Acid Heroes: the Legends of LSD

January 21, 2017

The Backwords Foundation

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 11:11 pm

************ PRESS RELEASE ***********

A spokesman for Ace Backwords announced earlier today the official debut of the Backwords Foundation.

According to their press release, the Backwords Foundation is a charitable organization dedicated to doing good works on a global scale. According to their mission statement, the Backwords Foundation will primarily be focused on raising funds to feed feral cats, helping the homeless get their 40s of Olde English and generally creating a better world for all of humanity.

Donations can be sent care of the Backwords Foundation website. Preferable cash, unmarked 20 dollar bills or lesser denominations (fives or tens) and/or spare change.

Image may contain: one or more people
.
.
.
.

Yet another encounter with yet another Serial Flusher

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 10:39 pm
Image may contain: indoor

.

I just ran into yet another Serial Flusher. One of those nuts who goes into public restrooms and flushes the toilet over and over and over again. For no reason. I’m starting to think this is a more common form of mental illness than I realized. This is at least the fifth or sixth Serial Flusher I’ve run into over the last couple of years

So I decided to fix this guy’s wagon. I’m standing at the sink and I suddenly announced in a loud voice:

“YES, OFFICER, THERE’S THIS NUT IN THE STALL OVER THERE WHO KEEPS FLUSHING THE TOILET OVER AND OVER!”

(and then in a lower voice) “OH REALLY? ANOTHER ONE OF THEM SERIAL FLUSHERS?”

“YES, OFFICER. RIGHT IN THAT STALL OVER THERE!”

(in a lower voice) “THANKS, SIR. WE’LL TAKE CARE OF THAT NUT AS SOON AS HE GETS OUT OF THE STALL! ”

So now the guy is sitting there in the stall. Cowering in fear. Expecting that he’s gonna get jumped by the cops as soon as he gets out of the stall.

What can I say. I’m just a good American doing what I can to help conserve water.

.

.

.

.

.

January 20, 2017

Wednesday morning at McDonald’s

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 8:05 pm
Image may contain: one or more people, people sitting and food
.
It never fails. Every time I go to McDonald’s in the morning there’s ALWAYS a complete nut sitting across from me. Especially when it rains and McDonald’s turns into a homeless drop-in center.

The lunatic in front of me is sitting by himself talking non-stop, this crazy babble about “time-travel” and the “King James Bible” and “smoking meth” as he gestures wildly with his arms.

Actually it turns out he’s not as crazy as I thought. He’s actually talking to somebody. This woman who is lying on the seat across from him, passed out and hidden from view.

Then I’m startled by this loud, crashing sound. This homeless black guy has just slammed all his gear into the booth behind me.

“Did I scare you?” he asks, thoughtfully.

“No,” I said.

“Mmm, that sure is a lot of pancakes you got there,” he said, eyeing my breakfast. “You couldn’t spare those hash browns?”

“No, sorry.”

I take the first sip of my coffee and brace myself for the rest of my day.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

January 19, 2017

Hangin’ at Bench Two

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 8:15 pm
Image may contain: outdoor.
Now I’m hanging out at Bench Two on the Berkeley campus. Like so many spots in this damn town it culls up a thousand ghosts, a thousand memories from days and nights past.

I’m thinking about the memorial we had for Yume at this spot in January 1994, almost exactly 23 years ago.

Yume was this cackling gay hippie in his 60s who looked like a wizard. Long gray hair and beard. Rings on every one of his boney fingers. Usually adorned himself with exotic pendants and magical potions. “Time for another ciggie!” he’d cackle, and light one up on this very bench.

About 50 street people showed up for the memorial. It was a quiet, soulful occasion. We banged a gong and lit incense and passed out individual ciggies from Yume’s favorite brand, milled around smoking them and sharing zany Yume stories.

Then the Infamous Bones took out his guitar and him and his crazy girlfriend bashed out a couple of frenetic rock songs in honor of Yume. Claire — the Human Tripod (so named because she documented just about everything that happened back then on the Telegraph street scene) (she’s dead now too) — filmed it all with her video camera. I still have a copy of the VCR cassette tape in my storage locker somewhere. Me, Duncan (also dead), Blue (also dead), Ben (still alive but barely), Krash, even Alex showed up briefly, a bunch of others from that time and place and scene.

It sticks in my mind because it was a soulful beginning, January, to what would be one of the weirdest and most eventful years of my life. 1994.

It’s all gone now of course. But this goddamn bench is still here.

.

Image may contain: outdoor

.

.

.

An epiphany

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 6:52 pm

 

No automatic alt text available.
Back in 1985 I was sort of at the crossroads, age 29, sort of floundering artistically, not sure what direction to go in next.

I had spent the previous two years publishing a punk rock underground newspaper. But that had run its course. So I decided I wanted to do a comic strip next. But I couldn’t decide what kind of strip to do. So I experimented for quite some time, coming up with different cartoon characters and different comic strip concepts. I even spent several months trying to develop a mainstream, commercial “Garfield” type strip.

But nothing really jelled. None of the comic strips satisfied me, or even held my interest.

So one day, while sitting at the ole drawing board, staring painfully at the blank piece of paper, trying to think up something worthwhile to put on it. . . I suddenly thought;

“FUCK IT! From now on I’m just gonna draw whatever I feel like!!”

So I wrote “WHATEVER I FEEL LIKE COMIX” on the top of the strip. And it was like a light went off in my head. And, well, I just started drawing whatever the hell I felt like drawing. Whatever popped into my strange and peculiar head.

And it was like the floodgates of my imagination had been opened. And I would go on from there to have a pretty fruitful and productive 10-year run as a cartoonist.

And from that point on in my artistic career, whenever I felt stumped, or got writer’s block, or wasn’t sure which direction to go, I’d always remind myself: “Just write whatever you feel like it!” That would forever be the guiding principal from which I lived my life. And from there I went on to become the homeless street bum that I am today!

So you see, kids, dreams CAN come true.

.

.

.

Two generations of Hate

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 6:41 pm

Image may contain: 1 person, text

.

A favorite photo of Hate Man. From year 2000 on some long forgotten night on Sproul Plaza.

“Two generations of hate,” is how I always thought of this one. The guy on the left was this young gutter punk guy named Hatred. Side by side with the old guy, Hate Man.

Hatred was a cool guy. Had a hot girlfriend who was also a sweet person and talented artist as well as a dancer at the Market Street Cinema strip club. Hatred used to busk on Telegraph playing Social Distortion and other punk rock numbers on a battered acoustic guitar (“Ball and Chain” that kinda stuff).

The other memorable thing about Hatred. He’d often find excuses to pull down his pants and wave his wang in public. He’d do it for laughs. And it WAS funny as well as absurd. But it was probably also a sign of some kind of sexual damage

He was a good guy, Hatred. He ODed on heroin shortly after I took this photo. But that’s just life (and death) on the streets.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

January 10, 2017

How karma works

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 9:17 pm

 

Image may contain: outdoor
Whenever it rains I sometimes think of this funny thing I once saw during another rainstorm about 15 years ago. . .

It had been raining pretty steadily for about 2 weeks. And I, as homeless street bum, had been outside for most of it. So I was more than a little bedraggled and wet behind the gills at this point. And the storm was just starting to peak and explode at this exact moment. Big sheets of water raining down, pounding against the pavement.

So I’m standing there on the street corner, soaking wet, waiting for the light to change. When this lady comes rushing out of Cody’s Books. She looks like an affluent, suburban housewife-type. Perfectly coifed. And she’s wearing an expensive rain jacket. And she has an expensive rain hat. And she has a big expensive high-tech umbrella. I mean, she probably only has to walk a half-a-block from Cody’s Books to her parked car. But you can tell that she is determined that not a single drop of water is gonna land on her pretty little head.

Meanwhile, I’m standing there in my raggedy-ass soggy-ass homeless street bum get-up. And I admit I felt more than a twinge of envy at her comfort level.

But then, just as she’s rushing across the street she accidentally steps in one of the biggest puddles I’ve ever seen. This big pot-hole in the road. She was submerged in water practically up to her knees. And what with all the splashing and kicking she got pretty soaked.

I burst out laughing. HAW HAW!! I couldn’t help it. It was so funny. I mean, the one thing that she wanted to prevent from happening is exactly what happened.

So I turn to cross the street with a bemused smile on my face. And at that exact moment a big AC Transit bus goes blasting down the street. And it hits this big puddle of water in the gutter. And the water splashes right up in my face. It was like getting directly hit by an ocean wave. Almost knocked me over.

So now I’m standing there sputtering and cursing and completely soaked. And, to add insult to injury, all the people who had seen me laughing at the lady are now pointing at me and laughing at me (personally, I didn’t find it nearly as amusing as the previous incident).

But in a way it was great. It was a perfect illustration of how karma works. Karmauppance. What goes around comes around. Only usually there’s a little more of a time lag between the cause and the effect.

 .
.
.

January 7, 2017

In God we trust. Everybody else I’m suspicious of

 

Image may contain: one or more people and indoor
I’m sitting here in the mostly-deserted basement cafeteria on the campus (most of the students are gone for winter break). Drinking my morning coffee and trying to regain some semblance of normality in what passes for my brain.

When this young Asian co-ed sitting across from me asks: “Excuse me, could you watch my stuff while I’m gone?”

“Um. Gone for how long?” I ask.

“About 10 minutes,” she said.

“OK,” I said.

She gets up and leaves. Leaves her laptop, her purse and her jacket at her table.

Some people are very trusting, I guess.
I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t trust somebody like me.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Chock full of nuts

Image may contain: 2 people, screen
.
There are so many crazy people in this world.

Today I go to the local Berkeley library, reserve a computer, I’m sitting in my cubicle looking at my computer minding my own business.

The guy in the cubicle next to me — a certifiable nut as I will soon find out — sticks his face into my cubicle.

“How ya doin’,” he says with a big smile.

“Fine,” I says.

He reaches into my cubicle and gives me a big friendly hug.

I smile back at him. Thinking maybe he’s somebody I know but can’t remember who he is.

He pushes his face into my cubicle again and starts talking to me. But I can’t hear a fucking word he’s saying. He’s talking so softly.

“Listen,” I says. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying. I’m hard of hearing. You have to talk louder.”

But he continues to blather at me in a silent pantomime.

“I can’t hear what you’re saying,” I repeat

So he takes a library book and pushes it into my cubicle. And starts writing some message in the index. He’s urgent to communicate SOMETHING to me. For some unknown reason.

“I just wanna log onto my computer but you’re in my way,” I says.

“SO YOU’VE BEEN LYING TO ME ALL ALONG??” he exclaims.

At this point I realize the guy in the cubicle next to me is completely insane. Like I said — and this is hardly breaking news — there are a lot of nutty people in this world.

He flashes me the two-fingered Mark of the Beast gesture, that devil’s horn thing that all the heavy metal dudes flash.

I put on my headphones and search for a YouTube link that might temporarily amuse me and help me ignore the fucking nut whoever he happens to be who happens to be in the cubicle next to me.

.

December 28, 2016

What do you want from life?

 

Image may contain: one or more people, phone, selfie and hat
I’m a simple man at heart. All I really want from life is a warm, dry place to quietly sip my beer and ruminate on the state of human existence.

And a cool song on my headphones. Maybe something by the Who or the Kinks.

And an interesting post on my Facebook page. Something that would engage my attention and inspire me to spend the next 20 minutes spewing my thoughts and observations. Something that would momentarily take my mind off my myriad personal problems and the fact that I’m 60 years old and I’m gonna’ be dying soon alone and unloved.

And I could also really go for a meatball sandwich right now. With maybe a potato salad on the side. That’s not too much to ask from life.

And oh yeah. I’d also like to know the answer to the meaning of life. It would be nice to know there’s some POINT to all this bullshit we have to endure during the course of our daily lives.

And one last thing. Is it too much to ask from this damn life that I’d like to have sex, and really good sex, with a super model or maybe somebody like Linda Ronstadt when she was in her prime in the ’70s and have orgasms that just go on and on for several weeks at a stretch.

And no pain. None of that bad, yucky stuff. No failings. Just winning and winning and success after success. And non-stop pleasure.

And then when I die I go straight to Heaven. And Jesus Christ himself is personally waiting for me at the Pearly Gates. And when Jesus Christ sees me He gives me a hearty handshake and exclaims: “Ace Backwords, you are the greatest man in the history of humanity and let me personally welcome you to your eternal home in blissful Heaven!”

That’s all I really want from life.

.

Next Page »

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.