Featured Writer

Amzi Gillcrese Jr.

Writing Workshop Participant at JOIN - Adults make sustainable transitions off the streets

Amzi Gillcrese Jr. is 50 years old. He was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pa., by a father who was a good provider and a mother to whom he credits instilling good values in him. In 1975, he started a four-year stint with the Marine Corps (missing the Vietnam War by one month), followed by three years in the Army. He has six brothers and sisters scattered in Texas, Rhode Island, and back in Pittsburgh. He likes to read about psychology, a hobby that comes from his fascination with “what makes people tick, why people do what they do.” He has traveled extensively around the country, but loves the fact that Portland is now his home. He moved here in August 2004, and describes that fateful day thusly: “I went straight to the waterfront, laid down in the grass, and didn’t get hassled by nobody! I thought I died went to heaven!”

Amzi's writing, featured in our newest anthology, and interview follow. He is pictured, right, reading his piece at Write Around Portland's anthology release party.

Addicted

My name is Amzi Gillcrese Jr. and this is my story:

I have arrived here in Portland from Vegas August, 15, 2004. And on September 1, 2004, I have got my first apartment. For the first three months I was doing pretty good. I’ve bought a cell phone, a twenty-four inch color flat-screen TV. I have even made a subscription to the cable company (Comcast) for their gold package so I can get the premiere movie channels. Then within a week or two I had that upgraded to platinum, now I could get all the movie channels. Life was grand!

Then one day I went to visit a friend and asked him if he wanted to watch a good movie. But as I walked into his apartment I could tell immediately he wasn’t interested in any movie. And as Joe opened the door Jim and Scotty was sitting at the coffee table with their glass pipes in their hand blazing. (That when you put your crack rock in your pipe and putting your lighter to the glass and you suck in the smoke.) When I looked into their eyes I could tell they had taken a good hit. Anxiety all of a sudden came over me to take a hit, too, and that feeling was so powerful that I just couldn’t resist. So I asked Scotty if he would sell me a ten-dollar piece of crack. He said yeah, so I borrowed his pipe and took a hit.

Wow! What a blast! It’s off to the races now. The next thing I knew I had to get my own pipe and fifty dollars worth of crack and find me a girlfriend. And that was the start of a long journey which I thought would be fun and pleasurable that turned out to be a road straight to Hell! Slowly, mathematically and totally clueless I was falling deeper and deeper into my addiction. It was payday again and this time I’ll be smart and get myself three money orders one for my rent, the second for cable, and the third for electricity.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, I went to the door to look through the peek hole to see who it was. It was my neighbor Janice from upstairs. I open the door and she rush in and said, “Lock the door, do you have a pipe I got a hit for you.” My heart started racing as I went through my stash can to find my pipe. Bingo! I found it and she broke me off (gave me some crack). Something to the equivalent of a ten-dollar hit. And after finishing my hit she said, “You can come to my place if want.” And went upstairs to her place. And that was all it took for me to go to her place and spend over three hundred dollars that day smoking crack.
By the way, the cable bill and the electricity bill did not get paid that month. The only thing I did right was paid the rent and that was only because I had already filled out that money order.

Then between the fifth and seven months I had my cable cut off because I had decided I needed more money to fuel my crack habit. It had gotten so bad that I had started eating ramen noodles and hot dogs and taking complete advantage of Portland’s free places to feed the homeless. Instead of washing my clothes in a washer and dryer because it was two dollars I couldn’t afford I started washing my clothes in the bath tub, wring them out, and hanging them up on the shower curtain. Just when things started to get bad they got worse. I gave some woman my phone and charger for some crack and she never came back. I don’t even remember her name. But the straw that broke the camel’s back and made me realize that I had a serious crack problem, came to me about the tenth month on my lease and it was payday. That was the day I gave some lady two hundred dollars for us to smoke. Then I gave another lady three hundred dollars. And I still didn’t get enough. So I told another woman to go out and sell my T.V. She sold it and never came back.

Now I’m mad. And my spirit is broken. Smoking crack isn’t fun anymore.

Deep down in my soul I was crying. And the first thing I did was to get on my knees and ask God to take away my addiction and pray for his forgiveness.

And this is his message to me, “You cannot serve two masters you will like the one and hate the other.”

Now I started thinking about that saying. And I started to develop a hate toward smoking crack. Thinking how I lost my cell phone, my T.V. I have estimated that last year alone I have gave the crack man over four thousand dollars at least. I’m not mad at the crack man or the women, I’m mad at the drug itself and the places it can take you to if you don’t get help right away. I’m just a little over two months clean and I still have a hate for crack and what it put me through.

Interview with featured writer Amzi Gillcrese Jr.

Interviewer & Biography Writer - Joe Lino, Write Around Portland volunteer

Tell us about your experience in a Write Around Portland Workshop.

It was great, fascinating, creative, and helped me express myself.

What did you get out of the workshop?

I just felt good about myself – doing something I never thought I could do. It’s very therapeutic; it helps me get in touch with myself, learn about myself, be good to myself – not beat myself up so much.

Had you written much before you joined the Write Around Portland workshop?

No! I wouldn’t even write my family back home! In school I was so bad in English I used to give the teacher apples and candy just so she would give me a “D.” For Dave, the [writing workshop] facilitator, to get me to write was phenomenal.

How was your experience writing in a group? Sharing with others? Hearing other people's stories?

Well, it could be good, could be funny, or you could find out something you really didn’t want to know about. [Laughs] It really helped teach how to be more creative. You never know what you’re going to get.

Would you recommend Write Around Portland workshops to others?

I have. It could help people. Someone might find a hidden talent, could be a gem in there. I’m going to try to attend another one myself.

What did the workshop help you learn about yourself as a writer?

That I like re-writing, fine-tuning it, getting it better and better. It taught me I had a hidden talent I didn’t know I had. Do you think it could be a fluke?

Do you?

[Smiles] No.

The piece you submitted to be published in the anthology was very honest and personal; were you surprised to find you were writing so intimately about yourself?

It felt good, motivated, and passionate. If I could stop one person from experimenting with drugs, then that’s good. I’d like to write a sequel about how addiction never leaves you.

So, are you still writing, now that the workshop has ended?

I’m working on 4 or 5 things right now. I just need to pick one and focus on it – Write Around Portland is good for that.

Is there anything you would like to tell your readers about your writing?

I’m just being honest and keeping it real.


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TAKE A Writing Workshop SIGN UP for Write Around Portland News WRITING RESOURCES	Publications & Writers Featured Writer Amzi Gillcrese Jr. Writing Workshop Participant at JOIN - Adults make sustainable transitions off the streets Amzi Gillcrese Jr. is 50 years old. He was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pa., by a father who was a good provider and a mother to whom he credits instilling good values in him. In 1975, he started a four-year stint with the Marine Corps (missing the Vietnam War by one month), followed by three years in the Army. He has six brothers and sisters scattered in Texas, Rhode Island, and back in Pittsburgh. He likes to read about psychology, a hobby that comes from his fascination with “what makes people tick, why people do what they do.” He has traveled extensively around the country, but loves the fact that Portland is now his home. He moved here in August 2004, and describes that fateful day thusly: “I went straight to the waterfront, laid down in the grass, and didn’t get hassled by nobody! I thought I died went to heaven!” Amzi's writing, featured in our newest anthology, and interview follow. He is pictured, right, reading his piece at Write Around Portland's anthology release party. Addicted My name is Amzi Gillcrese Jr. and this is my story: I have arrived here in Portland from Vegas August, 15, 2004. And on September 1, 2004, I have got my first apartment. For the first three months I was doing pretty good. I’ve bought a cell phone, a twenty-four inch color flat-screen TV. I have even made a subscription to the cable company (Comcast) for their gold package so I can get the premiere movie channels. Then within a week or two I had that upgraded to platinum, now I could get all the movie channels. Life was grand! Then one day I went to visit a friend and asked him if he wanted to watch a good movie. But as I walked into his apartment I could tell immediately he wasn’t interested in any movie. And as Joe opened the door Jim and Scotty was sitting at the coffee table with their glass pipes in their hand blazing. (That when you put your crack rock in your pipe and putting your lighter to the glass and you suck in the smoke.) When I looked into their eyes I could tell they had taken a good hit. Anxiety all of a sudden came over me to take a hit, too, and that feeling was so powerful that I just couldn’t resist. So I asked Scotty if he would sell me a ten-dollar piece of crack. He said yeah, so I borrowed his pipe and took a hit. Wow! What a blast! It’s off to the races now. The next thing I knew I had to get my own pipe and fifty dollars worth of crack and find me a girlfriend. And that was the start of a long journey which I thought would be fun and pleasurable that turned out to be a road straight to Hell! Slowly, mathematically and totally clueless I was falling deeper and deeper into my addiction. It was payday again and this time I’ll be smart and get myself three money orders one for my rent, the second for cable, and the third for electricity. Knock, knock, knock, knock, I went to the door to look through the peek hole to see who it was. It was my neighbor Janice from upstairs. I open the door and she rush in and said, “Lock the door, do you have a pipe I got a hit for you.” My heart started racing as I went through my stash can to find my pipe. Bingo! I found it and she broke me off (gave me some crack). Something to the equivalent of a ten-dollar hit. And after finishing my hit she said, “You can come to my place if want.” And went upstairs to her place. And that was all it took for me to go to her place and spend over three hundred dollars that day smoking crack. By the way, the cable bill and the electricity bill did not get paid that month. The only thing I did right was paid the rent and that was only because I had already filled out that money order. Then between the fifth and seven months I had my cable cut off because I had decided I needed more money to fuel my crack habit. It had gotten so bad that I had started eating ramen noodles and hot dogs and taking complete advantage of Portland’s free places to feed the homeless. Instead of washing my clothes in a washer and dryer because it was two dollars I couldn’t afford I started washing my clothes in the bath tub, wring them out, and hanging them up on the shower curtain. Just when things started to get bad they got worse. I gave some woman my phone and charger for some crack and she never came back. I don’t even remember her name. But the straw that broke the camel’s back and made me realize that I had a serious crack problem, came to me about the tenth month on my lease and it was payday. That was the day I gave some lady two hundred dollars for us to smoke. Then I gave another lady three hundred dollars. And I still didn’t get enough. So I told another woman to go out and sell my T.V. She sold it and never came back. Now I’m mad. And my spirit is broken. Smoking crack isn’t fun anymore. Deep down in my soul I was crying. And the first thing I did was to get on my knees and ask God to take away my addiction and pray for his forgiveness. And this is his message to me, “You cannot serve two masters you will like the one and hate the other.” Now I started thinking about that saying. And I started to develop a hate toward smoking crack. Thinking how I lost my cell phone, my T.V. I have estimated that last year alone I have gave the crack man over four thousand dollars at least. I’m not mad at the crack man or the women, I’m mad at the drug itself and the places it can take you to if you don’t get help right away. I’m just a little over two months clean and I still have a hate for crack and what it put me through. Interview with featured writer Amzi Gillcrese Jr. Interviewer & Biography Writer - Joe Lino, Write Around Portland volunteer Tell us about your experience in a Write Around Portland Workshop. It was great, fascinating, creative, and helped me express myself. What did you get out of the workshop? I just felt good about myself – doing something I never thought I could do. It’s very therapeutic; it helps me get in touch with myself, learn about myself, be good to myself – not beat myself up so much. Had you written much before you joined the Write Around Portland workshop? No! I wouldn’t even write my family back home! In school I was so bad in English I used to give the teacher apples and candy just so she would give me a “D.” For Dave, the [writing workshop] facilitator, to get me to write was phenomenal. How was your experience writing in a group? Sharing with others? Hearing other people's stories? Well, it could be good, could be funny, or you could find out something you really didn’t want to know about. [Laughs] It really helped teach how to be more creative. You never know what you’re going to get. Would you recommend Write Around Portland workshops to others? I have. It could help people. Someone might find a hidden talent, could be a gem in there. I’m going to try to attend another one myself. What did the workshop help you learn about yourself as a writer? That I like re-writing, fine-tuning it, getting it better and better. It taught me I had a hidden talent I didn’t know I had. Do you think it could be a fluke? Do you? [Smiles] No. The piece you submitted to be published in the anthology was very honest and personal; were you surprised to find you were writing so intimately about yourself? It felt good, motivated, and passionate. If I could stop one person from experimenting with drugs, then that’s good. I’d like to write a sequel about how addiction never leaves you. So, are you still writing, now that the workshop has ended? I’m working on 4 or 5 things right now. I just need to pick one and focus on it – Write Around Portland is good for that. Is there anything you would like to tell your readers about your writing? I’m just being honest and keeping it real.	"I just believe in myself more." Write Around Portland Participant Provide a writer with a journal, pen, bus tickets, and Anthology. Featured Writer Amzi Gillcrese Jr. Thanks to www.eringracephotography.com
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