Hi,
I'm Mr. Jones. I picked that name here because I wanted to shed the other moniker I've been using online for a few years. Mr. Jones is the main character in a Bob Dylan song called "Ballad of a Thin Man". I love Bobby Dylan...why? Because he's always been Bob Dylan.
Oh...you can also call me Mr. MillaPill. Yes, I'm MillaPill's sometimes jerky bf. Usually, when she says things that make me sound like a jerk
and I'm also occasionally jealous, often paranoid, and rather insecure.
And for the record, I love her like hot asphalt loves an unpaved road.
Now then...a few things about me. I'm cognitively unique...from what I hear, so is everyone around these parts. Specifically in my case, the doctors say I have a severe case of ADHD, with multiple piggybacking syndromes, including Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Delusional Disorder,Trichotillomania...etc etc, ad nauseum. I'm quirky, dig? I've always been an outsider, even in the midst of outsiders. I like it that way because I think humans suck eggs for the most part. But y'all seem pretty cool, and Mills says she thinks I might fit in here ok, and she's the boss, so....I'm gonna try to be nice and keep the chip I have against humans off my shoulder for now.
Despite all the things I just said about myself, I'm really an incredibly sweet, deeply compassionate, passionately loyal, overly empathetic person. But if you hurt somebody I love, I will cut your face off with a dull exacto knife blade 1 square centemeter at a time and feed it to your children.
For nearly three years, I have been homeless by choice. Technically, I'm a "Rubber Tramp", which means I live on the street and sleep in my car. Homelessness was thrust upon me by a set of circumstances beyond my control, but after being free of the trappings and responsibilities of American society for a few months, I noticed I was starting to feel.....
human...at least, what I think feeling human should feel like. So I haven't gone back. As providence, or fate, or serendipity would have it, I live in the best place in America to be homeless, Ballard Washington. Ballard is a neighborhood community on the extreme west edge of Seattle that goes right up to the shore of Puget Sound. For reasons not important to this narrative, Ballard has an incredible support system for the homeless and disenfranchised. There is never a need to be hungry or inadequately clothed.
I am a writer. Why? Because it's in my blood. My mothers family tree is chock full of male members who have had careers as one sort of writer or another. All of them that I know or knew personally or by reputation were also "quirky". The need to write burns like a fire in my guts. If I couldn't write, I would die inside and quite possibly outside, though not without taking a few dozen of my fellow humans with me
To this point, I am what one would call "unpublished", that is to say...well...I've not been published. Tough shit, my time will come. For the last three years I've written mostly poetry. Socially aware poetry...poetry about things that happen to me. Poetry lends itself well to my ADD brain because I can write a poem in a few hours or a day or two at the most and move on. I'm this
___ close to putting out a collection of poetry with a cd of me reading my poems. I also write erotica...and I'm good at it. If you ask nice I'll post one of my erotic pieces here so the ladies will have something to get off to besides Peter's pics.
Ok...I am on the verge of rambling, so I shall stop. It's a pleasure to be here.
so...just in case you wanna know what MillaPill sees in an old fuck like myself...here's a pic...actually 2....one shows how pretty I am...one shows how quirky I am
