Letter to Francisca:
fish_part - second book of a letter to Francisca.
Living to find the write letter to right.
Finding one to love.
fish_part_02

April 4/93 Wiebke is a little looped right now. We decided not to go to Uncle Don and Aunt Margie’s today. Just as well or better. They might have a slight problem with us. Wiebke would likely feel uneasy about sleeping by her self. Marg and Don are serious Christians and would make the - whatever. This hotel is silly. The Dutch Inn or something. I feel like I’m going to fall down. Girls have tits. It’s definitely slanting to the back. Not quite steep enough to toboggan down but it may be fine for rolling down. All right, where are we now? It’s Friday night about the 19th of April I guess. Wiebke is leaving for Germany in 6 days. It is stressing me to overload, I realized. Doesn’t matter what I do to try to fool myself into thinking it’s no big deal and I can survive with or without her, it isn’t so. I miss her already and she’s still here. It will be four months with a visit in the middle before I follow her over. It may be very good because it will teach me a few things about love. I’ve a whole shit load of things I want to tell you. I hope I can remember a few of them. I woke up thinking of Heather today. She is very sweet. I met her at a speak, of all places, and we spent a few days, maybe just two, together. And what was I going to say. Oh. She moved out to Vancouver soon as we met. So it was no go. It was an enjoyable couple days. Bla bla bla. I wrote her a couple letters, one 27 pages long. She never wrote back of course. But later when she came to visit Toronto, she phoned me and asked me out for an afternoon drink. I think that meant more to me then almost any other event. Except one morning when you were sleeping in my parents rec-room because their religion didn’t allow us to sleep together. I kissed you and you smiled and told me you missed me. I thought maybe you were starting to love me. As I found out later, of course, you were confused. You never liked me, the relationship happened without you being aware of it. It was all a big mistake. Thank you, very little. It was hard for me to trust women before then. I was not much good to anyone then. I could see my future in homosexuality. Maybe I could have a relationship with someone I understood a little. Since I understood women not at all, men seemed the only alternative. Unfortunately for me, I’m not very attracted to men. My hormones respond mostly to women. Mostly, that old-fashioned propagation ideal, I suppose. Maybe it’s very deep rooted. I want a woman who looks delicious. Like a golden vanilla ice-cream cone. I saw you on the street the other day. I might have said hello to you but I only noticed you cradled in your boyfriend’s arm just before you walked by. I instinctively waved thinking that since I recognized you, maybe I knew you. You kept your frown you use to hide behind. You seemed to recognize me. When you did you looked Wiebke up and down. Maybe you thought to yourself that she was too likely for me. My fantasy would have to be a beautiful, fair skinned, slim and shapely, natural blond. I have no come back for that. Wiebke is beautiful, that is true, that’s what attracted me to her as it did to you. What is different though is I can love her as she does me. Shit, I better watch it. I was about to start blurting out a poem. As I think about it. This letter has been in the making along time. It’s a little naive of me not to have forgotten you by now. Well, I forget nothing. What I mean is, that it sure took me a long time to get over you. It’s fucking silly of me because we hardly even got to know each other. You wouldn’t even fuck me on your own bed. That was odd. It was a good thing your roommate was never home. I’ll - what will I’ll - maybe something about. Maybe there is something wrong with me that I can’t have a relationship last. Maybe I destroy them without knowing it. Somehow, though, I think you may be a little fucked up as well, there I said it. I can understand now that we wouldn’t have been any good for each other. But it took me along time to accept that. I wanted to help you enjoy yourself. I wanted you to stop hiding. Somehow, I wanted to help ease the pain. It didn’t happen. I hope one day you find the true troubadour you’re looking for. I’ve found my fair maiden, who believes she’s found her prince. She had to kiss me a bunch before I stopped acting like a toad but now I can see that I can be as I am. Any how. After all that. I better take a piss. And get on about some other things. I almost think I crave a cigarette right now. This is a little odd since I’ve got to the point where I hate the smell of them and will usually avoid being in the same room as smokers if at all possible. ‘Do you mind if I shit down your throat?’ Smokers, most of them, either haven’t a brain in their stinking head or are complete inconsiderate assholes to smoke in the presence of non-smokers. How fuckin’ stunned can people be. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ What? Do you mind if I kick you in the head repeatedly. Do you mind if I stick a hot toaster-oven up your ass? Do you mind if I jam a baseball bat up your fuckin’ nose? Are you fuckin’ retarded? Of course I don’t want your fuckin’ toxins. Wake up, you ignorant suicidal murderers. Of course this isn’t how a non-smoker reacts for a couple of reasons: 1. Smokers are so fuckin’ brain dead that they don’t stop to think that there freedom to smoke cancels someone else’s freedom to breathe air without smoke toxins saturating it, that they don’t even bother to ask. 2. Non-smokers have been so whipped that they are to frightened to object to the death worshipping. Non-smokers are afraid to offend the Lord of death who owns the souls of self abusers. -Okay. New tangent. Self abuse. What the hell is that all about? Where did we get the idea that there is nothing we can do so we might as well consume as much shit as possible to keep our brains from thinking. Choke on a smoke, it’s a fine way of destroying a few minutes. It gives you a little job of your own. Gives you an identity. And loyalty to a brand of toxins. It assures you a slow and painful death so you don’t feel guilty about enjoying sex. (I’m speculating here a little.) Booze, I’m sure I’ve said this before. TV, movies, sports, news, radio, most everything. It is all a waist. Waist of time, which is all we have. And not too much. It’s a waist of the planet. All the things we use as drugs of delusion cost us our life and possibly cost the planet it’s present life. So there’s the problem. We have nothing to go on. We live a big lie. We fill our lives with shit and are so fuckin’ chicken shit that we won’t stop to think for a moment what the hell do we think we are doing. I’m coming back to this point again aren’t I? Have I raved about this before? It’s been a long letter. If we don’t admit that we’ve fucked-up in a big way we will be all fucked out before we wake up. I can’t say I’d give a fuck except that it isn’t so fair to life to take it down with us. Who do we think we are? So what do we do? Tomorrow I’ll help Wiebke move her shit out of this room. Then I’ll waist the rest of the day. I have to stop wasting days. We can’t afford to waist anything anymore. Wiebke left me in her room while she went to a smoky restaurant to have a drink with her drunk roommate. I have to try to keep from being mad about it. Booze is glamorous and hard to say no to. It isn’t cool to go out and not drink. Wiebke isn’t a big drinker and she doesn’t smoke now so I have no business having a problem. I have to work at not worrying about her being so dam sexy. ‘Why was she dressed like that if she didn’t want it?’ I know. Who the fuck would be retarded enough to think that because a woman is sexy, she wants to get layed. And if she did want to get laved, what the fuck makes a guy think he can chose for her who should get inside. Well, I don’t know, but there are some pretty fucked up people out there and when hormones mix with fuckedupness and throw in a little booze and drug power - the story has been written many times. I have no problem with her, it’s those fuckin’ assholes out there that think women are receptacles for their monster of love. And what can you say against them? It’s natural. A man has hormones; he wants to procreate. Is that not the way it is? Is there such thing as rape in the animal world? From the little I know, it takes a fair performance of courtship with many of them. So what’s my point? I don’t know. What about: ‘Say no to rape. Fat ugly people can find someone to love them if they are willing to love.’ Forget it. I don’t know anything about this so ask someone else. I’m just so upset at how stupid most people are and I wish I had nothing to do with them. I’m going to have not so good a time when Wiebke is gone to Germany. I believe she loves me as I love her so if I can believe in love, I should survive the summer. It’s hard for me to believe in anything. So much of what I’ve seen shows me what we have been fed, is shit. I will have to look away from man to see hope elsewhere. It’s hopeful to see loons mating for life. It’s hopeful to - couldn’t think of anything else. Maybe you can. Let’s be fair now. It’s very encouraging to see how Wiebke loves me relentlessly. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to make her fall in love with me. Hey, but why not? Fuck. I almost forgot, I’m an excellent young man, who is very capable of love and being loved. She’s dam lucky to have me, she knows it. She’s just so excellent that it overwhelms me once in a while. Sometimes twice. She said she wouldn’t be long. That was quite a while ago. I know she has little concept of time so I’ll just go take a piss and go to bed. Maybe I’ll try to write about our trip to Nova Scotia and back. But somehow, I doubt it. I can’t see how you would care, I can’t see how I’d care to tell you and I can’t see why I think you would car to read a page of this letter so why the fuck did I ever start? Maybe I’ll figure it out before I’m finished and my problem with you may solve itself at the same time. Well, time to pack it in. I love Wiebke. I can’t say otherwise anymore. Maybe I still care about you. I don’t know. Good night. Hey Franny. I better tell you what’s going on. It’s April 26/93. 10 months and 1 weak till I’m married to the woman that couldn’t be designed for me any better than she happened to be. I’ve always wanted to believe in love. I wanted desperately to love you. Although I knew we weren’t suited for each other, I still hoped to have your love years later. I still would be happy to see you smile at me, to hear you call me by my name. Alas, I will let it go. Now that I am sure I am leaving this city, I’ve lost my interest to give you this letter. I may try to send it to you one day but don’t count on it. Let me get back to Wiebke. She jumped on a plane a few days ago. It’s tough to think of her over there having fun. I have to think about packing up my life. Sell most everything. Get some work to buy tickets. Am I still rambling? Wiebke left on the 22nd. That was only 4 days ago. It seems like six years. I wonder if I’ll recognize her. I wonder if she’s started a new life and forgotten about me. I can’t even phone her because she’s not home in her house until the first of May. Shit, May. I’ll be 33. Jumping Shit! You must be 26 by now. How is it that we’re getting old. Everyone I knew when I was a teenager is old now. Well. Not so old. I’m tempted to watch the fuckin’ hockey game tonight. I don’t a shit about it. Boston already lost so fuck ‘em. Getting excited about sports on TV is a little ridiculous. As well as ridiculous, it’s a waist of time. Wasting time is like - I don’t know. What is it similar to? A fish. A fish swims through the water all its life. Why shouldn’t it? That’s what all the other fish do. Fish swim in water because that’s what fish are suited for. And so what are we suited for. Walking on land. So why do we try so dam hard to do anything but. Maybe I’ll make some spaghetti. I want to hear Wiebke’s voice. Why does the phone cost so much? How do I get a line that doesn’t cost me? I want to be over there. Being here is bothering me now. But you don’t need to hear about my madness for a young woman on another continent. I’ve got to stop thinking about the seconds going by. I’ve got to get busy and get on it. Bla bla bla. I will likely write less in this letter until I am reunited with Wiebke. I want to write her a letter every day. When I’m over there, I will write to you some more until the honeymoon is over and I’m settled into school or a job or something. So until later. Stay true to yourself. Hello. 27 April A song to cheer up your day - Hide in front of your fuckin’ TV. Fill your head with shit. The world is dying around you. Don’t bother looking at it. Your death comes closer every day. As the planet waists away. Go to work to add to the construction. Of the world’s fuckin’ destruction. You’re a slave to your ignorance. Eyes open wide the blind. Putting yourself on hunched over backs Cowardly you destroy all mankind. Run to find shelter from the end. No more air to catch you breath. On your knees you beg for help. As you stumble through the dance of death. Fuckers. Have a happy day. It’s one of the last. Fuckers. Good night. Well Franny, it’s 29 today, I believe. I’m getting a physical today. I actually put on underwear in case I have to hang out in my gitch. It wasn’t so exciting for me to think about being naked. I’m hungry now as well. But I’m so freaked about when I see Wiebke next. She doesn’t want to wait till the end of June. And June is high season; so I guess I’ll go in the next 10 days if there is any way to do it. My stomach won’t settle down. It’s been years since I’ve experienced this love neuroses. I was a mess with you half the time. What if I’m writing and have nothing to say? I hate waiting in doctors offices. Penises and Vaginas. Think about that. How is your life? -Now then. It’s Monday May 10th I think. Soon my birthday. That’s something to thing about. Francisca. I was going to call Wiebke, Francisca. I’m not sure if that means anything. I think since I’m writing to you, your name is in my head and since bla bla bla. Wiebke has me in Germany for the month of May. She missed me too much to wait until June. It would not be good to wait so long. Everyone smokes in this country. And they have beer for lunch at the university. I got to drive Wiebke’s bike the other night since she had a beer and a half. So far today, it seems I have nothing to say. I want to take a shit and have a nap. This city has about 250,000 people. It’s one of the shabbiest towns but it’s not too bad. The university has pleasant surroundings, it’s unfortunate that the buildings are so ugly. I haven’t met Timon since I’ve been here. I met him once in Canada while he was over to see and stay with Wiebke. Although I tried to avoid showing my displeasure, he suspected later that I was the one who stole Wiebke’s heart. They had been lovers for 3 years. And people who try to be cool are only fooling fools and themselves. Themselves - is that a word? Everyone here speaks German. It’s a little disturbing because I don’t understand any of it. Most people enjoy being in love. What was my point today? The point of the day is - I want to take a shit. Wiebke’s taking me to see Flash Gordan tonight. It’s in English as well. So that’s something. I have to go back to Canada to pack up my life. I think it won’t be too hard. I love Wiebke and I don’t love Toronto so it’s no great sacrifice. I will miss a few of my friends but friends come and go through out your life. Some friends will stay in contact. That’s something I could do. Write postcards. It is a little annoying when I think I want to write and there is nothing to say. So until later, here I am in Saarbrücken Germany about to start a life with a woman. We are getting married next spring. - Now then Franny. I’m sorry that I will have to call you Franny sometimes. No disrespect intended. It’s partly because I was horny about Franny in the John Irving Novel, Hotel New Hampster. I’m now down at the river in Saarbrücken. I don’t know my way around this town but I though I’d go for a walk anyway. Wiebke is at a class now. She needed a little convincing to get up and go this morning. We’ve yet to learn how to be easy about not being with each other. Even a few hours can be a strain. Because we have to survive, we have to get accustomed to a few hours apart. We will be 2 months apart this summer if we can handle it. I have to go back to Toronto to make some money and pack up my life. I’ve got to find someone to take my room. I think that is the city Autobahn I’m hearing and seeing across the river in front of me. The ugly yellow opera house is behind me. Tomorrow Wiebke is taking me to see Jesus Christ Super Star. If she can get the tickets. If the music is done well it should be fun. Germans are fairly serious about everything so the performance should be good. My eyes are tired because I didn’t sleep well last night. I ate too much chocolate. I was so neurotic. I woke up fine but now I’m tired. I’m so in love with Wiebke that it drives me mad. She is beyond excellent. She is beautiful in so many ways. I’m so hungry for her love. I had no idea I would ever enjoy someone this much. Before I forget, I wanted to say I saw a version of Jesus Christ Super Star in Toronto at the Drake. My friend Richard was Jesus. He has a very good voice and is quite a performer. Their band has a tape out nationally now, so things are looking up.



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. fish_part_03



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