I got arrested again. There is more to it than that of course but that is where I must begin. getting pulled over I knew that it would end badly. I had already scheduled off all of friday to go to chattanooga and take care of the last of my licence stuff.

So they had to get 3 cars. So I had to be cuffed. Apparrently traffic stops do not need their rights read even if they are going to jail. Then they search the car. Hmm boffer weapons represent a mystery to the native braves. The box full of mage type stuff made them think me a cultist. TRied to explain, then they found the mouse traps with fishing line attached. No sir I did not plan on being searched today.

Then they found the armor. The natives like the armor. they would show it to each other with a certain ammount of glee. Thumbs up to the jailbird on the armor.

The station was loads of fun. especially after they found the single advil in my pocket. they decided they didn't want to believe me and that I was probably going to be in a load of trouble if they checked it out. "you look to nervous,boy." said the guard. Lets see I am in jail. faced with a cop who thinks I am a druggy, and I dont know how I am getting out.

Me...not nervous at all.

took my call. Called Mickey. Called speaks. world calming down knowing that people are backing my play.

There was a Japaneese man in the cell with us. middle aged with a fine suit he seemed to be a surreal addition to the day.

I will write more but work calls.

To get this out of the way.

So i was omming off the 9 hour flight back. Mickey was waiting to pick me up. I was tired as i appear to be incapable sleep on a plane.

Customes looked at my passport and asked me to hold on. 29 minutes they take me to a back room. Luckily no rubber hoses. I was a little worried by the sheer number of folks in trenchcoats. I began to review the contents of my bags.

2 pounds of tea.....check

Discounting my being an avid reader as a violation of us customes laws, I figured it probably was not my bags.

Just as i got to maximum iritation and worry(maybe my past had caught up with me). Nope, well not exactly. I was being arrested for a warrant issued in Jackson georgia 3 years ago concerning a broken headlight.

Customes had to hold me for this. called Jackson to determine if they were going to come get me. Yep. So now customs contacts Atlanta pd. Atlanta pd comes and gets me and takes me to Clayton couty lock up as it is the closest. I get a private cell. yay me.

been about 2 years to the day since my last visit with a jail. Since I talked with my father from a jail cell. Since I cursed his name. 2 weeks and 2 years ago he killed himself.
Jail is a bad place.

Jackson finally comes and gets me at 2 in the morning. an hour ride later and I am in jackson. They fill out paper work. Seems I owe 80 dollars. I get escorted to the Bank next door so i can withdraw money. I pay off fines.
Called mickey at 3 something in the morning to come get me. he shows up bleary eyed as he had waited up for my call. Sorry Mick!

I get home at 5:30. The power is out from the bank not making an auto bill pay.....again. go to work.

Need more sleep.

more on th vacation later.

technoir: (Default)
( Mar. 3rd, 2003 07:30 am)
I would like to be writing you about the rest of my trip. My days were so full that when I was done with them I was too worn out to really post. I was going to do a good post after coming back.

However I was arrested last night and that has put a damper on things. I will do my rest of the story post later I assure you.
I feel like slightly out of focus. Like a bad image of the real me. As if there were such a thing. I am tired and depressed. My heart is not in it.

A depressing song playing the back ground as I look out my window. The view, in the real, is of the police station in Cobb county. I can see of the back of the place with it's single door. I like to imagine a desperate escape. A prisoners mad dash ending there in a spectacle of violence as the flag flaps in the breeze.

Of course it is not dark out. the sky is black, but the lights are bright. Street lights. Neon lights of the restaurant across the street from the police station. The white spot of the police station turned inward, star of it's own boring show.

In the light, all detail is clear. I can see the mortar lines in the brick. I can see the worn metal trim and the cameras lining the roof. Every detail fascinating only because it is a detail. My adled head seeking imagery to play with.

I guess I am given to obscure distractions when depressed. Why I decided to share this stream of thought, I cannot say really. Least I didn't reveal any of the big secret. Only I am not myself this week. Maybe i can be someone else for a while.

Slaying my Own Unicorns
technoir: (Default)
( Mar. 19th, 2002 08:43 pm)
Sunday....Saint paddy's day...was also the aniversary of my incarceration.

I was in jail, due to a being pulled over on a suspended licence and other stuff. Moot point realy, as I was working on getting out of jail, looking for bail in easily the most scary and most embarrasing time of my life, I talked to dad.

It would be the last time I would speak to him. He couldn't help me with bail and i was pissed.
He tried to say he was sorry and I lashed out at him. Of all things I have done or said I wish i could have taken that back. I was mean to him and hung up on him...I didn't even say goodbye.

A week later he died of liver failure. Part of me wonders if he knew that would be our last talk. The sad thing in all of that is I cant decide who I hate more in that, dad for killing himself for years, or me for not telling him how i felt about him before he left. He was disappointed in me so often in my life and all I ever wanted was to have his respect. He was not my natural father but that didn't matter to me cause he never treated me as anything less than his son. I loved him. He taught me to think, to argue, to take a stand.

In the end he drank himself to death. Like his best friend Karl Edward Wagner. He just gave up. He had been told to go to a hospital and he had told them he would go after he put the paper to bed. He was not a dumb man he knew what liver failure meant. He still went home and drank and i killed himself.

I hate him for that a little. I wish I had a chance to take back what I said but I cant. This coming monday is the aniversary of his death. I guess i have not been my usual chipper self toi my friends.....sorry gang. Marie has been a boon in keeping me cheered up. I owe her for that.

I guess I am done rambling now....

Jsut needed to get that out. Sorry to bore with my problems

Be well all



technoir: (Default)


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