Willie Smith is deeply ashamed of being human. His work celebrates this horror. He was born in a hospital outside Greenbelt, Maryland, a few short years after Adolf Hitler shot himself in the head while simultaneously crunching down on a cyanide capsule. He grew up in Alexandria, Virginia, just a pack howitzer shot from the White House. In the late sixties he worked as a logger in the same woods D. B. Cooper later jumped into. He received a B.A. in English or creative writing or something from Reed College in 1972. In 1995 he returned to academia to teach writing for exactly one week at Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado; he was never asked back.
He spends a lot of time, when he isn’t making a living as a flunky in a Welfare office, sitting around reading and writing and waiting to be asked to recite or teach or go on a secret mission to rescue the princess from a gangbang he has secretly himself initiated. He is the proud father of a vasectomy and to the best of his knowledge has never replicated. He is lazy, rather homely and sometimes smells a little funny. He is addicted to classical music, self-pity, stargazing, whole grain, lean meat and fresh produce. He has never owned an automotive vehicle and does not possess a driver’s license, valid or otherwise. His religion is walking; the world is his church. You are cordially invited to witness Willie embarrass himself at www.youtube.com/wsmith49
Photo by S. J. Sanders
Nothing Doing (2012)
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