Daniel Fuller

The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a self indulgent CIA technician with a pallet for German sausage and pepperoni. My mother was a 40 year old phone operator named Mary with gypsy paranoia and a perpetual perm. My father would smoke in the shower, he would drink warm tea through a straw. He enjoyed waxing his Messerschmitt and frequented Langley and Area 51. After sharing with the production of the SR-71 he rejected a job offer from NASA for a more lucrative career at Bob’s Radios in Starkville, MS. He once built a car out of four different automobiles to protest his property tax. Thereby inventing the worlds first Chevrolet Civic. My childhood was typical. Sundays were spent watching John Wayne movies, flamenco dance lessons. In the winter I would crochet skull caps in order to keep warm. When I was naughty I was beaten with half a Lazy Susan or forced to shell peas. At the age of 10 I was accidentally left at the airport in Sacramento, CA. A week later I spent two days literally standing on a corner in Winslow, AZ after the bus my father was driving broke down. At the age of 16 a Haitian woman with four fingers and a glass eye offered to sell me her daughter in exchange for my skateboard and a carton of cigarettes. Telena and I spent many happy weeks together.