“I got her to the bank and left her there,” she went on, unemotionally.
“She detonated herself at a police station in Muqdadiya.”

    
      I’m an american, and i went off the deep end. When someone abandons them self to being a victim, he’s gonna have to be one. I’ve   been saying that i wanted to kill my mother since i was 8 years old and I’m not proud of that. It started with surrogates at a non human level. Physical objects, my possessions, other peoples. Destruction of things that are cared about and then destruction of things that are living on a lower level. Small animals, insects, animals, and then finally people.
     It started coming to a head again so i went back down, I ran away back down there. And then a month later I’m up living on a mountain living with my grandparents. Then 10 months later i murdered them. It made it worse to be on top of a mountain. I was literally on top of a mountain when it happened, and i could sense, i sensed, everybody in the world stopping what they were doing turning around saw what i did and were coming to get me, and i knew i was paranoid at that moment. Anyone that came up there and gave me a funny look or a fishy eye or quizzical look I would’ve blown their brains out thinking they were coming to get me. If it had ben in a city i would’ve been a mass murderer at age fifteen. I would’ve killed until they gunned me down. I wouldn’t have been able to reason my way out of it. I was scared to death and i was violent. I felt my back hit that wall. I was that rabbit that always ran, that always backed away and always burned his bridges. Suddenly there weren’t anymore, my back hit that wall and I came out screaming kicking and shooting.

    
     I got paroled to my mother. Atascadero decided that i didn’t ever need to talk to her at all. Don’t give her christmas presents, leave her alone. She got her pound of flesh out of you. I wasn’t sniveling about my mother to them. I didn’t like to what they had to say about her. She went through three husbands like a hot knife through butter. Four months after i was out i was back in the fantasy bay. My first date was a disaster, wasn’t her fault, and i didn’t even blame her even then. Im saying it was a terrible tragedy, but boy was it, boy she didn’t ever talked to me again. It was awful. It wasn’t sexual or grabbing at her or none of that. I was just such a dork. Taking her to a John Wayne movie and Denny’s. It’s terrible. I had never been on a date, at sixteen that was cool, i had never been on a date. You know? I was locked up since i was fifteen. But i can’t tell her that, “Oh gee don’t mind me.” She got kinda of hung up on my looks or whatever. She was a gorgeous young lady, pure class, and she saw something there that i guess wasn’t there and boy she found out quick.

    
     But i was losing a grasp on something that was too violent to keep inside forever. As I’m sitting there with a severed head in my hand talking to it. Or looking at it, and I’m about to go crazy, literally. I’m about to go completely flywheel loose and just fall apart. I say, “Wow this is insane.” Then Told myself’ “No it isn’t, you’re saying that and that makes it not insane.” I said, “I’m sane and I’m looking at severed…”, and i said “wait a minute I see old paintings and drawings of viking heroes talking to severed heads and taking them to parties. Old enemies in leather bags. Part of our heritage.” This is me back then, 1972 and 1973. Unable to live with the fact that I just stabbed to death and cut the throat of a innocent young women. Innocent in the sense that she did not plan on that happening. She did not do anything specifically for that to happen her. Yet she was a very active participant in her own death, and in my memory of that. She was nineteen years old and her roommate that was in the trunk who died right after that was eighteen. I didn’t go hog wild and totally limp. What I’m saying is i found myself doing things in an attempt to make things fit together inside. I was doing sexual probings and things. I mean in the sense of striking out and reaching out and grabbing and pulling to me. But appalled at the sense that it wasn’t working. That isn’t the way its supposed to be. That isn’t the way I want it. See what I’m saying.
    
     During that time i become engaged to someone who is young, someone who is beautiful. Very much the same advantages and very much the same upbringing and disneyland values. And, uh, she’s very much the reason I surrendered. I picked up two girls that looked so much like the first two, it was unbelievable. Almost identical circumstances, and I let them go. Everything went towards killing them and I didn’t. But I’m saying, wow it’s uncanny, it’s almost like it was meant to be that way. And i said wow this has got to stop. A week later I murdered my mother. I went back to Santa Cruz and killed her. 

I am an american, and I killed americans.
I am a human being and i killed human beings,
and i did it in my society. 

The Wild Life – 1984
Scott Yancey was a faggot. It said so on his locker, his house, his car, and even sometimes in case you forgot it was tapped to his back. For punishment I was sentenced to a night at is house. We snuck into see The Wild Life at Pictures and Pitchers. It was this short lived 80’s suburban phenomena where in a strip mall you could see a modern film in a dark room at a table with frosted dumb titted waitress while indulging in beer and fried things. I said we were meeting my dad and ordered some wings and skins. It was the first time Scott have ever seen boobs and quite possible his last. His only positive attribute was looking like Scooter from the Muppet Show. I rubbed one out in the bathroom just because and again in his mother’s bathroom once we snuck back in. I also pissed in his mothers face wash and his Mountain Dew. On monday morning Scott went up to the school quarterback “I saw The Wild Life on Friday night… that strippers tits were hot, huh?” ”The Wild Life is for faggots, faggot.” Everybody laughed including me.

23

translation:
Please.
This is not for Garbage.
This is for sitting.
Thank you.
Don’t put in the garbage