Letter to Krissy:
full of raves, rants, poetry, chants,
discourse, stories, sound and furry, signifying nothing.
bunnie_part_05

But I have another picture to paint. The woman at the Unicef booth at the Schloss fest (party at the castle), I saw it coming, wanted to push a pamphlet into my face. I didn’t want it. Oh fuck it. Wiebke’s home and taking over so forget it. No, she’s gone to wash her hair. I blew up at her. I’m so pissed off today. And of course it has nothing to do with Wiebke, is fact, I don’t know what it is if it ain’t my period, and it’s the same sort of thing Mohan has and can’t be with his woman for a few days. Supper short fuse day, I could call it. But the Unicef lady. I think and hope Unicef is a good organization but I dislike being forced to look at things I don’t want to see. I know children loose their legs when they play in a mine field. People loose their lives everyday with stupid war toys. And I have no point. So I’ll stop once more until I forget again.

_bun nie stop_

This short entry is for Sue & Jenny. Today the cook was not there and the soup he made the night before was bad and had to be destroyed and buried. So I goes, I says out load like so as to be heard by one of the bosses there, I says, I goes, I’ll cook. And upon asking me what, I replied ‘an excellent pasta’. And so was it. And they want me to cook always but of course I can’t cause I rather work in the woodwork shop. But it was a victory for the Canadian cooks.

_bun nie stop_

Krissy. I have no social or political statement today. I play good table tennis. At the Arbeitslosencentrum that’s something. Not much but I’m closer to being a real man. And the table I’m refinishing is almost finished. I recommend to other people to allow a month for such a task. And also is was 30 today after one month of cold and rain almost every day. So that’s something as well. And I have two jobs I will apply for and also I’m working full time in July at the Centrum. So I’m sort of a upstanding citizen now. Pretty good, eh? Let’s see how long he can keep it up. I say I can last 2 years. Supper time.

_bun nie stop_

This is going to be another one of those pointless entries. We just came back from Roskilde. I found out my new job is gone, I wasn’t surprised. And I’m tired so maybe I have a nap and forget about telling you about the 100,000 humans partying in a farmers field for 4 or 5 days, cheering on 140 different bands, one of them being Led Zeppelin.

_bun nie stop_

But Ozzy wasn’t there. Here’s the question just before 7:00 before jumping on Wiebke’s motorbike and going to work. Why do I think of Francisca so much? It is nicht normal. I’m not dumb. I know she’s only a short piece of my past but she pops into my mind almost every day. It’s true I was madly in love with her but that was several years ago. Last night I was thinking I was going to an auto show, which is odd since it’s something I never do, especially on my own. I had been at the junk yard and that lead straight to the university campus and the auto show was there and free. I went into the large auditorium and down a few stairs and into a room full of chairs and people. I went around the far side by the kitchen thinking I’d go out that way to find the proper room but when I got there, to the far corner, the lights dimmed just a little and the show was about to start. And there was Franny, the picture of beauty, she’s almost as pretty as you Krissy, and I wanted to have her love. I don’t think it was sex I needed. I just wanted her love. She didn’t want to give it. And I think that’s the trouble that’s been following me these years. I hate it when people don’t love me. Got to go Krissy. It’s July 10th or something. No news but I’ll be back later.

_bun nie stop_

Here we are at the Arbeitslosencentrum. It’s near the end of lunch break. I had intention to elaborate on the appearance of Franny. She had a knife. A very large one and was pointing it very closely at her friends throat. I think it was play acting. I know that she knew I was watching her but she refused to let me know she recognized me. That’s it for details. I try not to think of her all the time but what can I do to keep her from appearing in my dreams? It doesn’t matter, I guess. I try not to be obsessed with her because it’s silly. I might send her a short letter to say hello. She is a nice girl, you know.

_bun nie stop_

I got your letter Saturday. It’s Sunday now. It’s near the end of July. 23rd? Anyhow, just a short entry ‘cause I’ve got the computer on and waiting for some symbols. I’m sick of religions. All of them. And there are so many bloody Catholics in Europe. And people don’t even know what they believe, they just want an identification and to be better than someone else who has an evil religion. It’s petty and ignorant and I wish humans would stop being so fuckin’ stupid. That’s it. Oh. Yesterday we had a little first wedding anniversary party. Pretty good, eh?

_bun nie stop_

Toby said that in his memoirs he’s going to call yesterday ‘Crayfish and Shooting Stars’. We were up on the mountain by a fresh clean lake eating pasta salad and what not. And the sky was dark and had stars in it. And other things which we saw. And Toby caught crayfish and played with them then tossed them back in. And now we are back from Innsbruck and Toll, which was nicer to visit and Wiebke is washing her hair and body and it rained a little in the car. And there is a big spider in our room and it’s a small town and a little conservative in appearance. Austria is pretty straight and narrow. They have pretty mountains that you look at and some towns are also to look at and have something to eat and now Wiebke is freaking over the spider. It apparently is quite large. Daddy long leg, I think we call ‘em. That’s all. Later.

_bun nie stop_

Oh. The town by Innsbruck wasn’t Toll it was Hall or something. And that isn’t hall like in English. The Germans. Or is it? Not important. It’s a little like being in a strange movie. And the props are all set up and the extras are in position and the film is rolling but there’s something missing. Like the story. We suspect there are too many psychiatric hospitals here. I’m not sure if it has anything to do with the way Mountain people breed among themselves. I know in Nova Scotia there’s a area where the Mountain people haven’t gone out looking for mates on the next hill. Most people that know about this area stay away. I think the Hapsburgs were famous for that as well. And I can draw nice ducks. I can’t even think of any witty observations. I’m too beat. That’s two four time. Maybe they yodel here. That would be something.

_bun nie stop_

Still nothing to report Krissy, but since I brought this book along, I thought I’d at least tell you that. It’s Sunday and sunny. This country is a little tedious. It makes me not sure what it is I even want to say about it. It is pretty though. And we’ll go to Saltzburg tomorrow and Italy on Thursday and it’s nice to sit at a lake or a water fall so I’ll go wake up Wiebke and see what’s up for the day’s adventures.


I just fell asleep for 10 minutes to have a dream. It was a food truck. The truck was driving through a zone where there was only garbage to eat. it must have been well protected because none of the starving people made an attempt at the truck. A woman threw over a plastic bag so that maybe one of the black people could kill themselves (I don’t think themselves is a word, is it?) by tying it over their head. On her knees, the knees of strong legs, was a woman. She was there searching for food as well but it was not her lot to be content with her situation. But of course the door opened and I woke up but I thought I’d write it down so I remember the picture. It might come in handy for my third novel when I get back to it. So here we go to a mountain lake.

_bun nie stop_

Anyhow, I think I just heard Wiebke talking about the night we had a cookie party at my place. There were 6 or 8 people there eating my most delicious cookies and drinking coffee and playing pictionary. Suddenly, the neighbor erupted into a furry and we thought he was pulverizing his girlfriend. To be on the safe side, we called the cops. They came and talked to him then came to talk to us. Apparently, he was beating the piss out of the wall because he couldn’t sleep. He was pretty upset to see the police as well. The police women said, have a good night and went away. The point. Something about it was funny that we called the cops on him ‘cause he can’t stand us chatting in the next house at 23:00 hours and if I was more zippy, I might have made this tale more interesting. Anyhow. The trouble with having a sexy wife with long blond hair is that she’s always being looked at. Sometimes I don’t want humans in my face. But as you see. Nothing to say. We’ll go up to the lake tonight and play: ‘Eat and Chat, watch the sun go down and the stars come out’. And watch the stars come out. And crayfish and things.

_bun nie stop_

Here’s the problem as we continue. I want to write something and not worry about if I have anything to say. "I’m being followed by a big policeman." I also feel like a criminal. I’m not really doing anything so criminal but the paranoia is persistent. Like the catholic is prevalent here. And it’s frightening how much influence Rome has had on us. This Catholic bullshit is from there as was the Roman Empire. No one ever stops to ponder that the Jesus story is a lie. That is to say, it’s not true. He’s a son of a mom and dad like anyone else and is as dead as my great gramma’s grandfather. And the bible is no more holy than the Iliad or Catch 22. So I want you and your friends to stop encouraging the underground flow of tentative fear about this Goddam religious thing. It’s pissing me off. I can’t even say Jesus fuckin’ Christ in this town ‘cause they’re all fanatics for God. Every mountain top has a bloody cross on it. I’d like to climb every mountain and saw off one arm of each cross to make a different symbol, such as the letter ‘F’ for ‘Far Fuckin’ Freaky’ or ‘Flaming Funning Fish’. Anything but Dead bloody Christ. We have to get over this Christ shit before the French use it as a ploy to rule the western world. And I’m not jesting here. They are sure the blood line of Christ is in France and they have more A-bombs than most everyone else. And when I slag France, I should say that the French people aren’t all dangerously Nationalistic world power mongers. Most of them do the same thing everyone else does, destroy their little part of the world. But keep an eye on their government, it’s going farther right everyday and they have the potential to make Hitler look like a boy scout on crack. And France isn’t the only country that wants the world, Rome still does, at least those criminals in the Vatican. and it was sunny today. We might go to Italy tomorrow.

_bun nie stop_

And just one other thing. I want to be completely, oh shit, I forgot the word on the way from the kitchen. Disconnected, disassociated, indiscriminate. Shit. I lost the word. Maybe I’ll wear jeans tonight if we’re sitting on dirt and all.

_bun nie stop_

Nonsequitar, insubordinate, rebellious, asocial, fat. Can’t find it.

_bun nie stop_

In the bottom of a cracker jack box. We’re in the basement. It’s cooler, so that’s good, but people walk over the grate over the window and my knees hurt and I don’t want to write but I’m very jumpy. I’m hungry as well. We won’t go to Saltmountain. I always want to sleep here. Fuck me.

_bun nie stop_

Unglaublich. I find it hard to believe people still want their goddam religions. The south of Germany is so fuckin’ Catholic. They have a debate now weather or not it’s good to have plastic canasidics, I don’t know if there’s such a word or how it might be spelled, bleeding Jesus on bloody crosses on all the school walls. Some people are mad that people should think that Germany is anything but a Catholic country. There are some that realize there are people who believe other things. And here’s what I believe. No belief system is right. There is no right. The more a belief system is adhered to, defined and regulated, the more absurd and detrimental it becomes. Always people say ‘if it helps them’ let them be. My ass. Let those Religaphobs jam Jesus bloody Mary down our throats and we’ll all be drunk on idiocy. I’m certain that most people will think I’m wrong in my beliefs. But I hate to say it, I’m right. I know how things are and that’s why I’m going to convince everyone to believe what I believe. I think of a story Geoff told me about his sister taking a philosophy course and the final exam was one question: ‘Why?’ She wrote, ‘Why not.’ Geoff says she received full marks. And how does this fit in? It doesn’t. Just a little comic relief. I don’t think there are answers to some of our pathetic questions. Things are, or at least we perceive them to be, the way they are. We’re in amongst the things. To question that point is to spend ones days in mental turmoil. So fuck the ‘why’ question and maybe rather a little more ‘how to go about it’. ‘Why are we here?’ asked the young man. ‘To drink a beer, two if you can.’ There’s a possible religion there. We are born, we die, we need not know why. Under our feet, the ground, above the sky. And maybe we are afraid to evolve. I am. I progress through my life reluctantly. Humans are temporary. We’ll die out to a mutation. It has to be. That’s how it works. The future is in mutants. I suggest mutant farms, where we can breed them faster. Get this world full of mutants who can survive in the world we’ve fucked up for them. I was stung on the tongue by a wasp last night just before the concert. Wiebke and I went to Luxembourg for the evening to see Willie, her brother, play in the European Union Youth Orchestra. He’s the master percussionist. He’s going to be a Hero soon. He’ll make all the kids want to play timpani. Anyhow, before the concert, we were sitting on the grass eating the sandwiches supplied for the band and though I was being so careful not to, I lead a wasp on the end of my sandwich into my mouth. It was not on my sandwich when I took it from the plate and started the movement toward my face. So I was pretty surprised when a blasting sharp pain went into my head by route of my tongue. The pain was unbelievable. Willie ran with me back inside. I looked for ice, he got the band nurse. She gave me a pill, asked if I was allergic to Wasps, is so we go now to hospital. She said the European wasp are getting terribly poisonous. They are mutating into monsters is what she could have said. That one wasp’s bite caused me so much pain for the next few hours that I started imaging trying to kill every wasp in Europe. But it’s over now. Pain can usually be separated from what you are doing, such as listening to an orchestra, by pretending not to be you. I’d like to elaborate but I have another problem I’d like to discuss. It’s the you thing. And this transporter theory they do on Star Track. Toby says a computer would made a scan of you. Copy you somewhere else and destroy the original. What if the machine fucks up? And no, you’re not dead, you’re twice. The first you wasn’t destroyed. These two yous have the exact same everything for a history but now there may be two futures. Which one goes back to the wife of course is one question but my question is which one will be the you that perceives being you? I’m not sure if I made my point clear but try to imagine if it happen to you that you were exactly doubled which you would you perceive yourself to be. I’d pick the first you of course but then if that was the case, I wouldn’t want to get in such a transporter. And besides the whole question is ridiculous. At least as far as I can reason. It’s based to much on ‘if’. A computer can’t know each atom of your body and in what path they are going. Flesh is different than computable facts. Unless the reality that I see is even more different than I’m certain it is, this transporter thing is ballox. And I find the series a little trite and don’t know why so many people are so fanatic over it. I should have elaborated the pain thing more. I wanted to say something about categorizing your imputs so that you can have a space for pain but also have a separate spot for pleasure. Daß geht mit wasp bites. Maybe more serious pains would over ride such possibilities. Anyhow. This is the end of the first book of this letter.



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. fish_part_01



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