Letter to Franny:
barbaralba_part - 5th book of a letter to Franny.
In the foundation was a mule in the sub superstucture is Barbaralba.
One doesn't find Barbaralba, one waits.
barbaralba_part_05

Well now. Here it is next day. I’m suddenly quite excited. I was drifting into vacancy hoping for any form of entertainment, almost wishing I had a television, hoping for a phone call, even a wrong number. Or a visit from a Mormon or a JW. Petra called to ask me to feed her cats Saturday and Sunday but that was the extent of the entertainment. I was tempted to go see a movie at one of the rep. cinemas but decided on keeping my money for food. I’m in need of some now. I had little desire to make anything today. I did have another excellent run. But as to my condition. I was writing to Wiebke and told her how I wanted to start my long awaited next novel. I suddenly thought I was ready to start and there it was. My pen was in motion and the story was setting out most pleasantly. It’s the first work I’ve ever started having made plans and sketches of. I know the land and people so well that it’s just a matter of telling it. It comes at a good time, having decided that these are the last pages of this, whatever it is. And I’m in need of a creation. I have my second novel to type out but that is work with little joy. Satisfaction sure, but to write and know it’s going to be excellent is a feeling I’ve never had before. My other novel and stories and poems were started with little to no idea. It shall be my most mature and possibly important work to date. I will evolve from becoming a writer to being one. There’s several pages left in this and since there’s no direction, I can chose to end it on the last page so I will let you know how I’m coming along before I close this book. I must get up early, so good night. And I may go see Hotel New Hamster even if they tell me it’s not nearly as good as the book and I’ll see if the Franny character reminds me of you. Though if I had a choice who to have a cup of tea with, I’m sure I’d rather look at you. And even if it’s ten years from now, I’d still enjoy an afternoon chat. There are a few people I’d like to meet again to see what is in their heads. And since I’m a writer, I might even make a project of it one day. Like ‘My Dinner With Andre.’ I’d write a book; call it afternoon tea at the Squeeze with Tim, Jamie, Jamie, Rick, Rick, Ken, Gary, Doug, Brent, Geoff, Henry, Tauqir, Peter, Alex, Amer, Trish, Jim, Francisca, Heather, Andrew, Catherine, Joanne, Donna, Russel, Russel, John and shit the list would be quite extensive and some would require a few pages but it’s maybe a far fetched idea. But if I could do it, I might and I could take a tape recorder and people could tell me whatever they thought was important to them. And then I might weave it into a story. I’ll think about it. First, though, I still want to do the picture book with Paola. It would be a gage. Later.

bunniestop

Shit. It’s 3:30. I only have a chance of 5 hours sleep if I’m there now. I’m not. I’m too restless. I’ve been trying to think of anything but my book knowing I’ll want to write ideas down. Here’s one: There are two moons, one somewhat larger than the other. They take different times to revolve around the planet. I’ll have to work out the math. But on every 85 days is super high and low tide. Super high isn’t like the Bay of Fundy or anything but it is very significant for the later or middle part of the book. There is a land that is only reachable about every third low tide. That’s every 255 days. And if you go there, either you climb impossible mountains to get out or you take your chances on the most dangerous strip of water on the planet. Who’s there and why we might need to know, I’m not telling you but I’m sure it will be important.

It’s 4:04 so I guess it’s Saturday now. I was going through some old writings to see if there were any ideas I had for my book. There wasn’t much that isn’t stored in my head. I must admit I was pretty obsessed with loving you. I was quite desperate and lonely and angry for some time in Toronto. Not a happy boy. Wiebke’s love has changed me noticeably. The monster, whatever it is, still lingers. Thea was a little concerned about it once and I didn’t really know it was something someone could notice. Thea, of course, has a different way of seeing then most people. I really enjoyed that about her. I almost thought I could love her but we were in two separate fairy tales. I’m still a little lost in unreality but I’m harnessing it to write with. Sometimes, even now, I feel extremely lonely. Wiebke being at the end of the continent might be part of the cause but it’s part of me and I doubt I’ll ever lose it. German words keep bombing around in my head. I’ll be happy when I can use them. I sometimes have German conversations with myself now. I suppose there’s no honest way of denying that this letter shows an unrealistic obsession with your memory. I assure you, and Wiebke as well, that I have no illusions. That’s not true; I have as many illusions as the next guy. But I’m well aware of them and I know what’s what and though I’m not sure what I mean with this letter, once it’s finished I’ll take a few sessions of therapy and pack in this obsession. Maybe I’ll write a 500 page letter to someone I knew for an even shorter time. Maybe someone I never met. Okay. I turn out the light. Guten Nacht.

bunniestop

Sometimes, like now, I wonder how other people’s brains work. I’d like to read people’s diaries. Diaries not meant to be read. I’ve been looking over some writing again to see if I had ideas for my novel. Not much but it was a process. Have to eat shit before you grow up to be a pretty Mistkafer. Scarat. Scab. News is: I’m not supposed to use my left arm. I’ve my first therapy tomorrow after my meeting with the people who try to get you off welfare. And most importantly, my novel is progressing. Slowly, but it’s good. I go sleep now.

bunniestop

-What I would like to know, you cock sucking piranha, is what the fuck if I’m dead tired at 9:30 PM and I have to get up at 8:30 AM, that it is now almost 2:30 AM and I can’t relax enough to even remember what the word sleep means? Huh?

Sn ‘More coffee?’

S ‘No!’

Hello, dear Franny. It’s the middle of, bloody hell, it’s VD. I don’t think they celebrate that here. Funny how there is so much to do that I can’t do any of it and days slip away like bridges over a river. Or however that saying goes. Bla Bla Bla Bla Bla Bla Bla. Pretty well sums up anything I’ve got to say today. I wasn’t excited about my book which is silly ‘cause it ain’t writ yet and so how can I know. I have to say my second one is pretty cool. And I’d like to type it out but I’m always waiting and waiting for a program for the computer, or the computer. Wiebke will be home in a month and I won’t have started. Everything takes twice as long or longer. Especially with official things. Officially, by the way, none of this really happened. It has just been an experiment to see how things would work if it was done this way. And as we can all see, it’s just a big mess. So we’ll write it off and hang up our skates, as they say. Not so much over here. Hang up your soccer shoes, maybe. Or your coat. Don’t just throw it on the floor. What if the dog pisses on it? Did you know, I certainly didn’t, that the finest tweed has to be pissed on by donkeys? There’s a book out now in the front window of a couple book stores here. Urine and how to use it. The just of it is, piss on it. This sounds a little wacky at first or eighth go through the mental process, but supposedly it’s good for half of what ales ya. I think the rule of foot, ah, finger, thumb Asshole. Oh, yes, Thumb asshole and piss in face. Don’t swallow the first bit. The middle bit of the morning piss is the best, they tell me. Not most people. In fact, very few. Possibly just one or two. It’s not totally new either. I heard a report, some guy has been drinking his piss for years. Army boys are told to piss in their new boots. Piss on your hands if the skin’s all chapped. But you can read the book. It’s silly for me to report on it with such little insight. I just want you to be prepared for when someone tells you one day, piss on it, maybe it’s what you ought to do. Speaking of piss, I’m going to go waist mine down the sink. And having sang a hymn, they went out to the mount of olives. With a case of beer, two bags of tobacco and rolling papers a small hand saw, a bag of carrots, a yellow wagon, four bags of unleven bread, a roasted doughnut and an autographed picture of Robin Lewis. I think.

bunniestop

Did you know cumin is a member of the carrot family? Today I was wondering if Webster could explain to me cult and culture. Except that one is possibly a bacteria, the meanings aren’t so different. Usually we think of culture as something that’s gone on for a long time. If someone does something a 1000 years, it’s more cultured than someone doing something 100 years. I’ll skip to the end.

bunniestop

Ich verspreche dich, das es stimpt was ich vorsprechen. I think that’s a proper sentence. It seems odd to me that I’m starting to understand this language. I might even learn to enjoy it. I’d like to back track a little and say something about culture. Like bacteria, it’s not so easy to mix. Okay, that’s a lame analogy but it seems to me, most of the stuff on this frail and suffering planet is motivated or aggravated by peoples unwavering, unquestioned belief in their culture. It’s only natural that if you have been taught one culture and it is affirmed that yours is the best one, you and your flag waving friends will have trouble with - I suppose I’m dwelling on the obvious. And might I have a solution? Not a realistic one. ‘Excuse me, Mame, what you believe to be the right way to be ain’t the only way to be.’ In fact, it is likely, no matter what your culture is, unless it’s in your yoghurt, it is base on unfounded and untried assumptions. The forefathers were no wiser. Two Thousand years can be just as wrong as two hundred. I’ll leave it now. Bill Clinton. I wonder about him. I might have to say, that if I knew a little more about him, I might think he’s not such a bad guy. But since I’m pretty ignorant, I won’t draw conclusions. He’s got an impossible job, I hope the people give him some support. And I don’t think Nixon was all bad either. His mistake was just getting caught. I can’t remember the big guys name in college. He played on the Beef Eaters football team in London. Everybody liked him the first week of school. I made it a point not to like him. I wanted to challenge him. He was upset at me once and said that I knew a little about a lot of things but didn’t no a lot about anything. Something like that. I remember it made me smile. After the rest of the class grew tired of him, I started to like him more. The board around the bed is extremely dusty. Wiebke would not like it. I’m usually a good house keeper with the exception of dusting and cleaning the top of the stove. It’s funny, you meet so many people in your life and they all seem to disappear. But I did get a call from Trish and Amer and a letter from little Eva. Franny, I thought I might come out with something to say tonight but maybe I’m just hoping in vain for a small reprise for doing so little during the day. I’m in big trouble. Welfare is going to make me have a job. They give jobs away that real people don’t want. Auslanders take what they can get, especially when they don’t speak the language. And it’s the only way. As Bryan would say, quoting Robert Plant, ‘It’s nobody’s fault but mine.’ This I know, so if I complain, disregard it. I don’t hold the belief that we are not free to choose. Usually it’s not easy to do what you want. It helps to know what you want. So the answer of course, should you or I chose to heed it is, work at it. Being completely convinced of what must be done means nothing if not followed by action. I commend people like Bryan and Steve and Amer and the rest of them, that pick their direction and stick to it. I hope I can say the same about myself very soon. Maybe I’ll let you know. There’s enough to motivate me. Especially now with fear added to it. Running to something never seemed to get me to move very fast, but running away from, I may be good at that. Yesterday was, I was going to say Halloween, VD. Good Night. Guten Nacht. Schlaf gut.

bunniestop

Just a quick note here Friday afternoon, nachmittag: Animals, from bacteria to blue whales, that’s scale reference in case you are wondering, have been shitting and pissing on this planet for millions of years. Now because the topic of excrement of the liquid type was disgusted a few days ago, I will leave the topic to your imagination while I try not to show my scatological tendencies.

bunniestop

Though I’m not sure if I won’t want to start another book in this letter, I’m glad it’s nearing the end for the one reason being that I am never certain when I pick something useless to rave about, that maybe I have done so eighty or two hundred pages ago. Having put forth my awkward disclaimer, I’m going to touch just briefly on drugs, with full knowledge that I must have at least once before. I was listening to the Sticky Fingers Album so naturally thought of cocaine and morphine which then led me to think of LSD. First off, I shan’t try to convince you that there is much merit in these drugs, but I will say that if I had the urge for one of them, I’d have to become a criminal. Where as, if I had the urge for some sugar, chocolate, tea, coffee, tobacco, pain killers, alcohol, decongestants, or whatever else I’ve forgotten, not only would I be well within the law, I may even be participating in a social and of course commerce, or what should I say to express putting money into the tax and profit system, and the last word of the sentence should we ever get to it is, event. Before I propose any questions, I’ll go straight to the answer just to conserve these last few pages. The answer is, I’m not sure. Let me guess. Money. Not just the money made from the legal drugs and the money made by the illegal drugs, it’s no secret anymore that the CIA is profiting quite nicely from drugs, but, oh these run on sentences, how did I get into that habit? Let’s start a new one. Just a phase, an incomplete sentence. Socially conducive. That’s just a guess. I’ve heard the thesis before but it was from a mad man. If a drug fit in with the work till you’re 60 ideal, than that’s okay. If a drug twist up your head and you start thinking, ‘why work man?’ then naturally, it’s not so good. To conclude this unfocused ramble, I want to state that marijuana leads to heroin like jumping off the back step leads to jumping our of plains. Okay, it didn’t fit so well but I had to try it. Drug addiction can be detrimental to your life, legal or illegal. Not the life, the drugs. But I think science should be free to research what’s up and not be hired by pharmaceutical companies. And don’t share needles, it can kill you. Shit. It’s 16:00. I must go by a case of water. FSK. Okay.

bunniestop

As someone my parents age might say, ‘this is a fine how do you do’. It’s 05:32 and I can’t sleep. I can’t even slow down my head. Luckily, I don’t have to get up tomorrow any particular time but I do Tuesday. I have what could be loosely termed as a job interview. My biggest fear is that I may be obliged to accept it. This fear has motivated me to stop with the excuses for FSK. The pressure may be enough to cause me to function like a human being rather than tending toward the skulking hermit description. I’m tempted to get up and have breakfast. I must admit I’ve fairly well given up on Milton and his Religiphobia. It’s one of the books you should read if you want a full rounding of literature. Perhaps it is the wrong time. I remember trying to stay awake long enough to read the Iliad and had to give up after many noble attempts. The thing is, reading a book because you think you should or because you have to, is terrible work. Reading should be a joy. When I went to church, I had little interest in reading the Bible, but years later, when I had escaped from that cult, I read it with curiosity and pleasure. I’m sure one day I’ll be of the right mind set to enjoy Milton’s raving madness but now I’ll go piss up a rope. My parents and Wiebke phoned today. Seems funny talking to my wife. I couldn’t imagine doing it more than once a week but perhaps when she comes back we shall. I had fish sticks today. I feel a little silly when I resort to that sort of instant food but even an opera singer will burp on occasion. Which brings us to a point. The point being of course, ‘nothing’. That ‘with out any ‘isness’, void of any presence’ kind of way to be. A 2 B. Ya, thanks. I suppose it’s all right for a scientist of the astronomy persuasion to purport that the universe is finite. Not because he’s got his right to be as wrong as anyone else but because it might be so. At the end, which isn’t near where we live, you might bump into nothing. And I’m sure I’ve raved about nothing before and how exactly would it venture to be on account if it could be than by definition it wouldn’t be as it had claimed. Like one fish clapping. And so, since this matters not in the least, I’ll pursue it just a bit more to illustrate how many words can amount to nothing so why can’t nothing. Let’s set down the thesis so we can head straight to the point, fumble with it a little and make sense if you look at it real hard but in so doing realise that B followed A only because it was first and one did not necessary have any relation to the other and leastwise no inference. I suddenly forgot something clever that slipped by just outside my head. Like one of those, ‘oh ya,’ kind of things that seem to float around in space without any owner. Did I ever mention convictions and how I thought they could be a dangerous or at least crippling brain disease? If not, I’m sorry. It doesn’t fit in with the thesis that ‘nothing can’t exist’. Somehow, I can’t imagine clarifying the thesis by lengthy explanation. Especially since I’m a jerk of many trades and an ass of a couple others. As they might say. Those guys. Now some scientist say space is curved. I’m not sure if the statement has any truth but if it does I’m not sure how this will help us with nothing. I should tell you, well I want to, what made me think of nothing. It was an hour or two ago so I’ll just come to the last bit where my little boy, Wiebke’s as well, the garbage man just came, it’s 06:12. Not the truck just the guy who takes the thing out. The thing, now that pins it down now, doesn’t it? The kid went to the fridge like any kid would do, up to age 406, and opened it and said aloud, ‘there’s nothing in the fridge’. ‘Well, my son, I find that difficult to believe.’ A quick side thought: what is a diffi - cult? I’m not jesting here. Difficult to believe strikes me as quite a peculiar phrase. The word may mean exactly how it is, which is pretty cool for a word. Cult, being the belief thing. Diffi, having two f’s and what not, so back to the fridge before the electric bill gets too high. Wiebke ran to the fridge in horror and grabbed up Angus and slammed the door for there indeed was that indescribable vacancy. Worse than a black hole. At least a black hole has gravity and things but this was nothing. Not an atom. So of course what had happened was a hole in the fabric of the universe. It happens with kids pants, I know, I have some. Pants. And it’s just as likely, maybe just a little less, to happen in a fridge as anywhere else in the universe. And of course, we are thankless assholes for our ridiculously high standard of living and having the nerve at the end of our, sorry. I actually am not sure where to go with this one. I don’t want a conclusion, they can lead to dangerous convictions. Such as life in prison. But. Oh, yes. Let me say it just once more with the prenote that I don’t intend to have anyone believe that I believe anything I say and wouldn’t presume to have anyone else believe anything I say or for that matter anything they say or anything at all. They should believe nothing. And in so doing, they can make a temporary home for the not at all relevant point that has nothing to do with anyone’s life except a few mad men possibly sitting in a think tank or the toilet, and that point is, as we’ve said, wait, I better look back, yes, ‘nothing can’t exist’ or, ‘nothing can not be’. Or ‘things can’t not be’. Or you should always use strong wire. I refuse to make any reference to fish. Ah, but what I really would like, is to bust out of this troublesome logical state of mind and do that naked perception thing or fried fish. No. Why fish? I don’t want fish in my head. But we made the step, almost, to consciousness a few years back. Some say the Iliad was first told when people weren’t quite conscious of themselves in a way that we aren’t really today either. So forget the next jump till we get there. I don’t think it’s in LSD either. Maybe crack, but not street crack. The chasm in the wall of symbolic conviction. I’m going to try a silly thought here, don’t bring it back on me. If we can teach ourselves how to not believe in anything at all, to not have the slightest conviction, then possibly, and only then, as they like to say, to try to make an unimportant point look more significant, will we be able to step from this insanity of unquestioned belief, cult, follow the way, mentality, into something much more pure, the complete and absolute madness of the dinner table. Wait, how’d that get in. Something about vacant aloneness and empty wasteland. KFC. Lord God Almighty, who I believe not to exist except in the minds of people who don’t care to question the ridiculous belief, cult, creed, conviction based on supposed, unfounded, desperate, I’m bloody hungry. It’s almost 07:00. I’m packing it in.

bunniestop

Whatever it is. The unexamined religion, creed, cult, is not worth believing. That’s a maxim from Steve.

bunniestop

I forgot to mention in the drug discourse the alternatives, such as love, sports, adventure, music, theatre and other such things. I won’t elaborate on them but they can be thought about as possible alternatives for achieving a high.

bunniestop

One other point on pornography. Pornography does not cause men to hate, beat and rape women. As a note, hate and violence have been with us all through history. Someone who beats his wife may also watch porno movies but he may also go to church. He may also eat too much fat and sugar. There are likely many things in his life not quite perfect. Again I come back to the point; one thing does not necessarily lead to the other. This mode of thinking is based on our hunger for answers. It clouds and stagnates the mind, making it rigid and unsuitable for clear reason, intuition or fish. By the way, I’ve not had many coffees since I left Squirrel’s.

bunniestop

by Joanne B. Washington

read on. thanks_for_the_fish. the last of the letter to Franny



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