Strangely haunting one is from back when I was a sophomore in high school. It was at a school dance. Luckily the student body was mostly black. So the music was funky, hip, and pelvis grinding fun to dance to. I think it was during the song "Doin' Da Butt" when I noticed my homie Darby groovin out in the middle of the floor by himself with headphones on. Stepped up to him and asked him what he was listening to. He smirked and pointed upwards. Now I just assumed that first of all he was jammin out to his own soundtrack, and second that he couldn't hear what I was saying properly. So I repeatedly asked him with more volume what he was listening to, each time him replying with a finger upwards. Finally after doing this Martin and Lewis type comedy routine he breaks out of his cool character and says "dammit I'm listening to same fuckin thing you are, and now you are fucking my shit up".

For whatever reason the fact that I wasn't down with what he was doing still fucks me up. Like my street cred identification card was ripped up right there. And then I think, what a fucking posuer trying to look cool by donning headphones and swervin by yourself on the dancefloor. And what kind of lame ass am I to let that event point to a fear in myself that I ain't hip.

This one memory always seems to play itself out in black and white. When I was four, still living in the ghetto of Oshgosh Wisconsin, I was freakin out on my Saturday morning cartoons. And I don't mean I was being restless on the couch watching them, I would be right up on the television pretending I was part of the action. Some friends of my folks arrived with their kids. Don't remember who they were, just that they were older than me. And then these kids somehow convince me that I'd rather be watching The Three Stooges. Which is why I think the memory seems like it was in black and white. I remember them laughing, and the only thing I thought was amusing was when Curly got hammered with cream pies.

The first time I fucked a chick in the ass keeps playing over and over again. It was during my NYU days. No surprise that I'd discover a backdoor Betty at NYU. I remember while I'd be eating her out if I slid a finger up her ass she'd really moan and soak my face with her wet pussy. I believe she got frustrated with what she considered me teasing her. During one slap and tickle session, she got up on her elbows kind of groaned and said "you can fuck me in the ass if you want to". The squinty pained look in her face when I first shoved in is what etched itself most vividly in my head. Plus the fact that it felt like I just put my dick into a vice grip. It got better as we went along, but I guess we considered it a failure. Its kind of like when you get into a fistfight with your best friend, and you can't really look each other directly in the face for a couple of weeks. We broke up soon after that.

Kind of strange when your memories are constantly floating between moments of childhood innocence and signifying events which forshadowed proclivities toward the deviant path. I hope I'm not going through a cliche self discovery period. I've got a decent grasp of what kind of maniac I am. Maybe this is one of those healing phases that people have after traumatic shit storms. Maybe all this analyzing of my head is pissing me off. Fucking shit happens cause it happens. I'm a freak. Assuredly, influences in my childhood made me so, and I will continue being a freak till my last breath.

This is when that lame memories song comes on as we fade to black.