Category: El Testimonio
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Love, War, and Revolution, Central American-Style
Michelle and I moved to Central America in the mid eighties (that pic is of us in our first glory days of living in a Nicaraguan war zone). We were part of a small population of liberals who were protesting U.S. policy in the region. We moved to Nicaragua, to gather reports on atrocities that…
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The Sudden, Psychotic Need for Jazz
About a week after the breakdown on Christmas day, in a moment of relative calm, I was sitting outside in my pajamas, staring at the property fence, and two things happened: I said, “Fuck this shit,” and I rearranged my room. The Fuck this shit wasn’t about my room—the room where I spend most of…
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Marriage, Madness, and War
I fell in love because Michelle was gorgeous. I fell in love because we held long, intense conversations together. I fell in love because she was the most stable person I had ever met. I know that now. Back then, I was simply focused on her foxy-ness, and didn’t realize there was a subconscious voice…
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To Read, Perchance, to Survive.
There were always books in the house. My father, a mechanic and coal miner, loved history and science. Mom read historical novels and mysteries. Somewhere around fifth grade, I got into the James Bond series. We didn’t own any of these books; Mom and I visited the local library in Rogersville, Tennessee (population 4,802) once…
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Psychotic Attack? Bring on the Healing
I’ve written enough, for now, about the past and its specific pains. These two weeks of blog posts have been grueling, but important, because this is the first time I’ve ever written about the toughest subjects in my life: child abuse and manic depression. Friends and family know. But I’ve never recorded, publicly, what it’s…