Letter to Krissy:
albatross_part - 4th book of a letter to Krissy.
If you aren't Krissy, who are you?
Forget any secret codes.
albatross_part_03

I was just thinking about having a nap but now Wiebke is here and has a few things to say. It’s Monday. My 37th birthday is on Thursday. I don’t really want to think about it but Wiebke wants me to want to have some people over. When they’re here I like it but I don’t really feel like it now.

At the beginning of my attempted nap I was having a good story what I can’t hardly remember on account I’ve been too disturbed. There were two guys going through the desert and they had to be careful. A wind came up and blew the hat off one fellow and it landed nicely a little way off. As he bent to pick it up, a huge plantlike worm thing came bursting out of the ground with the hat on it’s head. Hundreds of these worm like plant things started popping out of the ground.

So what about that?

_bunnie stop_

I don’t believe in lotories but I’d sure like to win one. Having a lot of money won’t necessarily make you happy, sometimes it has the opposite effect but it can make you rich. But there’s the thing, what if you suddenly have a million dollars or marks or 3 million Francs or ten thousand million Lier? Everything you’ve struggled for suddenly seems dumb. Your life becomes pointless. You gotta just have fun. Well, I don’t care. Whatever. I’d rather make the money on my own. Not with a job but by being published and read. Marketing a game. This or that. But it all means doing it. Which means stop not doing anything. My advice to those out there who think you wanna win a million, do something to earn half a million and you’ll be a 100 times more satisfied and you’ll have much more money the year after. But, hey, I’m no money expert so I’ll not give too much advice for we know what Jose Wombat would say about that, "If you don’t go flappin’ your mouth off all the time about things you don’t know about, there would be more peace and quiet where we could all take time out to think and figure a few things out for ourselves.” And I think Jose is right. I know Aunt Marion would rather listen to Jesus but Jesus is dead as he has been a long time and I don’t think he was as nice a guy a Jose. I even have the impression Jesus was a bastard. Not only because of his birth out of wedlock, which in my opinion shouldn’t matter a rat’s ass but on account he flapped his mouth too much around people that were starving for sounds and hope. He took them for a bunch of suckers.

And since I had no intention to go on about Jesus, I’ll move right on to the next topic which is Fish.

No it isn’t.

As Jose Wombat would say: "If all you got going on is to piss people off by boring them with fish stories or telling them Jesus was an asshole and only idiots would fall for such a bullshit tale, it might be better to not say, or write, nothing.”

And since Jose used a double negative, I’ll accept that as allowance to contionue on about fish and Jesus. Jesus thought people were as dumb as fish. It says so in the bible. That’s not nice. And did you know what else? People thought he died up there on the cross. Everyone except for the few in on the hoax. So then he goes and he meets Saul on the road to Damaskus. And he goes to Saul, he goes, Saal, your name shall be Paul and that is not all. Don’t piss me off anymore or I’ll have you shot. Instead of feeding Christians to the lions, you pretend you’re blind, that’ll be real symbolic and all, go see Zachawhat’shisname, he’ll piss in some soup and splash it on you head and you’ll see again. Jump up and down, and start writing fucked up letters full of shit to the different followers of this madness.

And Paul, who was Saul, said, he goes, What?

So Jesus kicked the snot out of him and said, he goes, listen up you fuck, I made a deal with the Romans that we’d make everyone want to be Roman by making them –

Fuck it. I can’t be bothered to explain the whole thing. Maybe I’ll write the bible according to Steve one day. In fact. I may do it soon. If I don’t write a bible of Jose Wombat.

Many people are very dumb. These dumb people wouldn’t understand my humor and sarcasm. Smart people are few and far between and if they don’t want to bother reading my work, what’ll I do? Fuck a rhino.

_bunnie stop_

It’s tomorrow now. The sun is shining like a big yellow cow. The sun ain’t a cow, it’s a chicken. Or a fish. Anyhow, I’m here at the Saar river, one side is a park that goes for kilometers, that’s like miles only more of them. On the other side, when I look over or even if I don’t, is the Autobahn. That’s like a river of asphalt where once a gear water flows but mostly just cars and trucks.

Everyone has a dog. Especially if you’re a street punk, you gotta have one. If you’re a street punk, it’s cool to hang out in the market, bum change, yell at your barking dog and get drunk.

There’s a big pile of grass not far from me. That could be why I’m sneezing.

If that stupid highway wasn’t there, like the one in Toronto, this would be pretty happening here.

There goes two bright yellow Porsches.

Do you know about Saarbrucken? One thing I like about it is the weather. Sure it rains the odd time but so often is it a beautiful day. Like now. And people love to come out and have a beer or a joint or a walk and in a way it’s not so different than anywhere else except the beer is better and you don’t need be so worried about if you’re smoking a joint. It ain’t quite legal here yet but it’s less criminal. And people do fish out of the Saar. They are going to make the Saar boat useable so that it’s like a port town.

Well if I can’t get on a rave, like a skinny rat in a fat vat.

School kids. Man am I old. I used to be as old as those kids, and I didn’t want to be called a kid then. And here I am old enough to be their dad. My mom was my age when I was that age. People say it’s all right to be older and how you get smarter and what all, but it’s bullshit. We’re dying. Not so fast. We’re in our 30’s Krissy. Are you yet? Maybe not. You always where a little younger. One of those sexy, beautiful young women that people like me dreamed about loving. Guys like me, who think they’re so independent and free, they depend so much on being loved by young beautiful women. And men. Don’t we? I don’t know. It sounded like the truth when I started to write it. Maybe it’s one of those ‘depends how you look at it’ kind of truths, like the blind monks who all wanted to have sex with a donkey. To one a donkey was a big cock, to one a furry ass. Look at all the tits. Six tits just went by.

_bunnie stop_

I was just thinking of Mike Watt. He was long and lean and a natural born runner when I knew him. He’s likely fat now ‘cause he likes beer. But he asked Tim once: ‘Why do you believe everything he says and nothing I say?’ and Tim goes, he goes, ‘Cause he’s usually right and you’re usually wrong.’ Mike was my first friend on Cantley Cresant. But as often happens when one grows older, friends go separate ways. I suppose it’s very rare to have a friend from when you’re a kid till you’re old. I never hear from Brent. We were friends for a long time but we went separate ways. You wouldn’t think ways would be so different but they are. Of course I’m 8,000 km away from everyone so most people would give up on me. Brent knows. He had a friend that stopped playing with him when he found out Brent was moving away. But tits are the big thing. On that teenage girl, anyhow. I guess I have still nothing. It’s hard to write in the sun. Writing is more a rainy day or night thing.



by Joanne B. Washington

read on. albatross_part_04



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