My Problems
Story by Amadaeus // Art by Haez SWBO

For my whole life I was looking for something, I didn't know what.   So the out come was over indulgence in food, sex, illegal adrenaline rushes, and by 11 alcohol, drugs, paint, blast and glue. I must have not got hugged enough as a kid or woke up to too many early morning scream outs. The reason isn't as important as the out come, which has been negative to the point of complete loss of all love in my life. My “void” has been the controlling factor in all my impulse lapses over the years. Every thing from starting beef at Bousouise art shows to calling the most beautiful girls I've ever met “piggy,” “monkey,” and “gremlin.” I have been known to say the most inappropriate things off the top of the head that come completely off the wall most times.   I hear stories of drunken rampages at friends houses that make my blood run cold as well as waking up hand cuffed at hospital emergency rooms more times than I can remember.   I have been stabbed in the face by my supposed “fans” with a broken bottle and at 16 got a knee injury in an “angel dusted” gang brawl   that I still can barely walk 10 years later.   I attack people for long held resentments, threaten drug dealers I was formerly cool with and have been 86ed from every spot Downtown where bouncers have the wrong look on their face.   If I piss on a fence, dogs react as if they just smelled paint thinner, like some crazy venereal   disease infested brothel in Singapore's rest room.   The cold part is I know better.  

I've been published 19 time in three publications,   had mags I'm obsessed with enquire about me only to find out I'm in the tank on some blacked out idiot charges.   Its like I'm watching in horror as Buddy Love   acts like Mr. Hyde with no way to stop it.   I don't know if it's just a bad mentality/attitude,   mental issues or post-traumatic stress, but I'm a lost intellectual in the twilight zone of the down trodden and destitute.   Here I come into a million dollar neighborhood after my grandma died only knowing what I picked up in my early childhood hell holes on streets that don't exist any more like Guadalupe Parkway and W. Gish and a lil dead end street in EPA that's now a Home Depot strip mall. Then starting grimey getto beef with the Bellermine assh*&s in middle school.   I have this meticulous way of getting my way and f*&king it up in the same breathe.   My bullsh#@ is legendary, fools that don't know me speak about me in the same room know knowing who I am or whose presence their in. I'm like a phantom of malevolence and a Harbinger of Belligerence.

I have charges for hitting cops I don't remember, waking up bloody in a spit mask or Double Red. I don't know when it will stop. All my childhood friends have been murdered or took them selves out. I had enemy in middle school named Tom Trevino who became a close friend then drank turpentine mixed with vodka and cut his own throat while writing the final lyrics for the punk band “White Rabbit” after the Alice in Wonderland character. I had an even closer friend from elementary who lived on the same street named Adrian Rosas. He carved “The end in near” in his arm shortly before he killed himself over a Portuguese bitch ugly as sin, a father figure and delivery guy for the old Vietnamese Pizza spot that predated “Elements Boutique” in the “Death Before Dishonor” basement was the wisest mystic I've ever met and jumped under a light rail near Taimian in 2001, all my aunts favorite rebel boy friends from the Santa Cruz Mountains drank them selves to death “Alex” who we called Charles Manson and “Les” with the maniacal laugh. I really hope some one will just cut the bullsh*^ and murder me, Its' been proven I don't have the nuts to do it myself.

I am a decently intelligent guy but I have a baby's mom who out foxes me at every turn,   an ex who plays with my head,   my mom who acts like a schizophrenic beast from Hell and at the same time like a spoiled rotten immature and self absorbed teenager, I'm stuck at home cause of probation and I get in trouble for mischief I cant control. Bottom line the world does need a crazed, depressed,   hostile and unhinged fool running around who can bench 305 and split faces in the blink of an eye. I'm not sure what I want besides an education. But then the out come is a criminal genius with the ability to mentally crucify minds. I guess Ill just take some psychology classes and write a book. And in closing, f*&k everybody I forgot to mention.