[originally posted 2 December 2007 on MySpace]
[John, a.k.a. Jesus Crisis - Christmas 1991]
Last night our artist friends Smith and Lady stayed the night with us. And it amazes me that though I spent nearly 24 hours without MySpace (is that possible?), I had my most enjoyable night in recent memory. Anyway, they have recently been posting excerpts from Smith's old journals, warts and all, on MySpace and I've been blown away. Some of what he shares (robbery, infidelity, drug use and much more) is not pleasant, but it is always powerful. He has a great mind, loads of talent, and some great stories to tell. But what impresses me most might be his unfailing honesty - maybe because that's a quality I've often had difficulty incorporating consistently into my own life.
So I've been contemplating telling more of my life story - with bare-bones honesty. It's easy to talk about the good, inspiring, and flattering things. But it's not always easy to talk about the rest. After all my mom, step-daughters, nephews, niece, step-mom, step-sister, aunts, and cousins are included in my MySpace friends. And though they don't often comment on my blogs, I have every reason to believe they might read them. I don't want to embarrass or shock anyone - or to set a bad example. And I don't want to spoil anyone's opinion of me. So it's hard, but (I believe) necessary for my own continuing personal evolution.
I have boxes and boxes of old journals, letters, et cetera collecting dust in our attic. And I think that as I write my book about my incarceration, I need to dig into these and deal with them honestly, critically and without fear. I don't know how often I want to include selections on my blog - this may end up being a one-time deal, or at least an infrequent one. Let's see how it goes.
A little context.... The following excerpt was written the evening of 15 April 1991. I was 24 years old and making more money as a bartender at a gay nightclub in Lorain, Ohio, than I'd ever made before. I had earned my first college degree (in history) the previous year, but I was still going to school part time. And a little more than a year after this was written, I would be charged with a crime that would eventually result in my serving 11 years in prison.
Earlier in the day, a friend had encouraged me to try a tab of LSD for the first time. I paid her five dollars for the "hit," but didn't take it right away. I waited until I was home and "safe." I thought I'd make a sort of "scientific" experiment of it - and write down my experience as it occured. (I had recently read Huxley's The Doors of Perception and was interested in opening my own doors, so to speak). But as you'll see, my under the influence writing isn't nearly as impressive as I'd hoped it would be. And it's certainly not as good as any of Smith's recent blog entries - though it's posted in response (and homage) to his philosophy that there is no truth "too true to do."
First a disclaimer: I only took "acid" two more times in my entire life - and it's been many years since the last time. So this was not necessarily typical of "the artist before he was known as Jesus Crisis." It's just presented, warts and all, completely unedited, as a piece of my life's puzzle.
Kids, don't try this at home. 
And so here, without further ado, is the trippy journal entry:
15 April 1991
My first hit of acid ever tonight.
First - a high feeling, speeding lightly, dick firming up. I'm watching my new Peter Gabriel video, P.O.V.
I've had a few beers earlier.
I have hives; why I know not.
After fuckloads of fucking, my arms are shot. Slaughter is jamming and I could have even more sex!
Tripping, enjoying being in the nude; the hives and the rest of my skin feeling warm. Even Mariah Carey and Great White sound like (and look like) great art.
I don't feel much like writing. Even commercials are cool. My muscles are weak from all the sex
Pictures seem to be ever changing, but still the same. Hard to explain
Sting is fresh!
Who is that gorgeous girl in this video playing the woodwinds?
Is that an oboe,
bassoon
contrabassoon
Hell if I know...
The Soul Cages...
on this video it seems as though the men keep getting older and uglier and the women keep getting younger and more gorgeous.
I'm going to bed now; I'll listen to my headphones, sleeping in the nude. I'm scared (ha) when even Warrant is starting to sound good.
Everyone looks good and yet bad
Even bad looks good.
I feel like I'm always trying to hold my stomach in, though I'm trying not to. I can't find my headphones. When I get tired of MTV, I'll lay in silent bed and trip.
I'm afraid someone will come out and see me nude, but I won't dress. It looks as though I'm giving this book the hives. I really want all I feel to be remembered; I really should have a tape going.
It gets trippier as I go
This above still holds true.
Extreme - Pornograffitti II - buy
It's 4:10 a.m. I feel like it's getting really bright outside.
Soon I will see daylight?
I'm hearing different mixes of Janet Jackson's "Escapade" while I'm watching only one video. The faraway shots are impressing. But the close-ups of Janet impress me as being as fake as they come. Good night... for now... 4:15 a.m....
 |
Currently listening :
Blues for Allah
By Grateful Dead
Release date: 10 October, 1995 |
Here are some of the comments this blog recieved originally:
