"Spilly's Bio"
by Torn in Two

I did this as a piece for Andy's english. intended to be a piece on why hallucinogens are great, turned into a bio of my buddy Spilly. I'm told it truely captures his essence. w/e. Done as though he was writing it.

A man can have a three piece suit, wife, kids, house and a white picket fence. The whole deal. But he'll never have seen the things that I have seen. He'll never see a sunrise at two o'clock in the afternoon, or watch birds sing their song and see the notes that they make. He may be a poet, but he'll never be able to put my experiences into words. This does not make me any better then he, or his family, or anyone. But it is time that people hear about things that cannot physically exist, yet bring joy to so many people. It's time that people hear about things from someone from the wrong side of the tracks, from the underbelly of society, from the greatest country in the world's basement. Things that you can only see and hear when you’re on hallucinogens.

This may be an illegal and 'immoral' way of opening your mind, but it is one of the best. One trip on a blot of LSD can open your mind to such great levels, it's beyond recreation, it's spiritual. It will show you that God is not a benevolent hand, intervening for his disciples and students whenever they are in trouble or just need another helping hand to rely on. It will show you that he instead is standing by the free will that he has instilled in every human being, and is like a kid with an ant farm. He can watch, and intervene in little ways, but the best interventions are not even noticed. It will show you that the government does in fact lie, does in fact twist truth and hide things from you, only to deny doing so when caught in the act. It is a method of understanding things, of being able to let go of society's rigid structure of codes and laws and seeing what lies beyond that we have not even begun to understand.

My name is Spilly McGee and my brother's name is Doobie. Of course, that isn't my real name, or his. I have taken on this name to my friends as an alternate persona, creating someone who doesn't exist, in order to think as though I do not. This is the only way to achieve true understanding, true Zen- letting your mortal self go, in order to touch the spiritual world. My Father passed away while I was a senior in high school. When my Father died, needless to say it was the equivalent to a blow in the head, by a nuclear bomb. I was destroyed, and having never tried hallucinogens, and as such having never been able to truly perceive what death is. Now I know, he is not dead, but merely sleeping. I will see him again someday, and hope to be able to talk for hours with him when I do.

No less then five months after my own Father died, I was thrown out of my house by my Mother. I'm sure it would be a good part to explain why this happened, but I'm also still looking for a reason why. I went to live with many different people, including my Grandma, and best friend, among others. It showed me the kindness that people have, the kindness people could show to a person with no definable future and little ambition. It showed me that people had hope for me, and could see that life has thrown me every kind of barricade for that future, but I am slowly overcoming each of them, and scraping my way into an existence beyond the mooching hippie in the garage or upstairs apartment. It showed me that I did have a future, and set me along the path toward an epiphany I would have later in my life, regarding one of my greatest loves.

I've always known that I had musical talent, and most of it is focused on the six stringed beauty I call a guitar. I've played for more years then I care to count, and have been in more bands then I can think of. I've had many students, including the kid who's name is on the top of this paper. He, without even ever trying to hallucinogens, has opened my eyes to so much that I could never have seen on my own, or with drugs, period. He has shown me that when a student plays guitar for three years, and it is obvious that he will be so far past you in terms of skill by the time he's your age, it's time to throw in the towel. Teaching a person guitar is so much more gratifying then playing anyway, and it is something necessary. Music today, true, rock music is disappearing. Kids pick up a guitar today and do not know a lick of musical theory, but can play you any song played on the radio over and over. Simply because that is what society is teaching our kids that music is- people barely out of their teens complaining about the girl who got away and how much they want her back, and wearing thick glasses and tight jeans while doing it.

I do not consider myself a musical failure, as I have seen the groove that a simple song can put people in, and seen people's faces light up at a party when I play the first few chords of "Liz Reid." If your music has touched a least one person, at least one heart, and made that person smile, shut their eyes and just groove, or simply tap their foot, it is impossible for you to be labeled a failure.

No longer do I play guitar, but that's only in bands. Now and then I'll try to learn a new song or make up a riff or two, but I will never play in a band again. I've decided to continue on, to use the GED I got and go to school. I've decided that I'm going to try and get into a Florida college for moviemaking and other design arts, like Graphic Design and Photography. Failing that, I'm going to fall back on the only other thing in my life that is worth doing besides guitar, writing. I'd love to be a journalist, or a columnist, something where I can express my opinions and actually have people care, because they don't see me as the hippie guitar player, but for my mind, which is very opened and informed. Not to sound egotistic, it's just a byproduct of the Discovery Channel, LSD and BBC. Not to sound cocky, but I once proved a priest that there was no God, and I was just as holy as he was.

One thing I always look forward to come summer is the new year. Confusing, yes, but my new year is not the same for you. The Allman Brothers only play once a year, and that is in August. That is my new year, a day that I will be able to just experience this band for everything that it is. I say experience because there is no just watching the Allman Bros. Everyone there is grooving, the trees, the grass, the people, even the instruments themselves seem to enjoy the sweet melodies. I do not celebrate the lunar new year, as it holds\ very little sway in my life what year my man made calendar says. Or how many years it has been since Jesus was born. For me, I spend the entire year, every second, every minute waiting for the day that I can pile into a car with as many friends as possible, all on their respective substances, and groove to music that is such an experience, that no one man can recall the entire thing. The notes sound different to everyone, and everyone has their own way of
enjoying this euphoria.

The one person I can always count on to groove to the music the same way I do is Cosmic Charlie. He is my companion, and I met him when I was staying in my friend's garage. He stayed with me, even though he needed a bit more care for him then I did, and had to rely on my friends and their family for that if I wasn't around to do so. He's a great listener, the kind that actually listens, and doesn't just wait for his turn to speak. All he asks of me is I am myself, and that I show him the affection and love that a brother deserves. Because he is like a brother to me, even though he is a chocolate lab. Charlie is my dog, and I will never forget him, as he has shown me the kind of unconditional love that comes from very few people these days, as long as I keep his food dish full and his ball in the air.

I'm not an organized person, and never will be. My life has jumped from one moment to the next, and that is what counts. Judging your life based on what you acquire or what you can do in your job isn't life. Life is just a string of important moments, of the people and places that matter. People say that drugs affect the memory, but only because you let them. The greatest, and the worst parts of my life all come into sharp clarity, because it is what matters. I don't remember what I had for dinner last night sometimes, because it doesn't matter as much as my first concert or my first guitar. My life is disorganized and disheveled, but it is a life, and that is what matters. And as for my 'illegal' ways of having fun and opening my mind, I have one thing to say, from the late, great Billy Joel:

"I'd rather laugh with the sinners, then cry with the saints."

Thus concludes the fake biography of Spilly McGee. The events, quotes and stories were all true, but I have taken his life and tried to give it order and meaning. I have tried to show that ever since I've known him, life has shoveled dirt in his face every time he tried to poke his head of the gutter, yet still he tries. He doesn't fall into drug addictions, doesn't lay around doing nothing, instead he is very active. Just because someone does drugs, does not make them the bastard child of society or a complete burnout. Spilly has had every door of opportunity slammed in his face, and he always has managed to climb through a window.


*Billy Joel is not actually dead. I told you that not all drug users are complete burnouts.