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_05

Why do we still have Nazis? There are signs of them here more then in Toronto and it scared me there. It scares me for I fear nothing more than stupidity. There is no explaining right and wrong for it is not so clearly definable. Had the Nazis won the second world war, we would surely have had a few different ideas. Maybe, maybe I’m naive though; it wouldn’t have lasted. The Roman Empire didn’t last. They had a hold on a large landscape. But now the masses can read and write. That makes them harder to control. But I wanted to think about the Nazis for a minute. What is it that breads that attitude? It may be very natural. Self preservation sometimes requires genocide. I’ve been reading the Bible lately. I’ve read the first half of the resent Jewish form of the Hebrew version. It reads well. Like an old story. Such as the Iliad. Besides rape and murder and countless other perversions of what one might think as sensible humanistic behaviours, the Israelites, God’s chosen people, were big on genocide. If the fuckers are in their path and they don’t want to be circumcised and worship the right god, than kill ‘em all. Men, women, children, cattle, cats, dogs and burn the rest to the ground. That’s (part of*) the Jewish history. And most people’s histories are similar. What did the Spanish do to Mexico, Central and South America? In case you didn’t hear: They nearly wiped out every native. And the British the same thing farther north. And the natives did similar things to each other before the Europeans dropped in for a quick rape of the land. Chinese did it in Tibet. Walked in and wiped out a country. It has happened everywhere and I doubt if there are many exceptions. And it doesn’t even matter if the people are from different countries. Just a few hundred miles from here in Yugoslavia they are beating the piss out of each other. The Americans might not bomb the place because there isn’t any finical advantage to them. No oil there. So the whole fuckin’ world is either at war or sucking the Earth dry and we wonder what to do about our hair. And what else can we do? John Lennon imagined but I don’t know if that’s the ticket. Do we just cry and wish the world was a better place? And if you decide to do something, what if you don’t even do the right thing? Maybe it’s pointless. The world will do as it does so do what you do and roll with the punches. I’m fucking hungry. We leave Sunday for Saarbrücken. Wiebke is worrying about things. Franny. I may actually be scarred. I don’t know what I’m in for. I also know that I’m not going to be comfortable with myself if I pursue a comfortable life. It will be more natural for me to be in a little trouble, fighting at something and making a little noise that might very well go unnoticed. Sometimes, I fear that I may be more of a fool than all the fools I see who appear to have no awareness. Sometimes, even when I hear Wiebke talk, it sounds like she has too many rules congesting her head. I don’t doubt that I love her. It’s a possibility though, that she may believe I am weird and thus what I rave about is of no consequence. More than anything, I want to create magnificent literary works. I’ve been playing with an idea for my next novel that is even more powerful than my first two. I want to be able to work hours per day at writing. I don’t want the poison of ‘it doesn’t make any fuckin’ difference’ to hold me back. Immobility is also crippling me. Sometimes I allow my Christian upbringing to remind me that you can’t have fun and enjoy your life. That isn’t so good either. And I need so much love now. I’m so addicted to it. I don’t want to be negligent and lose it. Franny. I don’t know why I keep writing this letter to you. I hardly know you and you never even were very interested in me, yet I find it much easier to write with you in mind than I do most anything else, such as a book or a letter. I had no trouble writing a few hundred pages to Wiebke when we were apart for 2 months. If there is any way and I’ll make a way, I’m going to survive here, learn about Europe, read more and write that novel that is begging to be written. Here’s Wiebke. -Yikes. What a sex obsessed women. So pretty to have such a hungry lover. Anyway, it’s night time now and Wiebke will read a little out of Grapes of Wrath before we nod off. Now I’m wondering if I’m hungry but that’s fine. It is better to not eat too soon before sleep. Oh. Here she is taking he clothes off. -We saw a dance performance tonight. 3rd of Sept. now. One of the dancers, the prettiest one, looked a little like you. Almost too much that it was a bit disturbing so that I had to keep thinking of you. She had that upper lip thing that drives me batty. Take a look in the mirror. I knew a family like that. It is far too sexy to talk about. I guess you know you’re very sexy and beautiful so I won’t go on about it. She also moved similar to you, even her face. It was a good show to watch. It was a little farcical. Well choreographed. Here’s Wiebke, my love. So later Franny. -Sunday. This house eats pens. I’ve lost 6 or 7 pens in the last month. Here this one is. Fuck. I have to learned to like my future in-laws. As it turns out, there is a very large problem. I knew I should not come here. I knew that after last visit. I told Wiebke it would not be good. But her job was here and she needed to work for a few weeks and we were too hungry for each other to wait until September for me to come. I think it was better I came. Right from the beginning is a good time to learn about people. I don’t think I’ll go on about it since - I’m not sure why; let’s just leave it alone after I say that I’ve never felt so mothered since I was seven and I will resort to violence with Wiebke if she becomes like her obsessed and deranged mother. Most of the time I am exposed to people’s parents, I am glad I had the ones I did. And that’s the end of that. I might even scratch this out if I ever reread it. If I ever decide to print it on my computer. That’s such much work to take writing to computer and edit it and rewrite it and all the corrections and deletions and additions. For this, I wouldn’t do so much. I may end up making two copies. One for you and one for me. And leave it at that. No real sense trying to make a book out of it. Lessen I’m already a known writer and people just want to read more of it. And also this letter has been good to keep me scratching a pen on paper and keeping the whole writing thing going. The mother thing is back and trying to be in charge of every thing and complaining and I hate it so much. She wants to tell everyone what to do, how to do it, why they are stupid and how hard life is when what she really means is why don’t I get love from my husband and why do I have so much guilt that I’ve hidden. I hate how she won’t fuckin’ stop her fuckin’ manipulation and controlling. I don’t want to see her again. I don’t want to come here for Christmas; I don’t want to get married in Lübeck. I don’t want her meddling in my life. How do people end up being so shitty? Shut the fuck up and relax. Worry about stupid shit. Wiebke was about to get into bed, now she’s off being told how to be by someone who doesn’t know what to do about her own shitty existence. I hate having my head space blocked up with the bullshit rules of life of people I don’t know or care to know. And my nerves are fucked. I’m so fucking jumpy. I’m set off at every little thing. Bla bla bla. Have I said that lately. Do I even know who I’m writing to anymore? Now here we are in Saarbrücken at yet a new place for me to live. I am the sixth to join, so it is a full flat. Yesterday would have been labour day in Canada. For Wiebke and I, it was race down the Autobahn on her Yamaha 600. I did most of the racing because Wiebke was content to watch as I charged through the traffic. Everything is a little faster in Germany. Everything a little more frantic. Even when you go at 130 - 140 kms/hr, BMW’s and Mercedes fly by at double your speed. We’re starting the next phase of life where Steve has to make money so we can find a place to live together, on our own. We won’t be welcome here long. We certainly over stayed our welcome in Lübeck. I’m not sure if I ever want to go back there. Alexis, I also had a friend with that name, is also working without papers. He said he would have a look to see if anyone needed a Canadian worker. Wiebke is putting things in order. She is so pretty. I’ve always enjoyed writing with a cheep ball point pen. Bic has nice ones now with a retractable tip. And it is soft plastic. Now I will return to it. Wiebke and I haven’t had sex in over two days. We get so rangy when we can’t - What was it? And now, if you could see my handwriting, you would know I was a good part of the problem. She’s vacuuming now. I hate dirty kitchens. They have the deal where you take turns cleaning and it always ends up a huge pile of shit. - We had a bit of a supper, now Wiebke has fucked off to karate class. I’d like to go to karate class but I have no money to spare. I start German classes in two weeks. Now I’m contemplating having a nap. Listen to a tape. That’s what I want now. I might even masturbate but maybe tonight I - - Now it is Wednesday. Wiebke has gone off to kick boxing. How do you know if you know someone? I’ve been beside myself for 33 years and there are many things I don’t know about my own self. One thing I’ve learned is that I have to be suspicious of convictions. And on that note I drift off into space wondering who I’m getting married to. How do you know how to trust a stranger with your love? Do you just take a chance. Sometimes it surprises me a little that I’m here in Germany living with someone I’ve known only a few months. But then, what of it? Animals know to mate and I was very sure that I wanted mate with - this is such a sad song. That tape is all my favourite hurting songs. This one is Alice Cooper’s My Heart’s a Virgin. Where was I? And what does it matter? Disconnection is my biggest handicap. I may be disturbed more than I care to admit. But that’s what it takes to be a great artist of any kind. I wouldn’t want to be balanced. It would be too predictable. I will spend much more time painting and writing as the days go on. Although most of my writing has been toward no goal lately, I have kept up the motion. I have been transferring ink to paper. I’ve questioned it’s usefulness. There is always the urge to be inert. I could be a vegetable. Maybe there is no reason to do otherwise. - What was I saying? I enjoy my mind no matter what path it ventures on. Sometimes it seems I am experimenting with my life and mind. Love may be a big thing. I am very hungry for love. No matter how much I get, I will need more. I want Wiebke to love me and I want my friends to love me. I want the Earth to love me. And so far I have no reason to complain. What is fucking? It seems so banal when I think of it but I long to do it often. But wait. What are we rambling about here? I want to start working out again. I want a routine to my life again. Even a part time job for a while. Or a good shit. Or a lobotomy. Or a history wrecked me. Fuckin’ relax. Germans are much more jumpy than any other selection of humans I’ve come across. And maybe I am a bit of a sly bastard and it is fucking time that I get going on my next novel and editing my other ones. Why is it that with so much to do I haven’t been doing much at all? I suppose Wiebke and I will be less together when I’m in my German course and she in school and I writing and her out kicking or getting drunk with the boys. November 12, 93. I haven’t written anything to Franny for a long time. I’m stuck with my novel that I’ve been beating at for a couple years now. I know what I want and I know where I want to go with it but I’m having trouble getting to know the characters and the land. The first thing I want to do is get the young narrator to tell of her trip across the desert. She’s already over it and in a village outside the castle city but I want to tell of the journey to get to where she is. Soon it will be time for her to go to the castle city and then there will be no time for thinking about previous days for she will be too rapped up in her most absurd life experiences. The castle city may have to be recorded by - I’ve finally got a job over here. Of all places, the Irish Pub. I’ll have to tell Mike and Marcus. How are you now Franny. Sometimes I wish you were my friend and I could talk to you and write letters. Sometimes it seems odd to write to you so much and not know if I will ever send you a copy. I want a computer as soon as possible. I also want my first two novels published and have a little income so I can make writing my work. I would even make a little book out of this. Maybe there’s nothing of value in it for others so it would not be sent to publishers but sometimes it’s the things that don’t seem likely to be anything that become something. I find it most easy to write when I think I’m writing to someone. I would love to have an audience to write to. I could think of them as I wrote and feel I had friends to bleed on. How much is 1000 Tysiaczlotych from Poland worth? Nothing probably. Sometimes I wonder what it is I intend with my actions. I have the poison of nihilistic existentialism. The song the Neville Brothers sing about sister Rosa is actually true history. She didn’t get up for a white person who wanted her seat. Funny thing is, that wasn’t so long ago. Sometimes I feel so embarrassed for being white. And those cheese balls up stairs always listen to shit music with programmed heavy bass pounding down to our room. We have a place of our own for Jan. 1. It will be more quiet. A little balcony. A little back yard to share with only a few. The landlady is 86 years old and she’s alert and cheery. Wiebke exaggerated the truth a little and said she was a teacher. Which is a little premature but places to live are so hard to find in this country. Fuckin’ grim. Pardon me. Toronto is easy in comparison. How is Toronto? I miss it sometimes. Especially some of the people. Someone came home. Our WC is shared with one other person in our new flat but we have our own tub and sink. And a fair size kitchen. Oil stoves for heating. I hate assholes that play shit music so load. Relentlessly. Can’t they have a little variety? It’s time for me to have some good fortune with my work. I’m going to start painting as well in the new flat. And there are softwood floors as well. That is so pretty. I hate carpet. Rugs I don’t mind. Franny. I’m going to get married very soon. Wiebke. And she’s a very beautiful woman. She has so much love for me that she knows I need. Most of us do. That’s not so unusual. It’s not easy to be ready for love. It took me till I was 33 to start to trust it. Although it makes little difference one way or the other. Thomas and his girlfriend are home now. I guess I will soon smell smoke. She smokes less now because she has a baby in her womb. It was a surprise for them but I think it will be good for them. It’s good for most people. Although I never said so, I though about the possibility of having children with you. But you might not be so interested in children. Wiebke wants children. Maybe we ship some up soon. Shit. I don’t know where my grandmother’s address is. I wrote her a letter but it just sits here. Did I tell you my grandfathers died? Within 5 days, they both died. Both within 3 days of when I left the country. My dad’s dad was very happy to see I had found a good woman. Your mind, at least it should, changes quite some as you spend more time seeing things. There are bad chemicals in this pen. Don’t chew plastic pens. We shouldn’t even buy them. They end up in dumps. There’s a Toblerone within my reach and so far I have not had the urge to eat any of it. If it was dark chocolate, maybe that would be different. Wiebke is at Petra’s tonight making pastries. Only a month till two weeks before Christmas. I may be alone for it. I will probably be working and tell Wiebke to go visit her parents. Her parents don’t need to see me so I will not go up there. Maybe after we’re married and I can speak the language and they’ve got used to the idea - na. I have to think of what music to put on next. I might play one song of Soundgarden. Something about a rusty cage. It’s pretty. So are you. It’s not so relaxing though. It’s the kind of song to play at a bar like the Bovine. It’s Friday. I’d go out now if I had somewhere to go. It’s midnight or so. I’m getting anxious. I want to open a club. I will as soon as I have the capital. Non smoking as well. It’s time for loud rocking with clean air. Soon, I have to decide if I will keep writing to you. This is near the end of the second Hilroy 200 page note book. Not the full size. This music makes me so uneasy. It probes into the reptile part of the mind. Unfortunately, I can’t handle his voice too long. It’s not nice. Maybe I better form a rock band. If I was to bump into Mike West here, I would for sure. I wonder if there are any like him over here. That’s it for today. There is nothing left for me to say. Only ink on paper if I continue today. So this book I put away. I will return to it another day. Maybe Christmas time, while I’m alone here. Then we’re moving. First of Jan. Love you as always. Probably never see you again but I still want to be your friend. F.Z., this book’s almost over. Do I start the 3rd one? Today is November 19, 1993. My stomach still feels uneasy from the incident I witnessed today. It’s odd that before this incident I was pondering what the function of life was. How did it work? That sort of thing. I was wondering how our consciousness fit in to the whole thing. As far as I could see, life was a general thing. Specific points of reference, such as one’s self, tend to distort the possible over all picture. This I may yammer on about another time. Now I want to touch on the event. Wiebke is home, so either I put this off or her. Maybe she’ll have a shower. Three of Wiebke’s friends took us to the zoo today. It was cold so most animals were inside. We watched the flamingos prune themselves and we then went to the African pavilion. There we viewed such elegant, pretty and cute furry animals. Now this is where I questioned the thing. What has us convinced all these things are sweet and cute? Those beliefs are a little silly. Things are rather how they are. Each thing tries to survive in its particular way characteristic to its nature. Why it’s like it is is most likely directly related to the niche it fills to be part of the life that feeds on life that feeds on life that feeds on life. Everything feeds on life. I suppose you could argue about plants but we leave that to biologist and it doesn’t matter to me quite yet. Upon our relaxing trip through the animal prison we came upon the ape and chimpanzee pavilion. First thing to be noticed out of the ordinary was that something black was coming out of the back end of one of the inmates. It was soon realized to be the head of a baby. I thought we were in for a beautiful moment where new life came into the small community. The birth raised a terribly awful loud and frantic stir. The mother, who looked quite old, was harassed by others. She ran and jumped and climbed and swung and eventually she held the baby to her chest. I didn’t see it come out for she was out of sight for a moment. The screaming continued. She screamed and clung to her baby. But the baby did not cling to her. I don’t know about baby primates but it seemed dead to me. It may have been a still birth. I may believe this mostly because that is what I wanted to believe. All was lost as far as I could tell but the torment got worse. Her baby was stolen from her and the thief was bigger and would not and did not give it back. He or she carried it as others pursued and screamed. The baby was carried gently at times yet upside down. Other times the new owner carried it by holding it’s arm in his/her jaws. Still it was to get uglier. As the afterbirth and blood lay scattered on the floor some gentle examining went on just before the madness increased. I saw the eye hanging out on one pass. On another pass after a short time away to see the apes, I saw the face was well ripped off now. It was not working. Maybe they couldn’t understand that. I don’t know if it was dead and the new owner, the thief or father, was frustrated and lost his senses or he was the boss and didn’t think it was his kid or maybe none of it makes sense because primates in prison are not normal so the scene may have been relative to the environment. It was terrifying for the humans to watch. When at last I saw the new owner probing the baby in it’s anus as if it was carrion or a broken toy, I cared to see no more. I’m a little upset that the zoo keeper would be so negligent. If the mother was separated earlier, perhaps it would be a living animal. Now it is only mutilated meat. I don’t think I’m going to try to reflect on it anymore now. Maybe there is a simple explanation, usually we can explain things away, but there is little can be done and I’m not so sure anything can be learned. Things aren’t as they seem, they say. Someone has said it. And I may have to learn how to reason a little less and function as a simple life form. But I won’t so I go on as I do. Have a good day, Franny. I will go give Wiebke some touch now. Till later. Not much later. Wiebke and I laid in bed and talked about the thing a little. We are now in agreement that it was the master, the biggest male of the group. The one in charge that was the big problem. In the wild, the female goes away to have the baby. Likely they are usually separated in captivity as well. So when he saw one of his women having something and not wanting him to have it, trouble was inevitable. I can’t get the picture out of my head. I still see the eye ball hanging out. The vision of the face ripped off after that and the final sight of the master forcing his finger in and out of the baby’s ass. It was so terribly sad. I suspect that the master didn’t quite understand the delicacy of the situation. He, like many males in power, lost control when he felt threatened. I wonder if I should have left earlier but I couldn’t. Not knowing for sure if there was any hope made me stay, then I wanted to see how they dealt with the situation. So primal was it that it worries me. Primates, as with many other creatures, snap from complacent to outrage in an instant. I don’t think most people realize it’s in us all. We’ve all heard stories of the quiet boy who lost his character and went on a rampage. I’m not sure if I can lead into the next subject gracefully bur since that never seems to matter, I’ll see what happens if I just jump. The thought of religion occurred to me today. Religion probably had served a purpose at one time. I always think the worst of religion, that it rapes the mind, leaves it week and desperate. It makes fools follow the most absurd fallacies. Thousands of different creeds have manipulated masses most of the ages. It keeps people in order and ready for war. How closely it’s related to war, I’m frightened to think about for the observations I disclose may make me to be a heinous monster. I have no doubt that most religion is evil. No religion is without fault and danger. But without being too harsh, it did serve a purpose. It gave a frame of reference. Without a frame of reference, it is difficult to make sense of things. It is one thing humans need is to make sense of things. It has some comfort in it. With no point of reference, where we might be soon if religion loses hold, we will require a new mind. No less. I don’t mean to sound exaggerated but with our unstable condition, if we lost frame of reference, if suddenly we realized we were completely ignorant, we might have chaos leading to entropy. Religion does not work anymore. Maybe because there to too much information, too much knowledge, coupled with an ungrounded mind, for us to accept outrageous bald-face lies. Hitler said, ‘The bigger the lie, the more people will follow.’ May have been right for his time but if we don’t leave our heritage of ignorance, we will all scurry to the end of it all. So to sum up, have a good day. Don’t start any more religions and know that it’s all right to be pretty. And relax about things once a week. And I’ll be married soon. Later. Franny. I am excited to try my green, grün, pen. I’ve had it 2 months and have not used it. I’ve decided that I would start writing to you more often even if these entries are never sent. In W. Sommerset Maughm’s novel, I noticed him questioning weather or not Strichland doesn’t care for recognition of his art. Maughm couldn’t believe that he, himself, would be so urged to write on a desert island if there was no chance anyone would ever read his words. It would surely be a madness to drive one to write or paint or act , if there were not real humans to share the experience. Tarash has not washed the dishes for 3 or 4 days now. They are piled to the ceiling. I still see the baby chimp. Less than 30 seconds before it changed from life to meat. But this is the last page. I have another book I could start. It would be F.Z. three. I already started the green one with my novel. I’m stuck on it, so have neglected it. I hate it when I’m stuck, so I ramble carelessly to you in these monologues. Here’s no. ‘Tis not. I think Tarash has left again. I shall open the door to let



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. wombat_part_01



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