How does one define their life? I have been pondering this for a great many years now and I have no idea how to define my life. I have been an abused child, an avid reader, a lonely duck and a homeless drug addict. Well OK I wasn’t exactly an addict when I was homeless but this is what I was led to believe in a recovery program. I had stopped the cocaine long before I hit those doors and my first great relapse was a few Coors Light’s at nine months nine days clean my first time in the program. I can still remember how the people in that said recovery program chastised me for having a fucking beer on a really hot day in Denver. This is the funny thing about me and alcohol I go a year or more between drinks being I am not a fan of the effect of alcohol but I still do love the taste of a good European beer. Today my life is calm and serene and is filled with close friends that actually care about me and I also care for them but back in 96′ to 99′ I really had no one that I could call a friend until I met Jason in an English class at some dinky community college here in Denver. This friendship is about to hit a huge mark of fifteen years and he just gets better with age. I have a few trips I have made since getting off the streets and wondering from one end of the country to the next but really nothing seems that exciting to me. One day in 97′ I was in Arizona doing day labor cleaning up construction sites and the thing I remember the most is all the fucking God forsaken lizards there were there.(terrible sentence I know that so please no Nazis thanks). These fucking lizards were all over the place seeking refuge from the heat of this damn desert that no one in their right mind should live in. I wanted to grab a nail gun and do some target practice on the little green bastards but they were protect by the government or some ridiculous reason that I will never understand. Have you ever had roaches? I have and these green scaly cocksuckers were like big green roaches there were so many of them. I had taken a nap at lunch time since I had no food to eat (that was a norm during those years) and I wondered if they were gonna gang up on me and chow down on my toes or fingers. Just imagine that falling asleep and waking up to find out that you’re lizard food; what a drag. I had this delusion for about fifteen years that “I always have -A to go back to if shit hit the fan”. Well folks shit hit the fan often back then and I found no solutions or solace in the program yet by then I was so brain-washed (is that hyphenated? Brain does modify washed so I vote yes) into thinking that this was all I needed to get by. Bullshit! What I needed was to just grow the fuck up and take responsibility for my shit and that was an internal thing not something that the program can really teach me yet it would suggest that often enough that I got the hint around 1998 or so. I used to have poems that I wrote during those homeless years but they were stolen by someone that I considered to be a friend that is now in jail for murdering her mother so yeah karma is a real bitch sometimes isn’t it? Hostels, trains, buses, hitching, walking that was my life from 95′ to 99′ and it was one grand adventure that I would not trade for anything in the world but now that I am creeping up on 43-years-old I wonder if all that time was wasted in my 20’s. I have attempted to write my story in various forms but I stall out when I am off the streets because the adventure turns into a normal well adjusted life how boring is that? I can write about my childhood but really it’s been done a thousand times before so there is nothing new to be gained from it whatsoever so I have always said fuck it to my childhood and summed it up in one paragraph. That is how little I think about those years now; yes they existed but I see no reason to dwell on that shit because in the end that is what the fuck it is shit! Hey though if I had to trade my childhood for lizard country I would take my childhood every time because the past only has teeth if I let it have teeth unlike the green scaled fuckers. As I have stated a few times in my writings my life didn’t really begin until I got on that bus in Grand Central Station on my way to Denver for the first time over 18 years ago so what do I do with the rest? Can it I guess and just gloss over the details and move on to the adventure of my lifetime that I will never again be able to replace. The answers are there but as of tonight I don’t know the fucking question….