David

Born in LA in the mid-1960s, David had a tight family he describes as very patriotic and Christian.

The family moved around a lot, and he loved living in New Mexico where "there was no pollution between you and the Universe. The sky was in your lap at night."
His grandfather was a minister, he said, and as part of her rebellion, his aunt joined a satanic cult. When he was in his early teens, she gave him LSD.

David went to the University of Texas, studying TESOL because he loved languages. He’d wander the aisles of the university library, poring through books on organic chemistry, calculus, statistics and electricity. He toyed with designing holograms, essentially playing with a form of virtual reality before virtual reality became a household word. "I think I must have a form of Asberber's because I'm really smart at some things, and not so smart at other things," he said.
At age 30 joined the Army, steering towards the computer-minded operations for mobilization in trucks armed with missiles. "I was the guy who calculated the coordinates for where a missile strike should hit," he explained. Being, as he classified himself, from a hippie generation, and having maintained roots in his Christian upbringing, he didn’t like the idea of collateral damage, wherein a strike on enemy combatants would almost certainly take out civilians as well. He decided not to stay in the Army.

At that point David reached into his faith roots and joined an evangelical group doing missionary work in Taiwan. But just as with his military experience, he didn’t like the heavy handed nature of the evangelism, what he described as maniacally fire-and-brimstone fear-basedconversion to Christianity. When he came back to the States he felt ungrounded. He was drinking and doing crack. He pulled himself up, however, and went sober over ten years ago. “Sobriety got in the way of my drinking," he said with a smile. He worked at a church thrift store in Del Mar where the ladies running the place depended on him to fix everything, which he loved, and to carry heavy boxes, etc. He had a great wardrobe, life was good.

He met an older woman and they fell into a relationship. He felt empowered by being in a situation where he could focus on kindness and compassion, he said. But the woman’s daughter didn’t like him. Nor did her son. The woman died of a stroke. He got depressed and started drinking again; a little lost. Tough year; on the streets. He doesn’t really drink now, only smokes pot to alleviate stress. He plays an electric guitar that only has four strings; the pegs don’t hold tight for long. But he rips on a Nirvana song and a David Bowie cover. Pink Floyd is a favorite.

David considers himself materialistic. Since he’s been poor all his life, “the toys of the immensely wealthy class look magically appealing.” If he had $5 million he’d buy a Maserati, a Lamborghini, a McLaren and a Bugatti. But “materialism is dangerous. It didn’t work out well for Faustus, so it’s a dangerous path to walk.”