101 Things About Me (Chapter one...lol)
1. I was born in Fort Worth, Texas. My folks were there for a job interview as camera people, so I was only there two weeks.
2. I spent the first eight years of my life living in a commune with from ten to forty people. From 1970 to 1974 the commune was located at Laniard Place in downtown Washington, D.C. It was a community dedicated to racial equality. In a space of a month in 1974, my father was severely beaten by pissed off black people. The first time, he and my mother were pulled from a car during a riot. My father was beaten badly with bats and bottles. Luckily, my mother escaped relatively unharmed. The second time my father was beaten, three weeks later, was by a group of eight or ten black men who though it inappropriate for him to be walking down the street with a black woman. The woman he was walking with lived at the commune. Two weeks later, my father started a new commune in the country in Virginia dedicated to social change by working within the system. We left D.C. because my father didn’t want to risk my mother or my safety, NOT because he was afraid.
3. My folks were part of what is now called a polyamorous relationship. For the first ten years of my life, I had two mothers. They shared all responsibilities for me (I am an only child). They all slept in the same bed. I told people my second mom was my aunt. When I was twelve, she told my parents that she wanted a ‘normal’ family and left; cold turkey. She told them this in a hotel room the night before my placement audition at North Carolina School of the Arts (NCSA). Needless to say, I botched the audition and was placed with the “Why Are They Even Here” group. I lasted two semesters before being kicked out. None of the $14,000 my folks payed for a year there was refunded. Hell of a way to start my teen years.
4. I have played violin since I was six. I could mimic practically any melody by the time I was ten. In addition to NCSA, I went to Meadowmount School of Music, the summer program for Juliard School of Music, for 2 summers. From the time I was nine until I was fourteen, I practiced a minimum of four hours a day, seven days a week. During my classical training I used my ear to cheat by listening to recordings of the pieces that I was working on. Hence, I never actually learned how to read music, fooling all of my instructors. After that I started playing blues and bluegrass, winning many contests and competitions. When I was thirteen, I played at a bluegrass convention for a crowd of 18,000 people. It was VERY cool. I haven’t played for anyone but immediate family for over 20 years.
6. I lost my virginity at the age of twelve to, literally, the girl next door, who was also twelve. The decline of my music ‘career’ can be traced, in large part, to this moment. The moment I discovered that I could ‘play’ the female body as well as I could play violin. Major keys to both are attention and focus, a little talent, and the right instrument. My focus and attention was easy for me…I absolutely LOVE women! The talent is something I have only God to blame for and as far as the instrument…well…a twelve year old with a fully grown, eight inch cock has a bright future when it comes to sex. After that first time having sex, the ages of my girlfriends throughout my teen years ranged from two to ten years my senior. And there were many. And I wouldn’t take any experience I had with any of them back. I know, a fourteen year old boy with a twenty four year old woman sounds a little weird (not to mention illegal) but every one of those women helped me become the man I am now, and I won’t apologize for it. This is a discussion that lg and I have had often, and disagree vehemently on.
7. When I was seventeen I had a fight with my twenty year old girlfriend. Since I hadn’t gotten my license yet, I decided to hitchhike from her house to mine, a twenty minute ride. I was picked up by a 300 lb. black guy. I didn’t get home until a very long eighteen hours later. When I got in the car, the man asked me if I wanted to drink a few beers before he dropped me off. Being pissed at the time (and still being extremely naïve for all my ‘maturity’) I said sure. The next eighteen hours were some of the scariest I have ever had to face in my life. To make a VERY long story short, he told me that he wanted to ‘play’ with me and that he would take me home when he was ready. We got as far as 200 miles from where I lived. I am still proud of myself for the way I handled the situation overall. As soon as I knew I was in trouble, I started treating the whole situation like a date. So when I would refuse an advance from him, he saw it as my being coy, even charming. I kept him talking about his life in general, and when he would fall silent, I would start talking about mine. While I was fondled and was forced to fondle him (he was huge) I was not raped. At its worst point, sometime in the middle of the night, he parked on a deserted country road next to a dumpster. He told me that he was going to break me in half and put my body in the dumpster and no one would ever know about it. To this day, I cannot remember what I said to him to change his mind. But he did change his mind. He ended up dropping me off at my cousin’s house (I didn’t want him knowing where I lived) with the promise of picking me up the following week for another “date”. My cousin, ready to kill after I told him what had happened, rode me around for hours looking for his car until we found it parked in an apartment complex near where he had picked me up. The next morning, my cousin’s girlfriend took me to the police station. I recorded a statement for them and the police took me to the apartment complex and I pointed out the car. They called it in and got an apartment number. With me standing in the entranceway to his building, stairs leading up and down, they knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. To my surprise, the man came out of an apartment that was located down the other stairs and we were face to face. If I had had anything in my stomach, I would have puked on the spot. The man smiled until I called out and the officers came down and proceeded to handcuff him. The look on his face was one of pure hatred. As he passed me in that hallway he mumbled that he knew he should have killed me. I have never been so utterly terrified in my life, not before and not since. When I got back to the police station a detective came in to talk to me. He told me several things. First, the man had been accused of molestation and/or kidnapping three times before. Two of those times, the case never got into court. The victims had dropped all charges. The third had been dismissed for lack of evidence. He then told me that, because I wasn’t actually raped, the chances of convicting the guy were minimal and that even if he were convicted, he would be out in less than a year. He said that he was very sorry, but the whole process would be considerably harder on me than on the man and I should think real hard before continuing. Two hours later I was back at my cousin’s house and the man had been released. I never saw him again. While this is the first time I have ever written this experience down, I did get over the ordeal. The only thing that really bothers me about the whole thing is that I don’t believe for a second that the guy stopped. And what if his next victim or victims weren’t as fast of talkers that I was.
8. I have just reread the first seven things on my list and I know what the number eight thing about me is: Damn, I’m long winded! This was supposed to be a fairly light-hearted task and I’ve turned it into my life story. Once I started, it just came pouring out. I will post these for now and I promise to keep it more brief and not so negative. Not everything in my life has been bad. Lol
C.
2. I spent the first eight years of my life living in a commune with from ten to forty people. From 1970 to 1974 the commune was located at Laniard Place in downtown Washington, D.C. It was a community dedicated to racial equality. In a space of a month in 1974, my father was severely beaten by pissed off black people. The first time, he and my mother were pulled from a car during a riot. My father was beaten badly with bats and bottles. Luckily, my mother escaped relatively unharmed. The second time my father was beaten, three weeks later, was by a group of eight or ten black men who though it inappropriate for him to be walking down the street with a black woman. The woman he was walking with lived at the commune. Two weeks later, my father started a new commune in the country in Virginia dedicated to social change by working within the system. We left D.C. because my father didn’t want to risk my mother or my safety, NOT because he was afraid.
3. My folks were part of what is now called a polyamorous relationship. For the first ten years of my life, I had two mothers. They shared all responsibilities for me (I am an only child). They all slept in the same bed. I told people my second mom was my aunt. When I was twelve, she told my parents that she wanted a ‘normal’ family and left; cold turkey. She told them this in a hotel room the night before my placement audition at North Carolina School of the Arts (NCSA). Needless to say, I botched the audition and was placed with the “Why Are They Even Here” group. I lasted two semesters before being kicked out. None of the $14,000 my folks payed for a year there was refunded. Hell of a way to start my teen years.
4. I have played violin since I was six. I could mimic practically any melody by the time I was ten. In addition to NCSA, I went to Meadowmount School of Music, the summer program for Juliard School of Music, for 2 summers. From the time I was nine until I was fourteen, I practiced a minimum of four hours a day, seven days a week. During my classical training I used my ear to cheat by listening to recordings of the pieces that I was working on. Hence, I never actually learned how to read music, fooling all of my instructors. After that I started playing blues and bluegrass, winning many contests and competitions. When I was thirteen, I played at a bluegrass convention for a crowd of 18,000 people. It was VERY cool. I haven’t played for anyone but immediate family for over 20 years.
6. I lost my virginity at the age of twelve to, literally, the girl next door, who was also twelve. The decline of my music ‘career’ can be traced, in large part, to this moment. The moment I discovered that I could ‘play’ the female body as well as I could play violin. Major keys to both are attention and focus, a little talent, and the right instrument. My focus and attention was easy for me…I absolutely LOVE women! The talent is something I have only God to blame for and as far as the instrument…well…a twelve year old with a fully grown, eight inch cock has a bright future when it comes to sex. After that first time having sex, the ages of my girlfriends throughout my teen years ranged from two to ten years my senior. And there were many. And I wouldn’t take any experience I had with any of them back. I know, a fourteen year old boy with a twenty four year old woman sounds a little weird (not to mention illegal) but every one of those women helped me become the man I am now, and I won’t apologize for it. This is a discussion that lg and I have had often, and disagree vehemently on.
7. When I was seventeen I had a fight with my twenty year old girlfriend. Since I hadn’t gotten my license yet, I decided to hitchhike from her house to mine, a twenty minute ride. I was picked up by a 300 lb. black guy. I didn’t get home until a very long eighteen hours later. When I got in the car, the man asked me if I wanted to drink a few beers before he dropped me off. Being pissed at the time (and still being extremely naïve for all my ‘maturity’) I said sure. The next eighteen hours were some of the scariest I have ever had to face in my life. To make a VERY long story short, he told me that he wanted to ‘play’ with me and that he would take me home when he was ready. We got as far as 200 miles from where I lived. I am still proud of myself for the way I handled the situation overall. As soon as I knew I was in trouble, I started treating the whole situation like a date. So when I would refuse an advance from him, he saw it as my being coy, even charming. I kept him talking about his life in general, and when he would fall silent, I would start talking about mine. While I was fondled and was forced to fondle him (he was huge) I was not raped. At its worst point, sometime in the middle of the night, he parked on a deserted country road next to a dumpster. He told me that he was going to break me in half and put my body in the dumpster and no one would ever know about it. To this day, I cannot remember what I said to him to change his mind. But he did change his mind. He ended up dropping me off at my cousin’s house (I didn’t want him knowing where I lived) with the promise of picking me up the following week for another “date”. My cousin, ready to kill after I told him what had happened, rode me around for hours looking for his car until we found it parked in an apartment complex near where he had picked me up. The next morning, my cousin’s girlfriend took me to the police station. I recorded a statement for them and the police took me to the apartment complex and I pointed out the car. They called it in and got an apartment number. With me standing in the entranceway to his building, stairs leading up and down, they knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. To my surprise, the man came out of an apartment that was located down the other stairs and we were face to face. If I had had anything in my stomach, I would have puked on the spot. The man smiled until I called out and the officers came down and proceeded to handcuff him. The look on his face was one of pure hatred. As he passed me in that hallway he mumbled that he knew he should have killed me. I have never been so utterly terrified in my life, not before and not since. When I got back to the police station a detective came in to talk to me. He told me several things. First, the man had been accused of molestation and/or kidnapping three times before. Two of those times, the case never got into court. The victims had dropped all charges. The third had been dismissed for lack of evidence. He then told me that, because I wasn’t actually raped, the chances of convicting the guy were minimal and that even if he were convicted, he would be out in less than a year. He said that he was very sorry, but the whole process would be considerably harder on me than on the man and I should think real hard before continuing. Two hours later I was back at my cousin’s house and the man had been released. I never saw him again. While this is the first time I have ever written this experience down, I did get over the ordeal. The only thing that really bothers me about the whole thing is that I don’t believe for a second that the guy stopped. And what if his next victim or victims weren’t as fast of talkers that I was.
8. I have just reread the first seven things on my list and I know what the number eight thing about me is: Damn, I’m long winded! This was supposed to be a fairly light-hearted task and I’ve turned it into my life story. Once I started, it just came pouring out. I will post these for now and I promise to keep it more brief and not so negative. Not everything in my life has been bad. Lol
C.
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