they could not handle the pain. When I first started this blog I was racked with extreme emotional pain. What is the difference? Physical pain, at the beginning, can be controlled by narcotics, if the pain is severe enough. Emotional or psychological pain cannot be alleviated by any drug. During my early years while I was in the Air Force working as a medic in a hospital. I met a man that would change my life, forever. If you have read my earlier blogs, then, you know the whole story. If you have not, I strongly suggest that you do so. It will give you the springboard into my years of insanity. If you have no idea what I am talking about I will give you a short look into my past. When I was 19 years old, I met a man that would haunt me for the next 30 years. The reason? I took his life. The colonel was a great friend that was dying of inoperable cancer. A cancer that proved to not respond to any treatment. After watching him waste away to 80 pounds and a shell of what he once was, he came to me and asked me to end this suffering for him. It was a very hard decision for me to grapple with. I wanted to be a doctor and killing your patient was not apart of becoming a doctor. He was a smart man, a retired fighter pilot, and manipulated me,a kid, into doing what he wanted. So, I did it. I won't go into the specifics, you can read about all that in my earlier blog posts. The demon I am suffering with, today,is one not much different than the one before. Here is what is happening.
  In 2006, I had a spinal fusion surgery because of a degenerative disc disease. My L-5 vertebrae had dropped so far down that it interfered with my nerves that ran down my leg. Five months after the insertion of surgical screws, rods, and bone grafts that were supposed to keep the L-5 vertebrae in place actually worked. Until 5 months after the surgery. Unfortunately for me, a titanium screw broke causing the neurosurgeon to go back in and remove all the hardware that was put in to correct the problem. Every since I have been taking morphine sulphate to deal with the pain. Now, five years later, I am at a point where the pain meds do not work, I am in constant excruciating pain, I am totally limited to what I can do. The result; The Demon is back. He is trying to convince me to follow the colonel's path. I know I could end the pain in a second. I have been trying to get the VA to do the surgery, but to no avail. I have found a surgeon that will take medicare and do the surgery but I will have to come up with the 20% medicare will not cover. I have has this blog for 5 years and have made $10 dollars in google adsense advertising. That is a scam. All I am asking from my readers is to donate so I can have the surgery. I have been getting 300 hits/day and if my readers would like to help, please donate on my blog. You can save my life. Thank you, theblogmeister

Positive Energy

It came come in many ways. It may be self-induced, it may come from someone that really cares about your well being, even from bad things that have happened to someone else. Whatever the route, it is essential in maintaining a good self esteem. I have a younger brother that has done for me more than he will ever realize. The one thing that he used to say to me when shit crumbled around me was this, "Do good and good things will happen to you." It is a simple statement that carries a lot of weight. It is another way of saying what most of us learned as a child, "The Golden Rule." "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." I remember learning it in Vacation Bible School. You may have learned it in some other fashion. My brother was persistent in reminding me of this simple, yet, powerful statement. The problems that I have faced over three decades had only created more problems. When I found that narcotics alleviated my mental as well as physical pain, I abused it to the point of deaths door. Then I would hear those words that my brother used to say to me, Do good and good things will happen. It took a long time for me to live those words. Well, I have been doing good and good things have been happening. No, great things. So, I want to take this time to tell my brother that he is the main reason of the good in my life. He did it out of love and I want to tell him that I was listening. It may not have seemed like I was, but I heard those powerful words. Now, I want to say thank you. Thanks for the belief in me and especially for those nine words. I love you, Bro theblogmeister

Night Train

For the past 30+ years,less the past 7, I have been caught on a night train that had topped Donner Pass, on the border of California and Nevada, and began to pick up speed that nothing could slow it down. I tried 12-step meetings, self help books, you name it, I have probably tried it. The reason I was ruining my life can be contributed to one thing; PAIN. At first it was mental pain. The pain and guilt of reliving the day that I ended a man's life. There was not a day, or night, that those memories would fail to resurface. The toughest thing that I ever dealt with was the nightmares, night after night. Then, it snowballed, just like that train topping Donner Pass. The speed that train gained is comparable to the speed in which my life began to unravel. It was not long and the most important thing to me was narcotics. Narcotics are good for relieving physical pain just as well as emotional pain. I had to have them because you see, those were my weapons to fight the demon that was haunting me. When I could not find drugs to buy I would go to the emergency room and pull a scam on the doctors. It is amazing to hear a doctor tell you that you had some cracked ribs and the only treatment was to manage the pain. There are a lot of ER doctors I could get them in a heap of trouble but that, I cannot do. I also will not reveal the scam for fear of others that are drug seeking may do what I perfected. I should have been an actor. I really had a blast "performing" my injury. It worked every time. I was even admitted into a hospitals ICU for the weekend. Shots every 4 hours. By that time the train was out of control. The only way to stop it would be a concrete wall. Others on the train tried everything they knew to get it to stop. Nothing. Everybody gave up on me and bailed. Here I was, knowing where I was headed, and I rode that train for a long time. Alone. I knew the day was coming when I would kiss the concrete and I chose to ride on. Then it happened. August 24th was when I kissed the concrete. The ride was over. I had survived. It is a miracle, too. They put me on a bus, not an ambulance, and drove me to Kilby Correctional Center in Montgomery, AL. to begin serving a 20 year sentence. I hit it, hard. The main thing out of it all, I lived through the runaway night train. I am still living, just a day at a time, now. I will not get back on the night train. Please donate what you can. Thanks for listening. theblogmeister

The Demon Lives

I have had a relatively quiet couple weeks until last night. Something woke me up in the middle of the night. I could not put my finger on what exactly it was. I do not remember a loud noise that usually is the reason for these late night awakenings. I sat there a few minutes to get my bearings. When I stood up it felt as if I was standing on the deck of a ship tossing at sea. I reached out to hold onto the bed to keep from falling. I thought for a minute that we were having an earthquake. The tossing lasted only 30 or 40 seconds but seemed a lot longer. My next guess was the colonel. I had not had any problems with him in a while. The house was dark but seemed to be illuminated by a strange light. I had no problem making my way through the house, I could see perfectly. That is when I heard a low deep voice. The same voice I remember over 30 years ago. It was the colonel. I could not make out what he was saying. It was odd that he would speak at all after the last time he spoke to me. I tried to find out where the voice was coming from. It was a constant moan like he used to do when he was my patient and was in a lot of pain. I walked into the den and the moan sounded like it was coming from where I was just standing. He is fucking with me, again. I walked the whole house and the moan always seemed to come from a room away. To hell with this, I am going back to bed, I decided. As I crawled in bed and closed my eyes the moan came from my bedside and it was so loud it scared the shit out of me. I jumped up and yelled, "Leave me alone!" For a second it was quiet and then the sound of laughter. I lay back down with laughter all around me. I finally dozed off and after waking up I asked Lorri if she heard anything that was strange last night. She heard nothing. theblogmeister