Hello, visitors from the world of Pettus! I’m flattered that you are stopping by. Since you are obviously interested in Jason, I thought that now would be a good time to tell the tale of how a late-twenties, Midwestern, suburban mama such as myself is/was friends with Jason “so what I’m a bisexual writer in Chicago who has no job but lots of big dreams”Â Pettus.
Like many of the contributors to Jason’s big trip to Germany, I was friends with Jason back in college. I was an impressionable freshman and Jason was a jaded sixth-year senior. I would often skip Latin to hang out with Jason in Brady Commons and watch him smoke cigarettes and write poetry about other women. So often, in fact, that I got a “B”Â in that class that I so totally aced. Oh well.
One of my favorite memories of Jason is hanging out with him at the Chez. Ah, the Chez. I think they often purported it to be the oldest coffeehouse west of the Mississippi or something silly like that. I feel like I got to watch Jason get his start in performance poetry, watching him read his work on Open Mic night.
Jason and I actually spent quite a bit of time together that year. There was never anything romantic between us (I was seeing one of his friends), and Jason was always a complete gentleman, even when I passed out in his bed one night. I was completely crushed that he up and moved to Chicago without even saying goodbye. Although, from what I heard from some of the people that he did say “goodbye”Â to, I’m glad that he didn’t get the chance to burn this bridge. I still remember the good times…
I didn’t hear much from Jason after he left — a stray postcard here, a mention from a friend who had run into him there — but was overjoyed to find his web site back in 1999 or 2000. Like many of you, I find Jason’s life fascinating. Sometimes, it’s a complete train wreck and I swear that I’m going to stop reading. (True quote from me to my husband Tim – also an old college friend of Jason – when Jason first wrote about willow moving to Chicago: ‘This is going to end badly.’) Other times, I find myself laughing out loud at the launch of yet another Pettus scheme.
Ah, Jason. I would so love to share a Rhinelander Bock with you again some day.
Anyway, I have a problem. In real life, I’m a freelance copywriter and publication designer. So, naturally, I mentioned that to someone at church and now I’m designing the church’s monthly newsletter. When they asked for my email so that people could submit stories, I gave them my address here at bookerdog.com. Oops.
Not that I write about all of my shady wheelings and dealings here (my mother-in-law visits often, too), but still! Please, if you are visiting here from my church, DO NOT go to Jason’s site. I can’t be held responsible for the emotional trauma. In fact, just pretend that those links over there don’t exist. It’s funny stuff, to be sure, but definitely not PG.