I Byrne Notes V "Join the Army If you fail."

Try hard, get barred Get back, write braille Get jailed, jump bail Join the army, if you fail  Look out kid
You’re gonna get hit But users, cheaters Six-time losers  Hang around the theaters  Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin’ for a new fool Don’t follow leaders Watch the parkin’ meters-Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues"

Read more: http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs/subterranean-homesick-blues#ixzz3KKSVvxW2

One week in July 1996, I got motivated enough to go to the employment office. Landed a job at a Pizza Hut Delivery, north of I-10, as a cook. I was also going into the army in a week.

Came a weekend before I was supposed to go to basic training when my childhood friend, ______, came with a couple of hits of paper, LSD, and got me with the phrase, “Just one more time before you go.”

Somewhere in that trip I decided that I couldn't go into the Army because they would do a spinal tap on me and find out that I was insane. Therefore, I came up with a great solution, I’d put out my own musical album.link to full album Yea, I’d be a millionaire in less than a month-I completely believed that.

Didn’t go back to Pizza Hut. I went to the Army recruiters full of glee. Told them my master plan. Did odd jobs, raking leaves, cutting grass, painting houses to earn enough money to go to the studio with my drum machine. The whole adventure, including thirteen cassettes with labels in and out cost me about four hundred dollars.

Kept my mother up getting drunk. Crank up my metal and rap music to keep me driven. Such as, Twisted Sister’s “Where Not Gonna’ Take It” and Queen’s “I Want It All.” Then I’d call up the radio stations, like CPR 97.9, and bars. Never followed through with my grand schemes I concocted while I was drunk.

Less than six months later I gave up. It seemed everyone was looking at me like I was crazy. I went to the Army recruiter begging to be in the US Army. Signed up for the Army Reserve.

I chose Mortuary Affairs because of the three thousand dollar bonus. Figured I’d have something to write about. Surely, my Katrina would take me back if I was in the US Army. Stuck to a liquid diet, of booze and beer. January 1997, I was shipped to Fort Leonardwood Missouri. Around this time, I started realizing I could get drunk enough to reach a place where I felt like I was tripping, hallucinating like LSD. The winter was cold in Fort Leonardwood Missouri. My mind was in chemical withdrawal. I’d see skulls in the moon, strange apparitions in the sky, and when I’d see my reflection I’d see mysterious phantoms behind and in front of me. I was so insecure. I see it more now. My mind works partaking, doing things, however, my body won’t follow through at times with what my mind instructs. My peers and superiors had pity on me and helped me do things. I remember drill sergeants firing my weapon for me so I could qualify at the rifle range. My combat boots hurt my feet. I developed a wart on one of my heals that I still have. Got chicken box a week before graduating basic training. A soldier who studied Scientology was my room mate in the hospital.

Got a great buzz at the bowling alley a day before I left for Fort Lee Virginia Mortuary Affairs School. Was so frightened going to Richmond Morgue. It was a part of training to assist in autopsies. My peers and drill sergeants all were expecting me to vomit. I maintained, and like my peers, afterwards we were ravenous for red meat. Went by Dairy Queen to feast. Saw many dead, scarred something deep inside me. Like the guy who shot himself over his girlfriend. After training, I was assigned to the 630 Grave Registration Company in New Orleans.

When I came back, the three grand in my bank account was like a million. It was party time. Once again, I lived rent free in my mom’s garage apartment. Physiologically, the craving was its own entity. In that apartment, I’d warm up with a case; then came the bottle of White Zinfandel and rock got whiskey. Somewhere in the blackout I’d pass out, go to sleep.

Bought a 1993 Ford Taurus. On the G I Bill I afforded junior college and finished what I had started. Thus earned my Associates of Arts. Took College Algebra three times, English Comp I and II twice, World Civilization twice. I remember in English Comp I’d come to class, leave class, go to the bathroom, vomit out the toxins from the night before. Then I’d come back to class and write a four page essay in fifteen minutes, afterwards, I’d leave. Made a B.

Went to the temporary job agency, utterly convinced that they’d give me a substitution teaching job. After all, a childhood friend of mine with a pending D.U.I. was able to teach. Why not me? No avail, they sent me time and time again to the Coast Coliseum to clean up after the hockey games. I became very resentful. Thought for sure I’d be worth something with a college degree. Went to Reserve training one weekend a month. Had the opportunity to go to Puerto Rico, and I took it. The only improvement in my status was to go back and beg for my old job at Pizza Hut Delivery. I was a delivery driver until I started offending customers. That was the result of me drinking on my way to deliver pizzas. Got demoted to being a dishwasher.

Unsatisfied, I decided to go active duty US Army.