I mentioned Jeff for the first time here in the previous thread, when we talked about my motivation.
I’ve always wondered when I’d bring him up and what would happen next. My lifelong consort, the only family I’ve ever known, and I’ve been writing openly about our erratic relationship for 20 years but not here.
I’ve been wondering the last two days where to go next, and he just called, so that’s settled. He’s part of this, he’s included. It’s all out there, but if you’re lost, a little backstory can be found here.
That was five years ago, now NAMI’s got him by the balls. He’s the reason I’m hip to what it means to be mad in America and I won’t walk away til he’s busted out. This is my resolve.
Are we freaks, are we miracles? I know one thing, despite all the amputations Jeffrey Darius Smith is alive and, well, he writes:
John understood nothing. He’d been listening forty-five minutes to a woman talk non-stop about New Thought, her reason for living lately, and he understood nothing of it. He did follow all her points, “present-day mindset”, “a worldwide change of heart”, “God”, and it made no sense to him. He thought about how she would be better off addicted to crack cocaine. When she turned to say “hi” to someone, he slinked to the back of the barroom.
He drank Coca-Cola. He waited for the blast.
Like that. I am proud to point to his blog spaces, the new, upbeat Hello Young Lovers, and the dark, self-pitying I Can’t Explain, because there’s a little emo in everyone. Updated often and comments are open.
That is all.