I was 7 years into an 8-year prison term, when, in 2016, I was eligble for conditonal release on parole. By virtue of the nature of my crime (a burglary committed in 2009 to support my then heroin addiction), I was granted parole, but on the condition that I reside at a halfway house in order to address my substance use disorder.

During the course of those 7 years spent incarcerated, I'd managed to read a great deal of literature, everything from Dante to Stephen King, Faulkner to the Bible. And sometime around my third year in, my parents mailed me in a copy of "Infinite Jest." Over the course of the three weeks it took me to read it, I was set free from the desolation and doldrums of the Prison experience. I was transported to DFW's Boston. I was set free and I loved it. I loved it so much, that as soon as I finished, I went right back to page one and started over. All said, I've read IJ three times, cover to cover. And certain sections of it, ive read dozens of times.

Anyway, when is came time for me to apply to halfway houses, I chose to apply to a number of houses throughout the Boston are, which is where I am from. And lne of those houses was the Granada House, located in Allston, MA (a village inside of Brighton, a section of Boston). And by virtue of luck or coincidence or divine intervention, Granada House was the first to accept me and the one to which I'd ultimately be released.

While reading Infinite Jest, I was well aware of the fact that "Enfield" was a fictionalized section of Boston, carved out of six square block section of Allston-Brighton, around Warren St., near St Elizabeth's hospital and the Brighton Marine ("Enfield MA is one of the stranger little facts that make up the idea that is metro Boston, because it is a township composed almost entirely of medical, corporate, and spiritual facilities.") But I had no idea that the Ennet House was based on an actual real-life halfway house, originally located in the of the Brighton Marine, and recently relocated to the urban sprawl that is Lower Allston, known as Granada House.

So, bearing in mind that I'm someone who not only read IJ three times, but also attributed my success in prison (ie getting off drugs about halfway through my sentence) to relevations I'd had upon reading it, you can understand why I almost fainted the moment it dawned on me that I that I was living out a scene from IJ.

Here's what happened:

I had been at the Granada House for hardly two days, when I found myself sitting in program director Deb XXXX's office. She was a woman of around 60 years. She was an attractive woman with gray hair, cultured and well spoken, with a physical disability that consisted of a slight gait, verbal impairment, and the constitution of only one side of her body. Interestingly, at times she seemed to be entirely able-bodied, but then she would move about her office and it would be blatantly apparent that she only regained functionality of one side of her body (i want to say it was her left side?). Nevertheless, she was an incredibly graceful woman, who carried herself with poise and agility-- her "handicap" notwithstanding.

By and by, she told me of her Recovery from alcoholism and the tragedy that preceded it-- a stroke which rendered her partially paralyzed for life (and if I remember correctly, this tragedy occrued oversees, and was the direct result of her fatal attachment to alcohol).

Now, had this been the only clue to her identity, I'm dountful whether or not I would’ve ever realized I was seated before the inspiration for Ennet House's executive director, Pat Montesian.

But then, asher two dogs came running into the office,  I couldnt help but think, "oh, I better pet the dogs!" (Likening it to the advice several Ennet House residents give to Remy Marthe when he goes undercover to have his interview at Ennethouse. And just as I'm thinking this, Deb says to me: "I hope you like dogs," and all of a sudden it hits me like a ton of bricks: halfway house in Allston; attractive house director who'd suffered partial-paralysis at the hands of a stroke, and who, I suddenly recall, pulled up to the house earlier in a very nice, expensive car; and now, these two dogs at my feet...

I was sitting in the office of PAT MONTESIAN, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR OF ENNET HOUSE.

My heat began to race, I became disoriented; could it be, was I really living out a scene from my all-time favorite book?

"Pat?" I asked, "you're Pat Montesian, aren't you?"

Deb paused, and I thought I'd committed something of a social faux pas. My face flushed, my heart skipped a beat. "Oh well, not the end of the world," I assured myself so I might quell the feelings of awkwardness and embarrassment I was feeling.

But then her face contorted into a sort of bewildered smile, and her eyes began to well with tears, like I'd revealed to her some hidden secret of her youth.

She then said: "Yes, yes I am, have you read David's book."

My God, was this one of the greatest moments of my life. I literally found myself inside the greatest novel of the past 50 years! In that instance I became a character of DFW's imagination. I could see my story written into the book; I could feel Don Gately's massive presence, sprawled on the couch in the living room; I could hear Joelle's voice echoing through the halls; Geoffrey Day, Kate Gompert, Bruce Green. Randy Lenz, Tiny Ewell-- I could sense them all.

What did my future hold? Was I ready for recovery? Was I ready for Boston AA? Was I ready to let the truth set me free? Was I, as they say, Finished? I certainly was at a place where I cannot get drunk and  I cannot not get sober; cannot get high and cannot get straight. I was behind bars, i I was in a cage and could see only bars in every direction. I was definitely in the kind of a hell of a mess that either ends lives or turns them around. But was I ready to surrender?

This moment was among the most intoxicating, surreal moments of my life. Had IJ merely been a book I read, this moment would've been profound, for sure, but seeing as how IJ has been more than just a book to me-- it had taken on a quality larger than life, almost religious-- this moment can only be described as a spiritual experience. Unfortunately, my stay at Granada/Ennet house was short lived. Turns out, it wasn't finished with me, and the truth had not yet set me free. After only two weeks at the house, I had managed to get myself thrown out for using drugs in the house.

Before I was discharged, however, and released back into the wild, back into depths of opioid dependence, Deb/Pat showed me a little memorial to DFW. There was a bronze plaque with his likeness engraved and a little blurb about him and his bequest to the house. She told me of how fond of David (as she called him) she had been-- and still was. She admitted that she had never read IJ in its entirety, but that she acknowledged its genius and cultural impact.

But I don't think she truly understood its importance. Or her own importance, for that matter. Clearly she'd had a profound effect on DFW-- enough so that he'd written her into his story, and as a powerful character, an angel, no less, who was partially responsible for Don Gately's recovery. So, we can only surmise that she had also been partially responsible for DFW'S own recovery, and therefore partially responsible for IJ's existence, as its genesis can be traced to DFW's early days as a resident at Granada House back in 1989.

Five and a half years later, and here I sit, 36 years old, still battling addiction. I find myself today 20 miles north of Boston, sitting in a halfway house, hoping that this time is my time. So much of my life has been stolen by this disease. I've spent over 12 years in jails and prisons. This is my 6th halfway house, and I haven't read a book I'm 5 years. I've lost my way. Lost myself. I can only give myself away to hope and trust the process. Trust that all this is temporary. Trust that time will usher in an era of happiness and purpose, morality and virtue.

My copy of Infinite Jest sits by my bed. Dog-eared and still smelling faintly of prison. I haven't picked it up in years. Maybe I'll pick it up later and see what Don and Joelle are up to.