Statement of affairs for anyone concerned

My current state of affairs I'm trying to pack up my things and secure my possessions assets and life's work so that I can submit myself to a mental hospital to be hospitalized and regain my medical services and medications that have been on for number years which have been separated from for a year now. I have matters to tend to with Charlevoix Court I may be incarcerated for a while. It's not entirely a bad thing it gives me some relief of my day-to-day worries and I can focus on writing my story to completion. And of course getting away from the elk and of course getting away from the alcohol and tobacco is also a bonus. if I do not return my hopes my hopes are that someone will put together my efforts and facilitate them into the hands of people that can continue on with my mission Scarlett Rae Polk @scarlettxxrae will be the controller of my estate and finances.
Because of the work that I've been doing and what I call work citing some important issues and circumstances and dragging number of entities into the arena I question my safety once I'm inside the system and after witnessing the corruption that I've witnessed I may not return I have an iMac 20 which contains the majority of my content my important physical files are in a collection in an accordion box with my possessions that are going to be relocated from a storage unit in Boyne City and secured in a safe place yet to be determined there are two road bikes in a trail bike it will be located somewhere safe if they're not liquidated which is necessary for me to attend to the court matter there's a 1967 Honda ct90 at Larry maciver in Mesick holding Powell Dam also my trombone and one of my guitars some of my possessions will be located at Julie Wickman house in Grandville some of my possessions may be located with David Buskirk in Ludington Cochran Foley in Farmington Hills Detroit area is my attorney in my auto insurance claim that's supposed to pay me caretaking money every year for my medical needs personal needs they have affairs for me that have yet to be resolved the auto insurance policy is paying me year by year because they know something about my health that nobody is sharing with me rather than giving me the deadly $200,000 I wanted to establish myself in a meager home and afford myself and amenities to continue my efforts last year's claim yielded me $4,011 which I hold on to until someone tricked me into relocating to Grand Rapids and purchasing a trailer so that I could become enslaved and have my intellectual properties of my construction knowledge stolen from me I have been manipulated and abused I've been robbed and cheated and left stranded the only thing that's keeping me alive is my focusing of my efforts and energies on Twitter to have my work discovered my briefcase which holds valuables as well as the title to my 81 custom CB900 I have music located on multiple websites with downloads available for purchase as well as CDs available for purchase and I do not know where the money is going my 8-year investment into a family has been destroyed along with my business efforts come to find out because of involvement with musiclunge Sergio Giles selig worldwide who stole the intellectual properties of knowledge and promotional efforts for his own company by way of manipulating Jennifer taking money from us and destroying my efforts I'm very angry and I'm very very hurt if you have had involvement with musiclunge and were defrauded I'm sorry it had nothing to do with me personally it was a capitalization on my promotional efforts which were remarkable to say the least for one man.
I will be staying at pine rest of grand rapids on 60th street or Forest view. When I am certain, I will leave conatact info accordingly.
Charlevoix County Jail is located I believe on 1000 State Street their phone number is 231-547-4461 if anyone would like to confirm the address to offer me letters of support which I desperately need- for the record the folks at the Charlevoix County Jail are the finest folks in law enforcement that I've ever dealt with they're been very respectful in the past and, after becoming familiar with the truth, as well as some of my efforts, they have treated me like a King. I am looking forward to their warmth and support. Ifanyone out there has the abilities and the capabilities and resources to offer me any kind of consideration or support please look into the matters which I'm involved and help me, my capacity has been demished due to my auto acct TBI. my telephone number is 231 487 eight eight eight nine when I will be accepting calls until I no longer can. I will be going back to my blog posts- after becoming angry at the world and removing my posts and returning them to draft, I will be going back through my files and republishing those so that people can have them for their benefit until the physical book is completed and they can have a copy in their hand I'm making this document with my phone voice to text I do not have time to edit I'm running out of time I have far too much to do I have no help have no resources I have no vehicle my opportunity get my driver's license restored was robbed from me by my paid caregiver not allowing me to have a marijuana card and I'm facing the possibility of to eight years in prison 5  4 foot tall marijuana plants I'm contemplating opening the case back up and challenging it removing my plea then dragon all involved into the court I will not absorb the expenses the wrongdoing of others any longer I'm trying to find out where to draw the line I do not want to file adult abuse charges against this woman I do not want to cause her harm but I'm feeling like I'm left with no choice I have no counsel and I'm desperate since no one's probably reading this I guess I should stop making it thank you for your consideration thank you for reading my stories thank you for listening to my music thank you for looking at my art and photography you've seen very little have a collection of Studio 4 track tapes I don't know if they're in the car at the impound yard 2448 then ID number to claim the car with all my Mechanics Tools in it top 10 hidden in all kinds of nooks and crannies Howard's Towing Kalkaska quite possibly they could have been thrown away because that's what Jenny does when she moves they just take what they want and leave everything else behind throwing my whole entire Studio efforts into the trash again I'm very hurt and I'm very angry Sergio Giles if I get my hands on you you will never ever forget me no one forgets me good or bad no one ever since I was a small child I recognize that I have presents when I'm in a room everyone knows it when I'm out in public children's sense where I'm at and they look for me and they find me in the crowd and lock eyes that's powerful that's special

What I've Learned Today 4-6-17 trailer fiasco

What I Learned Today

April 6, 2017

by Zachery Polk

Document set up is Important.

This one, for instance, is centered.

My Enthusiasm has Prolonged My Ignorance.

My lists are Haphazard, and possibly Offensive.

Privacy Options, Engagements, and file systems & then some.

Lost engagements, parties, and conversations-

What Debt!

Thank God, for a Moment Spent with my Pamphlet.

I had an Engagement...I Decided to Cancel~

Enough of that, although I could go on but most likely lose the attention of anyone who may

personally care- other than just losing the interest of the general Reader altogether.

In my haste to resurrect my previous endeavors, I failed to READ THE MANUALS.

I just jumped right back on and rode it as hard as I could, for as long as I could, and kept going.

It didn't occur to me that I would be wasting any time what so ever, if I just kept at it.

Everything has been set aside- caring for myself being one of them. I just stay at my claim,

and pan away night and day- often causing myself more problems in the process.

Hashtags, for instance, are HUGE... if you know how to use them.

Although, thinking of them often but more as a piece of debris whizzing by in the spinning storm of

thoughts that paralyze a person into a heap of confusion-

the kind that make it so you need a whole week just to make a piece of toast.  

And that doesn't count the spreading.

After the failing of my domestic efforts, my life has spun out of control. Hiding within the walls of a

place where I cannot appear to reside, has made it even harder to escape the prison in my head.

A separation in medical services, medications, and all forms of support, have had huge implications.

My only coping mechanisms, other than copious amount of alcohol, guitar, and writing, are staying

focused on... exposing myself (laugh track), in hopes of finding a gig- doesn't matter.

Keeping people engaged is encouraging, though no one follows the story on Blogger, or

YouTube, but I don't ask people either. Nor do I tag my materials appropriately or proofread, or any

one of the processes at completing an essay properly. I haven't done anything but share a bunch of

crazy scribbling, subtly whining and crying about my pathetic existence.

The margins aren't set right, nothing's spaced properly. I get it.

Just a week ago, it dawned on me to compare notes, so I broke it down

and started using symbols and images- adding my own brand of

SALIENCY- maybe too much.

The smartest thing I have done in the past year, was purchasing a good computer.

It wasn't that the iMac20 isn't good, it's fantastic. The problem is

my RAM is malfunctioning, which is killing me because I have had it for 7

years. It has all of my content on it, not to mention that I am familiar with it.

This comp, however is pretty fancy. I thought I'd be smart at BestBuy-

asking, "which one do them smarty-pants college kids buy with dad's money?"

I had to buy the next one up from that... and to be honest, I haven't got a clue how to use it.

If I actually worked at it rather than journal or focus on trying to sell things that are not properly

represented on the various sites that my content is located, I might have actually become to where I

search to be. I ask that you understand, Prospect Studio was scrapped by the insistence of my love

interest, and has been a mere fantasy smoldering in the memories that storm.

In my haste and exhaustion

I picked up my new comp two fingered

By the screen... Pinching and breaking it, rendering it useless.  Fortunately I purchased the protection plan but it does me no good at the moment and will be several weeks befor I have it back. By that time I will have been placed in situations out of my control and unable to continue my efforts. My fear is that my contacts and developments will have been all but extinguished.

My Ship has been destroyed and is sinking. I am left with only my dinghy and no oars, so push on in distress, I must.

While my foot runs the bilge, and my hand's on the tiller,

I am determined to Escape The Despondent Sea.

Have A Great Day!
zacherypolk

Brilliance- updated 4-10-2017 part of 41 incomplete

Well, after breaking up with my 8 year investment of a family, I fled to the refuge of services from the Northern Area CMH #mentalhealth, where they took me to a shelter that I stayed at for three days. It was called The Nehemiah House of Petoskey.

After googling the name and doing research for my assessment of placing myself if the business community, I found something that I did not like, the statement "build up your walls, Jericho, so that you may no longer be a disgrace":. or something like that. Forgive me for my rogue journalism.

Anyway, I didn't know what to do or what to ask them for but I was in a panic. The most sensible thing was to go to the bank and see what I was working with.

After finding out, I decided to get a room at a hotel, a safe place to figure things out- in the space I needed for my own mind to work. I needed a nice spot to sleep and the facilities to care for myself. I needed the office space to lay out my work before me, and tend to it, continuing with my efforts at getting my children's love, respect and adorations back from after the seeming demise of my existence.

The delays in my tangible hopes, goals, and desires, are killing me.
The hotel, well, instantly after securing the room, I asked if they needed anything, The manager, George" say's that they need a painter.

Now here's where it begins.
Apparently the term painter really means cosmetic wonder-boy and accomplished impossibilities technician.... which I actually happen to be but he didn't know it, nor does he think I am aware that they are going to "tax" me and abuse the situation.... which they did. 

Anyhow, they hire me to paint. Ten bucks an hour!? Okay, it's money going through my hands but they are taking Monet from my bank account to pay me with,.... And I will be pursuing a fraud and adult abuse case, eventually.

That's enough for now. I am overworking myself too long- worried about dying actually, and I am in a lot of trouble. I need something to finally happen so that I can get a good bite onto something sound and secure to build on. Maybe an art studio where kids and parents can come and use the stuff and see art- just  making donations- nonprofit.

It's not about Monet, it's about enriching peoples lives- to build and nurture better communities, communities of trust and confidences.... AND BRILLIANCE!

Thank You For Reading My Stories

Zachery Polk

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone! I just wanted to take a minute and readdress an important message to remember, especially on "memorable occasions," which should be ALL of them, if you have family to spend time with.

A memorable occasion is what we always want but the memorable part is usually something you didn't. ST. Patrick's Day is suppose to be a time to remember. Try to remember that while you try forgetting what happened LAST St. Patrick's Day. Hopefully everyone saved some Easter Grass from last year!

My childhood memories are double what you would expect. First of all, we have always had to have two family gatherings- one for Everyone, and one for everyone who can get along with Roxanne, my step aunt. Now I guess I am the person who no one can get along with. Or am I the person who should be having my own get-togethers?

When my step grandmother passed away I was feared pretty well. They were not going to let me speak at her funeral but I stood up and took my chance when the preacher was about to let the podium go to someone who was pre-approved, let's say. And I will bet anything that they never forget- especially since she was never MY step grandma....come to find out.

All of my life I was talked over, ignored, and smacked when I wasn't silent. Now that I have my own life, I have found my voice. And boy do they hate when I use it. I think they are the ones who motivated me to want to write. 

The best part of it is that what I write gets read before they have a chance to tell me to shut up. That's probably the part that they hate the most, being heard despite being held down with a heavy hand. 

Having your words read and comprehended is a pretty powerful thing to have. I hope all people can find a way to have their voices heard. Of course, that means that you are at least accepted enough to be heard.

This brings me to a very old story, "The Sword in the stone". This story is about having your voice and finding a way to give individuals their own.  It was the sword "in" the stone. 

Whom ever could extract it from the stone and give it to the people would be a powerful person. 

The sword represents your voice. Being able to wrought metal from rock is a skill handed down for thousands and thousands of years. The first person to get the product was highly respected and revered.

Each one of our voices counts for something- what ever it is you use it for. Now, let's use that voice to re-educate people with the understanding that RESPECT is NOT FEAR. You do not gain respect through others fearing you. You gain a battle that WILL come in the FUTURE. And when it comes for you, you will be defeated. Bet on that.

Intro to Prospect Studios Easter Promo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5gw3PxJKb8&t=179s

That is what I want to give you This ST. Patrick's Day.   
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVI4UsKHoPc



And If you were part of the MusicLunge/Selig Worldwide Scam, know this- He had psychological control over my girlfriend, hijacked my promotion and business efforts, and robbed us of our time, money and resources, as well as threatened the health of his own significant other after taking "seed money" from her- stressing her out to the point where she had a heart attack.  Jenny, apparently figured I would never learn the truth if she made me quit doing my business efforts with @ProspectStudios. She has since taken control of the sites where I would learn these things. And since she figured I was so stupid, it would work. 

Well, as you can see, I don't know what I am doing anymore since being separated from my work BUT I AM BACK. That's Why They Call Me "ZACKATTACK"
Happy St. Patrick's Day from Zachery Polk @Prospect Studio @BandanabroOne  and #madzackradio on FaceBook!

"Don't You Know How Much I Love You?"  https://youtu.be/3so46rnOQu4

"The heavy price for a deceptive love"

Jenny had a friend helping her with the kids but the very second that I became to be in the picture, Andrea, moved out and abandoned the situation- another big fat red flag, that I should have appreciated.

As far as, Pudge, the Dachshund, Jen, who never had been educated about nor had a dog in the past, said that Pudge was just "marking". They continued to allow him to live in the apartment, as if he rented a room, same as the kids.  In less than one year Pudge would be dead due to common everyday carelessness that went unrecognized and uncorrected, and was soon forgotten like loved ones in a convalescent home.

Despite published advice from Psychologists, Jen allowed Drew to replace the dog soon after. That dog was almost identical to Pudge- same colors and pattern only it was a beagle mix and proved to be a terrible idea- just as warned by the
Psychological Professionals.

Drew continued to go about his "development" playing on the x-box day and night, having his way with my laptop until he destroyed it with his entitlement to be careless and irresponsible, and unparented despite my many voiced concerns.

Siena was not much different, only her age and desire for attention made her much more accessible to provide guidance to as well as influence. She took to the outdoors as soon as I showed it to her. Siena learned almost everything she knows, from myself. She is a good shot with a bow, plays multiple instruments, draws very well, writes, reads books, studies multiple languages, knows how to prepare some forms of wildlife and livestock, build a fire, fish, hunt, some tracking, forage, ride a bike, tie her shoes, raise chickens, gardens etc... all because of the time I have spent with her.

No persons can be assembled to accumulate more time spent with her that would anywhere near mine.
No one has an amount of Care and Time Invested into this Child and her Environment more than I do. But she is just like her mother when it comes to instruction- resistant, omnipotent, argumentative, wasteful- an extreme and severe challenge to deal with no matter who you are or your authority.
And her mother refuses to correct her... Maybe fearimg the Child will leave and she will pay Steve child support.. Money and Control .

It'd been hard but I continue my work with creating who she is becoming.

The first thing that she wanted to be was a marine biologist. Now she wants to be anything but female. She has become to believe that she isn't good enough and it hurts so bad to know how badly she is hurting. Her mother has seemingly erased her sense of pride for what she has become because of me, with respect to the emotion and sense of self that she has been exhibiting since I made, what seems to be, the mistake of asking Jenny if Seina has told her that she loves her, back in January of 2015- according to my journal when I shared that Siena had been coming to me, telling me she loves me, and giving me hugs. Jenny seems to have destroyed all of that. And that hurts beyond my capacity to illustrate my feelings enough for.

Since then Jen has stopped taking me to my appointments with professionals. My mouth has become infected four times- now for the fifth time. Even though she is my paid personal assistant and caregiver, she has abandoned me within my own home. She refuses to take me where I need to go or direct me to tend to my affairs- not to mention the avoidance of her own. And she has now gone back to her old ways of not answering the phone when it rings- avoiding any and all confrontations. She has been refusing to facilitate helping me to attend the programs or complete any of the requirements needed in order to get my drivers license back, which would enable me to tend to my own affairs related to my welfare. Although she has me driving Siena to school and running errands etc... mostly due to her laziness and Siena's lack of discipline, or the instruction needed to manage this child. Repeatedly, I tell her, "You wait for the bus. The bus does not wait for you." But Jen entertains the child's delinquency by changing her schools to meet her wants. School records, which I possess, support this statement 110%.

What do I have to do in order to do what is right? What price do I have to continue to pay, and for how long? Do I not deserve some right to this child after being her only parent for the past 8 years? But tomorrow I go to court and possibly prison or jail because the police had to charge me with something in order to have a reason to remove me from my own home, at Jenny' whim over her not wanting to discus why Siena was only grounded for one day without computer after pulling a knife on her mother over cleaning her room?  Or why we made 72 thousand dollars for the past four years every year but have not set any money aside for an emergency even? Yet she comes to my hotel room to use me for sex, preying on my love for her? And services that she know my mind and desires, further manipulating me for her own needs.

Why can I not say that enough is enough entirely? The price I am willing to pay is indescribable and I  drink myself to sleep over the torment of what is right and what actually is. I am dying for love.

It would be while staying at a crisis residentil home recovering from the next breakdown... I returned to an ever bigger destruction. It was as if it were deliberate.

Salvaging what efforts I had been preserving and considering the loses, I would not arrive at a clue that ended up revealing Another whole story of #corruption and greed.... And betrayl. But that wouldnt happen until ANOTHER 16 MONTHS- April 1 2017

zachery s polk.  Thanks For Reading.

The Mile High Club

It was a beautiful day in June when Julie showed up at the job. Nearing nine-thirty, I figured she had something to discuss, wanting to do it over my coffee break. This was a bit of a surprise since I hadn’t received a call, letting me know that she was coming. No, she didn’t want to have coffee. She had come to tell me that Danny was found dead that morning when his boss went to pick him up for work at Robert’s house. Oddly enough, it was Danny’s last day of community service. His mother immediately went to him, to try to wake him from his final sleep, finding him on his back with his feet crossed and arms folded across his abdomen. He had gently passed away in his sleep. It was the sixth of June 2006.

This news struck me very hard. Danny and I had been planning to go to the Keys when we stumbled into Julie’s life. The idea was to land a property management gig and take occupancy of a place near the beach or live on a boat, while composing and playing music around town. If we had done that, we may have not had the troubles that we ended up having, and would have possibly struck up something big in the music scene.

Dan had confidence in our act, seeing that as very possible if we got in the right area. He thought the Keys would be the place for that to happen. Then I remembered the list he had made that said, “The final move”, on it. I didn’t want to understand it, I suppose. It didn’t quite register to me what that meant but now I knew why he had spent a lot of time helping me ready the studio room at my house, giving me some lessons and guidance on working in there with the equipment he had given me.

He kept saying, “you’ll figure it out”, whenever I sounded confused about the recording process and with working on his compositions that he entrusted me to publish. He also gave me some art lessons on drawing portraits and scenery so that I could illustrate the children’s stories we had both written. He was making all the preparations necessary for the things he wanted me to do for him, tending to the business that needed to be handled so he could depart from this world. The road was being paved.

                        The strangest thing of all was recalling the dream I had the night before they found him. I was working on my truck but my truck and I were both in the river, in three feet of water. Something swam up along side of me and popped out of the water. This thing was a little over six feet tall, thin, covered in moss and other plant matter, looking very much like a rabbit or something. It startled me very much. Feeling a great sense of danger, I grabbed something and swung at the creature, striking it in the head, which knocked it out. After putting it in the bed of my truck, I took it to someone to explain what had happened. The creature stirred while I was showing it to them, so I grabbed a tool and struck it again, killing it. Then I realized that it was Danny. I had killed him. This really added a great deal to my grief, and was far too much to bear.

                        As if that wasn’t bad enough, Dusty had mysteriously died three days after Danny did. She was found in the yard with a mouthful of grass. The other dog freaked out to the point where the neighbors called the cops. It would have been nice if someone would have looked out there first because when Animal Control came, Jean answered the door and said the dogs were not hers- costing me fifty dollars to get the dogs back, even though one was a corpse.

                        Andy called around the third week of August or so, saying that he’d heard about Danny, asking me to come down to paint for him. Since I was so desperate to avoid going to jail for child support, having not yet received my disability insurance from Social Security, I agreed to do it. It was only to last a few weeks, which was just long enough to gather up the twenty-five hundred dollars I needed to keep from getting put in jail again. He told me to make sure I “bring the old lady along”. In the planning stage, I called my kids and spoke to Cody, whom was receptive when I told him I was going to go to work for a few weeks because of the court thing, and that I would be out of town until then. We would resume our time together then. That particular three weeks was the longest three weeks known to man, a “Key West” three weeks.

                        Memory doesn’t serve up who took care of Jean when we left- maybe it was Aunt Rose. Julie booked a flight and reserved a car, and the bags were packed. Julie and I went to the airport to board our flight. We checked our bags and sat nervously while awaiting the prompt to board. After some time passed, I asked whether she had brought any pot for the drive down the keys to Big Pine, which she assured me she did. This was to be my first time on a commercial airliner, and boy, was I worried.

                        My thoughts of a “friend”, whining about motion sickness and having to take Dramamine to fly, crossed my mind. We opted to wait it out in the bar over a drink. Thoughts turned to crashing, as we boarded. Soon the force of the engines was throwing us down the Tarmac, tipping us back in our seats as the thrust lifted us into new heights. We seemed to just barely hang there, the weight of the plane dragging along behind the engines. Panic struck me for a moment but I stomped it out with other thoughts.

                        Now, I was all about the view of the earth below, and getting into the Mile High club. Curiosity somehow helped me decide it was a fair idea to try it… in the bathroom ALONE. It didn’t sink in, while the full surround of mirrored panels tried to tell me a story of security issues- things like surveillance cameras for anti-terrorism efforts. Aborting the attempt, shaving a few strokes off of my game, I finally realized it wasn’t a fair idea after all- Too Late. It must have been a sight, for who ever monitored the cameras, to see. Hopefully, I wasn’t the only case of that type of thing. It was pretty embarrassing.

We landed, retrieved our bags, and found a brand new Mustang waiting for us at the reception area. There was every rental car company to choose from. The car was gorgeous but that goes without saying- everything brand spanking new is gorgeous…. except for someone else’s newborn baby or someone else’s…. well, anything that belongs to someone else.  Julie drove us out, finding a party store where I bought some libations for the drive. Julie used the lavatory to dig the smoke from one of her cavities. After I smoked four cigarettes in my wait, she finally came out of the restroom and got in the car with me. I had already soaked my shirt through, changing into a fresh one, due to the sweltering heat and humidity.

“I thought I was going to have to come in there, what’d you do, fall in?” I asked her.

She said, “No, I had a hard time getting it out”, handing me a pin joint.

 I asked, “Hard time getting it out? You’ve had two kids- the hardest part of the job should have been washing your hands and drying them off, so you didn’t get the rolling papers wet!”

We got on the road, heading for the highway through the keys. Now, I was expecting a vacation style doobie but then again, if you have to throw it out the window, you don’t want it to be a lot, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt, asking, “How many did you roll? And what’s with the pin joint?”

“I could only roll one”, she declared.

“Isn’t it like four hours to Big Pine Key?” I inquired. 

She said, “Yeah but that’s it- that’s all there was”. 

Now, I am confused, really confused. She had spent a half hour in the bathroom, rolling one single pin joint. Obviously upset, I asked, “that’s all there was? What? What do you mean, that’s all there is??? I thought you were going to bring some weed? I saw that man-made phallus you had when I moved in. Judging by the size of it, you could have fit a couple ounces of kind buds in that thing. And that’s it? That’s all you brought? AND it’s SCHWAGG WEED!” I was so upset; I started mimicking a conversation with a fictional passenger:

“Oh, pardon me, what’s that weed you have there, … brick-weed?”

“Oh, no, it’s dick-weed, you fool, my girlfriend, slash genius here, went through the hassle, and risk, of a federal drug charge to bring a cigarette cellophane with a tenth of a gram of the lowest grade weed in Michigan stuffed inside of her cavernous Vagina… vagina… vagina... gina… na… na… na!”

Oh, GOD, how stupid could I be, to let myself be pulled into a void so black? There’s killer pot that they grow up to sixteen feet tall, all over Florida, that we could have gotten hold of when we got off the plane. We would have been better off trying to score at one of the party stores on the way or mail it down ahead of us, as a general delivery, to pick up at the Post office. I was baffled that this woman was in charge of a trust fund, and the life of an eighty-four year-old woman. Thank God, Jean didn’t have a clue what was going on. She would have died from an aneurism or heart attack if she were in a mental capacity to mind. And here I was, guilty by association, and oblivious to what was in store for me next- like a lamb being led to a slaughterhouse by, quite possibly, the world’s finest specimen of a village idiot.

Andy had painted a Fantasy Island kind of picture, where a huge house stood in an image of Paradise. There was a Sports car with a T-top, Sea kayaks, an ocean style fishing boat, among other things, Key Deer being one of them. He volunteered to come pick us up at the airport in his “T-top” but then stated that he had to work too, which was a clever ploy to un-volunteer. He knew that anyone who knows about contracting work would never insist on someone taking a day off of making money while it was there to be made. He was a con but I needed money. So, there I was, once again, ready to fraternize with vermin. The price to pay was, yet, to make itself known.  

"Sunk" a story of Mutinies

Chapter; Sunk

As part of my plan to take back my time from Julie’s increasing demands, I returned to working for Bob. Being that Bob was a Gossipmonger; he could never resist a chance to capitalize on my trade skills. The fun part for him was that he got something new to talk about, AND my carpentry efforts that he called, “Amish Craftsmanship”. My ulterior motives were to put it in his face that I was in a two hundred fifty thousand dollar home, and that I was on my way to getting hands on the situation with my children, since he always deflected me as a bum and a piss-poor father.

Julie had made another impulse purchase, trying to keep me in her snare with another boat. This time it was a fourteen-foot Glastron with an eighty-five horsepower Yamaha outboard. It was a beautiful craft, metallic green and very fast. One morning, Bob volunteered to pick me up, jumping out of his red Savannah, rushing to the north side of my garage to urinate in the bushes, where most of the neighbors could have seen him if they were looking out their windows. I sensed something was wrong since he could have used the utility bathroom that was through the garage door to the house- a mere twelve steps away. Truth was Bob’s bladder and his conscience were both full. He had been up early, coming by before sun-up, and had been in the area drinking coffee while killing the extra time and concealing his deviance, which entailed using his Panasonic cordless drill and an eighth inch bit to put a hole in the bottom of my boat, just to the rear of the Captain’s seat. He immediately picked the drill up from the floor near his seat to show me his new purchase, bragging about the technology, while trying to compensate for his guilt with nervous chatter. The green material from the plastic and fiberglass was clinging to the fuselage with static electricity. It hadn’t dawned on me what it was that he had done.

 A day or two earlier I had mentioned that we were going to launch the boat in the Grand River. Our plans were to take it out, maybe to Grand Haven, and open her up, launching it off of Leonard, near Coopersville. We launched around noon on Saturday when the sun was high, and planning on drinking. The cooler was full of provisions, and we had fishing poles as well. If I was thinking about it, I would have known that it wasn’t good to be out drinking on the water when the sun’s high. Before long the heat adds up with the alcohol, taking a toll but I wasn’t able to get out of the trance I was in with the boat- just as Julie had hoped. We spent the day drinking in the sun and fishing, and everything seemed fine- except for the fact that we had Sandy with us.

As always with Sandy, screaming and fighting ensued, which really carries a long distance on the water. She worked subtly, at first, pushing my buttons in efforts to break up what I was working on. Things escalated when we got hung up in the mud, unable to get the motor up, so that we could free ourselves. Then she took the keys out of the boat, making me enraged. That’s when I blacked out.

Julie loved to spend her mother’s trust fund, and having me doing all of the work was a good opportunity to make it look like I was being rewarded. She took me to a couple concerts, one was Bob Dylan, and another was Leon Russell. Leon Russell was held at the new Intersection nightclub, located on the Westside of town, near the new Grand Rapids Area Transit Authority. On the main viewer/dance floor, to the right side, I glimpsed Sandy. She was wearing her bibbed overalls and had her hair braided- her signature style.

After warning Julie, her suggestion was to get the situation under control by meeting and greeting with her, so we didn’t have to spend the evening trying not to be noticed. My tiny and diversely distracted mind wasn’t capable of seeing that her motive may have been to get Sandy and I back together, so she could have a reason to kick me out in a way that would make me actually leave, eliminating the perspective of my observations. Maybe I understood what she was doing, and why she was doing it but she had no clue what I was truly interested in, which was building what looked like a family in order to re-stake my claim in my children’s lives. There was no way in hell I was going to walk back into a reality with Sandy, and as long as I had my leverage- taking care of Jean, in addition to holding the beans on Julie, like her so-called family, and drug use, there was no way she could get rid of me. She would have to come up with a better plan, which she eventually did.

In the meantime, on the river, we were trying to enjoy the weekend. The boat tilted to one side for a small stretch, which should have been an understanding that the boat was telling me we were in shallow water or sliding over a log. I had no idea we were taking on water at this point, making us sit lower in the water. We were dragging in the muddy bottom, even though the boat had a short-shafted motor. We had decided to get out of the sun, and that we were in a bit of trouble due to our drinking and inexperience but as we made way for the shore we found that we were stuck in the mud with the motor. The power had cut out because the battery became immersed in water. We had no idea that our inability to deal with the problems with the boat were from the water- or the alcohol. We had been trying to paddle to shore but weren’t getting nearer. Everyone became angry. We could not get the motor to pull up from the weight of the mud. Not one of us thought to get out of the boat to push the motor up. The women were not helping in any way, inebriated and bickering with me, while I struggled with the boat motor. Something snapped. In between all of the useless paddling, yelling, sun, heat, and drinking, I became very angry about the situation. Julie got smart and bailed out of the boat. The water was only less than three feet deep. She took the keys with her for fear that I would leave them there- a sort of mutiny for mutiny, I guess. Sandy had seized control of the alcohol, since it was of greater interest to her than trying to help with the boat. The whole thing was a fiasco, out on the water for everyone to hear, which at the moment was a group of young people around a campfire it the yard where we were trying to get out. All of my anger and frustration from several years of wasted effort with all the wrong people just blew right out of me like a volcano. There was a storm of negative energy between the three of us. How foolish of me to think I could drink with them. It only set the whole thing up for inevitable failure and misery. That’s the point when I blacked out.

By the time I regained consciousness it was dark. The evening sky gave me the idea it was around ten. A fire pit was blazing with a few kids sitting around it who were drinking. They were mimicking my tirade from earlier. Ignoring their comments, I began to search for the women, being told that Julie was sleeping on their porch, and that Sandy had wandered off to the store down the street. For some reason, I cared about her getting left behind, so I went to try to catch up to her. She had a habit of just stomping off, and my sense of guilt, feeling bad about the whole experience, I couldn’t leave her stranded, having to walk all the way back to Grand Rapids. All I thought about was how my decision to drink that day could have changed the whole outcome. Out of all the mistakes and bad situations that I had to deal with, the drinking was the only one that I couldn’t handle coping with. Up until then I had some control in the events and their outcome. Looking back now, I can’t believe I allowed myself to be so easily mislead in life.

 Memory of Danimal asking Julie why she hadn’t chosen to put a move on him just came to mind. She told him he was too smart. That’s what I get for letting money knock me off of my square. Julie had mentioned how guys were just after her for her money, and I jumped right on the bait. Well, with all of the drama and difficulty, and whatever else I can’t think of that starts with D, my torture was far from over. And as long as there was booze around, I could take it. It’s like the antigens a parasite uses, so that you don’t know it’s there, sucking the life out of you- like weed killer, only it’s used on society. How disgusting.  

When I arrived at the store, the clerk said she had just been there minutes ago. I walked the only way I could go there, and never saw her. She had ducked behind a tree when I was walking down the road to find her. When I got back to the fire pit, there she sat smiling with a triumphant innocence about her.

Early that morning, after I pulled the motor out of the mud, we piled back in and made way for the launch site. The boat had taken on a large amount of water. It wasn’t until I got it on the trailer that I saw it coming out of a small hole in the bottom. Had it not been for getting hung up in the mud, it may have sunk completely, especially since we were too busy fighting amongst ourselves to notice that we were taking on water or that we were a spectacle for seemingly innocent bystanders. How embarrassing. Thank God my name wasn’t on the side of the boat!

I just knew Bob was responsible for the hole in the boat; it fit’s his M.O.  He had told me about some of the dastardly things he does with his idle time, while his wife is at work as an x-ray technician in Grand Haven, harassing paroled CSC people by vandalizing their property. He scratches up their vehicles, slices tire, steals their mail, and who knows what else. It’s one of his favorite past-times to look up the sex-offenders list daily to see who is nearby to mess with. His exploits were impossible for him not to share with me, and provided him with something to talk about while we were driving to job sites. It was just a matter of time before I was again subjected to his little games he played. If it were not for the money I would never have kept re-opening the door I closed on him so many times before.

The incident with the boat was convenient, only in a single way. It got rid of Sandy. Had it not been for Julie having pot, she would have never been at the house with us, or so I think. Then again, if it hadn’t been for my drinking, I would never have been involved with Julie’s affairs or been so successful in failing to recognize my own self-worth.