John Dempsey

Alright people - Dempsey - Who is he? What does he do, and
where is he going?

1) Who am I? I'm nobody - just some
young guy,
in a dark room, with a nice,
healthy
collection
of vices. Sometimes, (mostly)
I'm the Self-Destruct-Kid, high intake and hard liquor with the smoke pouring heavy - blue clouds - outa my nose - loud punk guitar - a coffee shop in Amsterdam - and a hundred pound blonde that thinks I'm a freak.

It's one hell of a life.

2) What do I do? Well, there's only one thing TO do: run around like mad
and try to make sense out of taking the next breath. Try and figure out what
it all adds up to - if it's all worth it - if there's any meaning to the wake up/get

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dressed/2 eggs and bacon, coffee and a cigarette in my mouth mornings/hustling ass to the job/trading mind for matter/3 stories of surburbia/fat wife/fat mortgage/imported car/rotten children/European vacation and a beach house in Florida/retire at 65 with a bum heart/high cholesterol/bad blood sugar and a
whole
lot
of wasted
years.

Know what I mean?

3)Where am I headed? Nowhere - at light speed - one foot in the grave so that I can type sickly sweet death sentences - (3 knocks at my door and I get up to answer. It's a messenger boy from 1950. 'Telegram for John Dempsey. It's a message from beyond, Sir. Sign here.' Pinprick index finger and I made my mark in BIG red letters - tip him a nickel - rip open the envelope: Mr. Dempsey - Your application for The Madhouse has been reviewed by Time, Life, Humanity and Psychosis Inc. After serious deliberation, we are pleased to announce YOU as our final candidate for internship. Starting date is August 24th, 1977, and your term of service will stretch towards infinity - or until you burn out - whichever comes first.

Welcome aboard!)

And that's me in a nutshell (nuthouse?).
And this is where you'll find the latest Dempsey news, like, where Dempsey spent the night (street, train station, cathouse, back alley, jail cell) and what you can expect from Dempsey in the future (nothing, everything, straight jacket pinstripe suit in the latest
of New York
style) and of course,
a listing of all your favorite
Dempsey products (dishonerably
discharched poems and blood stained stories, adrenaline fueled (bottle smashing-cross dressing-pill mouth-drunk driving-womanizing-gun shooting-scotch/whiskey guzzling-loony bin
beautiful
gambling (and who the hell says I need help?))
type prose) -

Welcome aboard!