January 28, 2006

january 28, 2006

my friend--

i write to you now with an eagerness that could only mean that this will be an earnest letter, if not a good one. since i've stopped writing you, i feel as if i've lost much of the vague sense of focus that lends to wahtever shred of grace my letters once reflected. contained. they would contain a shred, reflect a shard. you see what it is that i have lost. to compound my loses i have stopped writing all together for school, on account of i don't go there at the moment. this has led to a general decline in my ability to express the glimpse of the infinite that ive, through luck, grace, and guile been able to steal/recieve. hermes is by nature a trickster. i've offended apollo as well. let my suffering at the typewriter be a sacrifice to him.
the movement, you may have noticed, is away from a beat sound. it is my feeling that to have a beat sound is an affront to everything they have hoped for, though i think only mr. k and mr. gregory really got it xxxxxxx enoughto survive the 60's. as far as i'm aware, lawrence ferlinghetti never got It, which is largely why i don't care whether or not i got his name right. i have become crushingly aware of the infinity of possibilities that Is, and the oppressive burden it is that falls on those who realize it to foster those possibilities. All is True, True is All True All IS. to quote: GOD IS ALIVE MAGICE IS AFOOT MAGIC IS ALIVE GOD IS AFOOT ALIVE IS AFOOT, etc.


at least, i think, you understand what it is to be crazy, and this could strike a certain chord in you if your mood at the time of reading this letter is that fertile mood in which you are able to forgive the failings of the letterer and understand him despite his fumblings.

'red is the rose' is a better song that 'loch lomand.'

since in my current state (the state of a fumbler) i am unfit to address matters of grandness, i will try to humble myself by forcing anecdotalness.

and have i got a story for you.

long 'bout 4 weeks ago i was visity my friend mike in the debuque state forest in hawley, massachusetts, about 2 hours west of here, where he lives and works as a member of the student conservation association, which is affiliated with the CCC, which if you're into American histlry you'll recall was founded by FDR as part of the new deal. it works into americorps, somehow, or americorps works into it, i'm not sure, either way , i was visiting him in the debuque state forest, in hawley, mass, where he lives with 15ish other people doing conservation and conservation education work. me and dave, whose adventures i believe you've heard before, arrive after darkand i had a killer toothache. everyone there was having some beers (don't tell their bosses) and generally enjoying themselves they way conservationists who don't have TV would. i spent much of my first hour or two there in a dementing type of pain which i tried to soothe with clover powder from their suprisingly well stocked kitchen. despite the fact that i was rubbing amakeshift salve onto my gums and i had a grimy abortion of abeard at the time (i said that i wouldn't shave while on vacation, so i wouldn't no matter how silly ilooked.) this girl was talking overly interestedly to me. everyone cleared out eventually, and mike announced to me that him and dave were going to get our stuff from my car. i assuemd he wantedme to leave with him, so i got up, but corinne, an incredibly nice minnesotan, told me to stay, or rather, "steyyy", so they headed out and e and the girl were left alone. we shuffled into a small room with a door, which had a piano in it. i was to find out later that it was the piano room.

this would be a good tie to describe the young lady that i'm about to bed.

she was short, and pale skinned with blue eyes and blonde hair, of course, of the kindthat comes along with very blonde eyebrows. she was mexican, and i believe hold citizenship there. she at one point believed in peru? as well as france? and illinois, in a chicago suburb. then moved to wisconsin where she obtained a bachelor's degree in biochemistry, i believe. her accent was a bizarre mix of mexican and midwestern. she was pretty in the dark. i was later reminded that her name was angela.

several theories of mine were validated that night, chiefly that if you put me in a room with a crazy person, we'll find each other. also it was proven that i have relations in an alternating pattern, specifically tall_short_tall_short_tall_short. she was wearing a sports bra which was okay since her breasts were the unflattering pointy kind with bristly nipples. i had some trouble getting her pants off of her ankles, and she was wearing simple cotton underwear. we had our sex, and it was alright. she seemed like the type who in her entire life will never have great sex, due to her own misgivings and apparent character flaws which you'll hear more about in a minute.