Category: The Other Side DRAFTs

The original DRAFTs of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited.

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Release, Chapter 7 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

Faith continues to be an epic struggle for all of Man; else, the darkness creeps upon you, calling your name and misspelling it. Fucking clowns. Like the movie “IT,” but dumber..

I was talking with a former associate the other day. He insulted me and demeaned my feelings towards having lost something significant to me.

He ridiculed me so that if I were a violent person, I would have stabbed him in the throat with my dick. But I didn’t. Nor would I ever. And not just because I’m insecure about my cock.

I allowed this to go on for a while, not just one conversation, but many more over a solid piece of time. It was always a test of faith, even if I was not religious.

As the days slipped into weeks, I ignored this person because I had faith in myself. I had faith that I was strong enough to take anything he could try to throw at me. And one day, I finally had had enough, and I said to him.

“It does not matter what you think. It does not matter what you say. You are inconsequential. You are insignificant. And I’d like to remind you of the age-old saying of “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”

I had the opportunity to work for CNIPROC.LIVE and what I would be doing would be ethically against my morals, my fabric.

It would be against all of my values, but I was in such a position that I had to take the job. It was taking the job or killing myself. Literally, and there’s the darkness again.

I worked there for a while, and every day I said to myself, “I’m going to quit soon because this is not right. This is immoral”. Eventually, I was ushered out via downsizing, like so many others.

They didn’t give me any hope or faith; they kept me away from that darkness. But then, I lost it all. The job and money. Everything. And I was very angry, confused, frustrated.

What have I done to have been put into a position like this?

What part of the Karma universe did I shit on to get treated in such a horrible manner? What did I do wrong? And I had no answers. Like asking Truffle Takao Money Lion Shiro Rai how their dinner was.

Then, something amazing occurred to me. I had some stocks from CNIPROC.LIVE, and they were doing pretty well. More than pretty well.

The point where I made money hand over fist over fist, and I could see the cashout, or at least I thought it was a cashout. I had to have faith in that coming to fruition.

But the money, the money kept pulling on me. I could have better toys; I could have better spaces, I could have better access to people and resources. And you know what that stuff does?

It questions your faith and positions the darkness to rule over you, suffocating your existence.

There was a rather significant and negative downside here. Having that money brought access to drugs. And oh boy, the drugs. Someday I’ll talk about that, but know it was fun.

But then CNIPROC.LIVE had a huge scandal, and their stock tanked. That money went “poof.” My benefits are gone. Health Insurance was relegated to using the ACA (Obamacare).

What a fucking shit fuck that is. This doctor is covered; this doctor says no fucking way. I’m sure people understand this one.

I needed a particular drug for my thyroid, and it was getting difficult to deal with the side effects. I had no job; I had no insurance; I was living off selling some of the stocks from time to time.

While all that was great, getting that medication was very challenging. I saw my doctor, and my doctor said they couldn’t give me the medication unless I submitted myself to a battery of tests.

I said, “Are you fucking kidding me? How much do these tests cost?” The response was predictable, “Since you don’t have insurance, at least a $1,000.”

And I stopped. And I wondered to myself again, what the fuck is going on? Is this that slap from Karma?

I started to feel like the walls were closing in again, and I couldn’t take it. My life was being battered and destroyed. I turned to the darkness. Nah, my desperation caught hold of me.

I made an appointment with my vet and I brought Truffle in, a few weeks earlier than was scheduled. I’d been with my vet for 13 years, between several clinics. I was so happy and proud when he opened up a clinic of his own.

He was stunned that I was in and asked about that. I told him about my issue, needing the thyroid medication.

I asked him if he would prescribe the non-addictive, no psychotropic or hallucinogenic, or euphoric feeling thyroid medication to the cat in this specific dosage that I needed.

He said no. He said no because that was immoral and ethically wrong. So I didn’t argue with him, I understood, and I know it was a big ask.

I thanked him for at least discussing with me and that I will see him at Truffle the next appointment a few weeks later.

And to be honest, all of the subsequent times that I saw him, we never talked about it. We never talked about it. He never mistreated me was always so kind and generous to me.

A couple of weeks later, I found myself in the same situation as I was before. Again, I am afraid of what’s happening or what could happen even though I’ve requested assistance.

This time I had asked for assistance from the State of Arizona the United States Federal Government, and with all of their programs, I was getting nowhere.

I had my Obamacare insurance come up for renewal, and as I was filling out the form, I could only enter the amount of money I was making as my unemployment insurance. I get to the end of the document, and it says

“too bad, so sad, you don’t make enough money, why don’t you try something else because you are a giant loser.”

Hyperbole. OK, that’s not really what it said, but it did indicate that I wasn’t making enough money on unemployment to be a part of the Obamacare program, and it did suggest looking into alternatives.

Medicaid and Medicare are a joke. Which is all great and everything, except none of my doctors accept it. Lovely.

What exactly was I supposed to do when I was in a position like this? I have no one to help me, and nothing was pointed in the right direction? I don’t understand why I am just spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.

It is incredibly discouraging and rather frustrating to be in this position.

And the darkness leaped back into my life, filling cracks in my brain like pouring paint made of some super sticky syrup all over a table.

It never feels like it goes away. It lurks in the depth of my mind, every once and a while knocking at the front door as if to remind me it was there. This darkness never asked me for anything. It just wanted everything.

But I knew it was there. I kept trying to push it away, make it stop. I tried alcohol. I tried marijuana. I tried a variety of prescribed medications. I tried other fun drugs.

The darkness was always there, waiting for me. Waiting for me to make a mistake. To backslide. To admit defeat. To allow it to take over and consume my soul, my essence.

I feel like the darkness keeps calling me, subconsciously at the very least. It is an ever-present pulsing beacon. I can hear it like a counter in the recesses of my brain like it’s beating a lobe to kingdom come.

The darkness, it’s everything you think it would be. It never stops. It will never stop; it knows no way other to be the bringer of pain. It’s a really sad way to think about it.

The darkness will always be calling to me.

For as long as I have remembered, the darkness has haunted me for as long as I have been. It has always been the doubt that clouds my mind. It has always been the anxiety that has punished me.

The darkness is a cloud that brings nothingness. It brings self-desolation and despair. It is all that destroys life. It is all that cripples your mind, preventing you from any happiness.

It is doom. It is sadness incarnate. It is limitless. It does not know time.

A lot of people relate this feeling to “goth” stuff. However, I can assure you that for myself, at the very least, “goth” wasn’t the initiator of this. No, not at all.

Having not knowingly listened to “goth” till the first-time hearing Type O Negative (Christian Woman) circa 1994. I don’t think I’d ever heard “goth.” The whole genre gets a bit of a bad rap.

I have always had this sorrow inside of me. It is always there; it never goes away. It is ever-present. It’s ever crippling. It’s the bringer of doom, more than anything else.

There are times when, much like my knee pain, I have wished that there was something that I could give of myself to make it go away. But then I end up sitting in the shower with the showerhead spraying down my knees.

Nothing makes that pain go away. Nothing makes my knees not hurt. I’ve had six knee surgeries, yet I still am nearly always in pain.

I’m always catering to my knees, those fucks. The pain makes me want to do much harm to myself. I often live my life around them. Around how I know they are going to feel “later.”

darkness,faith, K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 2 – Hope With a Side of Fear – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 3 – Fear without Hope – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 4 – Fear with Darkness – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 5 – Darkness and Hope – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 6 – Release – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Release, Chapter 6 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

The paths that we walk, the choices we make, how they permeate through our lives, the pain we inflict on ourselves. Ah crap, I can hear some Redemption lyrics from the song “Release” rattling about my head.

Tired of life and filled with despair
And covered with blood from the crosses I bear
But I’m still standing
– Redemption, The Fullness of Time: Release

So, I went for a walk the other day. While I was out walking, I spent a reasonable amount of time thinking that I have slowly, but surely, been leaving clues for my inner circle about the stark realities of the decisions I’ve made and the task I must walk.

Thankfully, I’m thrilled that I’m doing it, so I am setting expectations for myself and them in the event of the creeping in darkness. There’d be no honest way to release me and the burden I feel on my mind.

Yup, I keep hearing that god damn song again echoing in the back of my mind. It’s lightly buzzing back there, pushing me to investigate myself further.

I find myself feeling very disappointed in people, and yet I find hope in others where previously there was a void. I’ve had friends step up and had “friends” that I had to release from my life because they were incapable of being adults.

And what I’ve been at that, is that people who cannot maintain or have a conversation with somebody without getting upset and name-calling. It’s just not something people can release themselves from. It’s the stark reality of the world that we live in.

That night, I called an old friend whom I’ve known for over 25 years. While we were talking, I brought up that subject. You know, the one about the darkness that was coming for me. I find it hard to explain at times for the uninitiated.

She’s a longtime friend from the short stint where I lived in Florida. At the time we met, I was working for her then-husband. It was Thanksgiving, and he invited me and my roommate “Greg” (I will call him that).

I didn’t know that “Greg” and the boss were old friends from their time working for some interwebs dial-up place in the early 1990s. But, I knew “Greg” from growing up in the area of NY I was from.

I knew the boss was married, but I knew nothing of her. And for the sake of doing this ridiculously, we’ll call her “Andrea.” I’d never met “Andrea” before, so I had no frame of reference.

The boss invited us in, and we were in the dining room, having an adult beverage, and this incredibly stunning blonde walked in. I think “Greg” had to help me pick up my chin after it had dropped.

I didn’t gawk for long, but her southern accent was nearly as stunning as her overall beauty. As the night went on, “Andrea” was friendly to me, but not overly. I don’t want to piss off the boss.

Friendliness doesn’t mean a lap dance, although I would have welcomed it in any other setting. That includes church, in a movie theater, cemetery. You get the point.

I believe I’ve written about her before, elsewhere.

Ok, back to that night. Overall, it was a pleasant time. At the night’s end, “Greg” and I thanked our hosts as we said our goodbyes. I figured I’d never see her again, so it wasn’t heartbreaking.

As time passed, she ended up divorcing the boss. I don’t recall him giving two shits to have released himself from whatever the deal was.

Because “Andrea” was friends with “Greg,” I’d see “Andrea” from time to time when the group would go out to a bar, hang out at someone’s apartment, whatever.

Andrea was never overly flirtatious with me, but she was going through some tough times with the divorce. I’d come to understand that some ten years later.

The one lasting memory that I have of “Andrea” is the last time I saw her when I was living in Florida. It was like something out of a dream, so surreal that it couldn’t have possibly been anything other than a fabrication.

I was with my new roommate, “Terry,” who had moved in when my buddy “Greg” moved back to New York to take a job working doing networking stuff. He had been released from the lease.

That was painful as I had moved there because of my friendship with “Greg.” But, even today, I don’t hold it against “Greg” for doing what was best for him.

“Terry” was cool and from the same general area as “Greg” and myself. However, he was a few years younger than us, so I had not met him until moving to Florida.

“Terry” was a part of the crew that would hang out together on the weekends before “Greg’s” departure after being released from the lease. So he got “Terry” to step into that spot.

Over the next few months, his girlfriend (whom I called “girlfriend” complete with a lower g) had moved in. She was a nice gal, with one slight side note.

You see, she got herself around, having dated “Greg” for a few months. It was weird to see her there. She was kind of like furniture. Look it up.

Well, there’s a second note there. It was weird seeing her walk around naked while being “Greg’s” furniture and not caring. And the same thing when she was “Terry’s” furniture and having the same attitude.

She was a nice person, and I can’t fault her for being an exhibitionist. But, on the other hand, I’m sure she felt as if she had released part of herself to be able to do that.

And she liked Brandy Rai quite a bit. Then again, who didn’t? He was super rad.

Sorry about that, back to the story about “Andrea.”

I was standing there, trying not to stare at a very impressive woman that I had thought about from time to time. What was she like to fall asleep with? Did she prefer holding hands with the left or the right? You know, stuff.

As the conversation about who the fuck knows what concluded, not paying attention as I wasn’t a part of it, I watched as she turned and walked away from me.

Sashaying her ass as if to say “Hey, look at me! I’m something you can’t have.”. Either that or telling me she loved anal.

Somehow, we have managed to stay in touch for many years now. I have promised “Andrea” a kiss, just a kiss, probably sometime in the last 25 years. Lol.

I don’t recall this promise, but I have faith in her, to be honest, nor would I ever suggest that she should or could release me from that agreement.

“Andrea” and I talked the other night, and I mentioned to her that I had been looking at airfare as I needed to fulfill my commitment to her, even if it was the last thing I did or the last bit of money that I had.

At first, I believe that she was taken aback five by my willingness to openly and honestly communicate, how much value I place on my integrity above so much else, and its importance in my life.

I know there’s a chapter in one of my unreleased books about integrity. Something about a code or some shit.

I think it’s hard for people to understand a good human and the sheer amount of work that goes into it. There’s an immense amount of effort to it.

You have to be willing to stand up for yourself, and you have to be willing to stand up for others. You have to be ready to walk the walk. Who are you, and what do you want to be?

Very importantly, you have to be able to admit when you’re wrong and not because you’re being backed in a corner. So release yourself of that burden and release yourself of that pain.

Because you’re a good human, you will always know the difference between right and wrong.

I find that it is the respect you show somebody to listen to what they have to say and recognize your wrongdoing. Then, you will be released from their doubt and strength that bond.

While we typically don’t want to admit to being wrong, that is a human condition; it is essential to your integrity that you do this.

For without integrity, you are just a shell of a person and more apt to be a piece of shit than to be a standup human. Again, you must release yourself to achieve this level of integrity.

For as long as I can remember, I have tried to walk the walk. I have wanted to be an adult keep my feelings in check, although in private; that’s another story.

But it’s important because people are lunatics and unhinged. They come at you with anger, spite, and vitriol and expect you to do the same. So you have integrity when you do not retaliate, and you listen. You listen.

Sigh, again, dude? Ok, back on track as I tend to get into the weeds.

I have known “Andrea” for 25 years and have repeatedly acknowledged that I am responsible for fulfilling my obligation. Therefore, I think she could understand why it was important to me.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want to fly anywhere, let alone to Chicago again. But, I’m going to do that because I am a man. I am a man of my word. That is integrity.

Doing things that you don’t want to do but for the sake of doing them because they are right.

There is a line that one must walk and save yourself. To be the human you are supposed to be, you have to own your own shit. If you can’t, you are weak.

Do you lack the courage and strength to stand in the face of anger?

You would think that I would have something more to say about integrity right now for the amount of stuff that I’ve written about integrity. But the truth is, I can talk about it all I want, but in the end, I have to go to Chicago to fulfill a promise.

Ya gotta do what you gotta do, right?

But seriously, I had every intention to do that, even if it’s the last thing I do. Good and longtime friends are hard to come by, even harder to hold.

And that’s the great thing about having integrity. Your friends know that they can count on you.

If you can maintain those values, the people around you will always know that they can count on you. And they know, they all know, where are stand on something and how important it is to your moral fabric to maintain that.

Wikipedia – Integrity.

release K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 2 – Hope With a Side of Fear – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 3 – Fear without Hope – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 4 – Fear with Darkness – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 5 – Darkness and Hope – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Darkness and Hope, Chapter 5 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

Lately have been feeling rather hopeless about how the tone can change around here. And it becomes worrisome. Worrisome because of the darkness. It feeds into my fears.

The idea of having a roommate makes me nauseated. I hope that’s the right word for it. The last time I lived with somebody was back in 2008. I had a male roommate who was a referral that my ex-wife gave me.

My ex-wife knew that I needed a roommate. Required might be a more important word than required. She had met him at an indoor soccer game, a league she and I played in. She was always chatting with everybody because that was her way.

Let’s say his name was Coss. Coss was Canadian and just a very relaxed, smart guy, and a good human. So I want that to be the focus here, and I hope that comes across.

It wasn’t so bad, but man, I fucking hated having somebody else around. It wasn’t about Coss, and it was that darkness I have that consumes me and pushes me to hide. I didn’t want always to be hiding from Coss, but that would often happen.

Much like my ex-wife, I know Coss didn’t love that I’d get home and go into my office. I’d decompress for an hour or so, depending on how craptacular my day was. That was less about my ex-wife or Coss.

While having a roommate wasn’t horrible because of Coss’s personality, the extra money was excellent. But I had a $2000 a month mortgage payment, and he was giving me $500 a month. So while it helped some, it didn’t help that much.

If I said, “But that’s 25%, dude,” I would be forced to slap myself.

And queue the shitty inner monologue.

All of this is ultimately my fault because I took some job or made life decisions that were inconsistent with what I should be doing, and therefore I have to pay the price for them. I hope that makes sense.

I thought it would have a different direction in my life, just like everyone else. I thought I was getting away from the darkness, but I wasn’t. Instead, the darkness pulled me back in, no matter how far I ran.

Now I have this big fucking house that I’m renting. I bought a new car, which required me to trade in my diesel that I had paid off. Thus it got me nowhere. I’ve gone nowhere. Sigh.

In a moment of sadness and self-realization, I now have decided that I would start applying for jobs that I am so incredibly overqualified that the likelihood of getting an interview is minimal. On top of that, any offer would be so minimal.

That is because no sane manager or director will hire somebody with 15 years of experience, highly experienced, for a job where they’re answering emails all day for customer support. It’s just stupid.

My alternatives, though, are nearly as unappealing. I have to figure out how to bring home a certain amount of money, just like everybody else. I have to figure out a way to survive because my ultimate goal here is not to kill myself.

The ultimate goal is to get back to where I was, but if I get to that point and I know, I know what I have to do.

Elsewhere in my book, I make comments or notation on my fears with suicide because I do enjoy Dante’s Inferno and would it change to have the usefulness of the idea.

And in the darkness for me, that would take me to the seventh level. That isn’t a hotel, and nowhere anyone who had any hope or delusion of it being anywhere that the darkness would not find them.

I got to thinking about it one day, and I mentioned the topic to The RevCD. He’s one of the few people that I look up to, and I have the utmost respect for him. He’s a super fantastic human, and I value his opinion immensely.

He asked me why I thought so highly of Dante’s Inferno and

I’m talking about all my tattoos to see, and the tattoos represent pain to me because I have so much. I have full sleeves, a full vest, a full lower on my legs, and my back is about 30% done—330 hours or so at this point of tattoo work time.

At the very least, for this event, we’re talking $40,000. – $45,000 easy of money that I put into myself, but I, from a technical perspective, pissed away money that I could be living off of right now.

Let’s be real here, I still would’ve fucked around with that money anyway and got myself into the position I am now. Inevitable.

I think this is because I often feel like the walls are getting closer and closer and closer. Closing me in, strangling me and my life. It keeps putting me into hopeless positions where some of the decisions I have to make are a little less appealing.

All of my apathy aside, I wonder to myself, “What is it going to take to turn things around? What is it that I’m not doing right? How do I keep succeeding at failing at everything I do?” Does it lead me to know where? Or is it putting me right where I’m supposed to be?

What I mean by that I am curious if I am paying the price for something I did or didn’t do, for the actions that I have taken or not taken, and how much more do I have to pay for this, how much more of this shit am I supposed to handle and deal with before I break.

I ask it that way because I feel like I’m being punished. While millions upon millions of people in the United States are suffering like I am, there are millions upon millions across the planet who are suffering like I am.

Marvel Comics - The Punisher

Growing up, I was a huge fan of the Punisher comic book by Marvel. Not the movies because they kind of weren’t great but yeah. I appreciated his tenacity and determination to make people pay the price for their misdeeds when the system isn’t.

Now while I don’t condone his murdering of lots of people, I do entirely grasp and understand nay I get it. However, I don’t believe I have transgressed in such a manner that the punishment is so intense and relentless in my life.

I recognize that how I feel is dependent upon what is around me, the transpiring events. And that is the same to be said for so many people. But fuck them. Just kidding.

It presents a specter above and beyond what it is now that I am dealing with. Its black cloud brings me pain, suffering, and misery.

I don’t feel like I can ever be pleased, and it’s not just because of some of the things that I have lost in my life, just like everybody else. But not everybody else has mental health issues, and I would want to say I’m thankful that they don’t.

I wonder. I wonder what I did wrong. If you could hear me speaking right now, it would be incredibly somber and self-reflecting or self-reflective. I always want to make myself a better person, and it is a driving factor in my life.

But now I have no drive. I have no desire or push, or motivation to get there. I feel dead inside, and while I’m not scared of this facet, it is a bit concerning because my friends aren’t exactly helping me. How could they?

Meanwhile, Good sister is doing a fantastic job of taking care of some financial sides of things. It is challenging to maintain any positivity and maintain my brain.

I mentioned this to Debo a few weeks ago while we were doing technical stuff at his house, and I commented that I was concerned that I was losing my mental acuity and technical skills because I was not using them.

One of the reasons why I felt this way was due to a project that I had started working on a specific and specialized system build, which had been slowed by parts being delivered that I had ordered off of eBay.

I had ordered a new video card, upgraded processors, a wifi card, and a few other bits in the hopes of building a system that can replace my iMac, the one I’m dictating on right now. Potentially a second system on top of that for downstairs as the video card in the kitchen is just going to shit.

The punishment that I’m getting or taking is often related to having to sell or part with things in my life that are part of me, that defined me and embodied who I am.

The paintings, the DAC, the tube amp that I love so much, the diamond engagement ring that my ex-wife gave me back so I could sell it (that lays around my neck). That one hurts a lot. And then my computer. These all represent things that are part of me, and it hurts.

I find myself questioning myself and what I have done, what did I do that was so egregious that I’m being punished in such a manner that I feel like I’m falling apart, and I just am having such a fucking hard time dealing with it. The darkness increasingly tears at me.

When you start thinking about or planning out how you’re going to commit suicide and then work on getting all the things in place to carry that out, you know you have issues. Or at least you should know!

And the last thing I had wanted to do was bring harm to the gatos.

Another aspect of this is the consequences of talking openly and honestly with your friends. They either don’t want to hear it or are afraid of it because it is tough to deal with that fact.

What I don’t understand, and I’m not second-guessing the motives of my friends because I care about them and they are essential to me, and I enjoy them is that either they’re not taking me seriously or they don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.

The only thing I can do is hope that I can find what I did so horrible that I am being punished the way I am or find a way to break out of this. But, unfortunately, I don’t see either of them being plausible or possible, for that matter, at this time.

I think of what I write on my blog, and often it’s just something that comes up in my mind, and I say, oh, that reminds me of this song, and I write a couple of hundred words about it I posted. Then from time to time, I come up with good ideas or ideas and write about them.

This morning I posted up a rather lengthy blog about Anesthesia, which is my absolute favorite song from Type O Negative.

I noted in the first paragraph the following quote “In case you didn’t know, Anesthesia from Type O Negative is my favorite song. That includes every Dream Theater song, ever. It holds powerful meanings to me and in my life.”

And as I go through, a couple of bits are of interest to help give context to what I’m writing today. and here are a few quotes from my post:

  • I fucking feel like everything is a surgery now. I feel like parts of me are being destroyed, removed.
  • My whole life, my whole world, was destroyed to block the pain, to relieve myself from it. To make me comfortable, comfortable with this horrible shit. I don’t feel anything.
  • I am fighting the future; I am fighting the past. I cannot win the present.
  • I am so broken now I dissolve into a mess of alcoholism, drug use, and substance abuse. I am trying to find a way to NOT FEEL ANYTHING! I don’t want to feel anything.

If those quotes do not give you enough background or understanding as to how I feel and how it is that I think I have no hope, how I cannot win, then there might not be enough words to do so.

I let those feelings soak in that day. It hurt that I felt so sad and lost. I know that I want to go back to normality, but what is normality?

And just like that, I realized I was so fucking far into my head that I could see myself from afar. Just drifting.

Darkness, Darkness and Hope, K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 2 – Hope With a Side of Fear – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 3 – Fear without Hope – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 4 – Fear with Darkness – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Fear without Hope, Chapter 3 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

Fear. Darkness. I know what’s coming, and I have tried to prepare my friends and family for it, but I have been preparing for the inevitability for several years.

It’s the saddest situation and a sad statement. This, too, is the darkness.

Debo and I were sitting in the kitchen once more. He was sitting at the kitchen table and taking puffs off his god-awful e-whatever fucking thing is called.

I was washing up some petite potatoes at the sink that would be a part of dinner.

In the back of my head, I heard myself saying, “Dude, what’s the fucking recipe for this shit? … Oh, so neither of us know?. FUCK!” Yeah, mental is a bitch.

We had the vodka/Zevia flowing. I took a swig, perhaps you could call it a gulp, and I politely asked, “Is now a good time to continue with “The Story”?”

With a nod, it was time. I’ve always loved how a nod and a glance can portray the appropriate answer.

I’d been thinking about this a lot, and I knew that I was getting to some parts where the darkness started to come out. I don’t want to allow my darkness to consume me.

These chats with Debo have helped ease some of this fear and pain.

“I’ve continued thinking about what it takes to admit to oneself that one was not only a failure, but a monumental failure, and that I have failed everybody and everything.” I know that was a bold statement to start based on the look I got.

I paused for another swig of my drink before looking around for the fixings I needed for these petite potatoes. I think that’s what they are called.

Super tasty and easy to cook in the oven and seasoned the way we’d grown accustomed. Not that I have a cookbook deal, but Special Shit is the Shit.

“Let’s talk about faliure. You damn well know my mother had told us, my two sisters and I, and likely yourself and Ms. J, that she had intended to kill herself and detailed precisely how.”

“A few years ago, as you recall, when she passed away, my sisters and me completely, totally, believed that that was what she had done. No doubt.”

Whew. That was another big statement; I thought to myself as I spun around in the kitchen looking for a ziplock bag, the Special Shit Spices, and the olive oil.

I added, “This is to reiterate there was no gambling-related to when she’d die, how she’d die, and the generalized context of her death.” I could feel the darkness starting to paw at me.

I started chuckling after that… It took me a good 10 seconds to stop. “I know, I had the under on all three! I talk such shit and mean it, especially about her,” I added.

I took another “sip” of my drink took a deep breath, trying not to chuckle further.

“So… Good sister and I had been texting back and forth, and I mentioned to her that I was planning on using a small amount of the money on LegalZoom.”

I know Debo is fully aware of what that means, so I had no reason to express anything on that topic for some stupid ass reason. Call it fear of the darkness I try to control. Or call it two dudes talking and having a few -many- drinks.

“I’m not plugging them. I just want to ensure that I have a properly documented power of attorney, will, trust, all of that legal stuff because…”.

So, there it was. The darkness is starting to creep up. Fear in my heart manifests itself as darkness. And no one likes the darkness inside another, nor wants to hear about it. Darkness is hard shit.

“I’m only telling you this because we need to understand where my mind is when it comes to making a decision that would inevitably lead me to where nothing good happens.”

“Are you good for me to continue?” I asked. The response, another nod, and a hit off that fucking e-cig, whatever the fuck it is. “I’ll continue, but this might be a little longer…”

“Last week, while I was talking with my doctor, we were going over some of the feelings I have been expressing lately. I’m not in a bad way where she scolded me, but she said something to me that was so striking about my willingness to go through with it.”

Debo knew what that meant, his facial expressions changing some based on the topic.

“It wasn’t a challenge, and she made that very clear, and I agreed that it was not a challenge. But in all honesty, the honest answer is yes. I am prepared to because that’s where my choice ends up.”

“Just the other day, I was engaged in the conversation with my ex-wife, and we were talking about my current situation, and she was offering up some ideas and whatnot. I just reiterated to her that, the same thing that I had said to my therapist, that I have been preparing to because…”

And I trailed off in my mind. Yes, a lot of this topic… this topic, in particular, comes from my apathy and just how tremendously it had grown over the last few years, starting with leaving one company and where I had four (4) jobs in 20 years. Since that point, I have had three (3) in three (3) years.

The dynamics of the technology field that I have been specializing in have changed considerably. Where I was a systems engineer at the lead or senior level, that has changed from actual engineering like infrastructure design and implementation to more of a DevOps role. I have a hard time with DevOps because I feel my mental capacity in dealing with DevOps is low.

The DevOps world is more about automation and scripting and continuous integration of pipelining and shit like that. That’s not what I enjoy doing, nor is it within the passages of my mental capacity. I just don’t understand it enough.

I don’t know how long I paused with that in my mind, but I think it’s time to start the grill so I can shut the fuck up for a few. Debo did not like where this was going.

“So what I was saying to my ex-wife was how my experiences over the last few years and the inability to find a job going on 4+ months now, in many ways, is because I don’t have some of the skills that these companies are looking for.”

Debo finally added to the conversation with a very explicit statement, “You are so skilled that it’s retarded that you are thinking some of this shit! You are a leader, not a follower. We’ve known this for a long time now.”

“You aren’t wrong,” I added, and after a short pause, I continued, “This is where my fear takes me. The darkness is brought upon by the fear of having to make shitty job choices in going for the money and not the joy.”

“I’d like to get back to my ex-wife if that’s OK…” I nodded to Debo, and he got the door for me as we went outside to start firing up the grill. He had been seasoning the ribeyes for the last bit, and I wasn’t paying attention as I was blathering about.

“I have tried to help my ex-wife understand the level of apathy that I am suffering from and what that means because she has always been the type of person who thinks that health changes people by giving them self-esteem.”

“I knew and understood that she was giving me her honest position, and I have never guessed the was anything aside positive intent. I know that she’s not doing it to be an asshole.” Under my breath, I chuckled, “that was my job.”

That raised an eyebrow or two from Debo as he fired up the grill. He’s a fucking streak-grilling master, always perfect to what I want. A magical meat magician. OMG, that’s so fucking funny!

“By the end of the conversation, I think she was starting to understand that I have lost so much, as have so many other people. I’ve had to go through this process of not feeling sorry for myself and dealing with selling and getting rid of things that I don’t want to, but that’s part of being an adult, apparently.”

This is one of the parts that hurt me the most, things that I had worked so hard to get. Some take over ten years to be able to obtain finally.

“As you know, I just sold my best computer monitor, my best in the ear earbuds. I sold my Apple Watch, and I have one of my speaker amps up for sale. I have a digital to analog converter (DAC) that is phenomenal. And that’s just the beginning because I will have to make more sacrifices.”

Debo got a call from work, and I stepped inside and shut the door, trying to give him privacy. I mean, I think it was from work. I mean, doesn’t everyone call their co-workers sweety and honey?

My mind went sideways with the chance to dance around the edges of the darkness. It’s a joyful task if I do say so myself.

“A few days ago, I was getting my haircut from my stylist of the last 20+ years. She and I were talking about the same general topic as earlier. She told me that I was being selfish and that I should be looking at any jobs possible, even if it’s a help desk position, just so I have extra money coming in.”

“I sadly told her the same thing I had told my ex-wife. I just don’t care. I’m at the point where I have been beaten down by so many people I just don’t care. How do you survive when you don’t care about anything?”

And there it was, my brain popped. Darkness. Boom.

“All of this is a part of the general downward spiral I am currently experiencing. It’s an important part of the overall story because it is a complicated topic for people to talk about. A lot of times, people don’t know what to say.”

“In a funny bit, I was on Tinder recently, and as I was looking through profiles (mostly swiping left), I happened upon a gal whose profile/blurb was rather interesting.”

“It felt like I know this woman, but I have no idea why. She had a shirt in one of her pictures that said “Suicide.” I thought it was funny because of where I am and how hard I am trying to keep the darkness in check.”

I continued, “I’m pretty sure her name was Ms. E, and I knew her from a previous employment gig. At one point, I knew that she was doing a pet sitting service, and I always considered that if I had traveled but… to no difference.”

We both knew I fucking hated traveling. Unless I went first class, my knees were never cool about sitting in economy. Fuck that. Too painful.

“All of this, as I have learned, as part of the story about what’s going on in my life is the readiness that I have. Ultimately it’s selfish, but all I want to do is to protect myself and the boys from the extraneous circumstance of what could be.”

“One of the things that I have been thinking about, besides taking a shitty, shitty, shitty help desk level job, was something that my hairstylist mentioned to me. Maybe I could also look at doing a driving service like Amazon delivery or BevMo, as examples, that kind of stuff where I don’t have to be around people, which is a fabulous thing for me because I don’t like people.”

Debo knew how much I disliked people. Darkness sets in when I think about taking them all with me. And some glee always came from the idea of doing that. Not that I have the means. Or energy, fuck that.

“I feel a rant coming on… I had just spent $675 on maintenance for the fucking BMW because I was three months behind on a slew of services… oil change, air filter, brake fluid, coolant, and who the fuck knows what else was done.

“I don’t want to talk to good sister about the money as this was one of those things that I told her that I had to do. Do I use this as an opportunity to skip out of my $214 a week from the state of Arizona because there’s no fucking hope that the politicians in Washington, all those cunts, are going to get anything done that we would provide me with some relief? And just don’t care.”

“I really just don’t care. I don’t care if I work. I’ve been enjoying writing the book. I have enjoyed working on my writing blog while paying more attention to leveraging SEO plugins formula to learn more.”

“It has been great and interesting to me but… That’s not going to pay the bills, and if I want to stay in this house, I’m going to have to figure out a better solution because I can’t pay the retarded amount of money.”

Debo knew that I was hitting hard in the fear area. I could sense he was seeing it in me.

“I have gotten empathetic to the point where I just don’t care about much of anything, including myself. I very obviously care about and love the boys. I don’t care what people say, I don’t care what people think of me, I don’t care about any of it, and it’s just my apathy running rampant.”

There, I said it. I brought the darkness to the fear and the fear to the darkness—a perfect circle of a downward spiral.

“It made me very nervous because there is always a possibility I can make my way through where I am right now and find a way to make it work. But I don’t know what that looks like, and every day I wonder if I can do it.”

“And with that, I knew I have gone over the limits of what I could talk about with you tonight and am very appreciative…”

And I trailed off for a couple of seconds as I mentally added, “that you didn’t put my head in the grill and slam the lid down a few times.”

“I probably knew that about 15 minutes ago and didn’t shut the fuck up. My apologies.” I added, feeling shitty for having gone on and on.

I concluded the evening with, “Hey, how about some refills and you school me again on the proper steak-grilling process?”.

Darkness, K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 2 – Hope With a Side of Fear – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 3 – Fear without Hope – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Fear without Hope, Chapter 3 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

Fear without Hope… Debo was over again for our weekly dinner and conversations. I dominated the conversation last week, and I felt a bit guilty for that, but this is all about me.

I was looking forward to continuing the story and getting Debo further up to speed. The following events were on the second Saturday. And on we go.

As I was waiting for Debo to get here, I was thinking about some pressing topics in my mind. “How do you excel, how do you become more exceptional than everybody else to stand out so that you have more, or perhaps better, access to resources?”

I know the answers, I think. Maybe I suppose I know them. I continued to ponder as I waited for the moderate boom of the bass from Debo’s vehicle. It was never obnoxious, nothing the neighbors at the various houses I have rented have suggested or complained, in those various neighborhoods.

I don’t want to be a dick, but we don’t always have the same taste in music. But that’s OK. I tell myself repeatedly that I accept him for more than his musical tastes, a sure sign of growth as a human. I fear that is false.

I continued my inner-monologue, “By resources, I mean better jobs, better career path, better partners when it comes to relationships. I have always managed, at least in a business sense, to have gainful employment, even though I have been subject to downsizing several times.”

Debo knew all of this; we’d discussed them many times, in many places and many ways. This is why I’m talking to myself about it. I always fear that bringing it up with being a problem.

“Sometimes that is just a numbers game like with companies like PROC LIVE.” Those losers I added to my thoughts. I smiled to myself as Debo pulled into the driveway.

Sometimes it’s a different type of numbers game, like when another employer laid off two-thirds of their staff because there were inappropriately handling their funds.

Oh, that action covers many places.

I don’t mean for this to be rambling; I’m just trying to give context to where things are and why things are.

All of this rambling and information that I’m giving has to do with feeling like the walls are closing in, spurring all sorts of panic attack-like emotions. And much like millions of other people, as I said earlier, I’m in a position where I have been unemployed going on 7+ months.

I have a finite amount of money and previously lived a pretty good lifestyle. Like millions of other people who are being ripped away from me slowly, I seemingly have no way to resolve this.

When I was laid off, it took between seven and eight weeks to get unemployment, and during that time, the unemployment pay in Arizona was capped at $240 a week.

If you know anybody who can survive on $240 a week who is an adult and lives in a house or an apartment, I would love to talk with them, and I would like to hear their story.

At that point, the Federal government was kicking in $600 a week for unemployment across the board, and once I got my unemployment check, I had a full two weeks of that.

Then that disappeared, and El Presidanté signed an executive order allowing for an additional $400 a week. Whereas the State of Arizona took/didn’t give $100 of that, providing unemployed workers an extra $300/week.

I was optimistic that I could survive and make it work. It was in the hope that I could get another job that was relatively similar in pay and functionality, utilizing my skills more so than the last clown shop.

And in this time, my hopefulness of finding a job has continued a slow but sure decline to the point where it is seemingly just never going to happen.

You apply for 25 jobs in which you are qualified and hear back from none.

You continuously get job information emails from “recruiters” that are entirely outside of your skillset and are so unrealistic that you have to question the mental acuity of the clown shoes sending you this email because they either cannot read or have no comprehension skills, but that is another topic.

I tend to lean on the stupidity factor, but what do I know?

From a market perspective, I have seen that the frequently listed jobs that fall within the scope of my skill set seemed to have dropped in pay at least $25,000 a year, if not more.

And that’s yet another hard pill for myself and millions of other people to swallow. But it harkens me back to where I grew up and when PROC LIVE, those fucktards, those assholes, laid off a substantial number of employees in the area where I grew up.

And what happened was the market collapsed? You had people who had masters of electrical engineering who were proverbially fighting for a job at Home Depot and making minimum wage.

And that was itself disheartening, partly because I was 18 at the time. I felt like I could see the future, fearfully knowing what could come to pass.

I don’t mean that to sound like a profit; I could see the writing on the wall that where I grew up would not be a sustainable location to live and have a career. And even though I wasn’t entirely sure what that career path would be, I knew it was not going to be there.

And slowly but surely, I was able to pull myself out of that shit with some help from family, and I moved out here to Arizona when I was 22. I had no job and no car, but I did have a place to live.

I didn’t panic because I was 22 and knew that there were opportunities ahead of me, eventually. I was afraid of failure but had no fear of it.

Today, not 22, I know that those opportunities are behind me. I understand that this isn’t just my feelings but something relatively common that happens to people in my age bracket.

Why hire somebody at $50,000 a year when you can just pay somebody $25,000 a year and train them. Ahh, Globalism.

The only folks not fucked over by that philosophy are the ones enriching themselves with such greed that it astounds one to think of how many lives they are destroying to have more of that sweet, sweet green.

While one could presume that that is age discrimination, it’s just a business fact, and I fear it is challenging to prove. I digress.

What’s more, this whole thing drives down values and all the other things that come with it. Think of it as the housing market.

On top of that, the collapse of the employment market falls into capitalism. It plays off of my last comment. When you have a surplus of something, and the demand is higher, you can set the rates better think of real estate, that’s my best example because you have more houses and you have people the prices go down when you have more people than houses prices go up.

General market dynamics, and that is what is going on right now. What I see in the job market is you go to apply for a job, and a hundred people already have.

These recruiters have to be completely overwhelmed, and it’s hard to do your due diligence in looking at every potential applicant when you have 100 people posting for one position in the first few hours. It reminded me of the stories my grandparents would tell us about the Great Depression.

This is a significant market issue, and even if the economy is starting to come back, it’s going to take time for people who were a higher employment rate, salary-wise, to find positions that are remotely close to it, and this is what happened where I grew up. Still, it never truly recovered, and if you wanted to make money there in New York, you had to travel to New York City to make that type of money.

Generally speaking, that meant at least three hours a day of commute time. Just think of that: every day, three hours of your day pissed away sitting on a train or bus or something.

But that was what people had to do there, at that time, and I’m sure, like now, a lot of those people felt very panicked due to “What my going to do to feed my kids and put a roof over their head?”

Again, I know this is rambling, but there is a point to all of this. The general point I’m trying to get across to everybody is there is a twofold issue here for me; nay, let’s say that they multifaceted cluster fuck.

I don’t know how I’m going to be able to manage this because, as I said, there’s a limited amount of jobs, unemployment funds, and money. That’s my inner fear seeping out. Fear that I will love hope.

I don’t own a house, I rent, and I have continued to pay my rent as per my lease agreement, but I have another whole year.

That creates problems because even if I wanted to move somewhere with lower rent, I can’t do that with no job. Even if my current landlord, who is pretty awesome, is very unlikely to happen.

Nobody will rent out a house or apartment to somebody who has no job. I hate to say that, but you’d be pretty naïve if you did. No offense.

I also have a problem that Phoenix is a vast metropolitan area, where everything is built outwards rather than upwards. That means that I could not reasonably get rid of my car, which also is rather costly/expensive.

I have worked with my auto loan lender and have gotten a couple of months pushed back, but I’m at the edge of where I can continue to do that. And with a finite amount of resources, you start having to look at how you will survive.

Yes, I realize that I have gone in a circle, which is part of my intent. I hope that I can get myself out of this, but I also have to be prepared that I might not be able to.

I know that that is very dark. And I don’t mean it to be, per se, but the reality is what reality is, and I’ll quote a Dream Theater song: The truth is the truth, you just gotta live with it.

So, where does this go from here? I ask again, where does this go from here? And that is the critical question. You can continue to bang your head against the wall; you can just not try.

I don’t know which is where I am, but I know that no matter what, the walls will have to crush me to make me give up.

But I did know one thing… I sure as fuck get out of a car faster than this shit show. But he’s my best friend.

And it was just then that I realized I was standing there like a dork, having conversations with myself in my head and not helping him. Sigh. I’m the ass douche now.

As I went over to help Debo, trying to smile my way around my transgression of standing there lost in my brain, I realized that there was so much to talk about still, and I wasn’t going to be afraid about it.

That’s my greatest fear in this, I think. The fear of being fearful about the sheer amount of fear that I am staring down. And that’s how to do it.

Fear, K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 2 – Hope With a Side of Fear – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Lost, Chapter 2 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

There is always hope when you have fear; there always needs to be hope. Otherwise, there’s no hope. There is nothingness in life. It’s like a Nine Inch Nails song stuck in my head.

editors note – 20220223 – adjust some ? that were supposed to be emojis that aren’t rendering.

As we stood in the kitchen, my buddy Debo made us some drinks as I prepared to start making dinner. This was the first time that we’d gotten together in some time. I promised Debo to tell him this story for a while now, and I was eager to get started.

“I do not want to be that person who ends everything,” I said as I started to wash up the salad fixings. “I don’t want to live with the specter of that hanging over my head.”

“This is a very long dissertation on being a good person and how easy it is to fall prey to evil. The very thought, the very notion, that one can turn evil in such an easy manner is unfathomable. I would further suggest that it is super saddening.” That was hard to get out.

I continued, “The overall theme as if it wasn’t obvious, I said it like fifty times over the years, it is at the end of my nightmares is blackness. Nothing but blackness. There is no light, and there’s no hope, there’s no anything.”

I thought that I could not allow that to happen for myself or the boys. That echoed in my mind for a while as I put the now cleaned veggies into the colander, allowing them to dry off a little.

Debo motioned me to my drink, a concoction so simple and delicious that I couldn’t resist the temptation to gulp down half the glass of Vodka/Zevia (with some lime to prevent scurvy).

“I can’t let that happen for myself,” I continued. “The people of this country and all of the world’s citizens. This is not a threat, and it’s not a manifesto, not an instruction guide. It’s just a way to talk about a personal hell. I hope that I’m not going there in the first place.”

“Hope it is a multi-faceted gem, as seen with the hope diamond. Hope comes in many forms and is implemented in many different methodologies.” I was starting to wonder if I would be able to get this all out tonight.

“Hope can come from religion. Hope can come from family. Hope can come from a spiritual leader or your faith. Hope can come from somebody you emulate or adore, a celebrity or a role model of sorts.”

I took another sip of my drink and searched for some coconut oil to season my bamboo cutting boards.

“Just a note; because I want to be a dick, I don’t believe that there are very many celebrities or (air quotes) “famous people” (/air quotes) that should be emulated or looked to as a standard-bearer of any sort of hope.”

“When you have people, who are only interested in money, power, wealth,” I continued. “When you have people like that, there is no hope. Our society is falling apart because there is no hope.”

“I mean, for fuck sake, we have rappers who shoot people, often killing them, and we hold them at a higher reference than people who cure a major disease.”

I paused for a second and looked over to Debo, he didn’t look as if he was glossed over yet, so I continued.

“Having no hope is the beginning of a recipe for disaster.” I proclaimed as I was working on the cutting boards… “With no hope, you could easily slide into fear and suffering at the air and then sure evil.”

“Ok, I feel better now that I’ve gotten that little rant out of the way,” I noted. My brain says to get back on track.

“A few days ago, I was awoken with the gentle meows of the meows of Truffle. That was because Truffle wanted to be fed and it was 3:30 in the morning. I sighed through my nose to profess my displeasure with his request. He didn’t care.”

“I annoyingly got out of bed and took a quick bio break.”

“When I turned around, Truffle had enlisted his cohorts, Takao and Shiro. The three of them were sitting there at attention, looking at me like I was fucking with them.”

“I took a deep breath and quietly mumbled something about Ambien and dying going down the stairs.”

“So, we made our way to the stairs. I paused on the third step, hoping that the clowns would start down and therefore be less likely to make my dope ass “crash and burn” down the stairs.”

“It seemed all safe to proceed and I get halfway down when Truffle stops and flops down onto the stair in front of me. What a dick!”

“I step around him, giving him the “half-opened eye” and a smirk that says “sucka, can’t get me.” Today will be a fun day, and I very distinctly recall saying that to myself.

“I fed Truffle, Takao, and Shiro, and went back up to the bed, hoping to get more than 3 hours of sleep before I was awoken again by Truffle.

I walked over to the cutlery drawer and slowly took out a standard eight-inch knife. “Shit, I need to get these knives sharpened. Not like I haven’t been saying that for years.”

We both chuckled as Debo made the turn to make another drink. “You ready for another?” he asked me.

“Fuck yeah!” and I slammed the rest down. “I love only having one giant two-inch ice cube! It’s always good for two drinks.”.

As Debo made the drinks, I took a minute to use the frequently loud sharpening stone to ensure good cuts tonight.

“I hate that disappointing feeling that you get when faced with a lack of continuous or REM sleep. This whole multiple-times-a-night escapade with Truffle was getting on my fucking nerves. And because of that, it’s making me grumpier each day.”

By the time I had finished sharpening the knife, Debo had motioned to come to get my drink. We tend to fill them right up to the brim, where you really can’t pick them up. So, it’s a slurp or two, and then you are on your way.

Debo took his drink, went over to the kitchen table, and sat down. I could tell that he wasn’t bored but very thankful that there was alcohol. That’s not uncommon.

I grabbed some of the veggies and started to chop away in hopes of not cutting off a finger while I was talking away. Typically, it’s the other way around where Debo tells me a fantastic story, and I listen to it while cooking.

“I have faith in myself.” I proclaimed as I was getting back into the story. I smiled as I thought to myself, damn, that was a hard turn.

“This will sound outrageous, but I’d like to end the story here in a minute, not because I don’t want to talk about it, nor that I am worried about losing a finger in the process, but…”. And with that, I started to trail off with my thoughts.

“This’ll be a great time for me to step outside and have a hit on the vaporizer. That sounds good?” Debo asked.

“Sure, I’ll keep working on the salad”. ????? Fuck, that sounded stupid.

Debo is a great friend, and I know he doesn’t always enjoy how dark I can be when I speak. And that’s in regards to the fact that I’m incredibly open and honest and am always willing to discuss something. And what we’re talking about here, Debo knows the complete backstory.

But still, he does not want to hear it when I talk about some of these topics. I respect that, and I felt like I would start down that road, and I know that this is going to be a long conversation. Not in terms of today but… but it’s something that I will have to reveal to him over the next few weekends when we have dinner.

I have a lot of respect for my closest friends. And I’m very aware of how hard it is to keep them. I’ve known Debo for almost 13 years now, and he’s been my best friend.

He’s had to deal with me and my relationship problems with the various exes, and he’s had to listen to some rather gory details therein.

And that leads into the last part I was going to bring up when Debo comes. In from his smoke break. I wouldn’t say I like the sound of that fucking device that I’ve forced him to go outside now. It also allows him time so that he can fiddle with his phone, likely texting with his girlfriend.

“I have faith in myself,” I said again to myself as if I needed to.

I have faith in myself and I have faith in my convictions. I have faith that my strength is beyond comprehension, and that my will is stronger than imagination. I can handle anything that is thrown at me. I’ve stared down anger and hatred knowing all the time that I was better than that.

I knew that I was a human and not built on hatred or living with hate. I never want to be that person.

I think it’s important that when you have faith, it is first and foremost in yourself. If you have faith in a creator, that’s great. If you have faith in some object or a tangible asset, that’s great too.

I continued with the salad.

  • Cucumber [✓]
  • Red bell pepper [✓]
  • Red onion [✓]
  • Romaine lettuce [✓]
  • Balsamic vinegar [✓]
  • Balsamic glaze [✓]
  • Peppermill [✓]

I got everything was set for final preparations for eating when Debo came back in.

He sat down at the table as I worked on getting it set with the appropriate utensils for the evening.

“Please, continue with your last statement about faith,” Debo noted.

“I have faith in myself,” I repeated.

“My feelings on the topic of faith stem from a very simple principle of libertarianism, which is not an official party policy.” And with, I rolled my eyes in the annoyance of having said that.

“Generally speaking, I don’t give a fuck what people do, so long as it doesn’t impact me, it doesn’t hurt children, it doesn’t harm the elderly, nor does it harm animals. Otherwise, if it’s within the scope of the law, I don’t care… do your thing.”

I put the salad fixings together and handed off the plate to Debo, gave him the peppermill and we sat down to eat.

I paused to ensure that this philosophy about humanity was properly registering. “I don’t think this week is the right time to continue, so I’m going to leave it there with my generalized philosophy,” I said, and then stuffed my mouth full of salad.

As we ate, all I could hear aside from the sound of vegetables being destroyed was Every Day Is Exactly The Same, it haunted me.

Hope.
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022
DRAFT – Chapter 1 – Backstory – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Backstory, Chapter 1 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

Chapter 1 of this story is probably, The Backstory. I decided that I wanted to share some thoughts that I have generated and the craziness of my mind.

Recently I shared a blog post with a very close friend of mine, The Reverend, and he was kind enough to give me a critique about it. The issue that I was writing about was how much of a screw-up I feel like, and it was a rather lengthy post, about a thousand words.

Being overly critical about myself, more so over the last 1.5 to 2 years, in the decisions, I have made and how I continue to have to live with the ramifications of such actions.

I’m delighted that I shared this with him as his feedback was fantastic, and below are two pieces of those thoughts. I won’t break them down, I don’t think, but I wanted to share.

“I know you’re in a dark place most of the time. I understand the pressure. I wish I could do something to elevate your self-esteem and prop up your self-worth.”

“The hardest thing for me to learn was self-forgiveness. It took a long time to cut myself a break on some dumbass choices I made. They still haunt me sometimes, especially when I’m feeling down. But I have to remember that I am past that decision, and it’s over—no going back. Still, I’m nowhere near perfect, so I, too, fall into that trap.”

While I hadn’t considered if the conversation would see the light of day, it is essential to note a few things that sometimes get overlooked or are unseen. These are parts of the story, in this case, the backstory.

The issues that I’m going through right now, along with millions of other people, I would add, are the feeling that the walls are closing in and that there are fewer and fewer options available.

What is all that mean? I’m sure that the average person can figure that out, and I’m not going into that part right now, but I want to highlight the feeling of helplessness that one can have when one has nothing. I want to quote Gerald Celente:

“When people have nothing left to lose, and they’ve lost everything, they lose it.”

To me, that is like the walls starting to close in. And that quote is something that I have referred to or generally spoken about for many years. I believe that it has helped me keep some level of sanity in the insanity that is my life.

It was always an option that I had in the recesses in the back of my mind. The backstory continues.

I have nowhere to go if things were to get worse. I will eventually run out of money. I have nowhere to move. I have nowhere else to live. I have been concise and exceptionally clear with those around me that I have no intent or willingness to be homeless.

I am not going to leave my boys. That is a statement of fact, not an opinion.

One of the keys to this backstory is the boys. The boys are everything to me. Without them, I would have found the dark place a lot sooner. They give me hope as I make my way through the darkness.

My Penguin Truffle is a normal, regular black tuxedo kitty, and he is super amazing. He’s seventeen and a half now. He is the last member of my band of three musketeers. Penguin is the nexus kitty, as he has known all kitties I have had, both past and present.

It’s pretty amazing to think about because that covers:

My kitty backstory is so amazing. I am so blessed for what I have had, and for the fact that I currently share my life with Penguin and the boys:

But what happens when you start running out of options? What happens when you have nowhere to go or nobody to turn to because you are by yourself? That is my question, and that’s why it is so important to set that in a backstory, to give context.

This issue has pushed my anxiety levels to new heights, and there is nothing that I can do for myself to help stem the rise or subdue it. Yet another point to the backstory.

What exactly does that mean? What exactly does that statement signify?

Years ago, I dated a gal in a very on-and-off relationship again. Very good human and somebody who I am still friends with. I still play words with friends with her. A very worthy opponent who typically beats me, but that’s another story.

Something that she beat into me that has severely affected my psyche was that, well, two things.

  • One, you are not that special.
  • Two, “Ain’t nobody gives a shit about anything you have to say.”

That in itself is the main reason I have never really pushed myself very hard with my blog, and generally speaking, when I did write, I wrote to say whatever I wanted, not a story, let alone a backstory, because I don’t care.

It was a humbling learning experience, much like many of the other ones that I’ve had where they were either incredibly painful or incredibly financially painful. Like getting married…

But it realizes that you’re not special, just like everybody else and that nothing you do matters to anybody other than yourself. That has been a humbling experience because everybody wants to feel like they mean something to somebody.

Why am I going on and on about this? What is so important about that? Is it straightforward okay? It’s not that simple. That’s why it’s’ called a backstory. Yes, a backstory.

She explained to me while we were together, as well as after our relationship ended, that the intent of the comment wasn’t to be hurtful or mean but to help me come down from my high horse where I thought that I was much better than everybody else, (which I was IMO), and that reality dictates differently.

That was a very eye-opening experience to be told that… to be said that. Some 6+ years later, the damage to my brain has multiplied and, in some regards, been incredibly crippling—a replicating, viral disease intent on destroying me.

The statement made by that ex has stayed with me and still haunts me now. It has negatively impacted several functions of my life. And the two most notable would be jobs and relationships.

And that is the end of the backstory. There will be more to come…

backstory
K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner – The legend.

Backlinks to other Chapters

DRAFT – Chapter 0 – Lost – The Other Side |2022

 

K.W. Turner, kdubs, Kilo Watt Turner - The legend.

This is a draft copy of Lost, Chapter 0 of The Other Side by K.W. Turner, unedited. We will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming week to ten days.

Enjoy.

=============

These posts are a story from a friend whom I hadn’t spoken to. I believe that they were lost in their mind, struggling.

Most importantly, you are genuinely interested in hearing what your friend has to say, fascinated with the intricate nature of their thoughts and feelings, and unable to turn away as if watching a garbage truck on fire.

The question is this: How easy it could be to descend into hell if you don’t have integrity or honor, lacking in compassion or morality are completely lost in your mind—completely lost in life.

Most days, I question whether I could slip up and slide down that slippery slope. What happens if I lose my integrity? What happens if I stop caring and allow apathy to take over? Who am I? What happens?

The starting point of this story is to notate and extrapolate, “Hey, this isn’t an action movie script. This is not a fun-filled up and down action thriller”.

And no, not talking about Thriller either. Talk about getting lost in your mind, great video.

No, this is all about me and how easy it would be for me to descend into my own personal hell. To be that which I do not want to be. To become something so awful that it gives me nightmares.

Personal note -> Throughout these posts, we will learn how that could happen to me, how I could have lost it all, and how it could’ve quickly happened to me. And that’s why I am writing this. Lost in my mind.

The Alphonso Mango
The ‘Alphonso’ mango is a named mango cultivar that originated in India. Favored for its sweetness, richness and flavor, the Alphonso has been called the king of mangoes

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