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letter for peret
who 2
People have liked to put me into compartments all my life. Some think of me as a drunk, others as an intellect, others as an experimental writer, others as an
avant-garde con artist, a film obsessive, an obsessive in general, maker of boring films; and I most often stay within those categories because I’ve always
encouraged widely differing stories about me.

Who am I? Am I anyone? Is that Chad really Chad?
I was born on 6th January, 1971.

In some European countries and in South America, it’s a holiday – The Epiphany. When the alleged 3 Kings visited the alleged Jesus. In Italy they call it the
Befana. And in Russia, I forget – but similar story. An old witch scorned the birth of Herr Jesus and when she tries to go, she misses the happy couple mit
kind, so she’s condemned to spend the rest of her life searching…Totally stupid f***ing story! But I’ve been to Italy on my birthday – I can pretend to be all
imperious because a nation is celebrating my birthday. Ha ha.
I have bi-polar disorder.

All through my life I had the tendency to get really depressed, and I had no idea what was wrong with me – I just thought I was normal, so it wasn’t
diagnosed until 5 years ago. Then it was surprisingly easy to deal with, and not a big deal at all.


When I was little, I liked to spread my legs apart and then bang my knees together. Not that hard, but it was probably some early bi-polar related thing. My
grandfather used to look at me as if he were trying to figure out what size straight-jacket I’d take!

When I was in the 3rd grade, my school wanted me tested to see if I could be in the gifted program – I took the test and failed miserably. They told my
mother I failed, and she told them -  ‘Well, just get him in a room and let him talk and that’ll convince you.’ I did that, and I was in the gifted program.


I was 'out' at my school when I was 14. I didn’t like pretending to be something I wasn’t. At the very least I thought that some kids would be afraid to go
anywhere near me – this was true to an extent. From time to time I was terrorized, but my grandfather had taught me some boxing, so I was always
prepared to defend myself.


Once, this christian kid just came up and cold-cocked me on the nose. So I got up, hit him back and ended up dislocating his jaw! I was called ‘fag’ a lot, but
usually it didn’t bother me. Hitting that guy made me seem a bit like Travis Bickle I guess! I ran on the track team, but I was artsy – and a fag. People just
thought I was a serious nutter. Terrible days. I hated school and often got drunk before going in the morning.


When I was 15, I worked as a volunteer at a museum. Odd as it may seem, there were/are museums at Fresno. They just really suck.

I did learn a lot of useful stuff. Once, I accidentally broke a pre-Columbian piece of pottery, and tore a corner of a Warhol litho. Managed to cover it up.
Sometimes I imagine someone discovering my ‘mistakes’. Not likely though. The tear wasn’t that big – and it was 70’s Warhol so who gives a shit?


Ronald Reagan was f***ing evil. When he was shot, I was in a catholic school. We were having lunch and the news came and I said aloud that I hoped he
was dead. A Sister heard and made me write a ‘get well’ note to Reagan. I got some form postcard back. Lost it long ago.