Stories

Backstory

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Here’s my backstory. I’ve been parading through time like a lobster on meth for about 34 years-  I’m 39- meaning there were only 5 years of my existence that I was stuck in docility. I don’t remember full details of this episode, only snippets- like that of my mother and father doing things that they truly believed would help me grow into a devoted prole- like wiping my ass and saying sorry and worshipping god.

I remember the moment I left- I suddenly decided that I hated my parents as well as police officers- sentiments I still hold today- and I up and left. Voyaged by boat to New York, becoming a street rat that had to learn how to use a knife. And I remained a street rat until deciding 10 years later that there’s more to life than sleeping with one eye open in abandoned tenements.

I cut my Mowgli-esque hair, shoplifted some decent threads, and started to strip away at my gutter trash dialect. I began nudging myself into the more “together” crowds, the “art” crowds, and like “night owls”, finding many of them to be just as much of miscreants as I. Most of them were from suburbs and had moved to the city to tickle their inner anarchist’s gooch. But apparently that’s most people that make any sort of impact here..

At some point around this time I switched over to a nocturnal schedule. I don’t know why. But I’m still on it. Aside from the occasional uppers-bender that keep me awake for a week (in which I will always remain inside while the sun is out), I sleep during the day and romp at night. I haven’t been outside of a structure during the day in over 20 years. Could have been those street rat days and the ensuing nervousness from being around circadian cyclo-squares that scarred me. But I love the night. It’s what I live for.

I do this out of fear of necessity, and everything that’s happened to me has been purely circumstantial. Love and hate, displacement, disconcertment, disillusionment… these are things that I’ve picked up along the way.
Everybody that I come across I love, though only in retrospect. As I truly hate everyone in the moment. But they make me who I am, and that is priceless.

It is the world that has shaped me. What do I do when I’m not inside? I quest many a drunken and sped out evening through the dark streets and alleys and neon lit tourist sects doing the only thing I know how to do: practice the self-discipline involved in punching the societal shark in its voraciously banal shnoz without drawing the heat or spilling identity beans.

On that note, that’s about all you need to know about me. That’s my bio. Peter Pyramid is my name. It's not the name that I was birthed with, but it's the name that g0d gave me [sic]. Don't worry about ever seeing my face, as you never will.

There's so little to fear in this world, if you know your unique way around the unpardoned bullshit flying at you at all times.

See my creations as pieces of me: my identity, my catharsis.