This is a picture of Angela Ellingson. I knew her and her boyfriend Jason Iverson very well some two decades ago. I would say that Angela and I were kindred spirits. And I liked Jason so much that I based a character in my first novel on him, who became the main character and narrator of my second novel. (Over time, the character broadened and became much more—including parts of me; but what is coolest about the character is mostly Jason.)
I haven’t heard from them for well over a decade, but I did come upon Angela’s Facebook page, which says that she and Jason are still together. It also says that she is working at Macheezmo Mouse, which is out of business, so I doubt the page is up to date, although I’m sure she and Jason are still together. I can’t imagine them apart.
Five years ago, right before I started Frankly Curious, I wrote a song “Angela’s Drilling a Hole.” It started out about her, but eventually turned into a song about watching someone you love disappear due to mental illness. Other than the refrain, it is written in iambic pentameter. It is rather hard for me to sing, but I thought I would present just the verses as a poem. This comes out of my rather personal writing recently, in particular, Challenges of Female on Male Violence. But just to be clear: Angela did not have mental health issues, and I’m sure she is as delightful today as I remember her.
She is the prettiest girl that I know
We sleep together as far as it goes
She’s always looking to drill some new holes.
Angela’s dripping a lot on the ground
She is the best friend that I ever found
I’m always happy when she is around
Even when Angela’s staining the ground.
Angela’s drilling a hole in her brain
She says that everyone else is insane
But if I’m nice then she’ll let me remain
I’m putting gauze on the hole in her brain.
Angela’s drinking some acid today
This is not like all the games that we played
She used to smile at the love I displayed
Now she gets mad taking acid away.
Angela’s drilling a hole to my mind
She says in there it is peaceful and kind
Now we are both in a treacherous bind
Angela cannot connect with my mind.
Angela’s body is crumbling apart
Too many holes now there’s one in her heart
I’d like to help but I’m just not that smart
So I stand by as she rattles apart.
Angela’s holes are all she left to me
Stand them on end they’re as tall as a tree
Now that she’s gone I guess she’s finally free
What of the nothing that she’s left to me?
There are few people from the past I want to have any contact with. But I wouldn’t mind hearing from Angela or Jason.
