I have been thinking on my past lately... things like my dad chucking my 4 year old self at whatever was there (whether that was a wall, or an appliance); my mom having to protect our old home in Clarkeston with a fully loaded pump-action shotgun; my sister Lauren's angry outbursts at my mother (mother and David had to go through a legalized split-up (also called a divorce); living in a gang populated part of Decatur and it's dangerous situations that may have forced me to learn how to handle a gun at an early age; my life as a kid wasn't very ideal or safe to exist in...

My dad died on my 6th birthday, that of which traumatized the hell out of me, and left me as a volatile, short-fused, vicious, incensed little maniac; also, I was almost stone deaf at the time due to a volcanic fever I had at my infancy, which made my situation even worse...

When we moved to Podunk gravel-road Buford, I was a mess... Mostly, I was losing touch with the fabric of the reality around me; people appeared to have lost all facial features- eyes, noses, mouths, ears... It plunged me into a world of MANNEQUINS, which led onward into a state of being violently self-injurious and suicidal!

I look back on all that, and say to myself: "Wow... What a fucked up childhood..... My life then is completely different than that of my life now... What went wrong at the time for me to have such a shitty childhood?? On second thought, let's not probe too far..."