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Sunday, August 24, 2008 An Oral History Of Myself Chapter 1 Part 9 read part 8 here read part 7 here read part 6 here read part 5 here read part 4 here read part 3 here read part 2 here read part 1 here Joe - Business Owner I believe I was one of your first friends at Boone. I think it was right when you get there in third grade. I remember you had this pissing match with my older brother about who knew more long division. That's my first memory of you, the new kid in third grade with the funny accent. Then I remember meeting your mother and father. Your mom was walking at the time. She wasn't always in a wheel chair. After that you mostly came to my house or were by the school. But the next time I saw your mom she had deteriorated. I think I just blocked it all out. As a fourth grader I couldn't process that. I started getting into trouble early because my mother and stepfather were drug dealers. They decided not to hide it from me and my brother because we would eventually find out and being a liar is worse than being a druggy. I started dealing in seventh grade. I was stealing it from my stepfather. My father was not in the picture then. He was having a hard time finding work. We generally went back to my place. You, and me, and Aaron, and whoever wanted to come because my parents were never home. I wasn't really selling it so much as I was smoking everybody up. I mean, in seventh grade who had money? That one black kid, Brian Brammar, came back and stole my stepfather's marijuana. Kevin came into the picture around seventh grade. Kevin had a difficult childhood that he never shared with me. We had that gang. I forget what we were called. We used to breakdance. Kevin was a true friend but I burned my bridges with Kevin. I wish I could take that back. In grammar school you were popular because you were interesting and you were different. I think most people don't see themselves for who or what they are. You didn't see yourself as popular. You had a lot of older friends from the high school and they would be waiting for you when school got out. Eighth grade came around and you were basically on the run and the cops were looking for you. This was around the time we started breaking into parking meters. We were over by Freedy's and the cops were looking for you and I ran with you. By chance I had a pocketful of nickels. They were looking for you and they were looking for kids breaking into meters. You said, "Stall them so I can get out of here." They found all these nickels in my pocket and I was like, "Look, these are from home. The meters don't take nickels." They asked about you and I was like, "Yeah, I know him. You just missed him." You would pretty much do anything at that time. You were doing much stronger drugs, like tic (Ketamine) and wicked stick (PCP). In a sense you had nothing to lose. I remember the stories of you being locked in the basement, chained to a pipe or something. In hindsight it makes you feel like no matter how many friends you have or who you know ultimately you're alone and you die alone. Even though I knew you and I loved you I couldn't do anything for you. Aaron, Sergio, and me robbed my landlord because they had a basement apartment and they didn't lock it. We went down there and grabbed all this stuff. Aaron decides to take the TV, goes upstairs to my house, puts the TV on the table, and goes to take a shit. I guess the adrenaline was too much for him and he couldn’t finish the job. My stepfather comes home and sees this TV. We stored all the stolen good at Sergio's. Then the landlord tells my parents their place was robbed. My stepfather turns us in. The cops say give the stuff back and nothing's going to happen. So I tell them where the stuff is and we go to Sergio's. They didn't press charges. Sergio's still mad at me because as a fourteen year old I had the cops come to his house to get the stolen stuff. Aaron got more serious into robbing houses. I didn't go down that path. I wasn't much of a thief; I didn't like stealing. In high school you weren't at Mather; you were across the street at the DCFS school. You were in the foster system by then and I ended up meeting all your friends. I used to wish that I could be more like you. I brought some beers to one of the foster houses. We're drinking, smoking cigarettes, all that good stuff, and one of the counselors came in. "Who's beer is this?" they said. "Somebody better claim it right now." I didn't say anything. You stood up, grabbed the beers, and walked out. I was like, why couldn't I have done that? I realized I had to stop being such a pussy. You had severe acne problems and you seemed like you were uncomfortable in your own skin. Of course, growing up the way you did and then having those changes in your life and going into foster care you must have felt like, Why me? Everybody else is living a normal life. We were partying with Tom and Mary and someone got us a ride to pick up your mother's guitar. You were so happy. I said, "Why are you so happy about this piece of shit guitar?" You gave me a look like, "What the fuck's wrong with you?" I lived an innocent childhood except for the drugs and robbing houses. In high school I worked at Venture and dated my manager, Sandy Engle. I called her San Diego because she was so big. She was twenty-six and I was sixteen. She was my first. But I don't want to go there. We're talking about you. I had my own mental issues. I turned sixteen in a psych ward. I was on anti-depressants at a young age and I thought they were bullshit. I took a whole bottle and almost died. I had to get my stomach pumped. I had something of a mini-stroke where I lost feeling on one side of my body. I don't know why it was so crazy for us. When you think about it, where we grew up wasn't that rough. I lived about four of five blocks from school. We would all walk to school without parental guidance. Nowadays in that neighborhood you don't let your kids walk to school without parental control. I don't know why being in a decent neighborhood like we were things got so crazy, so out of control. We didn't have proper guidance. I think you had a legitimate issue in your life with your mother. You had issues coping with your mother and so did your father. The only thing is your father was a grown adult and he should know better and put his child first. But he had to deal with his wife's death the same as you had to deal with your mother's death. I had good parents. Except for my mom and stepfather smoking weed in front of us. I think they were good people. I got kicked out of Mather for drugs. I went to Truman Middle College where they had a program for kids that got kicked out of high school. I ended up getting my diploma. I wanted to join the army but failed the physical. They wouldn't take me. My father became a cop when he was forty and I moved in with him. We were smoking in front of the school when a police car pulls up to us. Everybody's throwing away all the weed but it's just my dad asking if I'm coming home for dinner. When I was sixteen I was hanging out with Doots and all those scumbags. They turned me on to crack. I remember I was tripping on acid watching (Pink Floyd's) The Wall when they came over. My father worked nights and they liked to come over where they could do their crack without having to get a hotel room. I took a big jumbo hit of crack, which I probably didn't need because I was tripping on acid. Man, that just rocked my world. From that point every paycheck went toward crack. I've gone to rehab four times. First when I was fifteen. And then a year later when I tried to kill myself. Then when I was twenty-two and again when I was twenty-six. Crack is definitely the hardest drug that I ever encountered. It always leaves you wanting more, never gives you satisfaction. I don't know how I finally kicked it. I think I was just so busy with work. I finally found something to fill the void. Our worlds took different paths. We were never enemies. I remember I saw you at Erick's North, that club on McCormick. We just run up to each other and hug. It wasn't a quick hug. We hug for a minute. We look like flaming homos. It really meant a lot to me that it was mutual. We were so happy to see each other because we had our youth together. Everybody thought we were queers. posted by Stephen Elliott 12:54 PM | link | |
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"Any true love story, if told with the urgency and animal intelligence of love, isn't for the fainthearted. On every page of this profound, distilled work of art, Stephen Elliott wrestles with the unknown and unspoken essences of love, and articulates that unknown so beautifully, with such clear-eyed fearlessness... Imagine a glass of pure water with one drop of blood hanging in its center, about to dissolve... Then drink it and be transformed." -Nick Flynn, author of Another Bullshit Night in Suck City "There's an emotional courage to these stories, and a sense of urgency, that are thrilling to encounter. Elliott writes as if his life depended on each sentence. It is not overstating the case to say that he does for the BDSM community in this book what Denis Johnson did for lost druggies in Jesus' Son." - Steve Almond, The Believer Magazine Best of the year: Salon.com, San Francisco Chronicle Reviews: Salon.com, LA Weekly, The Believer Excerpts: My Stripper Year, Just Always Be Good Purchase from Amazon, Powells, Cleis, and your local bookstore 
"Happy Baby is surely the most intelligent and beautiful book ever written about juvenile detention centers, sadomasochism, and drugs." - Curtis Sittenfeld, The New York Times Book Review Best of the year: Village Voice, Salon.com, Chicago New City, The Journal News Awards: Finalist Young Lions Award, Silver Medal California Book Award Reviews: The New York Times, Salon.com, Village Voice Excerpts: Stalking Gracie Part 3 Purchase from Amazon, Powell's, and your local bookstore 
"Hunter S. Thompson, Norman Mailer, Richard Ben Cramer: the great, all-American genre of the political campaign in extenso (and in extremis) has had its Homers and Boswells. To that list we can now add Stephen Elliott. Hilarious, strange, electrifyingly written, and heart-pumpingly idealistic, Looking Forward to It wins every literary caucus and primary in a landslide." -Tom Bissell, author of Chasing the Sea Best of the year: Village Voice Reviews: New York Magazine, New York Times Excerpts: The Dennis Kucinich Polka, A John Edwards Almanac Purchase from Amazon, Powell's (cheap!), and your local bookstore 
"A Life Without Consequences was harrowing, hard as nails, brutal, and soaring. Stephen Elliott has to be watched, because he knows things almost no one else could." - Dave Eggers, author of A Heart Breaking Work of Staggering Genius and What Is The What Excerpt: Adlai Stevenson House Reviews: Austin American Statesman Purchase from Amazon |
