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I remember when I was in eighth grade in school years ago and listening to Pink Floyd. I heard a song way back then that became a favourite of mine at the time and still is today. It was called Comfortably numb. At the time of listening to it back then, I thought it was all about heroin abuse. A year or so later I heard another song by an Australian band called the Choirboys that had lyrics that said: “You don’t need anyone, no you don’t need anyone; when you run the paradise.” Once again I saw this as the paradise that is found by the injection of heroin. In the movie Pulp Fiction, just a few years ago, I saw the absolutely mind blowing rush one can get from the injection of a needle, and how heroin really is like the big daddy of them all. For even the name itself boasts of its awesome ability and power and how it should be worshipped. We all know about branding and the power of a brand name, if it’s used properly. Just think of Coke, Mc Donald’s, and Disney and suddenly you have an emotion and hopefully a positive emotion come to mind. The word heroin is no mistake. It’s available when you need the ultimate peace and numbness, and you put the father of all drugs into your arm like a doctor gives medicine, you go and put the Hero in. I am fortunate in one way. I am sure it was an act of God and nothing short of it. As I was growing up, our house was a halfway house for recovering heroin addicts. They came around to our house on rainy Sundays for lunch and when they were healed often stayed with our family until they could find a permanent place of accommodation. They came to us raw and fresh out of rehabilitation. It was their words, and their tears that showed me heroin had its costs on a personal life and wasn’t just the hero in these guy’s life, but their master for many years. They who worshipped the drug and fought, begged borrowed and stole to inject it, were broken individuals who readily cried and told of the horror the drug demanded of them. Yes, heroin is a powerful drug and I’ll admit that it will make you leave this world we are in, and you will float and kick back into a comfortable numbness. Yes. You won’t need anyone when you run to paradise. But it comes with a price. I thank God I saw the pain in the drug and never injected it myself. Oh boy I came close and yes I mixed in all the right circles, but I never succumbed to its tantalizing beckoning. And how glad I am that I didn’t! But that isn’t to say those who do are bad people. I just found a better way for myself to find a release. If it’s comfortable being numb…how can there be comfort in pain? This was the confusing part for me to work out. How could I enjoy the release which was very pleasurable sleeping with prostitutes, and yet still enjoy the pain of it all in eating breakfast cereals and milk for days because I had no money left? I read an interesting article once in a psychology magazine. I had never picked one up before that day and have never picked another up since. But in this magazine on this day, whilst I sat in some Doctors surgery for half an hour, I truly learnt the key to the whole puzzle. We who have addictive tendencies, don’t get a choice in what we become addicted to. What? I hear you say. Yeah well its strange isn’t it? It’s not all that hard to grasp really. You know that song that you hear and you just can’t get it out of your head. Every time the radio plays it, you spend half a day singing it to yourself. Even years later when “Run to paradise” comes on, I still get caught up with the emotions I was feeling that day. I absolutely love that song. Well that’s how a habit is formed. Repetition. The more I hear it, the more stronger my emotional response, the more I am addicted to it, or attracted to it. Even if it’s a not so pleasurable experience. Even if that experience is being beaten by your father in a fit of rage. The more he does it, the more I emotionally respond, the more I begin to crave that negative emotion. You become addicted to the pain. And in some ways when life is going along fine, if you are missing that pain in your life, you actively seek it out. It's sad really. That’s why a woman stays with a man who beats her up. That’s why a junkie sells his soul for the junk he puts up his arm and that’s why a person will ritually cut themselves to feel the rush of pain. We are addicted to the pain, just as much as to the pleasure. And just like light follows darkness, after the pleasure we seek the pain, and when we are in pain we seek the pleasure, and we continue to exist. We all enjoy feeling comfortable. We all enjoy being safe and secure where we are. Take us away from what we know, take us to another state or city suddenly and tell us to deal with it and we have a problem. We need to change slowly, but given the choice we like to stay with what we know. Why else would a country approve of a president who blatantly lies to his people? We don’t like change and we only do it if forced upon us. It’s only when a wife is beaten so very badly that the authorities step in and keep her from her husband by locking him up, that the wife accepts separation. But she has no choice in this matter. So she quickly goes out to a pub and finds another guy to beat her up. She can’t help it. She doesn’t like getting beaten up. And her friends can’t understand her for going back. But that’s the only sort of love she knows and that’s the only love her daddy taught her. He regularly beat her mother up and in between beating her he made love to her mother and brought her presents home from work. And if he was a fine example of an alcoholic father he even made special visits to his daughter’s room to comfort her and run his filthy hands over her and molest her. Oh yes She remembers the love, and she remembers the pain, and somehow they melded into one, and that was called life. To her, or to the heroin addict or to you the reader, life is all about feeling comfortable with our lot and coping as best we can in the circumstances. How do I know about pain…. Have you ever had a man shove his penis up your behind? I mean shove it right in there so you can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks. Have you ever had to lay down and push your bum in the air and let a beast put it into you with all his might? It’s not fun. Its not love, and if you’ve been there, it’s not something you forget real easy. Worse still is the guilt you feel for putting yourself in the position that allowed it. Oh what a fool you were. If only you weren’t so craving pain in your life, things like this wouldn’t happen. And soon you believe it is all your fault. And then you begin to take comfort in the pain. One day you are seeking the pain. One day you become comfortably numb. You go through the motions, you allow the lightning pain, and you switch off to it by a sheer act of will power. It seems as you lie there and let a man rip your insides with his penis that Pink Floyd may have been singing about this pain when they were singing. Maybe it wasn’t heroin, but the pain, and you’re switching off to it all, that makes you numb. Maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought you were when you are young, and the wisdom of a life half lived has served to give your life a richer and more rewarding tapestry. It’s a sad cycle. The addicted are addicted to the week of poverty and no food after one night down at the pokies or one night with the prostitutes. We feel lonely, hopeless and we have no hope in life, so we confirm what a sad person we are when we live in poverty and prove with cheap clothes a free charity meals that we really are a loser like everyone things we are. It’s not fun eating cereal for a week. It’s not fun nursing a black eyes once very few weeks, it’s not fun having to go up the street everyday saying can people spare you change for a bus fare, it’s not fun, but we are so useless and we are so lacking in self worth we just love the feeling of shame, guilt and stupidity and we beat ourselves up with it. We make all our promises. If he beats me up one more time I will leave. If that girl does not kiss me this time I am never going to see her again. If this jockey does not ride that horse in next week that is it for me and punting. We are weak, we are hopeless and we are addicted to feeling that way. The hardest thing about not sleeping with a prostitute for three months is not feeling the week of guilt after we have partaken of that sin. Especially when you are a Christian. It’s fine not to get the high, but how am I going to get that rush of guilt each week that I am in love with and addicted to? And then there is the high. It’s in the paper ringing private escorts working in their own rented apartments and interviewing them one by one a few days before you get the money. You narrow it down and pick one and then five hours after you have been paid you are in bed with her. No matter how much you cry to God about your wicked sin, here you are trying to bring pleasure to a professional so that you can feel like a man and have a good time, and if she’s a professional she’ll have you convinced you did bring her to orgasm. If this is all to crude for you, you can jump to the next paragraph. In twenty years of this addiction, I have only been convinced of about three orgasms of the prostitutes I have been with. And boy, twenty years worth of once a week, or once every two weeks of seeing a sex worker, you do the maths, that’s why I don’t own a house. You see I am poorly dressed and poor in assets and have never had any reason to really write a will because most of my life my addiction kept me broke. Boy I can relate to people in addictions. The only way I came out of my addiction the time the original of this piece was written in 2005 and now in 2006 my two successful times of reprieve from the addiction was when I repented with many tears before God with all my heart and not wishing with all my heart to ever go back to these ladies. I had to love the girls and stay away and not abuse them, I had to love God enough not to break His heart with my sin with sleeping with a girl I was not married to, and I had to love myself enough not to degrade my self esteem by becoming a sex starved brute. The only way out of my addiction was to hate it. The problem with many of us is this addiction to the highs and the lows. Oh I know about the rush of horse racing I did that for many years. There’s nothing like buying a car from your winnings one week. There’s nothing like seeing your horse win the race and it’s because you were a smart little punter watching all of that horses races since it first started racing and knowing that it can only win certain races at certain distances according to the track, the rider, the breeding and the time in the current campaign it is in. There’s a skill of knowing which race the owner and trainer are wanting to win with the horse and what races the horse is only racing to stay fit. There’s knowing which jockey will ride the horse when the horse has got to look like its trying to win the race and it’s the race favourite, but the owner, the trainer and the serious in the know punters connected to the stable want it not even to run a place and definitely at all costs do not want it to win the race. There really are so many factors to consider as a horse punter, it’s no wonder big high profile people in the business world are kings and respected for placing million dollar bets. Racing stroked my ego on the high side when I won, and when I had a big loss on a big punt it made me feel like the loser I was when I lost. So how could I lose? lol And what about today five years on? I am comfortable and I am not addicted any more. I attend a church where I am loved and I have began to preach in a few churches. My Lord Jesus trusts me today to help strangers find their way to Him and to healing and I am in love with myself. I am quite impressed with what articles I have written five years ago and a lot has happened in my life since then. I have been Baptised and now have some giftings that Jesus has given me so that I can better witness to people. He has given the ability to "Know" a person's pain and their struggle and know things about them that they haven't told me. He gives me the ability to give strangers a message from Him and that just makes me so happy to be out and about doing that. I have not seen my son in six years and that is sad but it was his mother's wish and I didn't fight it. I have had another breakdown and now am wiser and have stayed on my medication for four years without a serious incident. It seems the more hard balls life throws at me the more confident I am in the power and the love of Jesus to pull you through anything. I really enjoy sharing a message with a person through prophecy when Jesus speaks through me as I really enjoy seeing Him speak. He is such a magnificent, wonderful, caring and patient God that was man. It is so good to have a God in heaven called Jesus who thinks and reasons like a man but with all the power of God behind Him. Jesus is just so real to me. I have seen Him in visions close to ten times now and some of them have been so very memorable. He told me once that I was his hidden treasure and if you are reading this I am sure He would tell you the same also. He is so sweet, I do not need another person to sustain me. He is my everything and He is such a loyal and honest and caring friend. With much love, vimax homemade penis enlargement vimax free penis enlargement pills do penis elargement pills really work penile enlargment before and after penis enargement pump pro solution review pennis enlargement herb natural penis enlarement technique

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Chapter Seven Lilli Ann [Work and Play and Colleen] Many things were starting to happen after the tournament was over. It seemed my life had stopped for a moment in time. I had been working five to six days a week, mostly five. Met a guy, my age called Dan, at the karate studio one evening, he was just watching, and we got talking, and I helped him get a job at Lilli Ann. He was assigned to Mr. Green and would eventually be reassigned down stairs in the packing department. I was assigned in another department, which was one floor lower than his. He started falling in love with a Spanish gal, and wanted me to help him out by asking her why she was so down right rude to him. And so I did, it must have worked because they started dating, thereafter. Well Dan’s brother came into town, he was eighteen-years old, and again Dan and I were both twenty-one. The landlord would not allow two people in their apartment so I talked to my landlady and they ended up renting out the big room. I liked them both, but Dan was a little more level headed. His brother smoked pot night and day, Dan occasionally. About this time my mother said she was coming down to visit me after Christmas, which was not too far off. And so many things were happening. And as the weeks passed by I would often go downtown San Francisco after work and go to the double feature movies, they were older ones but very cheep, .75 cents during the day, before 6:00 PM, and afterwards walk around. I can remember a few times walking down a side street by a little café and Hell’s Angels were hanging out there. One time one of the Hell’s Angels, gave me a strange look but paid me little heed, and went back playing some kind of game. I had to walk around all the motorcycles for they hand them parked in the street, on the sidewalk, and every which way… and them seeing me trying to dodge the bikes to get around them, probably gave them a little groan, one that might have meant, ‘…don’t tip them over sunny.’ And I didn’t bump any. At work a few of the Spanish gals up in Mr. Green’s area were eyeballing me up, but I found out they were married and so I paid little attention to them afterwards. And a few Japanese girls, older women talked to me often, but I never got to dating any of them. Then one evening, after work, Colleen with her sparkling white Catholic seen me waiting for a ride by a street car stand, and asked where I was going, I said down by mission street, and offered to give me a ride. She was around thirty-three years old, whit a healthy looking body, and was hunting I presume—that is, looking for something. Colleen As she drove down Mission Street, she knew exactly where Lilli Ann was, I guess many people did, it was very famous for women’s exclusive clothing, they had dresses in Harpers Bazaar, some famous magazine, and advertised in London, Paris, New York, and here in San Francisco. I closed the window a bit in the car, the air was cool this morning, I told her, but I shouldn’t complain, it was nothing like Minnesota; for weather in December at 57 degrees is like heaven sent; I had heard them say on the radio, that it was going to get to 66 degrees before the end of the day. Not bad, in Minnesota we’d have about forty inches of snow by now, and most likely it would be about three to five below zero. January was the coldest month, in Minnesota usually, reaching many times ten degrees below zero or lower, and February had all the snow it seemed, sometimes twenty inches in one month; sometimes sixteen inches in one day. Some years we had ninety inches of snow. I was inclined to ask her for a date, even though she looked much older than I, but she said first, as I opened the door to get out, “Do you drink wine?” “Occasionally,” I said, for I used to drink some back home, but it was that cheep Ripple crap or Thunderbird, rotten gut stuff. But I didn’t want to tell her that. “The dry wine is even better than the sweet if you have the right bottle, and it’s aged some…” she added as I stood up next to the car, “I’ll pick you up after work, say 4:30 PM, does that sound good?” What could I say, the Cadillac girl was leading, and I had nothing better to do. I hadn’t gone to karate practice going on three weeks now. I think Yamaguchi was a little disappointed in me, surely not his black belt bunch though. “Ok,” I said as I started to turn around and walk inside of the three story building. Things were always happening so fast these days I hardly ever questioned anything. Dan had me meet a friend a week ago, some guy who was selling dope, pot or whatever, we talked and he offered me a job at twice the amount I was making, but I turned him down, I didn’t want to be his or any bodies body guard, end up dead with some heroin stuck in my ass, or down my throat. This was safer, work here at $.1.75 per hour, and just enjoy life; live longer. It was funny, when I stopped to talk to a young man, my age who wanted a quarter, and back in those far off days, they were all over San Francisco, --at any rate, I told him to go get a job, and he asked how much I made in a week, I said $70-dollars, and he laughed, saying: “I make more than that in a day, $75.” Oh well, I guess I still have values. I just couldn’t sit down on the street corner and beg; it wasn’t even a thought. Or should I say, it never occurred to me. ٭ The day went fast, Dan was flirting with his new Spanish girlfriend, who worked in the office at Lilli Ann; I think she was happy I set them up, but I was a little jealous now, I guess I would have like to date her, but I was always drinking, going to movies, and before karate, running around town. No real time I suppose. I think she was wondering why I didn’t smile as much as I did before when I met her halfway going up and down the stairs a few times a day. But I tried. My mother wrote and said he’d be in town now in January. Not too far off. It was 4:35 PM, I just slammed the heavy door behind me to Lilli Ann, and there on the street was that white Catholic, and Dan was not too far behind me, he’s seeing me go to the car, I told myself, not looking in back of me, I’ll hear about it tomorrow. “See yaw later Chick,” Dan said, I think it was to get Colleen’s attention; I turned around and smiled a bit and shook my head. “I did show up, didn’t I, I bet you thought I wouldn’t?” Said Colleen. “Not sure what I thought,” I admitted, and I seem to put on a dumb look. “I always like wine in the fall, --woops, soon to be winter in a week or two.” “Always --” I said-, opening up her car door, and getting in. “Always my new friend, now let’s go to the Bay and look at the Golden Gate.” I nodded my head yes, for I even liked walking along the bank and dock area, by the railroad tracks also. As we got to a certain spot, evening was starting to set in, the once white clouds were turning light-gray, and I opened up the window a little. I loved to grab the moment, absorb what was happening. San Francisco was so very much different than my conservative St. Paul, and it seemed like I was starting to own it a little. There in front of me was the beautiful Golden Gate Bridge, I would never forget it. I had walked across it, seen it a dozen times, and I just never got tired of it; but one thing, I only walked across it once, it is far…longer than one imagines. It was a settling evening. The cars with their horns, the people at work, I was starting to calm down. The night was creeping in. On one hand I was hoping it would never end, and on the other hand, it was a fast pace city for me, it could slow down a bit. “Are you thirsty Chick,” said Colleen. “Oh yes, very much…” I took the bottle from her and drank right out of the top. She pulled out two glasses, then hesitated, and put them back in her back seat saying, “We really don’t need them I see.” I guess I might have seemed a little uncouth, but it was me. For awhile we talked about the earth quake everyone was talking about; how the evangelist’s were saying San Francisco was going to be sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Many people were taking long vacations to get out of town. It was supposed to be on a certain week end coming up (or within the month of January). They talked about it at the bar, at Lilli Ann, every where. She smile, said, “Of course,” as she took a drink. I think she was thinking about her youth; --for whom at twenty-one runs around looking for a glass when you got a bottle. We sat just drinking, and looking at the Bay and the bridge, silent for awhile, some people don’t like too long of a period of silence, but it can be golden, --she lit a cigarette, and so did I, and we took turns drinking. She told a few dirty jokes, and I pretended to think they were funny, and when she laughed I laughed, not because they were funny, but because she was. She commented, “You’ll have to let me know when they have the fabric sales down at Lilli Ann, I want to buy as much as I can.” I didn’t quite understand what she was talking about then, but I did find out later on that they had sales about every four months, and employees could buy fabrics not usable. I would however purchase some for her, during our short time romance. “Let’s go eat,” she commented. “Where…” I said. “I’ll pick up something at a store or restaurant.” “That’s perfect,” I replied, as I put the cork back into the bottle, there was not much left to the wine. Colleen stopped in front of a fancy restaurant, --went inside and ordered some burgers made up for us. “Dolores Street right,” she asked, and I gave her the address, “They’ll taste better relaxing at your apartment.” She said. I explained she was welcome but I only had a small room, and my friend, whom was Dan, she remembered the person who had said, “By Chick”, lived in the other room next to me, --I explained we shared bathrooms. “So she rents out rooms,” she commented. “Yaw, why, you need one?” “Not quite yet, but could be soon, or in a month or so,” she ended her replied with. As she stopped in front of the mansion I lived in, my hunger had changed from food to lust, or so it seemed, the burgers did not seem at all appealing; none the less, we went directly to my room. As we entered the room she looked about, “Quite cute, and yes, you were not kidding, it is small, but cozy, enough for a single man. I had a little dresser by the side of the bed where I kept an ashtray, and a light, along with a little radio. A closet in along side of the bed, a little to the right of the doorway you might say, a window behind me overlooking my bed, and the door to the bathroom on the right also, of the bed; --if I was laying on my back I’d be looking at the doorway in front of me She put the burgers on the small table, took a last drink of the wine, gave it to me, there was one swallow left, I drank it, as she undressed, then she jumped under the covers. She had big breasts and a semi tight body for her age. She was not thin, nor fat, quite healthy looking. I got a hard-on immediately, and like a dog in heat, we pulled our lust together and she grabbed my item and directed it to her warmth. We made love for about 45-minutes, and I fell to my side a bit, rested, and pulled her over to me again, and stuck my penis back into her private area. She was very warm inside, and my body shook as I climaxed. “We should get some sleep Chick,” she said with a chuckle. It seemed she found what she wanted, but I felt a little out classed for some reason. She had a degree I had found out while sitting by the Bay over looking the Golden Gate and she worked as a legal assistant. I couldn’t sleep, so I looked at some of the roof tops of the houses out my window; San Francisco was very complicated for me, all its old and new mixed into a whole, and Colleen laying next to me. But I told myself to go to sleep, tomorrow was another day. As I rolled my body back under the covers, I could not hear anymore car horns, the radio was quiet, Dan and his brother must have fallen asleep, and his girlfriend gone home. The wind was making a bit of noise on the window sill, but that was tranquilizing, if anything. Chapter Eight The Christmas Party Well, Dan was dating the Spanish lady, and Colleen was coming over picking me up on regular bases now. She even got to know the Colonel a little, and Dan and his brother Jack. I think she was eyeing up the little bedroom by Dan’s big room. In-between our dating that is. During this period in San Francisco I was working, and I wasn’t seeing Goesi much, going to the movies as I usually did, and we had a Christmas party coming up in a few days. Mom had written and I expected her to be flying into San Francisco, in two weeks. From here she’d stay a week then fly down to see my brother in Montclair, Southern California. The weather got a little colder also, but why argue it was still in the 50’s during the day, and low 40’s at night. Some rain but not much. I now was running the dogs for the Colonel; I had a hell of a time taking the “Beast,” out. I called him that because he was up to my waste when on all fours, and had teeth almost like a saber tiger; he looked more like a wolf than a dog. He ran like a horse, and I had a choke chain on him; --thank god I could run with him, I think he liked that. And people jumped every which way when they seen us coming: --and a few times he got away from me whereas the panicked started all around me, people jumping far away from the on coming beast, I didn’t blame them. The Confrontation I knew when I left San Francisco, I’d miss the dogs. Matter-of-fact, one night a neighbor came over and was hollering at the Colonel, and threatened her about the dogs, I was in the hallway upstairs listening, had a few beers in me, I came down slowly, and she told the guy to go because I was the one running the dogs, which the guy noticed, and that with my karate, and temper it might not work out too good if he sticks around;” adding, she said, “I think he heard you hollering at me.” “So what, let him come…” and then out of the blue I was five feet from him on the outside stairway, he was two steps down, and the Colonel was against the beam of the door way. “You better take care of them dogs and shut them up before…” “Before I kick you ass, that that…” I leaped toward the man with my hands in the air as to block the man if he thrust the knife at me, and landed on the second to last step, about two feet in front of him, and in a circular motion, threw several blocks to off set his focus, he jumped back, pulled out a two inch knife, he was terrified. “You better not come closer,” he said. I started laughing. “And you mister, better shut your mouth, go home and never, I mean never come around here again, and if I find out you’ve cause any trouble for my landlady, I’ll find you and stick that knife up your ass…….get out of her NOW!!” He moved as fast as he could. Yes, I had my wild moments, as most people have. Said the Colonel, “I hope he doesn’t cause trouble for me, but I sure liked the way you handled him,” and she had a smile half a mile wide.