Journalist and Author
The Answer Questioned
When I was a young boy a question occurred to me. Does a caterpillar know he is going to turn into a butterfly? And does a butterfly know he used to be a caterpillar? Of course, the question is a metaphor for our own mortality.
It took me thirty-five years, but I think I have the answer. Maybe. If you want to know, you will have to wait a bit.
New Books Coming Soon
Inside the Cuckoo's Nest
It sounds like such trite advice- expect the unexpected and trust no one. I should have listened. But I didn't.
The result was like a descent into Alice's rabbit hole while tripping on acid. It couldn't possibly all have been real, but "they" insist it was. They say I was mad. I say it's the world that is insane. Read 'Inside the Cuckoo's Nest' and tell me who you believe.
This historic building was erected in the late 1800's and was called the "London Asylum For Lunatics". I know. Very charming. It is at the back of the property of the other old psych hospital called "Regional Mental Health" also pictured here, which was closed not long after I left. It was a large property with many buildings. I only spent a short time at Regional, and it was completely awful. The buildings are all slated to be torn down to make way for condo developments. When it was fully operational, Regional had a capacity of over 400. After it was closed, many of the patients were left with nowhere to go and many are now homeless and living on the streets.
Also On the Way
I was born on the wrong side of the tracks- literally and figuratively. You have no say in where the journey begins, but it is entirely up to you where it ends. But that's not to say getting from point A to point B is easy. Hell no.
Boy London Slideshow
When I said I came from the wrong side of the tracks, see for yourself. I visited my childhood home not long ago. It had been condemned and torn down at some point, along with a number of other houses that were once there. My house once existed in that tiny space beside the gas station. The rest of that hideousness was my backyard. It is no worse than I remembered it, which is to say bloody awful. A few blocks away was the Detroit river, which would have been a nice place to visit if it weren't for the stink. The river was so polluted nothing could live in it or even stand to be near it. It seems somewhat better now.