I write from the heart--and not from any English class...i failed most all the subjects i took at Westwood High School. I was too busy being a class clown and feeling hate for the world i lived in....little town and feeling different. i needed special ed i m sure...but no such thing at Westwood. I was feeling the hand of Viet Nam on my head....coming down to take me away....from home and mama and daddy...and Deborah..all i knew. i wanted to go some where so bad but i wanted to stay too. I didn't want no Viet Nam, though. i think back and wonder what i did want.
i never found out because i got drafted in March 1972....but i had thought ahead...and i was not for the u.s.a. in that war..i was for our soldiers to come home safe but not for us to win...that's another reason i felt out of place in Palestine Texas...i felt much more in tune with the communist than the u.s .government....really, though, i didn't know shit about the communist....it just sounded good--you know?
so i got drafted and became a janitor for two years in Houston, Texas at Jefferson Davis Hospital...i had signed up as a conscientious objector back when i was 18---that old woman at the draft board office hated my fucking guts when i made her give me the right papers to fill out...i was lucky to have a copy of the Consientious Objector's Handbook....so i knew the law...i knew you had to sign up with the correct papers or you'd never get C.O. status....she hated that i knew that. i wih i could say that loved her..but i did not love her. although now i can say I Do Not hate her.
another day.....please bee happy--buzzz
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My father worked at a Draft Board all through my high school years. Like Daylight Savings Time, I thought they had been around since the dawn of time and never gave either much thought, preferring to twirl my baton like Sissy Spacek in BADLANDS, instead.
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