Letter to Krissy:
fish_part - second book of a letter to Krissy.
Living to find the write letter to right.
Finding one to love.
fish_part_04

4 days till Christmas. Yippy. Anyhow. Aaron leaves his teacher in the tub and with the doctor, finds the other doctor waking up. They leave by a tunnel, which passes under the county jail. No fixed address people find there way into the tunnel and into the little hospital. Aaron steals a bulldozer and plugs up the tunnel. Fucks the nurse. Eats a hamburger and kills the president. Krissy. I’m not so sure how to rap up this novel I’m trying to finish. And Wiebke, I almost said Eva, wants me to have pretty handwriting. But it is pretty. Bad. But only ‘cause I’ve written so much and eliminated unneeded motion. So it has a beauty of economy if properly examined. I also made a bird house. When I say made, I mean take rough wood from old pallets sent from Russia, plain, plain, cut, cut, glue, screw, sand, lacer and of course it was my own design. It’s just like making a real house, which by the way was my college education. Design of things to live in. Did you know Germans have two words for education. Languages don’t only use different words but different thoughts happen in different languages. Ich bin mude. I think I’ll sleep now. Tomorrow is last work day for almost two weeks. I wonder what Peter Lunick is doing. I was wondering about Dave, alias Bubbles, today. The last time I saw him he wasn’t at all a bubble. I think he married that beautiful woman who had FCK on her T-shirt all I miss is ‘you’. Peter thought she was all right too. She was not liked the day she wore the shirt. At least by the stuffy people. Anyhow, he had two huge ice creams. Dave.

I think often of my life in Canada. That I used to have. I have no great expectations. I don’t care if I have a rip in my jeans. None of the things that I’m told to concern myself with interest me. I’m not sure if anything interest me outside of not being interested. I do like to read and sometimes write. And I won’t be convinced that modern life is anything other than lies. And I often am reminded of a Chinese curse that says ‘May you live in interesting times’. Most people would think I misplaced the word saying for curse but it ain’t so. Likely many would respond by ‘Huh!’. Bist du yack? It’s true enough though for me. I think what I’ll regret the most when I’m old is that I let myself get involved in trying to play the game. But, hey, we’ll see. I’m 35 and still alive. My only illusion being that I believe I haven’t any.

I think Aaron should die. But Wiebke won’t like it and nor will most anyone else. I think I’ll leave him a mess though. I don’t want a happy ending. It won’t be right. And I refuse. So there. I’ll leave a little hope and the strength of love. That should satisfy them. The hungry public.

We haven’t much time, by the way, to save the world from eminent death. So have a happy Christmas.

_bunnie stop_

Look Krissy, I can’t sleep. I’ve something on my mind. I think it’s a lead weight. Or maybe a branding iron. A package of plastic roses. And the 4th of July. And the little green black bird. My interest rate is actually - I don’t use that word so much anymore since I grew to dislike it, is dropping these days. it troubles Wiebke. I like making things though. I think I’ll stop being depressed soon. I just decided. I can do other things.

_bunnie stop_

Sadness is what I feel today. We had our Christmas party, cake and coffee. Sometimes I like the place but it has a tremendous weight on it. and while I was listening to people having fun after the bosses short speech of doom that ended on a note of at least we get along all right even if we are different people and whatnot. Anyhow. It was a struggle to keep it up. People aren’t happy. At best they are content with their sadness. And when I don’t have to fight it, I enjoy it as well. that’s what Christmas is for me. A time to reflect on the pointlessness of our lives and how banal our lives are and we’ll try to have a little fun at least so the young ones don’t get depressed. Anyhow. I don’t remember being happy for Christmas since I believed in the idea of Santa Clause but not the likeliness. And to bring this shit to an end, I’m going to just stop before it gets worse.

_bunnie stop_

Last night I wanted to say something like: I don’t usually care what happens to me but I try to take care of myself so we don’t get ourselves in too big of a mess. I thought it was a clever thing in a schizoid kind of way but I have second thoughts now. Christmas is over here in Lubeck. It went off without too much trouble. I think my father-in-law consumes too much alcohol but what is it to me. I’m from a non excessive drinking family so it may be a little shocking to see drunkenness among older people who have fish up there bums.

I think what bothers me in drinkers is there drunken sincerity that pops out after a few drinks. In fact, I’m going to have to cope with it now and I won’t like it. But what can one do. Violent raving won’t help. I have a feeling Papa will be sleeping soon. I don’t like anything. I want to be a frog. Frogs don’t have to talk to people. But alas, it isn’t so. I like to be with people sometimes; it’s just that most of the people I like are thousands of miles and even more kilometers away. So here I go to face the madness of this high strung family. I’ll maintain my cool. It’s the best approach. Always be mellow and that’s all they’ll expect from you. Lash out just once and you seriously damage it. Strike out and smash a face, rip off an arm, butter a toast on both sides and all is lost.

_bunnie stop_

I don’t wanna. Don’t wanna nothing. It’s not really so bad here if you can handle the unendless tension. Unendless ain’t a good adjective for tension, is it? Relentless. Whatever. It makes me uneasy. It makes Wiebke strange. There’s a constant battle for position. I think boredom may be the cattalos for the furry of dissatisfaction. Anyhow, I haven’t given a thought to what to do about Aaron. I want to kill him to put him out of his misery. True heroes should die when the war is over. My pen died just then. ‘Should die when the war is over’, fades to nothing. Quite visually effective. Almost ironic. I might make it so that we don’t know for sure if he’s dead. Like he’s sitting in an electric chair watching the clock and it’s one minute before the automatic switch blows up his circuits an someone is seen coming into the adjoining room where they watch through the glass and he can barely hear but it sounds like the death penalty has been abolished under the new government and there is a great commotion and a rush to get him out of his chair and there’s ten seconds to midnight and the key won’t open the lock on the door and it’s two seconds to midnight when it finally opens and there is panic in the faces.

Part of my problem now is that I’d like to get Aaron to be captured in an attempt at killing the president who later dies from complications in the hospital. And the trial goes on and on and as it does a civil war is raging in the streets and no one knows what they are fighting for but they’ve heard that they are at the bottom of the pyramid that has no middle and they support a heavy top with a view sitting on the wealth that the land has very little of left and Jesus is scheduled to appear at Madison Square Gardens, before the hockey game starts, to sing the National Anthem from two countries, first time in almost 9 years. And it turns out he’s become a Seventh day of Penis and masturbates before the crowd and his seed makes the land fertile and mustard grows everywhere and they make gas out of it and send it to all the poorer countries and a huge meteorite burst through the atmosphere and destroys Russia in a flash and this starts a war in China which no one can see because the sun is blotted out by volcanic ash and gas and the planet is set back 3 billion years and has to evolve life again and it does but it forgets about humans all except for a guy just like Eddy and a woman like Shelly and a second woman, to make a happy 3some,finally getting back in the story after endless chapters of neglect, Karna. Well they have many children all female and Eddy must make them all have children so they can make factories and stuff so things can advance.

I told you about freezing his head and having him brought back to life as a cow, by aliens. Poetic justice or what?

I’m sure I’ll figure a proper ending since I never have before and it will become a very important book because one, it’s well written and two, it’s about our future and three, people will entertain themselves trying to understand the psychological make-up of the writer and how that reflects on present society and does he have a point, an alarming one, about our present unsound condition or is he simply a little confused, possibly one of these people with exaggerated intelligence that have trouble fitting in and therefore - whatever. I’m sure you get the point. I may go take a piss. I can feel Wiebke worrying about me. She thinks I’m sad. Just because I can’t smile anymore. Well not today. But she’s out with a friend. And I have to prepare to pretend to be a little happy for New Years. I can’t get excited over new Years. I can’t even get drunk very well. It doesn’t help me. New Years seems more pointless than Christmas. At least Christmas we see the days getting longer and the nights shorter. With New year we go from calling that something outside of us we attempt to perceive, as January with a new year number. It’s all superstition. It’s all stuffing to keep us from being like me - And I can see the point. And the more I think about it the less I would care to deny its need. Like my need to pee. And shit and stuff. I’ll stop now. Maybe I’ll have something to say on another day.

_bunnie stop_

Well it’s still today. I’m still not at all happy. I almost feel suicidal. I don’t bother with suicide though because I believe death would be at least as tedious as life. Some days are fine. Adventure and discovery are what I need. I have no thoughts of the dreadful tediousness of life if I’m in a canoe with waves coming over the sides. I think I’m lonely. Wiebke seems a little unknown to me here and the rest of them are somewhere else. I may be a little home sick, although I don’t know where home is. I can’t decide if I should be real mean to Wiebke. So mean to make her hate me. Then she’d send me packing. I could go live in a cardboard box in the streets of Paris or wander through the mountains of the west coast of Canada until I found uninhabited land. I could build a little hut, pick berries or dig roots or fish. Freeze to death. Maybe I’ll cry myself to sleep and feel better tomorrow. Go to see the sea. Or Beethoven’s 9th.

_bunnie stop_

Okay, the end goes like he’s let out of the dark room by his old teacher’s connections. He’s still there but there will soon be elections and his case may go before international court or.....

_bunnie stop_

I think I’m becoming more bored, more boring and less friendly. I did finish my book though. And I liked it. I’m typing out Franny’s letter now. I like it too. It’s got a little more fire than I have lately. Slowing down with old age I guess. I have to get a little more obsessed. A little less pissed off. Sometimes I don’t like talking to realistic people. I hate being realistic. This country is too realistic. People that are realistic end up living an ordinary realistic life. I hate it. I want to become less realistic. Well, I’ve nothing good to say. So till later, Krissy. It’s ‘96 now and I don’t know where you are.

_bunnie stop_

But I know that Eva doesn’t see you around Toronto. She had noticed she saw Kenny but not you. She’s as kooky as she ever was. She just gets sweeter and though I can’t see her, I’d bet she’s getting no less sexy and pretty. And I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving for work now. I take the car today. I don’t usually but I want to stay later and play some tisch tennis. Do you see how banal my mind has come from working. This physical shit around me is consuming all my head. So have a lovely day you beautiful and brilliant woman.

_bunnie stop_

Hello my sweet. Just a short note to tell you it’s February. Flakes of happiness are languidly floating from the smiling heavens. Or to put it in simple English, as what’s his name would say, at least in that book, Tom Jones, there is the suggested occurrence of precipitation in it’s gentlest frozen form. Very little. I heard that Chicago has 55c in the under zero factor. So I’m wondering what’s up in the great white north.

Did I tell you I met a Canadian? He’s one of Wiebke’s teachers. And did you know there are many wooden things in our house.

Mauro and I go bow shooting once or twice a week and he’s suddenly thinking out load Friday night that he’s like to go kill a deer where he lives in the mountains of Italy. He say’s we’ll go in winter. Take a tent and things. Go shoot us a deer. Well, Andi doesn’t like the idea at all. He says it’s completely unnecessary and you can go to the store and buy your meat where none of it is wasted and there are few enough animals in the woods. Which of course is not true in the case of deer in places like where you live and where Mauro is from, ‘cause the wolves are dead and the deer just over populate. And we wouldn’t accept that as an argument. We had no intention of making any endangered species extinct. We had no intention of becoming hunters. The biggest animal I’ve ever killed was a fish. And I ate it. And I’ve eaten all the fish I’ve caught with the exception of a few sun fish which I was told you can’t eat. And Mauro killed a couple turkeys or something. And our point was if you are a meat eater, which most everyone on this continent is, why not understand what it is to rip a living animal out of it’s natural environment with a brutal death of high velocity pointed sticks, cut it up after draining its blood for a couple days and eating the meat with a few friends. Andi didn’t even see the point in killing a fish when it could be done by someone else. We didn’t see how the fish or bird or animal was any less dead if it was killed by someone who made a living at it. How was being removed from the initial killing making you any less answerable if you ate only bratwurst or hamburger. Your consumption of meat kills animals. Normally it kills only prison animals that are force fed or tied up so they can’t move so the meat is tender or are full of hormones to help them grow. Eating flesh is brutal, and if you understand about killing and slaughtering you may take your meat eating a little more seriously. Or a little less of it. I also tried to mention that raising cows, steer, has other costs as well. Cows consume tremendous quantities of fresh water, use up loads of land, destroy any small creeks that run through their prison hand with their methane shit. And have deadly parasites now that eat your brain if the meat was from England. Just like mass, what do they call it when thousands of acres of land has just one type of crop, is also dangerous. It’s over crowding of these imported animals, cows I’m still referring to, that cause so much trouble. And besides then being in prison and away from their natural environment somewhere way east where the sun is hot, and they aren’t forced to eat dead diseased sheep. Well, whatever. I understand Andi’s point. Everything is specialized, he works in a bank, I work in a wood shop, Mauro makes ice cream, and someone force feeds fat chickens and stuffs garbage in pigs and generally tortures prison animals so that we don’t have to waist time being lunatics and going out and willfully beating a fish to death just to eat it.

Did you hear that China wants to start a war with Taiwan. If Taiwan doesn’t become China again, China is going to go slaughter them like they die in Tibet. And that could be trouble, Nastra what’s his name probably said so and you could translate it out of Revelation quite easily and it’s pretty fuckin’ obvious that if a billion people want to start taking over countries than it’s going to be trouble convincing them not to. I think what has to be done is propaganda infiltration into China to start a civil revelation. Okay, breakfast time.

_bunnie stop_

You can pick a, no it was: In your pick-up can you pick a hick up. Or you can pick a hick up in your pick up. We could go on with a stick up and the hiccups but my eyes tell me I must seen sleep. Krissy, it’s March 7th of 96. I don’t know where you are. Our contact has been broken. I hope it wasn’t’ something I said. I can be pretty dumb that way. I was trying to remember a dream I had last night. For some reason, I think Mikie O was involved but I’m not sure.

Ha, after a month I haven’t collected anything to say. it’s possible that as I go on in life, I may say less. I may even be silent. I’m pretty sure I’d be better off that way. I’d offend less people. Speaking of which, no one, including you writes to me anymore. Not completely true. My Mom and Dad do. Geoff does the odd time. I got a visit from Alexis, Simi wrote for Brent. And Eva Pee is not the type to let me down. Friends usually stay friends but if you disappear, the relationships drift apart. Wiebke taught a class of kids English today. The kids loved her and the teacher didn’t believe it was her first lesson ever given. She’s mostly just watching for a month. She isn’t even finished for another 2 or 4 years. That’s 2 + 2 probation teaching or something. She’s very excellent and that’s some of the reason I like her. I’m suddenly thinking of Angie, if that was her name. She worked a while at Santa Fe. I was quite attracted to her, though she didn’t believe me, or thought I was a goof. I didn’t see her after that till one day I was with Heather at the Red Bull and they knew each other and so we sat together and she had become so beautiful that I almost forgot I was with a beautiful woman. Men can be so fickle. Such suckers for beautiful women. But most fancies stay in the originators mind and no harm is done. I don’t know how true it is, but I think I can tell if I’ll like someone pretty fast. Elisabeth. No. Angie wasn’t her name. And so whatever. The thing is that I’m in Germany now. If Saarbrucken counts. Did you know that it was once in the Olympics, the Saarland. It was once French as well. Now it’s Germany. And to tell you the fish, I don’t mind Saarland. It’s somehow, pretty cool. I think I miss Toronto, though I don’t think I’d want to live there again. Shit, I’m going to get home sick if I ain’t careful. I’m going to sleep now. I’ll communicate with you later. I hope you send me a letter. I’ll try to think of you often and maybe it’ll help. I thought of Manfred a couple times last week and he called. I’m not a big believer in anything but if I wasn’t so skeptical I’d like to be.

_bunnie stop_

Hello. It’s tomorrow morning. I was just remembering a dream from last night. I seldom think of Sam, Shelly that is. I sometimes think of Midget, John that is. But there she was with lead roll in my dream. She was looking so desirable, I kissed her than said hello and what was up. And she wasn’t sure. It had been years since I last saw her. She had been married but that was over. She was fascinated with Germany and I was telling her thing and holding her, touching her and being quite obsessed with her. She didn’t mind but for her, other things were more interesting. I’ll skip most of it and get to the end. There was some pressure about going to play hockey but I chose Shelly. I wanted her desperately. she was pealing a couple onions in front of a stove and I had my hand under her dress to feel her strong legs. She was on a higher step. I told her we could go home and make some onion soup.

So we did. She wanted to make it and at the end of her cooking it and serving it, someone, a TV criminal or something said something about only having soft spatulas and I asked Sam (Shelly) what or huh or but and she said that she didn’t know it was a Teflon pan. She had used a small stop sign and scratched the shit out of my favorite big pan that I had bought at Aldi’s for 14 marks or something. I had noticed that Shelly (Sam) was a little lost in space and could have not been such a bone head but I laid into it trying to explain that you don’t use metal on Teflon. Had she not cooked on one before. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything. Somehow that stopped everything and I was out at a neighbor’s trying to do something, maybe build or paint. The wife was beside me making something. She was also naked and her husband and another friend were in the farther part of the room. I handed her something she needed, it might have been a plastic spatula. She took it and thanked me and noticed I wasn’t so happy. I told her what had happened about wanting Sex, not getting any and missing the hockey trip. She asked if I’d like to have sex with her. I took a good look at her and told her she was beautiful, which she was, would her husband mind or join us? Whatever I wanted. Maybe she knew it was my dream. I told her I would really like to and if the offer still held, I’d get back to her but I had to go. Go back. Where ever that was. So I crossed the street with two friends. One was Mauro, and he soon found a striped long sleeve T-shirt under the light post. The other fellow, I don’t know, he jumped over the railing. It was 30 or 40 meters to the ground. I was sure he’d brake his back. He apparently didn’t and explained about the wind and meter per second and I have to go to work now Krissy, which is lucky for you. I won’t go on with this bull shit. Till later.

_bunnie stop_

Welcome to Bill’s bingo and brothel. Today’s special is toast, tits and ten dollar prizes for every bingo. I changed four tires today and the side mirror. Now, not only do we have tires with a bit more tread and a mirror that ain’t broke, but the new rims, new for us from the junk yard, are aluminum and except for being a bit oxidized, meaning the lacer is coming up, they look pretty sporty. And so I think I’ll have a nap ‘cause we might go see a play and then party a little after that.

_bunnie stop_

It’s Sunday now and I finished sanding and finishing the hallway and it could vary well be the most beautiful hall you ever did see in someone’s apartment. It’s a little cold out here on the balcony and I’m suffering from boredom. Wiebke’s over at Andi’s making her motorbike have almost twice as many horses. We’ll likely go out to eat tonight for a little entertainment. Waiting for spring. It’s hard work. I’ve been working at the same job for a year now. That’s a record. If you don’t count summers and part time at Coke. It’s a little odd for me. I have 4 thousand dollars in my saving’s account. I’ve never had that before.

With trivialities aside, I’ve nothing else to say. Even when I have something to say, it’s mostly just wordy nothing. I don’t even believe most of what I say. I’m just experimenting with ideas. Maybe I’ll close this book, sit here for a bit, then eat a sandwich of something and turn on the computer and see what I feel like working on. Maybe my first book. It’s bloody time it was right and finished. And published. And I’m wondering if Germany will be the cause of the third world war, now that things are getting like they were before the second world war. Not likely though. Things are not really that grim. A little unemployment won’t be enough. China might be enough though. They plan to take Taiwan by force. The world may have to let them. It they take a few more things by force then the world might have to worry. Taiwan is certainly worrying now. One step forward two steps back, that’s how things progress these days. It’s always been so. But now there are more people, more fanatics, and more weapons of very destructive caliber. And who the fuck knows what kind of chemical warfare awaits, what kind of nuclear disaster awaits and what kind of new biological horrors are flourishing in how many labs. I sometimes think of the Lords of the New Church song about the lies they tell us to keep us scared. But why not be scared when people are so gruesome. I’m not sure if Antarctica will be safe in the next world war so I’m not sure where to go. There’s no sense fighting against the enemy. That will be done with - well whatever. We’ll see. The future is uncertain and the end is always near and that’s how it’s been for quite some time. A can of sardines or a bowl of cereal. Cereal killer.

_bunnie stop_

I think I’d like to write a serious mock of the life of Jesus with an attempt at a possible truth of his life. I suppose I could read about the times, figure a few things out and tell it from his point of view as a man who wanted to be king during foreign occupation. Barabbas was the son of Christ. I’m sure I’ve said it before, Mark 15, 44, ‘Pilate was surprised to hear that Jesus was already dead.’ He’d only been up a few hours and usually they last a week. It was a big scam. ‘The big Scam.’ That could be the title of the book. Anyway. I better not talk too much about it. The story should be written, not talked about. If it’s talked about and written later, it always gets mutilated. Someone might ask why I would go to such lengths to discredit Christianity. Because I was raised as one. And it pissed me off when I found out it was a crock of shit. I know it’ll change nothing but I do it for myself. Even if it could be proven that religions were all lies, no one would want to believe it. People like little compact heads full of lies. It’s more comfortable. Better than having all that space free for speculating and thinking.



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. fish_part_05



© 2001 | the jose wombat project