To The Constant Reader This is a quick poem I wrote on the morning of my birthday.

I guess you could say these rhymes were the result of the effects of recently smoked bubble hashish, which I of course obtained from the West Side. I do not smoke much anymore so my tolerance levels are rather diminished now This year I did not want to celebrate my 29th birthday. I had originally thought it would be a horrible birthday because of what happened last year, when I accidentally destroyed the clutch of a five-speed BMW owned by a girl (Cathrin Goode) I consider a sister and she flipped out on me in a way that still disturbs me today. I have also had a run of bad luck as of late that has left me with the Fear and Loathing of the near future but I was more than pleasantly surprised with how the day turned out. It just goes to show that you NEVER know what KARMA will bring you in the daily struggles of life. This last Tuesday, the day that celebrates my birth twenty-nine years ago, was changed for the better NOT because of material gifts, though my birthday cake was outstanding (My Mom, Roberta Farrens, baked that cake, also wiping away debt and giving me a $25 Gift Card to my work, Barnes and Noble. This means so much to me because without her I would NOT BE ABLE TO SURVIVE THE STRUGGLES OF DAILY EXISTENCE and she did NOT have to give me anything for my Birthday. Ernie Mitchell gave me a $20 bill --which with the Gift Card enabled me to buy four books from my work that I had been staring at for over four months with my employee 30% discount--, my friend/brother Joseph Quinones bought me a BIC lighter with a portrait of a Lion on it (because I was king, he said, lol) and he helped decorate my cake, my friend/brother David Valtierra gave me a dope-ass present of survival supplies, and my godmother Gran Jan sent me a check for fifty dollars even though we have some issues with each other at the moment. Fuck materialism but some things, like cake and books, are nice to have, even if you do not NEED them.) but rather it was the honest sentiments bestowed upon me from people I love that made a difference in the day. What made my birthday so WONDERFUL was the sincere love showed to me by my beautiful --and Master Baker-- Mother and the friends I consider family. Without them, the day would have been a miserable wreck of a birthday. I would have likely stayed in bed all day. These stupendous and magnificent folks who helped me celebrate my 29th year of Life proved and reinforced the idea that I have some loyal and true friends in the city of my birth. Sometimes it seems, with the exception of three or four people in the 209 (because of the

controversy I create as a writer, which I have been told causes embarrassment, folks keep their distance from me and there are two people I consider family that have not talked to me in months nor did they call me on my Birthday. I never forget their birthdays and the fact they ignored me did kind of hurt. Not even a Face Book Happy Birthday, which many people I have not seen in YEARS did. Folks from middle school wished me a happy birthday on Face Book but these two supposed friends I loved like brothers did not. One of their fathers did, however, which was very cool. I will not name them but they are two friends of mine that are white, possibly the ONLY two, which makes them stand out. Ones brother forgot, too, but I forgive him as he never remembers anything. It did show me who my friends are!), that the majority of my REAL friends live in either Berkeley or Oakland (or scattered around The East Bay and San Francisco), two cities I have lived in and where I wish I was a I write these words. It's not that I forget the extraordinary comrades I have in Stockton but more of an example of how despair begets depression which obviously begets self-imposed isolation. Without these friends, --some of whom are folks I consider brothers and sisters-- I am an only child and the my blood-kin biological family resides in Illinois. There are a few cousins in California I love but on my fathers side of the family -almost in its entirety--, I detest them all! This poem was written early in the day, before people came over, so there is a tinge of negativity in it but it also offers hope for the future, in a Kazinsky kind of way. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it, Constant Reader.......... Andrew N. Farrens West Stockton, Ca February 24, 2012

twentyToday is the day I turn twenty-nine years of age The lost loves of the past years And The cruel days When I couldnt shed any tears Has left me in a fever fueled rage Because I never learned to face my Fears As friendships burn harshly in a roaring blaze The chickens have come home to roost While the same fat cows continue to graze On beautiful green grass that leaves them pleasantly dazed Some folks just cant believe me when I say that Drew Kazinsky Suffers from brain chemistry disruptions that causes instability GodI feel the Pain of this insane World too God-Damned much So it is with contemptible apathy soThat I continue to view my so-called empathy It is hard to believe that I am twenty nine It is pure honesty to admit that I am not all the way fine And I definitely havent mellowed like a truly good wine And I guess it is really true about how fast time Will speed up and here I thought it was that these oldsters just loved to whine I promise to myself that next year I will be in a State of Grace and not ashamed to show my face Because when I hit the age of thirty in this dirty life I live Even The Gods of my Karma will be impressed and amazed And just maybe possibly The Gods will give me their benevolent mercy their mercy .A.N.F.
Andrew N. Farrens February 21, 2012
12:20 P.M.

West Stockton, California

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