15 Back To Alaska [Part 1]

Conway Twitty – Desperado Love.

When I think of Alaska, I recall the internal peace and vigor, that the boy I once was, possessed. And then there’s the residents: they are practical and often uncommonly trustworthy people, due to Alaska’s punishing weather and persistent threat of random death. I would choose their company, despite often being drunks and druggies, over the mainlanders with their persistent superficiality.

And so, with my mind breaking, my first love ruined, running to the place I begrudgingly think of as “home,” seemed natural. In retrospect, it was a bad choice to make at the time – though the results were arguably positive. I took my dog with me, as he was very lonely without me and enjoyed the wilderness. I left him there, when I went back to California, as I thought he’d be happier; he died within weeks. Leaving him is one of the few regrets of my life.

Once I arrived, I lived with my mother, father-in-law, two younger sisters, and younger brother, in a very small, three bedroom “house” that was more like a trailer; houses tended to be ridiculously small on the islands. The population must have been.. I don’t know, maybe 50 people. Ah, and this was a separate island from the one earlier in my life.

Anyway, my mother was better than usual, at first. She’d apparently been clean for years, and happily married to the “Inlaw.” I’m uncertain why her sobriety, and relative mental stability, changed while I was there – I assume marital issues. In any case, after a few months of somewhat stable and pleasant family-life, things went downhill quickly.

In the midst of that sudden decline, I was involved in 2 impactful social situations. First: I was banging a woman whom we’ll call.. “Robber.” She was 11 years older than me. If I recall correctly, our furious sex only occurred for around a week, and we stopped interacting shortly after that. The how and why of that situation is relatively unimportant, so I’ll skip over it for now.

The second social event: I was regularly drinking heavily [only hard liquor, due to shipping charges being determined by weight] with a man that we’ll call “Samoa.” He was Samoan, and large in both muscle and fat, though I doubt he was taller than 6 foot. He was a tough and jovial, moral man, around 35, whom spoke heavily-broken English. He wasn’t dumb, but he drank so much that it dulled him; I think I’ve seen him drink a fifth or 2 and get up the next morning without batting an eye.

Anyway. I was house-sitting for Robber while she was off-island [her house was next to my mother’s]. One night, while house-sitting, my mother and Inlaw were having some drunken rampage of a fight that I overheard from Robber’s place. So I went over there, then brought the kids back with me over to Robber’s house. We were playing around, setting up for a “sleep-over,” when my mother started banging on the front door.

Here’s another one of the only regrets of my life: I told the kids I wouldn’t let mom in the house, but I did. With her sociopathy peaking due to her severely drunken state, I was afraid she would mess up the door, or break windows; so I opened the door to talk her into calming down, then she pushed her way in, and ended up staying there for the night.

It was fine on the kids: they know how to deal with her madness, I kept her away within the house, and though she’s immoral, she’s also intelligent enough to recognize that their fathers’ family would severely punish her for hurting them – and that their family is the only reason she can survive, given her nature. I nevertheless wish I could go back in time, and kick her out.

The night passed, the kids went back to stay with their father/uncle, and my mother stayed at Robber’s for.. I think the first half of the next day. In either case, she and the man whom she was presumably banging, absolutely trashed the place while I was out working. When I got back, I tried to get her to clean up, towhich she responded with animalistic attempts at psychologic domination. She then left, permanently.

I cleaned the place up, while staying there for the next couple days. Robber’s dog didn’t help, as she kept shitting and pissing on the floor, trying to mask the scent of the liquor which my mother spilled all over the house. But, I got it all in order before Robber got back on the island. That was about the time we stopped interacting, due to mostly unimportant details that you can ask about.

I don’t recall the exact series of events at this point. I think that my family left the island on the same plane that Robber arrived on, allowing me to go back to living in the family’s house. No one had told me they were leaving, but I honestly didn’t mind: I had the house to myself, and it was full of food. I also had allot of marijuana at the time, which my mother had given me.

So, I was content to blast music while smoking weed and cigarettes, drink with Samoa at night, and avoid Robber. Ah, right, I forgot to mention that I’d started smoking cigarettes just before moving to the island – around a pack of Marlboro Reds a day, which later peaked at 2 packs due to the various stresses of my life and deepening mental instability.

One day, when I was going about cooking, Samoa visited. Though he didn’t outright say it, he was concerned about my well-being, and so he asked me if I wanted to go and live with him. I did so, though not because I was in need of company: I wanted to salve his concern for me, and we simply had allot of fucking fun together.

We’ll pause here, as its gotten long enough. Oh, it should be noted that I’ve left out a great deal of lesser events and details, aside from those concerning Robber. Its just too damned convoluted of a story, to attend to every detail. I’ll likely, later, add a post elaborating on those lesser, yet hilarious events, that detract from the main story.

I’ll give you a teaser, for now: A very large and burly MTF intentionally walked in on me showering – twice; Samoa and I hunted and slaughtered cows; I watched that same MTF repeatedly grind his crotch on a man’s face during a dirty lapdance; Samoa shotgunned a PC monitor; I repeatedly failed at hunting ducks; I lost a bet, which involved a cigarette being put out on my arm; we went muscling at midnight [far from metropolii, night is far darker], drunk as fuck; we were always drunk. Great fucking times.

Autobiography [+] Hub



~ by Louis Naughtic on November 22, 2016.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: