"...a life"

"...a life"

Speaking of multiple personalities, and who of us ain't got a few of them running around loose. I don't actually know how many Sidney's there are. Oh that's okay since all, but one of them is gleeful, and harmless. 

Well, mostly harmless.
Ya see other than the weirdo I project here. I'm really just ol' Sid regular guy from across the street, and up the block. 

See when I'm at home I'm not 'exactly' the fun loving though sometimes demented Uncle Sidney some of you folks used to hear on the radio. 
Different still from the Uncle that writes all this crap you're read'n now. 

Different yet again from the Sidney that wanders the streets weeping or  staring blankly. 

Certainly different from the Queer Revolutionary Maniac that publishes raging broadsides about how Sissy boys should form self defense automatic rifle brigades or used to do insane gleeful Boy Porn blogs that kept getting nuked!

You get's my drift here.

Not unlike Mickey Mouse. 
When "Mickey" or actually Lester W. Estrella. When Les is at home in Queens he's just like the rest of the sweaty mob of us.

He just sit'n there on his couch with his feet up on the coffee table wearing the old slippers J. Edgar Hoover gave him at that Queer rough trade Christmas pool party at the White House in 1947.

Yeah our pal "Mickey" aka Les is home burp'n, and farting while reading the Sunday Times Book Review section. The ball game's on in the background, and he's got a slice of Sara Lee cheese cake stuffed in his mouth. 

Yep we're all pretty much the same within a bell curve of personality disorders. Take Otto for instance. "Otto" is my Demon self. He my evil twin. He's the only separate personality of mine that out of necessity I gave a name to.

If I ever end up in the shower stalls of Folsom or Attica making new, and sudden friends it'll be Otto's fault. Otto's the guy that planned to paint my parish church hot pink with "Gay Pride" slapped up over the door.

Actually that was a good idea, but still. 

He's also the guy who thought drinking eight bottles of cheap booze with speed, and cocaine chasers in one night was a good idea,...thanks a lot. I made new friends in the emergency room behind that. 

Back in the day when I was working at that radio station when my friends would see me nasty slobbering reeking, and not in a nice way. 

They would exclaim,...and they really did..."Otto!,...you fiend what have you done with our sweet lovable Uncle Sydney!!" 
"Return him at once!"

Yeah I know that you can't tell where the fantasies, and stories end, and the real life stuff comes in, but trust me. Ask any of my pals about Otto. They'll tell you.

Anyway as long as I take my meds Otto hasn't been around,...knock on liver.

The above from my Book of Days. 
The probably never to be publish tales of my life, and far too interesting times.