Letter to Krissy:
wombat_part - third book of a letter to Krissy.
Fishing to find the write wombat to right.
Wombat words of wisdom.
wombat_part_03

There’s a road trip planned. It’s boys only, on motorbikes, to Bari. Why Bari? It’s about as far as you can get. One of the boys has had some sex with a girl who lives in Bari. She’s a nut but not too dumb. Like most people, self included, I’m beginning to understand, she’s of the opinion she knows just about everything. But for her is it good. She wants to be a lawyer.

_bunnie stop_

Still the same day here. A serious note Krissy: Where the fuck has my youth gone? I’ve got that change of the calendar, oh not another birthday this year pissed off fear that I’m getting old. I don’t mind being this age so much but it’s going too goddam fast. And I haven’t done much either. I’ve nothing to show for my time here. Most of us don’t and why the fuck should we? Going to be dead no matter what you did. The King of France will be as dead as my dear old aunt. France has no king and my aunt ain’t that old but you get the point. Was there a point? The point is that I’m lost and have no point. And that’s a bad way to be, isn’t it? Like Alvin said, ‘I’d love to change the world but I don’t know what to do.” Me too. I’ll draw a picture or two this week. It’ll give me a job that’s different than bullshitting you or writing that ridiculous porno book.

_bunnie stop_

So just a quick try at something wise or witty. Perhaps a note about your pretty titties. I’m sure I wrote about tits before. Not with you another, well the rhyme thing might be dangerous. I had another driving lesson today. I supposed to, by law, do at least 10, but he won’t make me, since I’ve done only 3 and tomorrow at 10 is my test. And who the fuck cares. 20 years of driving, without one accident and no traffic violations. And there is a chance that I can fuck up a little detail tomorrow and not pass. The German test isn’t to see if you can drive safely, it’s more that you don’t cross no lines and stuff. I let you know.

_bunnie stop_

I ain’t got no future
I haven’t had much of a past
The world’s all fucked up
I don’t know how long I’ll last.

I don’t have a job
I don’t know how to work
They tell me only shit
I’m just a fuckin’ jerk.
Course I’m unemployed and I don’t care
I ain’t going anywhere

Well there’ll be another line or two in the verse and a few more stanzas. My foot is still pink but it’s quite nice. I passed my driving test gepasst. See ya.

Before I was collecting welfare
I was getting a little pougie
The bitch kicked me out
So I’m now on the road

I’ve still got my six string
I’m bumming nickels in the rain
The world’s racing down hill.
I’ll always stay the same.
Course I’m unemployed and I don’t care
I ain’t going anywhere
My future looks grim
But I don’t care.
My life is shit
I ain’t going nowhere.

The environment, it’s fucked
There’s not much more air
Just a big hole in the ozone
I’m living in fear

Industrial waist in my coffee
Heavy metals in my fish
I want to get off this planet
That’s my only wish.

_bunnie stop_

Truth is, I’d love to see you naked. Maybe you can send me a few black and whites and I’ll draw a nice picture. Anyhow, I just had a big piece of ear wax. Is it really wax? It’s such a treat to hall it out. I don’t like sticking things in my ears to clean them out. It irritates the delicate little hairs and ecosystem what’s going on in there. But anyhow, I was thinking of one time at the nose, ear, throat specialist in Toronto. The doctor looked in at my ear and asked if it was okay for a student that was working or doing time or whatever it is they do before they do their own thing, to have a look. I’m not sure if he said holy shit or jumping Jesus H. Christ and his shitty arse diapers but he had never seen anything like it. He knew what it was and had the right diagnoses so he had done his homework. Anyhow, that’s a pain I haven’t known for a long time. I haven’t had a proper pain decapitalizing ear infection since he put me under and straightened my deviated septum and burned away those whatyamacallits that are sometimes too big. The problem was, I was always stuffed up ‘cause there was no place for the snot and other things to go. Did I tell you about the operation? By the way, I hope to actually send you a copy of this letter. They gave me some morphine before. It was so pretty. I had my ‘Walkman’ with me and had CBC radio on playing classical music. It was bliss. When they had me finally in the operation room, they gave me another shot of something. ‘What if I don’t go under?’ I asked. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll go,’ said the evil man with a tube in his hand that he shoved down my throat when I could hold my eyes no longer. They had to have the tube down there because my head was soon to be full of blood. It was sometime later when I woke up with a nose full of packing. It was, in each nostril, a thin piece of gauze, at least, and this is no lie, 59 cm long, folded over and over. He told me I could have another shot before they took it out. He forgot. The pain was so unbelievable when he pulled that fuckin’ scabby piece of material out, that I thought I would blow my lid. I didn’t think anything really. It was just pain focusing on one of my nostrils. I listened as he said something to me and his six or eight students that had come to watch. I saw the long piece of material hanging from his tweezers. Zircon encrusted. I thought it must have been packed all around my brain. Then he did the second nostril. It balanced the pain. The pain slowly went away. I think in a week or so there was no more pain. But I dripped blood on Chris the odd time. That’s Chris with a ‘C’. Her roommate was disappointed that I hadn’t bothered with picking up my prescription of Tylenol 3’s. I told him I liked the pain. He said he would have bought them off me for having a little fun.

I tried that route to fun a few times. I had friends that had either dying parents or parents with brain tumours. Brentie and I did it once. We were so heavy. We were at a church function and had no idea what was going on. And didn’t care. We had 2 or 3 kinds of pills from his dad’s collection. I did it one other time. I won’t use his name on account he might have a proper life now. Brent and I have not enough pride to deny our foolish behaviours. There were 3 or 4 types of very strong painkillers. I popped them like candy. I had washed down 9 or 16 with a couple beers before I realized I’d had enough.

I drove my motorbike home and had a lovely trip. It was dark and the road had stones in the asphalt. I could see them as I drove along. It was simply amazing. And the lights were so bright. They were almost blinding. I think I realized that red meant stop because I know there were a few lights on the route home and I didn’t run into anyone. I don’t think I noticed much besides light and floating and to this day would thank the lord, if I thought there was one, for getting me home. That was the last time I took so many painkillers. In fact, I seldom take one when I have a pain. They are a dangerous drug and I’d only do them for fun and not because I need them.

And for all you kids or moms, remember, drugs are something you do once in a while to blow your mind clear or stuff it up. Don’t do them regularly. And know about your drug. What’s Valium all about? How addictive is masturbating? Why are tits?

_bunnie stop_

I finally drew a picture. I haven’t done that in a long time. It’s a chick. She’s pretty hot. I don’t know who she is but she was in a magazine and I thought I better draw a few things for next week. There’s an art thing at City Hall and maybe when the prolic people see how pretty the chicks are, they’ll ask me to do their girlfriend. Ya, sure thing. I just have to take some naked pictures of her. Well, I guess I’ll go to bed. Tomorrow will be another day. Won’t it?



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. wombat_part_03_01



© 2001 | the jose wombat project