All posts for the month December, 2014

The great thing about square one, or true square one, is the ability to start over with those little things that you always thought were so damn important until you get a good dose of reality and realize that they aren’t shit in the grand scheme of things out of your way. Of course when you first find yourself at square one, you’re not really looking at it from the benefits you gain perspective, but rather from the, alright now how the fuck do I get myself out of this one, point of view. Remember that post from the 6th of May? Yeah well on the 22nd I would be served with a DVP or a fuck you, show up to court just one more time notice based solely off of the strength of being spotted in one of the few pockets of civilization that has places that you can actually apply for jobs a,t there in the Kanawha Valley of no where West Virginia. Getting thoroughly sick of this cunt sending cops everywhere I go, I left of my own volition, taking to the streets. Oh my God he used such a strong word there, some of you might say, or keep crying others might, but there is something inherently wrong with the head of a fucking person who will spread rumors of how “dangerous” I am for a full three months BEFORE filing for the DVP, if they are TRULY SCARED of what I might do. FACT: I was making headway and someone wanted to set me back. As I will point out later on, There is no way you can spend 24/7 up someones ass for a good span of years and NOT KNOW EVERY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET, every illegal act, from drug use on up that they have. When that person holds a social title, that knowledge becomes a threat to all they have and even when it doesn’t staying in the lime light like I was keeping myself would eventually prove all of their accusations to be exactly what they were, fabricated bullshit spewed by an art community politician to protect their ass and be vindictive about it while not appearing that way. Unfortunately in this era, you can be at the bottom of the barrel and STILL not be erased from the scene. So let’s finish May, I’m actually a little more anxious to introduce you to the “Diary of The Vagabond King” which was my way of turning my homeless stint into a Mr. Rogers field trip for everyone I knew to see how the other side lived, as I took them step by step not only through my daily life but the moves made to regain my ground in the process. In short, 😀 Now the story gets good.


May 13th

“The TRUTH against the WORLD”- Translated inscription on the barrels of the two ancient relics with the sandlewood grips.


May 16th

It’s one Hell of a learning curve, but I think I finally really understand the importance of spirituality. When both reason and emotion fail to offer any real solution, faith counts for a lot, especially the faith that some prove they have in you, when others including yourself have lost theirs.


NC:  Sometimes a helping hand comes without strings.

TH: Amen!

(It is ironic, how once you have the power, the mask starts to slip and as it does, everyone starts seeing what and who you really are. This was beginning to happen to my ex wife it seemed, little by little she was alienating every one who she could afford to who would not completely side with her against me. A bad tactic for one standing on a platform of being all inclusive when those in her spot before her did much to run people off from that theater. 😀 The same old swan song of one who attempts to HIDE who they are, when the fact is no one really can, and not for long anyway.)


May 18th

Need to go find me a good dose of anti-venom. Anyone know where to look? < ( I was still searching in vain for a place to call work and getting no where, on top of the building anger anger.)


 Anti-venom obtained, it would seem long, philosophically pondering walks do wonders for the soul.


RN: Now you’re thinking!

DN: Sometimes those solitary walks serve to remind us that we’ve accomplished more than we originally believed. This is the difference between looking back, as opposed to turning back.


May 23rd

It seems despite my best efforts and whatever PUBLIC announcements of good intentions, I just keep finding myself run out of the only places I have to go because someone keeps sending the police over nothing. Notice that date in the lower half of the second photo, the original date this was filed. It is May 6th. So if I disappear in a few days, know that I am either once again in jail for no reason, or my general state of being has finally caught up with me. My new residence is now 501 I think, or 505 Leon Sullivan Way. In case my stating for the RECORD that this is my way of simply INFORMING my people of my whereabouts and why.



AMJ: This is BS. If I were you I would go file an order for stalking and harassment against her. It’s clearly another effort to control and you can prove it given the post where you presented your means to get back on your feet (posted the SAME day).

RN: Yes this is bullshit! She’s the one who needs a friggin shrink < ( Her co worker, by the way in case you had not gotten that from some of our conversations before.) 

NC: Yep. Stalker was my first thought as well. < ( Like Me a master at sarcasm. :D)


That was posted as I sat in the center court of the Town Center Mall, I wasn’t going to, but I figured what the fuck, I might as well skim line the system that she was blatantly exploiting just to show the truth. It would be my last post for three days as I headed towards the two shelters for men in the heart of Charleston, only to arrive and see a whole bunch of motherfuckers lined up out side sitting under the interstate exit of Leon Sullivan Way. I snapped, in true Forrest Gump fashion and I started walking, I would not stop walking for three days, getting only little cat naps here and there when I could go no further, sometimes in an underpass, sometimes inconspicuously at a bus stop bench appearing like I was actually waiting for the bus. This was my second long ass walk of the year, and by far my longest. From Chesapeake to Charleston, Charleston to Marmet, Marmet to Kanawha State Forest, Kanawha State Forest to Corridor G, Corridor G back to Kanawha City, Kanawha City back to Charleston. All the while scavenging and gearing up for what ever would come next.


May 26th

I have spent since Friday on constant go, from Chesapeake to Downtown Charleston, back to Kanawha City, to Marmet, through Kanawha State Forest into Corridor G, back to KC and now finally back to Downtown Charleston. Walking all the way, sleeping very little, living on water and wild strawberries. You know what? I’m proud, I had the heart and the sense not to allow myself to be goaded into validating some bullshit spewed, and for always having the guts to stand up to anyone for what I know is right, even when doing so, left me standing alone. That is something no one can take from me. Take care.


TH: “To thine own self be true”- Shakespeare


This was the day before my court appearance, words could not describe just how thoroughly disgusted I really was, but I held on to some sense of self through it all, because there really was at that point, a big part of me that I had to fight back that was saying ” Alright bitch, be careful what you wish for.” I gutted it out, took my six months of being told to do what I was already fucking doing in the first place and started making a plan for my next move. I would return to Marmet, being a small town I was less likely to find the same kind of trouble that i would in the city, I decided that I could not keep going on the move I needed to set up a base to work from. By day I hung out in the park by the locks, charging my phone when needed at the picnic tables, outlet, by night I traveled along the river bank and set up camp far enough away and unseen by the towns people that I knew I wouldn’t get fucked with. This was the beginning of survival mode. My phone, while no longer being active via a card still had the ability to pick up Wi-Fi and this was how I managed to continue staying in contact with all of my people throughout the ordeal.


May 29th

ALIVE – at the moment that is all anyone needs to know.


NC:  Glad to hear it. Stay safe.


I would go a couple more days until luck would allow me to go somewhere safe for a couple weeks until my next court appearance on the 13th of June. I remember staying at Motel 6 on the night of the 30th just to take a shower and get ready to travel north towards Parkersburg, to hang out with some cousins of mine. I was feeling a little primal in those early days, it was a new experience for me and I was adjusting, learning, planning for a way back. In true smart ass fashion I went to my now defunct actors page where I was still connected with people from the past and made it a point to fucking laugh about the LARPing experience I was having, playing Ranger out in the wilds. I smiled as I wrote this as a single line written by J.R.R. Tolkien came to mind, “The Crownless Again Shall Be King.” I knew that word would get spread. anything to show the epic fail behind trying to take me out.


May 31st

My first brand-too. I’m a geek and I was bored out in the wilds with nothing to do, and it was a chilly night. 😀 < ( I did say I was feeling a little primal…..right? 😀 So I took to a minor bout of body modification, on the night in the early morning hours of the 30th, I woke up cold and relit the camp fire  before deciding, what the Hell, why not. Primal.)

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Later that day I put up a In A Relationship notice, It was my intent to strip some of the bitches power from her while I disappeared from the area for a few days. I had figured that most of the ones who had been duped by her bullshit would stop looking for me with the idea that I had moved on. I had no way of telling friend from foe among those who remained and so I took to generating a quiet grape vine that could get motherfuckers off my back and allow me time to rebuild my foundations. I was otherwise OFF THE GRID. I would return to Marmet after my court appearance and start making a solid move at making it my base until I could make something break. The time I spent in Parkersburg became a matter of dealing with the total psychological back lash from all that had occurred and was also where I wrote “Angels Light” as seen from an earlier entry on here. I decided then that I was not going to go down like this. For those who have returned to the blog from the early times when, all it had was a coming soon post, You are about to get the full account of why the Hell it took me so long to finally get it up and running, but hey, I was writing the content for it as I went along… 😀 Told everyone I had a plan.

“Out came the claws and the fangs been out ever since then, but up until the instant, that I went against it. It was ingrained in me that I wouldn’t amount to a shitstain I thought , No wonder I had to unlearn everything my brain was taught.” – Eminem “Guts over Fear”

Yeah, ghosts really do make good bio-exorcists. I say this because I have learned the hard way that even when the source of your malice is gone the damage done leaves you mean as fuck, at the first reminder of it, or even the idea of it happening again, because the nerve is still raw and it leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable. Can’t have that shit, can we ? This last year has taught me one thing. I took pride in giving credit to what earned it and giving Hell to the ones who earned it through their actions or inaction’s. But who earns what? That is what has got me wondering if I don’t take shit too far sometimes. When someone goes through a traumatic experience, that trauma will manifest itself in different ways for different people. What merits a comeback to the action of another? I mean you don’t give someone shit for walking with a limp when they sprain an ankle, do you? I think that has been my problem, I can see it now, this whole damn year I have been forced to learn how to survive other peoples shit, but now that the worst of that is over I realize the need to look at how to survive my own shit. Jacking someone who does fucked up shit to someone for the Hell of it is one thing, jacking someone who is just trying to figure out to survive in the face of something that did damage to them, that’s something else. I stress honesty with yourself in these times when you find yourself having to question that, did I ever take it too far bitch slapping someone like me? You can’t always hold the things some people do against them, not really because sometimes it is too much like giving shit to someone for walking with a limp when they have a sprained ankle. That said, once you KNOW what has caused this damage for what it is you are left with a CHOICE, you can either give up all together, recognize what needs fixed and decide that you will NO LONGER ALLOW IT TO CONTROL WHO YOU ARE, or you can continue to LET IT DICTATE WHO YOU ARE. If that last choice is the one you go with, you NO LONGER HAVE THE RIGHT TO LAY BLAME for what YOU CHOOSE TO DO TO ANOTHER. Not on anyone else BUT YOUR DAMN SELF. Like all things it comes down to making the CHOICE of WHO YOU WANT TO BE, the kind of person you want to be. I am in the process of retraining my own mind, because I DON’T WANT TO BE CONTROLLED BY A GODDAMN GHOST ANYMORE. It’s MY LIFE, I control who I will become, now that the slate has been wiped clean.


” I know what it was like  I was there once, single parents, hate your appearance. Did you struggle to find your place in this world and the pain spawns all the anger on, but it wasn’t till I put the pain in song, learned who to aim it on that I made a spark, started to spit hard as shit, learned how to harness it while the reigns were off. And there was a lot of bizarre shit, but the crazy part was soon as I stopped saying I gave a fuck haters started to appreciate my art. AND IT JUST BREAKS MY HEART, TO LOOK AT ALL THE PAIN I’VE CAUSED, but what am I gonna do when the rage is gone and the lights go out in that trailer park?” – Eminem “Guts Over Fear”


If you make the choice to be more than what others will try to dictate you become through the damage they inflict, the first thing I found it necessary to do is to gain some sense of SELF, in my case it has been taking a look at the principles by which you wish to define yourself and then take account of what actions fit those principles, this would become the core of rebuilding the SELF. I take responsibility for what I HAVE done that may have been more than what was merited, NO MORE, NO LESS. This too is important for in the process of rebuilding yourself, life continues at it’s own fucking pace, you WILL STUMBLE ALONG THE WAY UNTIL YOU GET A FOOT HOLD. Own it, figure out what can be done different, move on. BEAT YOURSELF UP TOO LONG, or for shit that wasn’t even a factor, or yours to CLAIM for that matter and you do more to hinder your progress than to help it. SEE WHO YOU REALLY ARE, so that you may properly gauge how far you have to go to BECOME WHO YOU WANT TO BE.


” So till the break of dawn, here I go recycling the same old song, but I’d rather make Not Afraid 2, than make another motherfucking We Made You uh. And I don’t want to seem indulgent when I discuss my lows and my highs, my demise and my uprise. Pray to God I just opened enough eyes later on and gave you the supplies and the tools, to hopefully use that’ll make you strong, enough to lift yourself up when you feel like I felt, cause I can’t explain to y’all how dang exhausted my legs felt, just trying to balance my dang self, but on eggshells I was made to walk, but thank you ma cause that gave me the, strength to cause Shadymania.” – Eminem “Guts Over Fear”


Use it, use it all. Even the hardest shit to endure can be the greatest gift you ever got, if you CHOOSE to let it fuel you in a way that allows you to build something from it rather than destroy EVERYTHING YOU ENCOUNTER THEREAFTER. This becomes the balancing act as you heal, keep those who see this for what it is and will STAND WITH YOU, because they are the ones that will see you through it, if the CHOICE YOU MAKE is one that ALLOWS you to actually do so, 😀 You know, like letting others who might be going through the same thing know that you understand and will help in every way you can. – Love BIG CAT

As I move along with the narrative of this last year + it brings several things into focus, things that, as you have read I was far too emotionally involved in at the time  to see through clearly. Even my reflections seem to miss something, but this has been one Hell of a task trying to put into words something that there really was no words for. How do you describe the surreal nature of standing on a porch cleaning a storm door that the wind had blown off the frame getting ready to hang it again when suddenly you have five guys in heavy gear throwing your ass down and holding three assault rifles and a 12 gauge to the back of your skull, for something you did not realize or intend as a “crime”? How do you explain the exhaustion you feel there afterwards as you fail to recover from the shock of it all when the steel door slams on your little 8×12 room that you share with a stranger for 22 of 24 hours in a day? For the first three days I did not even have a number to call anyone, no way to know if anyone even knew where I was. A place that I had sworn to myself and my dead mother I would never go. The pit in your stomach when  you realize you failed to keep that promise, I’m not afraid to say, part of me died in the eight days I spent in jail and oddly part of me woke up and fully realized the position I had allowed myself to get into, letting someone else pull all the strings to the point I no longer seemed to even exist, not even to myself. I walked into that cell block expecting to be stared down, only to be greeted by damn near everyone like I was one of their own. In a sense I was, you aren’t human to most of the people watching you in jail, you’re just an animal in a cage regardless of severity of whatever was committed. I became grateful and wise when I learned that where on the outside I saw criminals from inside I saw guys just trying to pass time. reading books, sleeping, working out in the cells, talking through the door to the rest of the block, watching TV. I took up recreational tooth brushing, I mean Hell what the fuck do you fill 22 hours of nothing with? I came to appreciate the personal code they followed. You got your number, I have mine, when push comes to shove it’s all about passing the time on that number you have on that near indestructible wrist band they slap on you. Bartering is the trade of champions, coffee and stamps equal currency, give no shit, take NO SHIT. Talk gets you nowhere inside, it’s all about being able to stand on your own merit and word because that shit is all you have besides two plastic spoons a flat pillow and blanket a mat a couple towels, a couple changes of clothes a tooth brush and a cup. It’s simpler inside than it is out here, and I wasn’t lying when I said that what scared me most about going back, is not wanting to return to the outside world if I do. There is an honesty inside that is harder than Hell to find out here, and a different kind of freedom when you find yourself in a position where all the power has left to threaten you with is more time doing what you may have already developed a routine to cope with. That said, I found the need to control thought inside, because I was finding that even the thought of a tree made me feel like a fucking caged lion and all I wanted, was out. I remember the first time I saw daylight again as a free person and there is really no way to explain what that felt like either accept to say that seventeen minutes later I found myself crying like a little bitch in my Arby’s curly fries, if that gives you any indication.


How do you feel or react when you find out that you have spent your whole Goddamn life trying to do good, compromising yourself  because compromise is the spice of harmony. A childhood spent helping my mother clean up the mess after every fight with my father, of never getting in trouble in school even when stopped giving a fuck to do more than sleep when I was there. A young adulthood working three fucking jobs when all you fucking listen to are the old fucks telling you that you need it when I was helping as much if not more at times to pay the bills for my family than my father was doing. Four years waiting hand and foot on a bitch who couldn’t appreciate that I was standing by her side when all she wanted to do was cry about getting hurt in a car wreck just to get high with her fucking asshole buddy and all while I had the option to get up and walk away, before we were married for another eight years of Hell because as soon as I let her crying convince me it was a good idea to move into the trailer she grew up in right next to mommy and daddy and as soon as I had that fucking bear trap on my ring finger, any niceties went out the window, I was always fucking something up or was sure to do so. Every fight leading to half joking make up where I’m told that if I ever leave it would be the death of me. Almost five years of doing volunteer work, and I even had a couple movies under my belt at this point and what do you know, what the whole fucking country knows of me is that I was arrested on some bullshit charge with a trumped up word  “terroristic” used to scare people as I got put on blast nationwide by fucking Fox News, no trial, no conviction, no reason to be held up a fucking monster in the eyes of the whole Goddamn country. How do you explain what goes through your mind in the face of that? The looks you get when you first come back after eight days in jail to continue doing your volunteer work. The unmistakable sense you get that people are just pretending that everything is normal, like it used to be and it’s easy to sense when on some level you are doing the same only from a different stand point. How do you explain going to a movie with people who were friends from a cast of a show you did, which was a whole other level of unique to a person who never had the stability in life to have the luxury of having a friend that I grew up with and until my jacket rotted from the inability to keep moisture from getting to it in my time on the streets and the river bank, the ticket stub remained in my pocket, a reminder of a “good time” spent with one person who would go on to try and take my ass out, one who would stick their nose in thinking they were being a white knight, aiding that sad ass attempt at second degree murder, two who said if you need ANYTHING just let us know, only to slam that door when helping would put them at odds with the other party and the rest just gave up, Hell at least they didn’t fuck me over they just STAYED OUT OF IT. For better or worse these were all people who made up my world and my life for a number of years, an extension of the lesson learned as a child when I found that flesh and blood were simultaneously the first you turn to and the first you learn to knife guard your back from.


How do you explain to people in a way that makes sense in a world where people are taught to repress their inner workings that doing so never really saved me from anything, being politically correct and playing good guy, doesn’t protect you from being some ass holes scapegoat when they are the ones holding all of the cards but one, that the reason I opened my mouth to let EVERYONE FUCKING HAVE IT in the first place was because, at least I would go down as me, no more compromises that got me nowhere. At least I would go saying what NEEDED said and not just the same tired ass Care Bear bullshit people want to treat as gospel to hide how ugly status quo has made things. I call myself BIG CAT, 😀 That was MY chosen name, not the one I was born to that I had no control over, it embodies the part of me that can not seem to ever give up even when doing so is a viable option logically, the part of me that dares to TRY and make all this crazy shit that has happened make sense by giving voice to how fucked up this world we live in really is. In reality and perfect honesty, BEYOND the big tough bad ass that can’t be taken down is the broken motherfucker that has gotten the shit kicked out of them for a very long time, who fights just to keep standing because more than half the time I feel like I’m  too tired to keep going even as I stand saying what else do you have? I’m not a “professional”, not a hero, Hell I’m not entirely sure what I am even constitutes a decent fucking person anymore. I have times that I swear I feel like I’m just looking for a reason to fucking hate someone just because the poison is still in my veins. I struggle with that side of myself, more so now than I ever did really. Trying to make sense of it all, it’s what I have to offer the world, at the moment it’s all I have left to offer the world and I focus on doing so because maybe, eventually what I do will actually become who I am. That’s my truth, take it however you need or want to or don’t take it, the point is, it’s there if it’s needed by someone else like me.

This is from a post I wrote on June 7th 2014. I don’t normally jump ahead in the narrative very often, but this I feel deserves it’s own stand alone post. In a way the knack for writing was starting to return to me, I certainly had enough in the way of fiery ass emotions to carry it. I wanted to share this with you because in a way it kind of melds my reality with the deep seated need to express the emotions that were bottled up in the face of everything. This was a two week period where I did not do much more but sit and cry at moments without rhyme, reason or warning because of everything that had transpired and was still to come. I am, as I have stated spiritual not religious and this, well, it was the ember of a lifelong dream firing up again, I just did not know it at the time. So I now give you the first real poem I had written in many years.

“Angels light”

By Shayne Workman

In a limbo, locked in darkness , out of light and out of love. A labrynth in the shadows, a path forged in ones own blood.

Despair steel grips the heart as you round yet another bend, in a life that’s turned into a war that seems to have no end.

A broken body, weary. A soul sick with loneliness,causing reason to twist the mind into seeing death as bliss.

Collapsing in an underpass, now is the time, just let me die. Tired,cold and starving, too dehydrated to cry.

All the ghosts are calling,taunting, you won’t see home again, the deck is stacked against you, there is no way that you can win.

Heart is bleeding, soul is slipping, soon you will be dead and regret sets in for all the things that you have left unsaid. To all the ones, you never let know how much you really care, or as detached as you have always seemed, it meant the world to just be there.

Falling, fading, giving in. Become one with the pain, a rushing release, a freedom that no words could possibly explain.

You know not where you are, just that feeling… it love? And her voice drifts softly to you from a distance up above. You have fought so bravely through darkest times for oh so long. In another time a sacrifice worthy of remembrance through song. You have given so much of yourself, to go like this would truly be a crime. So rise my fallen warrior, for it is not yet your time. You have so much yet to offer, with your heart so tried and true and hear my words you may yet find that it is needed soon.

Static fills the air, maybe for hours, maybe days, it’s all the same when seen through eyes in coated milky glaze. When suddenly from those same eyes there burns a white hot blaze. She grabs your fallen body consumed in fires fusing mend, the older layers turned to ash now travels on the wind.

Rise my fallen warrior it is time to be reborn, to be the lightning rod for those who fear the coming storm. Rise up my new Phoenix from the ashes of your past, use that fire in your soul to rend the shadows it has cast. Rise up now and show them all, who you really are, the heart you have has ever been the brightest nighttime star. The power grows within you through what is lost and what is won and you will stand victorious when this war is done. Some have always seen it, some will stand in awe of this new you,but in the end they all will know, that you were always true.