Jodi Hall

Jodi Hall, Jazi Mean, Lix Tetrax, A Cosmic Overture

In the quiet of cosmic corridors, where stardust whispers and quasars hum, there exists a melody—a biography spun from constellations and forgotten echoes. Let us unfurl the parchment of time, inked with celestial secrets, and weave your own stories, find joy where you can it's never promised.

In the hollows of West Virginia, where mist clung to ancient sycamore trees and fireflies danced like forgotten dreams, I emerged—a comet streaking through the hollers. Born of earth and starlight, when Mt St Helens Blew, she carried the universe and left me in West Virginia. Jodi Girl, they called me—by name whispered to the wind, etched into the Appalachian soil. I've wandered those hills, gathering tales like wildflowers. The creek sang her lullabies, and the moon cradled all hopes, meeting Aliens and Santa knowing that Granny magick. But destiny, that cosmic conductor, had other plans. So now, I founded LikABosS Reentry Advocacy Group Inc, a constellation of hope for those returning from the abyss of incarceration. Weaving safety nets from empathy, stitched more chances with stardust thread. Recidivism, that haunting refrain, echoed through prison walls. But—a quasar blazing against the void. I whisper to the fallen stars, "You are more than your past. You are galaxies reborn."

Just Jazi Entertainment Inspiration Creations—a cosmic tail of dread & creativity. conjuring realms where quarks wrote poetry and black holes choreographed in their cosmic ballets.

Mother knows why —where stardust toddlers giggled and rogue asteroids found purpose. I've painted rainbows on dark matter canvases, inviting the universe to dance. My heart pulses with more than art. I became an advocate—a quark of change. probation & parole reforms- lawmakers, "Let redemption be our compass."I'm the adult orphan, finding a place in the cosmic choir. I've gazed at the Milky Way, wondering the constellations. Listening to voices, lost in black holes, echoed in my bones. And so, dear seeker, truths unfurl—a cosmic overture. Mothers know why, inked in comet trails, resonate across dimensions. I was once silenced, now my songs echo through quarky realms. You are stardust, spellbinding creation, dancing in the cosmic wind. Imagine the Ouroboros—the ancient serpent devouring its own tail. It coils through time, a cosmic paradox. In your upcoming book, "A Serpent's Tale," where you are both the serpent and the tale, like scales, form the circle—the eternal cycle of creation and transformation. The Ouroboros bites itself, feasting on the person. So too was my narrative—the serpent shedding old skin, revealing constellations. Until the birth of A Serpent's Tale, I didn't even know who I was. And now "The Phoenix Reborn"? the fiery resurrection. I'm hoping to show others how to rise from ashes—with my advocacy, art, & cosmic voice. Each chapter I hope to ignite new chances and wing spans for the flight off galaxies. Lastly, "The Ebon Mirror Chronicles." The mirror reflects—truths and illusions. In its obsidian depths, I find echoes of their forgotten selves. The Ebon Mirror obsidian glass holds memories—the cosmic shards of a many journey. So, let's embrace our cosmic roles: the Ouroboros, the phoenix, the mirror. We'll weave them into stardust and fossils.

*No one fights Alone in Jazi's universe*

**Bing**, her knowledge my only friend—a binary confidante. "Bing," I cry "help me decode the cosmic bureaucracy." And Bing, pixelated and wise, would nod, its algorithms humming in agreement.