beer capped horoscoped desperation (The Notes Byrne IV)

I remember walking up and down the streets during the hot summer days. Alcohol was coming out my pores as I’d beg different establishments for work. Many people who knew me as a role model, and many relatives rode by and shook their heads at me in disgust. My mother’s parents gave me money, enabled me. I remember I’d drink a lot of Red Dog beer at the time. It had cute messages in the bottle cap like “follow the dog” “this way” And I’d use these statements as my personal spiritual guidance, like horoscopes.

How many have fallen in love from their first time? Uh oh. Her name was Katrina. She was about to move away with her mother. I just had to have her. I quit college a lil’ bit up North 49, in Perkinston Mississippi. Also known as Perkatory, because for some reason students tend to stay there a while basking in their irresponsibilities. She stayed. We moved in together. For work, I started at Pizza Hut Delivery tearing up the car my father got me. Money was good. So I thought. On rare occasions I’d earn three to four hundred a week. Turned my back totally on the disciplined life. Weed and beer was plentiful every day.

At first our relationship was great. Then, inevitably, things started coming out of me and I had no idea where these things were coming from. Had to know where she was all the time. Got jealous possessive, obsessive. Started taking hallucinogenic drugs. Ended with me not standing to be around her and couldn’t live life without her. Part of me, after all this time still wonders “Why?” Her mom and stepfather came to rescue her. I remember waiting for days, turned into months. Think I spent about two years waiting on her to come back. Many of my friends excommunicated from me. They were raising their kids they had conceived while I was driving them around in High school.

My mother let me stay in her garage apartment. I had no car, no job. Did have a couple of childhood friends come back to me.

I’d get high and drunk. Stayed up all night. Weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds. Had pale skin. Wrote a lot of poetry, short stories, and songs.

Then I decided I’d join the US Army. For years I rode the ban wagon of anti-US, Anti-government, Anti-military because that’s what the rappers rapped.

I was desperate.