Letter to Francisca:
full of raves, rants, poetry, chants,
discourse, stories, sound and furry, signifying nothing.
bunnie_part_02

Don’t worry ‘bout a ting. Bob was great. My toe is so fuckin’ sore. I hurt it three weeks ago and it is more painful now. Made up some excellent T-shirts. A grave stone - a real one - with Batman on it. I’m going to try selling a few this summer. Already sold some. Five stores have taken them. Mike, the guy on Queen Street is interested in my other ones I’m going to make. I may not have to have a job this summer. That’s good ‘cause I want to work on my game. Most excellent game. Look for it. Goddam my toe hurts. Boston took Montreal four straight. Admit it, you love me. My birthday is in six days. Fifteenth of May. You didn’t even phone me up to wish me a happy birthday. What is the matter with you? Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t care about me. I’m wondering whether or not I should make a soup. I should do a bit of laundry. Don’t let it get piled up. How about a little story? Ah come on. You’ll enjoy it. Got the world by the balls. - Here goes: Once upon a time. (classic first line. Takes you there right away) There was a little boy. (How odd. Don’t hear of such things these days.) - (look, do you want to hear the fuckin’ story or not? Don’t look at me like that. You think you have it all figured out. Think you’re so fuckin’ smart. Look at you. You’re as fucked as the next guy. What? You know what I mean. Smug behind your wall. Happy in your garden bower. Dead flowers. Sorry, what was it? Oh, the little boy. He lived with mom and dad in a house by the sea. He had a sister also. The little boy always played on the beach. He built sand castles, imagining what a real one would be like to live in, he explored up and down the beach dreaming about far away lands, he ventured into caves and wondered who might have had been in them in times gone by. - And it was sunny. There was a tree maybe. Fill in the details; this is condensed version. I love you. A terrible thing happened one day. The little boy was old enough to go to school. - I’ll finish this story later if I remember. Now. I’m going to sleep.

What a beautiful day. Although I spend most days alone, I think, as I watch the unhealthy jogger struggle by, it would be excellent to be with another animated sack of liquid and bones. Since there is no ocean near by, I’ve come down to the lake to look at the water. I’m thinking I’d enjoy making a sailing vessel. Maybe make two and sell one. At Helen’s Hash House last night, I decided to go to the urine room. On one of the partitions was a quote by Winston Churchill: ‘My greatest achievement was convincing my wife to marry me.’ Isn’t that sweet? Are you married yet? Although I want to live with someone, (some days I still think I wish it was you) I couldn’t be married by the church or government. I have no liking for either of those bombastic paradoxes. Toronto is a great place but I’m glad to be leaving it. I’m not sure why I want to go to Vancouver but I’m going to go there for a few years before I find some waterside land in N.S.. I’m going to buy some good running shoes when I get to Vancouver. Run in the fog. It’s great to be healthy. I’ve been working at it more lately and everything else seems easier. They built some fuckin’ thing down here by the baseball diamond. - ‘Smiled at the rising sun. Three little birds sit by my doorstep...’Had some odd dreams last night. Not unusual. Dreams are odd if you compare them to waking consciousness. How are you doing Francisca? Are you being cruel to yourself still? One of the dreams was about protest. This is going to be summer of protest. I was sitting outside of a mall with my mom. Many people were sitting on folding chairs, rolling up bags of contraband substances. Pot mostly. Some raw coke too. Still a bit green. Never seen it like that. It comes from leaves. Anyhow, a security guard wants to make an example of a few people and proceeds to; but a good looking (Kevin Cosner looking but it might have been Mike - the rake.) - What ever happened to him? I can’t remember when and where I knew him. - Anyhow, more cops showed and I started getting load. I slammed my hand on the table. Seem everyone was slamming their hands on the tables in rhythm, chanting something abut the bull shit of the justice system. The cops decided that they would give the crowd their friend back and fire the security guard. There are many more details but I have to tell you the scene inside a grocery store. Oh fuck and the cat - but first - with the fish lip kiss - but the store - Again I think I may have decided to infiltrate my dreams. We were at the counter waiting to order a couple of things. Fish and I don’t know what all. This woman in front of us wanted to get her things on credit. This was a bit of a scene. The word had to - no the decision on her character had to come from above. Was she what she seemed to be or was she evil. So into the back room for the decision. There was a long track like a water slide at Wally’s world or some place to amuse people. But the slide was seamless metal. It wound endlessly up and up. As we waited, we heard and finally saw a large silver ball barrelling down the track. Faster and faster it rushed downward. Finally it zipped pat where the two women were standing. For that second the woman who was asking the hired hand for the credit, for that brief moment, the woman looked like a hideous rendition of Satan. But the working woman was so frightened by what she saw, she didn’t let the ball dictate the right decision. She gave the woman the food on credit. She feared the evil of the hungry customer more than the rage of authority that would surely punish her when the other woman didn’t come through with the bill. But about the cat, it would take too long to supply all the details and subplots that surround the situation of this dream but there was a cat. A nice cat but it was a bit of a pain in the ass, had to be center of attention and Meowed over and over. I was on my way out, so I conceded to give it a kiss. It formed it’s mouth into a sucker fish mouth and - yuck. By the way - you can be beautiful when you are old if you live right. On the way out the door - I think this was at my grandfather’s house now 0 someone complained about the cat continually meowing. So. I asked the cat if it could use his energy to learn how to sing. If it would do that I would take it to Mew Your to do stupid pet tricks for David Letterman. I don’t know if he does them anymore. I better watch the world around me foe a bit. Just thought I’d like to blab for a while.

Late Monday night. The T-shirt business is going well so far. Half a dozen places have taken them on consignment. I’d like to get a couple hundred out before the movie gets out. Five weeks. Going camping this weekend. Take the canoe for a little practice for May 31st. Putting off doing what I want to do. I’ve been pushing myself and the farther I move the more I want to move farther. I’ve always known that even the slightest movement in the desired direction, done everyday, takes you farther than when going backwards. This is a beautiful song. Nevil Brothers. There’s a certain comfort in sadness. Sometimes I think I’m more in my proper (preferred) place when I’m alone and doing things that seem worthwhile. At times it’s hard to imagine anything being worthwhile. Giving up isn’t worthwhile though so we must never give up hope. Somehow stay on the side of life. Too many are on the side of death. If death swallows us up, then that’s the end of it. Simple enough. It drives me to frustration sometimes to watch death being victorious. Ain’t I a ball of cheer? The more I see of what goes on around me the more I realize we’re lost. Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived inside a beautiful castle of mirrors. - Already you should sense trouble - The king and queen - mom and dad - decide that it would be more pleasant for their child to never know of the outside world - hell, maybe they were right. But I’m not going to tell the rest of the story now - Later.

Francisca. I yelled out the window one day: Francisca, Francisca, Cica, Cica. But no response. So maybe you didn’t hear me. I am so stoned right now. I don’t want to be. MSG. I hate it. It fucks me up royally. I have to stay away from it. I guess I will have to ask whenever I’m in a cheep Chinese food place. How many spices are there in the world? More than one. I’ve done a bit of cooking in my day and have never heard of MSG in a recipy. Recipe. I’m sorry. That took ten minutes. I had to finally look in my spelling dictionary. Best $1.99 I ever spent. Just words - no meanings. When you can’t quickly locate something in the dictionary, this is the way to go. Recipe. How many times have I seen the word? I will remember after tonight. It took me days to figure out how to spell anxious. Angtious would have been my way. What I might want to do is, go back and learn phonics. And why the fuck phonics and not fon - whatever. But this isn’t what I came to talk to you about. If you got this far please stand up and bark like a chicken. Some day I’d love to tell you about Audrey. I know you Francisca. More than you think. I remember trying not to watch you one day at Diplimatico. Brent and I were having lunch, some other people joined us too. Brent said, ‘Look who’s over there.’ There you were. You looked like you were in pain, although it didn’t really show. Brent. I used to do almost everything with Brent. Now, nothing. He’s in Costa Rica now. Beer and drugs are cheaper there. My toe is still sore. Fuck, I hate MSG. I’ve got much to do tomorrow. Off to sleep land I must go to sup from the fountain of rebirth.

Ten 2 Three. How ‘bout that; I missed my train. Ran with my broken toe thinking I might make it and I had read the wrong side of the ticket anyway. I was thirsty - So I’m recovering from some shit food I ate in the pit of the bank tower. There are people to watch. There’s an old guy having a nap at his table. A beautiful woman, maybe east Indian or Filipino. If - always ifs - forget the ifs. It’s what happens, what you make happen, that matters. Forget: would of, could of, should of, might of -. There’s no music or muzak in here. Sounds of people bouncing off the walls. It’s fun to hustle. The more stores I get my shirts into the more fun I think I’m having. I might try some yellow ones. Oh, what am I talking about? Francisca. Hello. Sometimes I think I should apologize for writing this shit, but if you weren’t wanting to read it than I guess you didn’t. How do you decide to spend your life with someone? The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that love is a poor excuse. As far as I can tell, I would rather live with someone who - I was going to say something silly such as: - doesn’t fart at dinner parties, likes fish, enjoys oral sex, - but now I don’t think I have anything to say which brings me back to my pen - And I wonder why do I keep dragging it across the paper? A little story maybe. Once upon a time there was a little fish. He liked to sing a song as he lay upon his dish. He sung about his wings that he always tried to grow. But he was shit out of luck, as most any fish would know. But he never quit believing, never quit his trying. Sad it was for his dreams, ‘cause on the skillet he’s now frying. Bla bla bla. I think I’ll go hide in a mountain for six months. I’ve got the beginnings of a great book. Okay, I guess I’ll walk over to the train station now. I often think of the mix up - But - got to go. I’m in the train now. It’s too wobbly to write so I won’t. Past Brantford. MYOPIC INSIGHTS AEOPIC. Good title for a book or some fool’s things - MYOPIC INSIGHTS. I have so many thoughts disappear on me. Am I hungry from not eating much today or is it the sight of food. To bumpy on this train. Choo choo. One more thing. I was just thinking. How about let’s go to South America and travel around for a while. And this is my request. No abla Angla. No you speak any English to me. Don’t even respond if I ask a question in English. What do you think? Name your price.

It’s Sunday now. I had another birthday. Geoff and I are at Long Point. It has been great weather. We just had a short down pour to make thing wet. Yesterday I convinced Geoff that number twenty-eight entrance, that’s at a town called Brant, is the entrance we want for our canoe trip in Algonquin eleven days from now.

Now ‘tis Tuesday. I’m at home waiting for the train. I’m in my parent’s living-room feeling little pain. Sorry I was going to write with rhyme but it’s not what I came to do this time. Excellent weekend of camping. Blossoms are screaming on the trees. Mom goes on and on sometimes, just talking ‘bout any banal thing. Maybe that’s where I learned it from. I should find her a better tool. I’m not going to write now. Right now.

June ninth or tenth now. It was a hell of an adventure Geoff and I had up in Algonquian. Every time I go out with Sue, she makes me feel uncomfortable. She tells me she has no interest in men now. She just wants to be my friend. But she wants more than that. I don’t like being continuously pursued after many blatant no thank you pleases. Sometimes, I think she’s my nemesis. You sent her subconsciously to punish me for being in love with you long after you told me to forget it. One day though, I’m sure I’ll love one that loves me. The one woman that - aren’t men hopeless? They think there really is a woman out there better than mom. Actually, I don’t follow that mom replacement thing. I prefer a little more danger. That might have been some of the reason I was drawn to you. Whatever. You should have seen us come across the lake on the last day. Both exhausted to the point that each stroke hurt. After our last portage - how the hell you spell that word what means to carry your canoe and gear around the part of the water you can’t paddle through? Well, we watched a bull moose for a while before coming out of the river into the bay. A slight breeze against us made travel a bit difficult at times. At one point it seemed to shift and we thought we may just drift across the lake back to where the truck waited to take us to civilization. (and a Coke) Bloody hell, the wind picked up rather fast. The sky turned dark and the water started to get choppy. We had to paddle into the wind so that we could get back across the lake with the wind. The waves were too big to travel sideways with them. I mentioned we were both tired and sore. Too bad for us because you have to be in control when the waves aren’t. We fought against the waves until it looked impossible to go farther. I told Geoff it was time to go with the waves. Normally I love going with the wind, with the waves. It’s fun. An excellent adventure. The wind kept getting worse. The waves were bigger than the canoe. Geoff isn’t a big fan of water at the best of times but he kept his cool. He had no choice. It took every bit of strength - mostly from will to keep the canoe perpendicular to the waves. Even with excellent work at keeping our vestal in control, we took on water - the waves were just too fucking big. Luckily my ego does not allow for defeat. With much effort and encouragement, we finally made it across the lake about a mile further down shore than we had hoped for. But we were glad to be alive. We came very close to loosing that day. And strangely enough; it was the greatest feeling to make it across that lake. That’s it for today. I’m sorry I still love you. Be assured I wont’ pester you. I may never see you again. And my wish is that all your dreams come true. Oh help. Shut this guy up. Good night.

I do say so myself - I just read one of my most resent lengthy poems. It is very entertaining and good. I love writing with no hesitation, just pouring out words until cleaver ideas fall into them. I believe that anchored within me is a wealth of wisdom. If I keep digging and plodding and scrapping and retching and frothing and beating and screaming, one day I will claw through the barrier of mediocre banalities to be swamped by words of life. Temporal truisms. Truth, of course, is relative and never very clear. I even hesitate to use the word. Franscica (sorry). I sometimes say it: Frans - ci ca (ki ka). Sandy has come home. ‘Tis 1:00 a.m. My eyes are burning. I watched a couple of movies. I will be glad to sell my VCR and TV. I’m thinking that even movies are poison. Did I ever mention Holden to you? I think I must have. J.D. Salenger. Anyway, was I going to say anything? I don’t know if I ever had the idea that we would, or that I hoped we could spend our lives together. And I didn’t mean to love you. Oh what was the question? Let me tell you about Jo. I was seeing Jo for a few weeks. We had large amounts of intimacy and nonstop genitalia gratification. Suddenly, boink. She realized her boss wanted to lick her, so she let me go to have a chance at the promotion. That was fine. I understood. I wasn’t offering her anything besides many organisms. Orgazum, oh no. I don’t’ know how to spell the wonderful thing that makes having a body much fun. And I wasn’t about to go into detail. I was just thinking about the last time I had facial hair. One of those silly fu man chu things. Made me look demented. In a nice way. I was working at Santa Fe. A beer drinking jeboney was barking about his similar face thing. Jo was nearby at the same bar. She hadn’t recognized me as she drank with her date. Someone said my name and she looked up when she heard my voice. It was odd. She looked frightened. I nodded slightly at her but it didn’t help. Have you ever killed anyone? What was it like? I’m tired. I think I’ll sleep now. Night night. Love you



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. bunnie_part_03



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