Letter to Francisca:
albatross_part - 4th book of a letter to Francisca.
In the air is the wind. On the wind is an albatross.
One doesn't find meaning, one makes it.
albatross_part_02

I’m doing something very radical today, Franny. I’m using a pen with blue ink; it has, oh a big German shepherd has come to say hello. Everyone, well many, has a dog of some sort around here. Most are curious about you and come for a sniff.

It has a replaceable Mine so not so much plastic ends up in the ground. It’s a new book so there’s no need to continue the green ink religion. It’s 15 degrees today. It’s the 22 or 23 or 24th of October. Saturday for sure. Mom and Dad called today for a ‘how are things going’ chat. They are planning to come over April or May. Mom is concerned that I’m fine with Wiebke away. And she’s going to send some money so I can by a plane ticket to see her. Well not exactly; she inherited a little and wants to give some to her kids and I’m half of them.

When a breeze blows, it rains yellow leaves all round my head.

I felt strangely happy today. After having a good morning phone call (13:00). I put on that ‘Gonna Move’ song from Sticky Fingers recording. The bluesy groove song that is just too cool, as one might say had he some experience in the soft drug culture.

I might get in trouble for saying this but I’m going to comment on our drug attitude. Though I abstain from most every drug now, with the exception of a glass of wine or a few beers, I believe it is more suitable for youth to try Marijuana, in it’s various forms, a few times, than alcohol.

And the reasons for alcohol, nicotine, caffeine, sugar, uppers and downers and every other chemical drug being legal is not at all altruistic. It has everything to do with money and control. A government is not protecting the people when it enforces anti pot laws, it is protecting the few rich and powerful who depend on the rigidity of the establishment.

What about kiddie porn, not a related subject by the way, should that be illegal? That question goes beyond me but it should alert us to the fact that if this stuff sells as bestiality likely does, than what is it in our psyche that makes some of us hungry for this? Taking away of forbidding the symptoms won’t be a cure. Maybe it does relate to the first. I likely don’t smoke pot because the stress level in my life doesn’t call for it. Some people need to chill out and there’s no sense denying it.

Let’s leave porno behind now. I’m not sure how it popped in. Someone versed in the topic can rave about it. And in case you’re wondering, I’m equally susceptible to being interested in videos of men and women going at it as the next fellow.

Let’s stick with one topic for a moment and that is drugs. Let’s start with a definition. Since my dictionary is at home, I’ll have to make one up. A drug is something that alters the neurone patterns in your brain. I think that’s a fair enough statement.

Let’s first decide what we think of drugs. Are drugs good or bad? Well, that of course, is purely a point of view and likely not resolvable.

Drugs distract you from your present brain condition. I should mention that sugar has, especially when combined with chocolate, a larger effect on my brain than a half dozen beers, provided I don’t drink too fast. And why mention that? Because we should remember that we’re all, with very few exceptions, doing drugs. Sugar is closer to a drug than a food and I won’t hear any arguments from sugar refineries.

So where was I going, anyway? I forget. I was going to mention that computer games and TV also effect the way the brain functions. Music affects it. Where is the line between one influence and the next. Driving a car in city tragic affects the brain more adversely, on average, than a joint of marijuana. City traffic also destroys the environment. It should be illegal before pot.
It’s all perspective. And sense money is our new religion and nothing matters but material wealth and power, there’s no sense deciding city traffic or clear cutting of virgin rain forest, hello pathetic Canadian puppets we call government, you corrupt slaves to big money and bribes and threats, there are no rights and wrongs. Only what supports the system matters. And the system supports only the elite; so the point of the rave is, the hole thing stinks, laws are so full of shit, this western world is domed and a cute puppy has just visited me, all black with soft fur.

It might rain today.

I want to get my yellow belt soon. I had it before. It shouldn’t take long. A little practice. I want my orange belt in 5 months. And why? Just ‘cause. I also want to run and only just ‘cause. And you should feel my legs.

Okay. I go now.

_bunnie stop_

I’m at home in my living room now, with a pen given to me by a woman at Rafiq’s wedding party. She’s a happy feminist. Happy feminists don’t have to hate all men. She has a box of pens at home. Her husband works or is BWT and I have no clue what they do. It is also a refillable pen. It has the big thick Mine. That’s like mean ah in English. Do they say refill or cartridge in English.

Fig trees are so easy to start. Just cut a branch off and stick it in wet earth or water and you get roots.

Besides the distraction, the drug of the whole thing, I thought I had a reason to write today. Maybe I had intended to develop the castle city story idea. I have sketched out ideas before and even tried writing eighty or ninety pages but I haven’t quite got the feel I want.

In my intro. the other day, I loosely explained the frame work, shall I elaborate on the adventure? No? Okay then. I go do something else.

Okay so I’m back after something to eat and a little listen to some scenes inside the gold mine or what is it called? While I was eating, I remembered a dream from last night.

I was at a fest of some kind. Again, my dad and sister where in the dream. Although hockey is not on this season because of money disputes, Dad was watching a game. It was 9 to 4 for Toronto I believe. Lois was making a lot of racket eating sunflower seeds. She didn’t care if I was trying to sleep. Outside, when I got there, time and space are quite different in dreams so it’s difficult to get the sense with a time and space language, the fest went on. A young woman was interested in me so I had to try to avoid her while my Dad was close by, but I managed to have a word with Brent, who appears much too often in my dreams, and slip away to an empty house. With two young women, I shut myself in and let happen what would. They took turns sucking me. It bothered me that they put blue stuff in their mouth while doing so, but they were having fun. While one of the young women, the one I hadn’t met before, shut the blinds and locked the doors, I explored the other with kisses. I was a bit taken back when I discovered she had two bras on, one seemed to be for padding but when I sucked on her small breast they grew to the size they had appeared to be before taking the bras off. They weren’t at all large but she was very lovely. Everything about her was quite desirable. I was disturbed by the way she had stuck a paper clip through her leg just above her ankle. It went in deep then came out again. There were three more paper clips dangling from it.

It is raining. Didn’t I tell you. Later.

_bunnie stop_

It’s Monday 24th of Oct. ‘94 and all is well. The sun’s just poking out and I had a good run and my arm hurts only a little and I’m missing Wiebke too much.

And Mr. Mann was about to rave to his class even though I told him he couldn’t spend much time in my book ‘cause we’ve heard quite enough complaining. Mr. Mann sit down.

‘Okay, class. Class. CLASS. SHUT UP!’

No just kidding. Maybe you’re too young to remember that. And I’m a little worried about these flag waving white frat. fellows across the street. And what’s this game where you have to do fencing until you cut each other’s face up? Is the manly? God, who is tot, please give us hope.

Mr. Mann was just going to ask his class what were the worst drugs; then he was going to give the history of sugar and tobacco and coffee and what’s up now. One of his students was going to remind him about the history of opium and tea and the British fleets and CIA and cocaine and now crack and ICE and who’s in charge and what is the CIA and is it more evil than the Roman Catholic church and what about the Church?

This is when I had to step in and discourage his bantering. My hands are a little dry today and I don’t like how it feels dragging across the paper.

Someone wanted to fuck me last night. It wasn’t so flattering, she never met me before and had left her house with intention to get fucked by someone. I was told this after she went home but it wouldn’t have made a difference. I can’t go slipping into any strange hole. Okay. Sorry for today’s entry. Maybe I have words later.

Short note before I go to bed. People sometimes ask, what do you do if you don’t have a television, you must get awful board. And I see it’s 02:00 and I don’t know why time seems to evaporate like one of those volatile substances that explode when making contact with air. Potassium is like that on water. And also let it be known that I want to mention I love my wife madly.

And one more thing. Why not build roofs with earth on them and plant bushes. They wouldn’t even have to be flat roofs. And it would add insulation value, hot and cold, as well as oxygen, especially in cities when so much space is used for buildings.

_bunnie stop_

November 2nd now. The weather is so pretty. Saarbrucken isn’t a bad town, except for the far too many cars making the place stink. And they have an odd way of speaking here. If course, I have no contact, well little, with Saarlanders, but the couple I do, speak real German. What I was thinking is that I could write a lovely poem to my wife. The lovely witch. Witch, only in the classification of some woman who has 4 classifications for women and 4 for men. Speaking of which, Brian wanted to write, theoretically of course, a book on: two kinds of people. There are two kinds of people. It’s endless. Hat wearers and not. Christian and those who go to hell. Ice-cream eaters and bla bla bla. I’m making some food. Wiebke has been gone over 2 weeks, almost 3. It hurts less than the first week. And I’m going to eat soon. I spend very little on food now. I spend little money. Sometimes - later. I eat now. Oh, what about the poem.

Once upon a time with a fish.
Which came from the big dish.
And jumped up on the table.
And said, ‘My name is Mable.’

Often, when I pick up this book, it’s because I feel like rambling, this time I was thinking about you Francisca. They were vague thoughts. I’m listening to Bruce Cockburn now. He is a bit pissed off about things. It’s an album form a few different ones. So he wonders where the bloody lions up and went to. And why do people starve on account of us putting sugar in our tea. And whenever I hear the song, ‘The Trouble with Normal’, I think of Norma. Only on account of the sound. Toby, my English friend, leaves late tonight. he has had enough of Germany and Nevin has to study and he’s too distracting. The kids said they’d take me to a party tonight but it’s after 10:00. But tomorrow is a howlerday. I don’t know what happened to Kim Krause. Or Luke Koyle or Tom Wishnowsky. What if one of your friends was in someone’s secret service and nobody told you but shot you anyway in case you might know something. The cat in the box theme seems important the last few days. You know the one with the proton, a vile of poison and a cat that is likely very hungry by now. I don’t think I want one of these 486ers any more. And the pentium will be out of date before anyone figures out why it was built. Anyone who knows computers, says Mac. ‘Hey Mac, don’t touch that or I’ll cut you nuts off.’ And why is the story about a boy with his finger on a chopping block, a boy with an axe and a dare, such a common story? Is that what happened to Markus? What happened to everybody? Are people still around? Why is it a pain in the ass to do things sometimes especially when you want to and you can but somehow you just rather put it off one more day? Deutsch music now. Elements of Crime and Wiebke went to the rock of Gibraltar and had a tea. She’s in the south of Spain and a 100 kilometres from England and Africa. Well, closer to Africa. The Moors went up through Spain once. They got pushed out. Jesus’ descendants were supposed to have gone to the south of France. Apparently there are some tits that think they have rights to certain crowns on account they come from the line. The Romans told Jesus to piss off. I’m sure someone will tell these royalty fucks to piss off.

In fact, there are many people who should piss off. The Nazis can piss off and so can the chosen race. Don’t give me this chosen race shit. What the fuck kind of bullshit is that. Considering there is just one race, the race of humans into idiocy, it seems a little off that there should be a chosen race. And it’s not just one chosen race claiming such a thing. I’m sure if you check it out, you’ll find a few chosen races. Most chosen races have a pretty good backing of years of obedient idiocy. Some just have big guns. Just look south, Franny. That’s the newest chosen race that’s winning the race. They’re well ahead of the countries to the south that they have nicely beaten the piss out of. ‘Hey, tell you what, we’ll do the cash crop thing, teach you terrorism, fuck up your land, bill you so that you can’t pay and then you can be our dogs.’ ‘Ya, that sounds like a swell idea. Can you kick us as well?’ ‘Oh, sure, that goes without saying.’ And by the way. It’s November 15. Six months till my birthday and 3 weeks till I go visit Wiebke. Okay, Franny, quick, without thinking, what’s this thing they call love? First answer then get on with it. I was thinking about baboons. They don’t kiss as much as humans. There’s possibly a reason for this, you can consult your local biologist or what. The reason is, they don’t have tits and red lips on there face. Just the lips, I mean. The tits are on the chest. I don’t want to invest too much time on this, but next time you, actually you’re a good example but since more people know Rebecca DeMoray, did I say this before? Anyhow. The shape of her ass and her tits are very well matched. For a man, this is biologically irresistible. And when you add red lips, we don’t need red lips, you get a cunt on your face. So men are madly, biologically attracted to this. It’s purely sexual. And off course, it’s so nice you want to touch and kiss it. And not just at reproduction time. It’s always ripe, so we always want to be in there. And so, I’m thinking you have to cut guys a little slack if the say: ‘Hey, look at those tits.’ They really are mad about it.

One other point is: It ain’t necessary for tits to be bold when they ain’t milking. That’s just another point to support the: Red lips round tits and designed to make men love women, theory. Now why the fuck a woman would love a man, I’m speaking only on regard to this previous idea, is beyond me. Although my tits ain’t bad. But I suppose women want, biologically, a strong mate to pass on good genes and go get some woolly mammoths. Or fish. Or a TV dinner, but we had TV dinner 3 days in a row and they are such a waist of packaging and freezer space which means energy, which mean pollution. So let’s go to MacDonnald’s then. Okay, or we can just go cut down some virgin forests and not bother eating. Ya, we can cut down a bit more jungle and skip the cigarettes. We can have a tea and just shoot an island person and forget the sugar. Ya. That would be quicker. Ah, but it’s easier for us if we just pop the TV dinner in. Ya. Much more, what is the word? That word that means death nine times out of ten? Oh, yes. Convenience.

_bunnie stop_

by Joanne B. Washington

read on. albatross_part_03



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