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"We know that the world is more than what is perceived by the five human senses." Deepak Chopra

Around 92 or so I went to a rave at an amusement park called Casper. I took a bus there with a bunch of other like-minded wackos looking for a good time. I took some e and rode a roller coaster, There's nothing in this world that compared to rushing on e and feeling like you might die. I'm surprised I didn't puke. I'm sure a lot of people did that day. There were different venues with music... the massive scale of everything was overwhelming and I was into breakbeat so I spent a lot of time in the room that was geared towards that. I think Overload was playing and I was browsing mixtapes he had in front of the booth. Some dude came up to me and said something to the effect of “if you like this stuff you should check out my mixtape.” That’s how I met Dieselboy. Apart from that, I don't remember much other than that at one point I was making out with some girl on the ground and a bouncer came and told us to move on.

I remember getting a McDonald's record made out of some thin substance that was strapped to a happy meal or something. It played their old song Big Mac McBLT A quarter pounder with some cheese Filet-O-Fish a hamburger a cheeseburger a happy meal... or something like that. It's funny how bad my memory is but I still remember stupid stuff like that.

The emotions involved with certain things affect me intensely. They affect everyone, I'm sure but they affect me particularly intensely because of whatever trauma my brain's been through. reminiscing or watching a video of something from my childhood makes me feel very excited. Everyone gets excited when they see nostalgic videos but let me try to explain. For the first year or so after I had a stroke, I would laugh uncontrollably at things that only I thought were funny. I would cry at sappy movie moments and other things that were designed to pull at your heartstrings. It was uncomfortable for anyone around me I'm sure but it was a whole psychological shift for me that as of September 2022 I'm still dealing with. There's been some progress since then though and I seem to be less emotionally affected by things. And I'm trying to accept that that's something that'll be with me for the rest of my life and I should continue to learn to embrace it. I don't wanna lose that kind of extreme empathy or whatever it is that I experience, but I'm not worried about it. Odds are really in favor of that not disappearing. It sounds kinda sappy but I think everyone should try to relive the experiences that made them happy as a kid and try to recreate that somehow in their daily lives. Maybe the world would be less of a crapbox.

There was a party on the East coast that I went to called Back to the Future. There was a huge billboard saying FUTURE on the way there and my travelling companions and I got excited. N.R.G. was playing a live set, and their song I Need Your Love was an unbelievably massive anthem for us young ravers or whatever we were. Listening back to it now after years of not hearing it brings back such intense emotions, but that's a whole different topic. The main stage was outside in what I remember to be a field or something, but there was also a warehouse that had an indoor place to dance. Inside was dark with lights strobing on people briefly so you'd never quite know what anyone looked like. The great roar of music echoed from the building - you could feel bass frequencies vibrating your bones. Inside, it felt like the volume was turned up to the max. The floors pulsed with the rhythm of the music and people dancing wildly. There were some people too far gone on drugs as well. I saw a naked guy going around grabbing girls until a crowd of people started beating on him like he stole some bread or something in a foreign country. The next thing I remember N.R.G. was due to go on and I headed outside. People were locked into everything the MC (I forget his name) said. It was an unbelievable experience and I couldn't convey in words how it affected me. All these extremely diverse people were gathered in a field singing along to N.R.G.'s massive song, which, at the same time was only listened to and appreciated by a select few. Everyone raised their arms at one point, holding hands, and at that moment everything made sense to me strangely. I thought these people and this music would change the world somehow. It was our 60's, our revolution. Against what? I didn't know. It felt like something important. At least it gave me a goal and a direction to head. Also, I was candyflipping at that party so my brain may have been slightly altered. And I was 15. But still, it was crazy.

About a week after I had a stroke they sent me to Physical Therapy. I also had open heart surgery. Recovery was painful so I basically just sat in bed til my sternum healed. I'd been having disturbing hallucinations and paranoid thoughts for the last week or so anyway. I was convinced, and still am to some degree, that the people in charge of looking after me were so nice when I'd have a visitor but would mess around and play mind games and get up to other hijinx with me when no one else was around. That was most of the time. Messing with my dick and stuff, for sure. They had to hook up a catheter and I'm convinced they were messing with me down there otherwise. I had no control. Then again I thought I was in a pizza shop or something at one point and was howling like a maniac (which I heard at least one other guy do as well). I also thought something on the wall was a robot and was going to attack me or something and I had to escape. I was convinced I'd jumped out a window, hailed a cab, went home, and came back somehow all while wearing hospital garb that wasn't manufactured or intended for such an adventure. Pretty intense acid trip but that obviously wasn't going on so I can't say what was real. I had a problem eating pudding as well and this did not make one nurse happy for whatever reason and that became another issue. They wound up putting restraints on my wrists to shackle me to the bed cos I would fight otherwise. I escaped from one pair somehow but after a brief struggle, they remedied that pretty quick. After about a week in the hospital, they sent me to rehab. I was content lying in bed and watching reruns of South Park and Forged in Fire for a while. I'd pretty much lay in bed and watch tv most of the time. There was a sensor that would beep loudly if the pressure on the bed shifted, so I couldn't get up. A seat belt and an alarm would go off if I tried to get out of the wheelchair I had to be in when they carted me around. I later heard that as much activity as possible immediately after suffering the effects of a brain injury like mine is very advantageous. Womp womp. Other than that I went to one hour each Physical, Speech, and Occupation therapy. I really couldn't do much for the first few months, so there was a limit any therapist could do to work with me. I remember seeing a girl that worked there that I used to party with in my rave days. That was a trip. I also tried to play badminton with balloons, but I was terrible at that. I was playing with about 6 or 7 other people who were all much older than I was and their deficits were nowhere near as severe. I would have to notify someone that I had to shit and someone would come and begrudgingly wipe my ass. They hated their life and their job, understandably, and would make a single pass. I dunno, I think you need more attention than that. I tried to keep that sort of activity as infrequent as possible, as it was clearly unpleasant for everyone involved. Someone would come every night and bathe me in my bed as well. Not only was it embarrassing, but it was also painful as well cos I had to twist and turn my body into different positions and my sternum had just been cut open. Any movement at all was very painful, let alone all the positions I had to assume while some stranger hurriedly scrubbed my naked body down with a company-supplied washcloth or whatever they used. It wasn't until about a week or so left that I discovered you could "deny" being bathed so I guess I was dirty for that last week or so. After they discharged me I went back for an hour a week every six months or so and they'd eventually discharge me after minuscule improvements. The exercises they taught me over the years were so useful but there's no way to make any kind of significant improvement on the timetable of just an hour a week. Now that I've got my own space to exercise privately I've been doing the workouts I learned in PT every day. After noticing a slight improvement I decided to go all-in and exercise like a maniac. My diet has completely changed, I'm exercising every day, and I'm a completely different person than I was before mentally. I guess there's a whole "new lease on life" thing that I'm going through but I'm trying to, I dunno, see beyond that or something and just focus on getting as well as I can. Or something like that.

The Winter Music Conference in Maimi in whatever year it was was crazy. I wound up in jail but it was an interesting experience in retrospect. There was a bar that I was drinking at with Lisa, my girlfriend at the time. John was there with his girlfriend as well and they were arguing about whatever, which happened all the time and it was no surprise. The police were apparently because of their bickering. In Hindsight I don't know how I came to know that but I guess gleaning that wasn't really a stretch. Anyway, we were all leaving and on the streets of Miami, stumbling and joking with one another doing our best to stay in a group. Spring Break had coincided with the WMC that year and it was Friday night on a popular street around midnight so the streets looked like some rogue sports team just won the biggest game of the year with drunkards everywhere partying. There was an upcoming release I was promoting and I had 12" some records that I was giving out. Somehow I managed to have a few left that I didn't lose in a drunken stupor. Messing around with my girlfriend, I smacked her butt with the promos. She was wearing leather and the sound rang out through the streets like a firecracker. She spun around and knocked them out of my hands, walking onward as kind of a continuation of this unspoken game we were playing in our minds. The next thing I knew I was wrestling on the ground with multiple attackers. I remember my shoe came off during the struggle and I was doing my best to keep my attackers off of me - at that point, I still didn't know who it was or what was going on. Then I heard someone shout "spray 'em" and I immediately knew what was going on and stayed as straight and still as I could. I was yelling for Lisa or anybody to help me but they were down the street already and the streets were packed with hooligans making noise. At the holding cell, while I sobered up, Lisa apparently came and saw them. They twisted up her words from "it was a joke, we play like that all the time" to "he thinks it's a big joke and he does it to me all the time." Reading that makes me think, was I actually like that? And then of course I think not but I guess I've been conditioned to think the possibility exists. They wound up charging me with domestic violence which can't be disputed by the person in question, this being Lisa, and some other thing they decided I needed to pay for. After what I don't remember but what I can assume was an unpleasant time checking in and what have you, they moved me from the drunk tank to general population. The air was kept very cold so prisoners wouldn't fight but it was intensely hot outside. I had on shorts (which nobody will probably see me in ever again) and a short-sleeved shirt. They gave me a mat, pillow, and blanket, all of which looked like they had never been washed and stank and were soiled with who knows what. I had no choice... I'd been partying for days so I needed to get some rest bad, so I wrapped myself in that stinking blanket with my arms tucked into my shirt like a turtle and tried to get some sleep. Sobering up in jail in Miami locked in with people who've killed people in my mind was getting to me as well. I was just a kid. What sort of things would they do to me in my sleep? There were evil vibrations everywhere. The next day was surprisingly easier, though in no way enjoyable. They gave me a used (in my mind it was used but it could've been new) red solo cup for drinking. We had to dunk the cup into a big drum that was filled with some mystery drink that was kinda like weak Kool-Aid without the sugar. There was this panic growing inside me where I was thinking I would never get out. I couldn't show that outwardly though, and at the same time, I thought that I was completely innocent and I'd get out eventually. Being that was after midnight on Friday when they brought me in, I had to wait until Monday to see a judge. I had a couple of days at least to acclimate to my surroundings and I figured I'd better start quick. Somebody taught me how to play checkers and I remember being terrible but I would've lost the game on purpose anyway. After trying to meet people it turned out there was a guy in there that knew some of my friends and was meant to go to a party I was going to later on in the week. I forget what that dude's name was or what he did to get in there, but he was the only one I remember talking to most of the time from then on. Eventually, I went to a video session or something and got sentenced or something - it was all a blur and I don't remember big chunks of that part. I didn't know anyone in the area to contact and a friend of a friend wound up paying my bail. Some friends of mine picked me up and I went to my hotel and showered immediately. I had rashes everywhere from the infected blanket but I was free, I was in Miami and I went out somewhere to get wasted. I went to that party that my friend was hosting. It was somewhere outside during the day and wound up getting on the mic and MCing for a bit. I'm sure I did other things as well. I never saw that dude I was locked up with again.

One time I went to Las Vegas with some friends to gamble and get into other shenanigans, I think there was some reason but I can't quite grasp it. I knew a girl down who lived there and she, another friend of mine, and I were hanging out in a hotel room when the girl decided to call and order a couple of hookers. When they got there I guess the girl I was with hit it off with them... I remember not seeing them. Why? I don't know. I think I remember being kind of embarrassed or something but not showing it outwardly and the whole situation just seemed wrong to me. But anyway the girl I knew was strongly suggesting that I leave and I got the hint. I didn't want any part of that anyway, believe it or not. At the time, cash wasn't an issue, and I had something like five grand on me. I decided to play some 5/10 no-limit hold-em even though it was only a short-handed game. There wasn't much going on in the poker room. I bought in for something like $4000 which like I said at the time wasn't a big deal, but nobody likes to lose anyway. I don't know how long I played but at one point I looked down at AA, which for those who don't know is the best possible starting hand you can get. I forget who had the dealer button but someone raised before me and another guy reraised him. Having the best possible hand I went all-in - I had made some money since I sat down but I can't recall how much. Both guys call and one flips over 99 and the other QQ. In my head I'm thinking sweet - there was like 18 thousand dollars or something in that pot. The dealer flopped the cards out that we'd all share. All I saw was a 9 and my stomach dropped like I found out my dog died. Meanwhile, my friend was upstairs getting it on with that girl I knew and two strippers. Guess I shoulda did something else. Looking back I'm glad I lost some money rather than stay in that hotel room and take part in whatever happened there.

What Beverly Gravina and Richie Fusco did to me was pure evil. Let me just explain it all as quickly as I can. I gave Beverly a flyer on the street for a party I was djing at some point in the early '90s. I'm sure we hung out at some point but I don't really remember her for the most part, although that time in my life is a bit of a blur. Fast forward to 2019 and I was living with some friends of mine that were moving out of state and I couldn't go with them. I posted on Facebook that I was looking for a place to stay. Beverly messaged me and said she had an extra room. Eventually, I wound up moving there. She never mentioned paying any rent or anything and I'd been living with friends and not paying rent so I was used to it. At one point I remember telling Beverly how grateful I was to which she responded "it's no problem, we love you!" The house smelled like cat piss (there were around 8 or 9 cats, two dogs, turtles, birds, and fish) but I had my own room so I was content for the most part. I kept my door open until one day her dog pissed in my room in front of me. I would hear her screaming and arguing with Richie, her dad, and their son Sebastian, who was sometimes there as well (which is a whole separate thing.) Throughout all this, there was never even a hint of animosity or turmoil or anything between us. Then one day she came into my room early and woke me up. She told me she got a call from someone saying she had to take me to the ER for an evaluation or something. I had no reason to question her, so I obliged. After checking me in she said to call her when I was done and she'd come to get me. After hours of dealing with hospital things (during Covid) and after doctors not knowing why I was there, one of the doctors came and told me they spoke with Beverly and she said she is not permitting me to return there. After what you can Imagine was a very stressful few hours, I managed to find a place to stay. I won't go into everything but she wouldn't let me get any of my things including medications that I needed to live. And after months of going to court (where she flat out lied to the judge) I still never got all of my things back and the judge only awarded me legal fees which I'd already spent, and my lawyer tells me that I need to know where she banks at to collect that money or wait until she applies for a loan or something. There are more dastardly deeds that she did, but I wanted to tell the basic story. It's been a nightmare dealing with all this, but I just want to emphasize how stressful it's all been, especially as a brain-damaged handicapped person.