Born May 6, 1969 in Kansas City, Missouri. The oldest of two boys. Both parents educators, mother a high school guidance counselor and father a high school vice principal. Raised in Independence, Missouri, a suburb of Kansas City.
Was involved in journalism, theater, and sports in high school. An underachieving overachiever. Graduated in 1987.
Attended and graduated from the University of Missouri-Columbia in Columbia, Missouri in 1991. Degree in Interdisciplinary Studies (create-your-own-major) in English, Sociology and Human Development and Family Sciences. Turned down scholarships at small private schools where I would have had to major in theater and play on the golf team so I could have the opportunity to be one of tens of thousands at a large public school. The ignorance of youth. Only a few notable things occurred in college…started the University of Missouri-Columbia chapter of NORML and was president (which also got my FBI file started), did a lot of drugs and wrote a lot of poetry, and met Gina, who later became my wife. We lived together in college and then afterwards.
Worked a few years for a non-profit doing development (fund-raising) to provide economic assistance to impoverished communities in other countries. Mostly I provided economic assistance to my own impoverished self in this country. Did some other stuff during that time that, while the statute(s) of limitations has run, might not endear me to the mindsets of some, though it might make me a champion in the eyes of others.
Got bored and decided to go to law school. I got married to Gina, the coolest, most creative and nurturing woman I’ve ever known. I always knew she’d make a great mother. And she is probably a better wife than I am husband, though neither of us has proven to be too good in those roles.
I applied to law schools all over the country and was accepted by all. Chose a school where I thought I’d like to live and work after graduating. Attended Northwestern School of Law of Lewis & Clark College in Portland, Oregon. Had a good time intellectually slumming with trust fund kids and some hipster-hippie-do-gooder types. Majority of my work was in Intellectual Property Law, like copyright, trademark and art law. Turns out the majority of work for those types of lawyers is Patent Law, where you need an engineering background to get in the door. I wanted to work with artists and people, not products and businesses…turns out that people are pretty much the same as products and businesses anyway.
Did clinic in law school and found out I liked Family Law, the helping people aspect of it. Graduated in 1996, took and passed the Oregon bar exam, and got a job for one of Portland’s big family law firms, doing mostly divorce cases. Hated the firms primary partner, she was evil and didn’t even know it. People get rich fucking up families. Somewhere along the way she may have lost sight of what was important, or she may have never known. It didn’t matter. I quit. I got another job in Oregon’s largest firm doing only family law. I did high-end and complex family law cases, mostly divorce and child custody. I worked too much. My wife worked too much, too, and we worked opposite schedules. We had little time together, and we started to not get along so well together. My wife and I separated. While we were separated I impregnated her and we had our first child. Her name is Vela. My wife and I got back together and tried to make our marriage work. I kept doing the family law thing. I saw the darkest side of people, and found out the similarities between us exceed the differences. My wife resented the amount of time I spent away from family due to work, and when not working directly on cases, doing the things that lawyers do to keep employed…attending bar functions, doing marketing activities, etc…shit I really don’t care to do because it is so ingenuine and everyone knows it. I began to burn out on the darkness of it all, seeing people at their worst, knowing the dirtiest secrets, fighting battles where there are no winners, just losers of different degrees. My wife and I grew apart. I got mixed up in some ugly self-destructive avoidance behaviors. Somehow, perhaps during one of the peaceful and increasingly less frequent periods in which my wife and I were actually getting along, she got pregnant again. It was another girl. Her name is Ona Vox. She was born with a genetic disorder. My wife and I fought a lot. It caused a lot of distress for Vela, and I think Ona was picking up on that too. I left the house. My wife moved back to Missouri. I quit my job with the firm and decided to practice law on my own. I was doing alright, but I got lonely and I moved back to Missouri so I could see my family more often. Now we live on opposite sides of the state. She lives south of St. Louis, I live in Independence.
I’m working on a novel and putting together a book of poetry. I’m also working with a friend to turn one of his novels into a screen play, from which we plan to produce an indie film. I’m getting back to my creative self, my inspired self. I’m letting go of other people’s problems and dealing with my own.
I want to be published and teach poetry composition as an adjunct professor. I want to do poetry readings. I want to avoid reality.
And if you’ve read this far, then this poem probably doesn’t apply to you…but here it is anyway:
This one’s for the Urbis “credit” whores – you know who you are
I feel cheapened
I feel abused
I make love to you
you slumber through it
You rush to the ending of the page
you scroll through all the passion,
all the pleasure, all the pain
rushing to the “review” and the “credits” for which you came
here they are
wham bam thank you
no thank you
you came
but you didn’t come
and you don’t come
so neither do I
so why’d you bother
wasting our time
oh yes, I almost forgot,
the “credits”, here you go
you know this exchange makes you a ho
You don’t even pretend to dig deeply
you don’t even know how to fake it
you keep it light and surfacy
sometimes you stroke my ego
haven’t you figured out I’m looking for a mind fuck
not a hand job
I can do that all by myself
you think I don’t know
that you only un-read for the “credits”
and you think you’ve earned them?
I guess it’s okay, because the meaning of my poems
you don’t deserve them
since you’re all about the “credits”
just take them and get out of here
you harlots
Don’t forget to use a Sani-wipe
take that whore bath before you type
your next diseased and unsatisfying
un-read, saw-the-words-but-didn’t-let-them-inside-my-head,
even-an-ethereal-kiss-is-too-intimate
review
Oh yes, I am getting screwed,
royally screwed,
but not half as bad as you screw you
when you do what you do to you
when you keep meaning at a comfortable distance
while going through the motions of reading
poetry
which spilled from someone’s very being
like blood sweat and jism.
(less)
