I spent hours in the antique claw-foot tub with a glass of cheap Merlot and Billie Holiday – that was me at 22. Gloriously depressed and enjoying the evidence of where I was. Somehow I felt to do it. To be celibate – would I be a monk or where would I be? I felt it. The spirit. The calling. The something. I could never quite put my finger on or even quantify it. It just is.
My biological sister, who was adopted, found me today. And, people question data and forensics. DNA rules do exist in numbers… I feel often like my Dad is how Eminem is with his daughter in his rhymes. Like…Daddy loves you and will do everything to make your life better kind of Dad.
I’m processing this overwhelming information and energy.
Cuz…Merry Christmas from Dad. From the beyond (And, Near).
My Dad told me of her….and, all I knew was her name was Angel ..and, it is.
How I process in reel time…
Dad was in Vegas…Russian roulette he’d play that night. Sobbing on his knees and giving up…gun to head. Finger to trigger….Click.
Head’s up.
Light entered.
Angel spoke to him, he said.
“Go home and find …Jenny…
She needs you.” – the angel spoke.
My Dad listened.
to be continued….
 | JenJuice on Dear Brother….. |
 | Eric on Dear Brother….. |
| JenJuice on Work in Process… |
| Eric on Work in Process… |
| JenJuice on A child (in the) hood….… |
Jen Juice 