I've always wanted to title my "Bio", "Highlights of a Low-Life" and I'll be damned if I didn't Google that title and it has already been used by someone else. Figures!
So, here's a bit about me: my name is Chan Hurst. I've been writing poetry, short-stories, essays and memoires for 24 years. My forte, though, is "Rhyme" and I consider it to be the only "true" form of poetry. I know: quite a debatable, controversial and fascist belief, but this is my fervent conviction, for which I am unapologetic and shall never waver.
My greatest poetic influences include Poe, Shelley, Keats and Dickinson. If you are looking for "odes to nature" or "grandma" or some other mundane topic, I am definitely NOT the poet to read. I write what's in my Soul, and stay true to my aesthetic.
I'm 34, gay, partnered for the past 5 years and married in my own mind and heart. I have 5 children: 2 dogs and 3 cats. I am physically and mentally disabled, suffer from numerous mental illnesses, am an addict/alcoholic who also suffers with chronic pain. I'm a highly opinionated introvert with a staggering IQ (I'm not modest when it comes to intelligence). What you are about to read now is a paper I wrote as an introduction about myself to my fellow classmates in one of my many failed attempts at higher education:
I am of the opinion that unless you are some kind of celebrity, no one wants to hear your life story. Since I find 99.9% of the human race utterly uninteresting, I have no desire to hear about your plights or triumphs so I don’t expect you to want to hear mine. I’m a misanthropist, damn it. A jaded Cynic. Would you expect anything less?
Ok, OK! You asked for it. You want to know so badly? Well, then, I’ll tell you. I’m a self-professed geek. Yes, I acknowledge as much. It seems that in today’s age, being a geek is much more chic and “in” than it used to be. Thank goodness media expands our limits and perceptions of “coolness”. I mean, hats off to such influences as “Big Bang Theory”, right? You remember all those reasons you made fun of nerds and geeks in school? Yeah, well, apply them to me. And may the Force be with you as you live long and prosper. Insert “smiley face” emoticon.
Now I will cryptically and enigmatically tell you how un-exactly deep my well of coolness allegedly is. This will all sound pretty flakey so feel free to roll your eyes or LOL wherever you see fit. Ok, you ready? Thought not, but here we go anyway: I am that person, that friend of a friend of a friend, who has seen and experienced the most indescribably incredible things your mind can fathom on dark and stormy nights. I’ve had the kind of close encounters that those weird people on TV swear and attest are true. I’ve underwent the kind of mind-blowing revelations that those levitating Tibetan monks or jungle medicine men have probably known for eons. A hit of Timothy Leary on the end of your tongue on a bright and sunny spring day brings the universe and life into perspective. But so does walking in the Shoes of Insanity!
What else? Hmmmmm. Ok, well, like many of you, I’ve had a number of adventures in my 34 years on earth. Like what? Patience, young Padawan; I’m getting to that. For example: I lived overseas with the Kiwis for a time in New Zealand. I’ve lived high on the hog, but also roamed skid row (but not with Sebastian Bach). My fashionable myriad of mental maladies have shown me the inside of The Cuckoo’s Nest on more than one occasion. I’ve nearly died more times than I can attempt to count. I have climbed the heights of pure Nirvana and suffered tragedy of the Shakespearean kind. I’ve had organs removed and a toe amputated. Loved and lost; hated and gained. I’ve been locked up, tied down and shot at. Just to name a few...
I mean, so I got kicked out of a private Christian school in the tenth grade; hasn’t that happened to everyone? Is going to class on acid really that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things? Does it really matter that I almost killed an up and coming country music star back in the 90’s? Or that I used to dabble in the occult and dress like Dracula? Why are you shaking your head at me? Who are you, Saint Peter?
Like most of you, I’ve had various careers over the years; everything from the educator of your children (I know, someone did indeed drop the ball when they hired me) and street pharmacist (the money was good!). Years ago, I enjoyed being the night manager at a hotel (so what if I routinely fell asleep and slept with the guests?). Once, I had the distinct displeasure of working for UPS as a truck loader (if any of your packages got smashed or were lost, I apologize). I’ve been a cashier one too many times (my bad if you got short-changed). Flipped my share of burgers (what do you mean yours was “raw”?). In 2006 I worked with the criminally insane (I know, right up my alley!) but quit two weeks later after I was nearly choked to death. Yeah, I’ve done a little of everything. What am I doing now you ask? Wouldn’t you like to know!
Oh, lest I forget, can I get an “AMEN!” if you, too, have perpetrated embarrassing acts that made your father wince and your mother cry? Can I get a “HELL YEAH!” if you’ve partied too much and wound up in the slammer or slept with someone who looked much better when you were drunk? Can I get a fist bump from all my fellow “He-Whores” and “Jessebels”? No? What a bunch of prudish pansies! Like I’m the only one who’s gotten too loaded and told everybody I could play the bongos with my feet? Don’t act like you’ve never passed out in public or urinated on the side of a church!
Like everybody else, I could go on and on, yadda yadda yadda with some blah blah blah, but I think you get the gist of it. I'm a weirdo; a freak and geek, but damn proud of it. I am unconventional, controversial, unorthodox and fascist. Hope that's not a problem for you lol.