The Truth, If You're Honest

From Warren Ellis' forthcoming DOKTOR SLEEPLESS:

Pic 2
He looks down at the goggles in his hand, smiling sadly.

DOKTOR
NO-ONE'S GOING TO LISTEN TO A BOY GENIUS. NO-ONE'S
GOING TO LISTEN TO A PHILOSOPHER OR A TRAVELLER.

DOKTOR
NO-ONE CARES ABOUT AN ORPHAN, OR A RICH MAN, OR
SOME GROWN-UP GRINDER KID FROM HEAVENSIDE.

DOKTOR
ALL THE THINGS I'VE BEEN: NO-ONE'S EVER BEEN INTERESTED.

Where I Predict My Own Death

It won't be sudden. The signs will be there, but I won't acknowledge their legitimacy.

A number of years ago ( I can't even remember how many) a doctor at the UT Student Services Building agreed to check my heart. His diagnosis was simple - for as young as I was, he knew that the strain due to excess weight, drinking alcohol, and smoking cigarettes (which has little direct strain on the heart unless you have the proper combination of unhealthy elements to where it causes that effect) was literally killing me.

His prediction was simple - stop, or at least cut back on my drinking, smoking, and eat healthy diet. Otherwise, I would be dead within 10 years. He made sure to stress not maybe, or perhaps or possibly, but WILL be dead within ten years.

I haven't stopped or really slowed down. As such, let it be known that I bequeath of the proceeds of anything that results in monetary imbursement after my death, 25% to Jarad Matula, 25% to Matthew Hamilton, 25% to My Immediate Family (mother, then sister, then oldest brother, then second oldest brother, then distributed evenly) and another 25% to charity.

Let it further be known that at my funeral I demand that 'The Way I Feel Inside' by The Zombies be played. Furthermore, I demand that my funeral be a party, rather than a commiseration. I would prefer it to be known that I brought people - in particular my Austin Family and my Houston Family - together in festivity and celebration rather than sadness. Let there be food and music (of ALL TYPES AND STYLES) and talk. Perhaps then, two very different worlds will understand each other and in the doing, understand me.

People tell me that they love me. I have no fucking clue why. Suffice it to say this - all the love that people believe is due to me, put it towards someone who is unloved, because I once was that person and could have used it then.

I don't know why anybody bothers to love me. Some claim they do. Least of them are my blood relatives. They are a breed apart from me.

But let us say this - let all who love me understand this - "Until I can see That you'd really care for me I will dream that someday you'll be Really close to me If I feel that I could be certain then I would say the things I want to say tonight"

Furthermore, certain members of my family are disallowed - Debra Culmer, first and foremost. My brother, Eric Hopkins, is disallowed until he treats his children better. Charles Baylock is disallowed. Statton Gray is disallowed for reasons that are known to him and one other person. No cousins of my parents are allowed, no far flung distant relatives. Finally, Roosevelt Hopkins is disallowed, both for personal reasons and for his own benefit. The dichotomy of that sentence is the nature of our relationship.

I will die before all of you, somehow. Be prepared. It maybe famous, or unknown, or notorious. Either way, it will happen.

If so, the Godfathers of any children I should have or adopt shall be Matt and Jarad. Make them love life, and appreciate music and art and beauty. Never make them ashamed of who they are, because shame kills. Above all else, teach them to know and understand the meaning of freedom.

Maybe edited later.

Holiday Classic - The Story of 420

At this special time of year, I always like to sit by the fire thats passing to the left, and read from the old holiday classic - The Story of 4/20. Join me won't you as we celebrate the magic of the season!

The Story of 420

Many people celebrate April 20th, but not many people remember why.

During the triangle trade, a slave ship ran aground on an uncharted island on April 1. For 20 days, the Europeans and the Slaves fought through the jungles for survival and to kill each other. The upper class Europeans were desperate for something to smoke.

They tried as many different weeds and plants that they could find, but nothing worked. In attempt to kill the europeans, the slaves set some of the brush on fire. The smoke slowly but surely dulled their speed, and their bloodlust was abated. By luck of fate, the fire flushed out and burned some wild boar, feeding them all. Both the Europeans and the Slaves saw this weed as a sign from God, encouraging them to cease their fighting.

The Europeans set sail without their slaves but with as much of the weed as they could gather. The slaves learned to cultivate and grow it. Eventually, the European sailors began to sell the plant as a rare tobacco from the Americas. Through the generations, the slaves took their plants to parts all along south and central america, and the Europeans sold it the world over. The popularity spread, as the plant became a tool of making peace. So, on April 20th, we smoke the plant to celebrate peacemaking

So, on this day, Charlie Brown, I urge you to put aside your tension, bloodlust, anger, and all of the things that can make life so unbearable and, for a few hours, celebrate peace.