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  • Violence and Composure 002


    VIOLENCE AND COMPOSURE 002 - WINNER TAKES ALL

    I was born in Massachusetts in 1965 to *** and ***** *****. My mother was the oldest from a very old school Italian family with deep connections to the Irish mob in Boston, The ********** gang and my uncle, ***** *******. My Father, ******** was one of two siblings from a strong Catholic Irish family of cops. He spent most of his life going rogue against them by becoming a gang member himself. He was an OUTLAW Biker.

    Growing up in this household was like being in a Hatfield and McCoy drama. Every day was a lesson in survival. The first lesson I learned was control and unity were power. They got you to live another day in this unforgiving world. I had five sisters and brothers at home but thousands in the world. I was in the state system by age 8 and living life dependent on that bond I found was as familiar as the breathe I took each day to live each day as a child. I became a gang member at the young age of 11 with the C.W.B., the Crazy White Boys out of Mass. They were more of a prison gang that had connections on the streets and could get most anything they wanted. I was 11 in the juvenile detention centers that the the most violent youths in Mass. Rosendale Secure Treatment, Tuonton State, and Callange to name a few.

    Because of my mother's family and the reputation of my father I was allowed to fold into the most inner circles that were forbidden to others. From that point on, my life was forever changed. I was never able to escape the pull of feelings I had and I got sucked into the world of bikers and the bound we had.

    However I was not able to escape the right to be an earned member. To be able to say I put my due in and gave blood to the life. I spent the next few years as a prospect. A prospect is a wannabe biker that has to earn his patch and the right to wear it. Without the patch you have nothing and no power to ask for. I had the pleasure of being a peeker. A peeker is someone that rides where ever they tell you to go and check out the best bars and hotels that are biker friendly to stop at. If there were rumbles that had been set I would go and find the best battleground for both sides and if possible pay off the local PD to take their time getting to the call or not show at all. I was about 14-15 by this time, the 80's had started and my involvement grew with each day I was gaining respect and trust as a stand up guy. My father was an enforcer and around this time in his life he was wanted for shootings and hold ups across the country. My father had a very mean streak in him and raised me with the same mindset. So from the start I was being groomed to take his place. At 8 years old I witnessed my father shoot a man in the face as I sat on his lap at the kitchen table. As I sat there I had no idea that this is what I would become. As my involvement grew I had formed a tight circle around me and the network of friends helped me rise through the ranks.

    In 1982 I was 17 and a full C.W.B. and trouble for hire with any gang or club that needed services rendered. But with all things you can't outrun the long arm of the law and I found myself doing time in the adult state system. The Massachusetts prison system is tough and full of old racist behaviors that go way back to reasons I can't remember. I found myself in a hostile world but I also learned that there is no hate and distrust of one another's colors (colors are the patches we wear on our backs) or what part of the cost we ride on. We unite and stand as one. As my understanding is we ride because we are free men and hold no rule above the next brother. We respect them and their lives with honor. The outside world is about business the inside is about pride.

    The prison is full of all different people, to put it nicely, but the blacks, Italians and the bikers (mostly white) have levels that are held inside. The blacks and the spanish are users of drugs and gamblers. The Italians bring in the drugs and hold the betting on all sports and such. The bikers push and control the security around all that. We drop the club at the gate and become what we call the Brotherhood of One. As one we can stand tall and strong regardless of what's there because we are everywhere.

    My first job on the "One" was to collect on a bet owed. I had to cross a line in the yard most white men won't cross into, the black property. My real concern was that I was with a biker I had tried to kill about a year before and would this fellow One be there when it counted. He was a mid-level Hells Angel and we didn't get on well at all but I had to play nice and play the game. The guy I was with was named *******. He was a great fighter, so as we got closer I wasn't really worried about his ability to not get beat down. But would he back me up? The guy we were going to see was a big player in the blacks circle, ***** *. A real mean mother that has been down about 20 years now and owes money to the Italians and they want their money. As we approached the benches they knew right away that we didn't belong and closed in on us from all sides. Even in a moment like that my mind doesn't stop working. I started to look for weapons in hand and the fastest way out of there, should that be the best thing to do. But what I failed to notice was that ****wasn't even worried or looking to see the things I was looking for, and why? It was a setup to get me.

    The rule is, if you have an issue with another it goes in front of the council of the Brotherhood and hit is there that your bitch gets worked out. No one is to take things into their own hands and act on it. The council is set up by the heads of each group that has a say in the running of the prison. Everyone has three people and depending on the issue they have a say if you live, die, or get thrown out and become an orphan. Cast out from all or nothing. They can also let you go unpunished for your trespasses. As for **** *, ***** *., and myself. I awoke in the hospital with a hole in my neck from ***** and **** was in a body bag in the other room. I had just broke rule number one, don't kill without permission. The One Brotherhood is the best thing the Mass D.O.C. could ever want. We take care of our own and it's down with righteous clear understanding that there is a law and there is unity which can't be broken for any one man in the chain. I was never criminally charged for *****’s death but found guilty by my peers and owe what I will not pay, my life.

    The brotherhood that keep the prison wheel going is also the government that keeps it's people safe even in the chaos of the underworld. We have a president, a vice president, a treasury, and someone that handles the war department. We charge a collection fee and protection fee. We do all the dirty jobs that make almost one of the oldest professions, besides sex for money work, and make money. 

    The real sad part is that on the street I wouldn't have this sanction sitting over me head. Should I meet or be around anyone from the Brotherhood on the streets I am family and welcomed as a full member. But in the prison world I am an outcast and to be stepped on like a roach. The past 6 or more years I've lived in isolation. Im doing a life sentence. My world is a 6X9 cage and a block that is not much bigger for the next foreseeable years. I could ask for a match and try and win my freedom from this sanction. If I win i keep myself in forever but I will be able to walk with my heap up and free in population.

    I see parole in 2 years and may have a shot at getting out and I will give up the biker lifestyle and it's law for normal things like lasting happiness and maybe even a family of my own. I have a daughter, ******. She was raised in the state system like myself and is a gang member as well. She speaks spanish and runs with the Latin Kings out of Mass.

    Before prison this time, I was running with a crew out of  Mass. A bunch of nobodies really, all ex-cons (armed robbers, rapist, and cast-outs) just making the day as best we can. Part of the drugs and comfort my brothers experience in prison comes from crews like mine. Myself a longtime friend from the youth system **** ********** plus a few others, ***** *******, *** ******* and this nut from the west coast on the run for murder/rape, *** ******* had a real good gig going with these women where we pimped them out and got them to push crack at the same time. They were in their teens (18-20) and every chance we could use them we did. With that and the crime wave we put out, lot's of money came into the system to help out the Brotherhood. One of the crime waves was really crazy. Myself and my boys wanted to get our girls into a strip club in Webster. Mack called the Fuzzy Grape. It was a local dive, bikers hung out their to pass time. Nothing too real ever happened their besides the occasional fight and blow job in the parking lot. We get there and this guy tells us he's got all the girls and we can't have a spot without paying him for the privilege to work in his bar. So we got a room at the local motel and thought about how we should go about this. *** ********wanted to break his face and take the spot. I made some calls to see if any clubs owned the bar. It didn't really belong to anyone but some ****s liked the owner and we were told to back off any damage to the club itself. But we could do what we wanted to the guy. The Brotherhood needed cash flow and needed it fast. The heat on the street in the late 80's early 90's for crack and prostitution was crazy and we couldn't pay off the cops anymore. We sent one of the girls to see him and act as if she was on her own. She was to try and get him back to the room. As we knew, the fat pig went for it. In no time he was beat and tied to a chair. For three days we cleaned out his house and bank. Everything, even the dishes and the floor rugs. Everything was sold to pay off the cops (℅ in prison) and get our people out with bail or lawyer's fees. We had money coming in from all over the country supporting prison corruption from c/o's to deputies and wardens. Most c/o's were renting apartments from gang owned buildings or got loans to put their kids in school or vacations with the wife. Nowadays the system is run by a tight ass nobodies that hate pride and are trying to get back at the bullies that beat and picked on them in the world. Most of the hard liners are gone, died out or set free. Some have been sent to the feds and never heard from again. But there are a few that still stand with the Brotherhood and all that it stands for. Without us, "The One",  there wouldn't be any respect for each other or a common respect for life in the prison system. Now the really wild prison systems are Cal and bigger systems like that. We still have rules and enforce them throughout the prison system in Mass. and many other states. Some are different and call the Brotherhood by other names, but it's still all the same. If you're a biker and wear colors or claim a family you are welcome to join us in strength to show pride and power.

    Even as I sit in my prison hole isolation I am still an enforcer and my vote counts until I am dead. I make my rank and hold the power it has. Should I get out, it's as nothing has changed. I go to population and I pay my debt to the crew. Winner takes all.

    -Name Withheld By Request

  • I'm Not Into Anarchy That Much Anymore

    IM NOT INTO ANARCHY THAT MUCH ANYMORE
    by Jacob Pastrovich
    Limited edition of 50 (+10 artist proofs)
    individually numbered and hand-sewn
    5.5 x 8.5 inches
    16 pages
     
    Correspondence between two 80s youths from New Jersey found in a copy of Uniform Choice's Screaming For Change (Wishingwell Records, 1986). Evidence suggests the lovers shared a brief tryst, that is documented through a few steamy letters and school photos, stashed away inside the record sleeve and found 20 years later by the author. Innocence lost at its best.
     
    A short excerpt from one of the less-explicit letters:
    Friday, Jan. 8, '88
     
    Holly,
    Hey sexy what's up? Not much here. So you hate it there it's hick town USA? I can't believe you came back to NoSide and didn't call me! Did you stay at Tara's? Well when you come down in Feb call me and we will get together. I like some chick in Edison High and I'm gona [sic] get her.
     
    "P.S.S. I'm not into Anarchy that much anymore. I'm into Straight Edege [sic] X"

    Get it HERE.

     

  • Mix 133

    Mix 133: I'm Not Into Anarchy That Much Anymore
    01 Uniform Choice - Screaming For Change
    02 Minor Threat - In My Eyes
    03 Clikitat Ikatowi - The Feeding of the Birds
    04 Nirvana - Negative Creep
    05 Hasil Adkins - No More Hot Dogs
    06 Beat Happening - I Spy
    07 New Order - Procession 
    08 Robert Palmer - Johnny and Mary
    09 Tears for Fears - Everybody Wants to Rule the World
    10 The Crystals - He's a Rebel
    11 Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs - Ready or Not
    12 Simon & Garfunkel - The Only Living Boy In New York
    13 Mahogny - My Bed Is My Castle (Featuring Lucy Belle Guthrie)
    14 Velvet Underground - The Black Angel's Death Song

    by Jacob Pastrovich
    jacobpastrovich.com

    Get it HERE.

  • Polyphase 002

    POLYPAHSE 002
    Crossforce - Demo 1986

    Crossforce's six song demo from 1986 displays a guitar-driven xian heavy metal sound. Buried in the muddled mix are some NWOHBM soaring vocal/guitar touches and an interesting mid tempo piano ballad. The B side of this copy is seemingly blank but it doesn't appear we missed out on much. Possibly an attempt to record your own tunes and mail em back to Crossforce for potential release/xian festival circuit tours. Lyrical themes range from lost love to getting close to J.C. in a smoke filled room. Drums sound like they were recorded in a bathroom, not in the good way. Our Father is the highlight of the demo and the highlight of Crossforce's existence. Burning in the fires of hell... 

    -TK

  • EIS 003





    EIS 003 - As I Have Gone Alone In There

    A story from someone who creates adventure in the 21st century.

    After surviving cancer, Forrest Fenn, a dealer of antique luxuries, hid a treasure chest filled with gold coins, gold dust, gold nuggets, rubies, and other valuable things. The treasure is said to be worth over one million dollars, and he’s only given clues to where it may be in his poetry, prose, and the occasional television appearance.

    In this story, Forrest Fenn is interviewed at his home in Santa Fe, New Mexico where he shares stories from his childhood, experiences of being a fighter pilot during the Vietnam War, and what exactly made him want to hide a treasure. Local friends and treasure hunters also describe their encounters with Fenn and ideas of where the treasure may be found.

    Produced by Garrett Crowe, Mike Martinez, and Tyler Wray.

    Music by High Aura'd
    http://highaurad.bandcamp.com/

    For more information about Forrest Fenn’s books visit
    collectedworksbookstore.com

  • Mix 131


    Mix 131: Dick Jokes
    01 - Festival of Dead Deer - Beyond Narcolepsy
    02 - Lake of Dracula - Coconut Wine
    03 - This Heat - Makeshift Swahili
    04 - Karp - Pie
    05 - Skywave - Got That Feeling
    06 - Swirlies - Jeremy Parker
    07 - Homostupids - Raw Nightums
    08 - Love Life - Blame the Devil
    09 - Pain Teens - Brown Jenkin
    10 - No Trend - Blow Dry
    11 - The Telescopes - Suicide
    12 - Godflesh - Dead Head
    13 - Can - Halleluwah
    14- Locrian Return to Annihilation
    15 - Swans - Amnesia

    By Jason Hughes
    Get it HERE.

  • Christ or Carcosa

    CHRIST OR CARCOSA by MAX G. MORTON

    Carcosa has been occupying the majority of the space in my head for the past nine weeks. It's not breaking news that the Yellow King has ruined the sleep and restorage before the work week of many people this winter. How can you retire and start again properly with that much Southern fat to digest each Sunday? True Detective is a heavy course with many layers that come undone at any given moment, never allowing any peace. 

    Instead of the usual depression and my elder nerves knowing that come Sunday morning this brief pause of life is over until next Friday, I have never wanted the weekend to hurry up and die so badly. I just don't want that hour of Sunday to end. That hour is perfect and I could live in it, as unsure and thick as it may be. I know I am not alone, so I will spare you my theories. Saying that I connected with True Detective is an understatement. That being said, I'm glad it's done. The anxiety and weight has lifted and I can somewhat return to whatever the hell it was I was doing prior. 

    I have been sick and run down with seasonal allergies and just basic age. The more blows to your immune system one starts to wonder when you will finally be down for the count. I've had my fair share of close calls and have had drinks with the reaper a few times too many. Eventually he will close the deal and I will be off. It happens to all of us and for most of us, when we go we will leave a mess and unanswered questions behind (because when in this life with all the red tape do we get to be officially done with anything?). I was worried in the car the other day thinking what if I die before knowing how this wraps up? Absurd. I wasn't thinking of my dog, my mother, my girlfriend or all my brothers. I was thinking of a program on the Electric Campfire. Not finishing my book or fulfilling any of my dreams or any of the things that I am still here to do. I was fucking worried about not knowing what happens to Rust and Cohle.  Affected by the swamps in ways I can't put to words. Maybe it's the Southern gentleman in me or a ghost of a redneck past. 

    What got me thinking all of these thoughts of how much it would suck to die before True Detective took its ultimately graceful bow was the Devils Blood. I had to ask the universe why their founding member Selim Lemouchi didn't stick around long enough to see how it ended. It was the first thing I thought when I was texted the news. Less than a week to go and he hit the eject button. I know almost everyone has been into this show but maybe he didn't have cable. Must not have. It seems to me that he did what he wanted, so I don't feel sorry for him. It's crystal clear that he was comfortable with the idea of taking his own life. We can do nothing but accept what is. 

    There's an interview with him and his dog in the woods. The connection he explains between man and animal moved me. My dog has kept me from walking out of here on a few occasions. I thought with his lyrics and progression in his projects after Devils Blood that he was going to be around for awhile more and I was excited to see what the future would bring for such a man. In the end I realized his work will continue to grow and inspire and Selim set out to do what he was put on this Earth to do and left us with just that. It's beyond beautiful and I can do nothing but respect it.  He was 33, so it feels he killed himself because that was the age that Jesus Christ died. Glen Benton was going to commit suicide at 33 but he never owned the same qualities of Selim that I connected with. I felt Selim would have to have gotten True Detective show the same way I did.

    Besides the entire Devils Blood catalog, the recent Earth Air Spirit Water Fire solo record and a video on life, inspiration and death, Selim left us with some Facebook clues under his online name, Kali Yuga. Kali Yuga (Devanāgarī: कलियुग [kəli juɡə], lit. “age of [the demon] Kali”, or “age of vice”) is the last of the four stages the world goes through as part of the cycle of yugas described in the Indian scriptures. The “Kali” of Kali Yuga means “strife, discord, quarrel, or contention.”  Posted on his page was a photo of Francis Ford Coppola with a gun to his head and the subtitles "it'd be a graceful way out" along with the message: "It takes bravery. The deepest bullets are not to be feared; phosphorous napalm or nothing to be feared, but to look inward to see that twisted mind that lies beneath the surface of all humans and to say yes I accept you, I even love you because you are a part of me, you are an extension of me…"

    Alessandra brought up that Selim had not stuck around for the final episode of True Detective. She had blurted out in sadness that maybe if he saw it he would have seen something Rust had. I think Selim was very spiritual and what he did was very spiritual in a sense. I am not saying go kill yourself, but Selim wasn't shy on the topic and this was the path he chose. When taken by your own hand, it can be considered selfish but I understand the definition of leaving on a high note. Something True Detective also did. After all my speculation, I was shocked to learn that right before he died, he posted a film still from the show. He had gotten something from it. How could he not have? Any intelligent person is lying if they say this show didn't rattle something in them. Was Selim afraid to find out what Carcosa was? Did he already know? I had wondered if some people would end it after this final episode, as crazy as that sounds. There was something magical and very toxic about the aura that cloaked this Sunday hour. We will never know what Selim was thinking and what his final thoughts were just two days after the second to last episode, but whatever it was he saw what he needed and probably took that with him, until he got to the moment where everything became nothing. 

  • Mix 130



    Mix 130: Suicidal Teenage Landscapes 
    01 The Effigies - Haunted Town
    02 The Dead Milkmen - Dean's Dream
    03 Belching Penguin - Suburban Life
    04 Out Cold - High Maintenance
    05 Tygers Of Pan Tang - Gangland
    06 David Lee Roth - Big Trouble
    07 Hilary - Goose Step, Two Step
    08 Willie Thrasher - Wolves Don't Live By The Rules
    09 Iron Curtain / Steven Fields - Legalize Heroin
    10 The Orchids - Teenage Babylon
    11 Sparks - Underground
    12 Nasty Facts - Drive My Car
    13 Steel Pole Bath Tub - Time To Die
    14 The Rotters - Sit On My Face Stevie Nix
    15 Koro - Acid Casualty
    16 Laughing Hyenas - Life Of Crime
    17 Le Shok - TV In My Eye
    18 Stephen W. Parsons Babel  - The Howling 2 Theme Song 
    19 The Runaways - On Suburban Lawns
    20 Leviathan - Nothing Changes

    By Max G. Morton
    23wolves.tumblr.com
    midnightmovies.tumblr.com

    Get it HERE.

  • TULSA - 01

    TULSA 01 - Cody Lane
    http://instagram.com/raybrownpark

    The Black Wall Street has crumbled. Our white hooded ancestors called for the desecration of a gleaming black community. The city that always sleeps is a cultural black hole, dreaming of strip malls and Jehova's only son. Tacky, depleted, and unaware of a realm beyond the haze spewing from rusted refineries which grasp the banks of the Arkansas River; the phantoms of Tulsa drift about their land filled with drug stores, dive bars, and church steeples, completely contempt with quietly suffering in a world without words. 


  • Mix 129

    Mix 129: A Lonely Mouth Talks Too Much
    01 Wire -  I Am The Fly
    02 The Fall - Lie Dream Of A Casino Soul
    03 Nervous Gender - Cardinal Newman
    04 New Order - Truth
    05 The Normal - T.V.O.D.
    06 Gary Numan -  You Are In My Vision
    07 Josef K - Fun 'n Frenzy
    08 Gang Of Four - Anthrax
    09 Flying Lizards - Lovers and Other Strangers (7'' Version)
    10 Silicone Teens - Memphis, Tennessee 1
    11 Swell Maps - New York
    12 The Ex -  Sucking Pig
    13 Kraftwerk - Its More Fun To Compute
    14 The Scars - Adultery
    15 Brian Eno - Third Uncle

    Man in white coat says:
    "blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah,blah"

    Woman in black coat says:
    "what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,what,
    what,what,what?

    by Eric Paul
    Iofferedmyselfasthesea.com

    Get it HERE.

  • Fit to be Tied - 002


    photo by Laura Kiernan

    FIT TO BE TIED
    Inside The Mind Of
    WILLIAM CODY WATSON
    (#2)

    I spent so much time thinking I could not be a writer, a poet (and what a wild, sordid stigma that word comes with) specifically until I had perhaps walked certain streets, traveled to Paris, London, Berlin; or lived as certain men or even monsters...

    But I've come to realize, through my own experiences, be they as seemingly naïve or unimpressive as they may, I have learned many lessons. Why not share them?

    If no one cares, that's not my problem.

    "The point is there ain't no point." - Cormac McCarthy

    ---

    finite;
    your tattooed
    wrist
    collected complimentary
    curtain calls,

    hushed closet
    phone calls claimed
    a return to form

    but I never
    found my lighter.

    ---

    I came swollen
    of acrid,
    crowing core.

    She came birthed
    in bright
    academia.

    Our feathers
    fell together
    but fire
    burns hot
    when she's
    wet,

    appetite whet
    while she stews.

    Her mother is
    still in tears.

    ---

    the cake-like universe
    pink tonight and melting
    frees her from the
    petty tips of worn-
    out digits.

    ---

    Bill Callahan is
    a rusty magician.

    I am tempted
    out of bed
    by a
    heaving,
    deranged
    budweiser
    (in tepid shower)

    the drain
    is laughing
    at my dick.

    another
    pigeon
    toed

    restless
    thought
    or
    slaughtered
    note.

    ---

    I had hoped

    to some day

    be as important to you

    as Colorado.

    ---

    there's absolutely
    nothing practical
    about
    shitting the bed.

    the bricklayer
    scratches his head.

    PLAYLIST
    ian matthews, “tried so hard”
    songs: ohia, “nervous bride”
    darkthrone - “transilvanian hunger”

  • Mix 128


    Mix 128 - Dissipation Complex
    01 James Plotkin's Phantomsmasher - Podsjfkj Pojid Poa
    02 Genocide Organ - Come Orgasm
    03 FFH - Nevada Light
    04 Mike Dred & Peter Green - Kymera
    05 Mescalinum United - We Have Arrived (Aphex Twin TTQ Mix)
    06 Simm - Pillhead
    07 Scorn - Beat 4
    08 SPK - Metall Field
    09 Autechre - Corc
    10 Richard H. Kirk - Reality Net
    11 Venetian Snares - One Eye
    12 Give Up - Fuck Step '98 Track 1
    13 Gai - Fallen Angel's Balls
    14 Alberich - Limit Mitigate Counteract Transmute
    15 Prurient - Whom Youth Makes So Fair
    16 Bernard Parmegiani - Hors Phase
    17 Lego Feet - Side B Part 1
    18 Boredoms - Budokan Tape Try (500 Tapes High)
    19 Ruins - Hyderomastgroningem
    20 Merzbow - Part IV (Noisembryo)
    21 Confuse - Kill The...

    By Matt Løberg
    Get it HERE.

  • Violence and Composure 01 - Meth Monster


    Violence and Composure 01 - Meth Monster

    Beauty has no other origin than a wound, unique, different for each person, hidden or visible, that everyone keeps in himself, that he preserves and to which he withdraws when he wants to leave the world for a temporary, but profound solitude. - Jean Genet

    Ok... Let me tell you a story about my first wife. I went to prison at seventeen here in Texas, did seven years on a fifteen-year sentence. I was twenty-four when I got out. Went straight to Oklahoma to visit my mom, my real mom who I never knew. Instantly got in trouble and split for Canada. Canada is beautiful by the way. I didn't know anyone, but I've always been accepted into the biker communities easy enough. "We know an outlaw when we see one" type of acceptance.

    I ended up tattooing at the Los Bravos M/C clubhouse in Winnipeg. Money, Women, and Meth... I was set! One night, this 19-year-old-- blond, 5'4'', foxy as hell-- shows up with a visitor of another club, a Rogue M/C officer. I'm tattooing a big ass crybaby who won't sit still. I'm very patient, but the meth had me on a rocket ride! So I tell the guy to go outside and get some air and change his diaper. Naturally, the girl laughed. Her ol' man, the Rogue, backhanded her out of the chair. 

    You heard of the 'meth-monster'? My nickname was Rage. At twenty-four/twenty-five, I was in my prime and loved to feel bones break. I broke both of the guy's cheek bones and one of his arms before anyone pulled me off. I told everyone in the house that the bitch was mine, and if there was a problem with that, my pistol had seventeen shots. The Los Bravos thought I was pretty out there, but they had few members with my level of aggression or skill with the fist. None had my pure level of joy when it came to bloodlust. They offered me a patch and a Harley. I took the girl to the hospital. I was really pissed about her broken nose. She saved me from hunting the dick down by explaining to me that he was related to an RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police). A fucking pig! Being on the lam, I figured it was best to take the girl and get moving. I did, and we were one. We were married for a few years before I ended up in prison for violating my parole - leaving the state and not reporting. I did two years on that and then went back to Canada to get my wife and our son Vinny. However, en route, I ended up beating up a guy at a house in North Dakota. When the cops showed up, he said I broke into his house, so I went to prison in North Dakota with a 5 year sentence. My wife divorces me, and I never see my son again.

    Name withheld by request
    September 2012