©1997 Brock F. Hanson novelink@speakeasy.org All Rights Reserved

I am forcing the vitelline membrane that separates me from myself.

I am forcing the great waters which girdle me with blood.

I and I alone choose

a seat on the last train of the last

surge of the tidal wave.

Aimé Cesaire

Notebook of Return to a Native Land.

With sound turned off, the television scream ed like the

some one-thing brainwashing us. Loud colors slake the thirst

for creative endeavor. Symbols fascinate

willing brains. Were Jung here to wind a clock of

songs we sing with money and closet

desires, Jung would dream new

Memories and Reflections. New One-One

game ties. Everybody

back

to their seats.

That's not even the beginning / of this charade /

this slash-something we'll define life.

Hold onto the changer because

its battery is dead.

Only when the Television is on.

Life outside.

Streets actually slick with the acrid reek of cheap-booze-piss

up Sycamore

from the

scaredcops,

guns on

hands,

protecting

the

patriarch's

orthodox

life

his motorcade pulls into traffic

parts Red-flashing seas'

box-lunch strewn, everywhere.

I filled my pack with delectable uneaten

morsels.

(An orthodox know how to chow.)

Now, home, so depressing-

the full resource

refrigerator packed to its

proverbial gills

and where is instinct

in that?

click click

Staring blank walls' home where

objects cluster hermetic means around our

intuitive blocks, smashing cross-brace

we pound, religiously

to chapel doors.

Collective answers are/were hermetic breaks from the world

in vibrations of beings filled with depression and anxiety

our bottle

the fragile purse

bursting

we lift voices in age-told prayers

crumbs falling from

strange suits of respect

so out of place-

Valencia Street

across from freshly-painted Projects.

Where the week before I'd wondered

why men dip brushes

at all

we assemble this madness in order

to relieve the madness. It-our casual vacation

from insides'

inside

Makes me wonder how Marx willed physics

in the vacuum of a

greed-stricken,

goods-starved

world.

Now everyone's infected with his lie.

Man in the friggn' dark, eatin' stale bread

within castle of

himself. Trotsky clan pushed out by very things

Lenin fears. Like: what did he think would happen?

Peace love and understanding?

As the wars within

rage.

Fall on yonder alters. Worship next-next

high tech marvels'

buyout stock options

Monkey house two:

Grab-belly

shake precious peg

seminate and

starve.

Gasping at old photographs

innocence wonder how

the pain can be

made something else or

felt without embodied.

Tears form eyes' inevitable

corners, blind alley-ways twist

and turns. Knife of old stabbing

present day pain. Anguish permeates my

still inner room. Loud music Brunei drum shrieks

cacophony-crash cymbal who knows. Oil drum lids.

Toxic waste containers!

Does it take this to be human, after all?

I spill expensive booze on a one and only escape,

plotting others. Watching boy-girl pairs act nature.

Bliss-in no-moments forward. Blasted in neo-raging hormones, raging.

Envy-for not having to think. Boils down to

I hate women and women hate men. Somewhere

Documenting nefarious crimes. Pain loneliness,

pain infidelities pain, emotional lack or excess.

You want kids I don't I do you won't can't we

just have sex?! Falacy. No "Just"s anymore.

Nature the very demanding client. Impossible to please.

So many

spirits so few

bodies! Time gets eventual, in ether-

waiting for slots. Plug in and

check out.

Read a brilliant piece of writing curling toes a mile a paragraph women are avoiding their greatest strength, not being erotic. Being erotic opens a body to truth. Unleashes it-lets litmus happen. I read she her we as gender component humans will integrate write:

scrap:

After which, I consider my old friend's mother. Died in catalepsy just told me, didn't know herself from hole in ss wail wall discover high-mountain Rumanian village no roads nuthin' cart them never-seen-motor-cars down. Ripped pretty dresses. Starved somehow god knows escaped before small ribs cave in. Lithe enough to slide between barbed wires youth-enough to satisfy

detonate carnal mayhem's No Wonder

She lost it Purse snap

Pornography. (Sit down!)

Lady jumping around waving those

stolid jello-arms talks real loud 'bout cum-in-face shots.

I'm wary of her motives, broadcasting reality so.

I'm weary of the topic. The whole stupid dance.

The obsession - the way people live for it hiding

the emptiness.

While punk guitarist balding

with crown over-indulgent stomach

lit strings of bass guitar

facing wall ashamed

little kid let

belly get full of

thick, un-archaic thinking

(really, his shame).

When performing you should

kick-almighty-ass! Who cares

what you look like?

Now you play

what matters

isn't the beginning, or end.

How are you dear? Fine. I went mountain biking with Errol.

Errol??

Arrol.

The one who runs the kick-boxing place the one

you claim wan-interest in

the one who's

not interested in married women?

Yea. Him.

Let me get this straight. The one you didn't think

anything would happen with?

Yes.

Did you have fun?

(mountainbiking)

Yea; could say. But he kicked my butt.

So now you 're seeing other men

you'll achieve the hard body I wished for

all those years

never had?

Something like that / always works this way were you

born yesterday?! I was. As matters for fact.

I'm born in gender syndrome. On a slippery eve to walk where

I must woo, you know? With bullshit through-and-through so

didn't. Fuck it. The script is disgusting. Let me remind you dear,

a power you have, inconceivable. Try on-

male rejection-go out with black-belt superman

this culture,

like me with super-model actress Ph.D. how

would you feel? You, the woman

of women who

sleep with sheets pulled high in hot weather

society still judging from its

ever-watchful eyes. Hiding cotton cloth

sleep, sweating details of incarcerations to

thin. But thin or not, boys wave whistle

you'll have any man in a bar with nod of the head and yes,

I'm lonely and pissed.

Because men like the married-women hurdles men

have to take whatever they'll more or less get because

women are yes-no you can you can't say-sos.

Women believe the sanctity of the illusion more than men do

don't want nascent vision white knight love dirt complication saddled side bird-banded men be good to wives, no desire anything-one else. Girls can't believe you don't tie each other down. Think men always lie, to get through pants.

And married men are bad.

MM deify happy-nest illusion.

So yes, maam, I'm mad, as are male friends for same/obvious reasons. One thinks

sexes secret-hate each other. I am beginning to agree. They hate to admit war, raging.

Freedoms one the other hasn't get sex riled up. I can walk around at night. Anytime. You can snap your fingers and score. Anytime. Weigh the things we take for granted? Ha! And you live longer. And you pee standing up. And you can have babies. An you don't have to bleed. Plus, we hunch with age, then we're alone. You don't have to worry about pregnancy. Each of us. Wanting to be something other-than. That's-reactive. It's secret, and situated in deep dingy bars. It hides in lines of coke, and daintiest sips of tea…

The human conditions of being here breathing sleeping, instead of walking through walls wailing corny, chain-clinking dirge, trying to get in a body to channel some silly ethereal nonsense. Even the redwood trees know.

Heart torn to bits.

Lone wolf howling.

Why is change

so painful?

Because change is original.

"Have you asked the names of your angels?"

No.

I see them all around you.

No kidding?

I rarely lie.

Is this…

One of those times. I need there to be

Angels. Anything.

What do they look like?

You have to ask their names.

Are they telling you this?

I can feel it.

How do I, do that?

Open your mind, and see what happens.

Difficult. I know my wife's in bed with a boxer, this very moment.

I can tell-our psychic connection, is twisting.

Alfredo, and Jeramie! pretty funny-( I never think of those names. )

How did you think of them, then?

Just popped into my head.

My rational conversation with certifiably schizo, two-ski-hatted street person. He's impressed with Jerimy, for some reason reason'll know nothing of. And there's another too, I tell him. Some kind of overseer: hard to pin down. Gabraiel? Something like that.

Hit loot in a treasure chest, digging for truffles on Mission.

You said-Gabriel?!

Yea. Gabby.

He's an Archangel! (So?)

First name basis. Why not? I needed a heavy hitter.

After all, my best friend's fucking a kick-boxer.

As U drive around, oil sheen on

fresh rain pavement

tires skidding. Droplets of water skulk down

halo moon sheets of lovely gauze we

feel terrible. Pain fall waves, drenching me. Pain the

human conditional. Alcohol : solvent. Alcohol makes choice. Woos joy, or despair.

In Drive-by bars, exhaust splays standing water

with loud, insolent force.

Phones are now 35 cents. DingDing.

Bum the dime. You home?

Yea.

Who used to live here?

In her nineties-one of the last grand San Francisco dames. A sixth generation native remembered what old folks museum-gawk.

She was my friend. I cried when she left.

Room haunted with pictures, crammed to ceilings with history-snippets, from other realities. Although empty. Bare wood floors look up-cove corners reflect candle-sparse light. Bedrooms, with whirlwinds, flowing from walls to walls.

What do you think about pain?

Pain?

Yes.

It's necessary.

Why?

I don't know.

I think it's… possible to use pain.

For?

Something creative. I think it's possible to use loneliness, too.

Can you do that?

I'm learning. Yes… Sometimes.

That must be very liberating.

It's ...

(Don't know what to say.)

It's …

Four-fifteen in the morning. Have you ever thought about angels?

(Have I got this point yet?!) (Yes.)

Let's ask them / us for a dream. What will the question be?

What does a future hold?

Okay. We'll ask now.

Three hours. Alarm.

Did you get your answer?

Bleary-eye clock; a cover with cat-like rug. I think about

a warm glow of happiness-where celestial-touch mermaids, where fairy-dust forms

where children quantum world, torn forms from picture books

are scattered-Yea. The answer is: Right here and now.

Radio. Loud to wake sleepers.

Curtis Mayfield flow Otis Redding sea sittin' on da day ova dock wasting time.

I'm headed for the Frisco Bay-Nothing's gonna come nigh-way / Looks like nothin's gonna… but I can't do what those people tell me to. Thousands of miles from no home.

Sittin' dock o'bay, whistlin' time.

Walking oceans' wake

mind body spirit up clouds spindrift

foam from wave-huge icebergs

charting my slow straight lines

along sheetglass sand

synchronicity I've seen him fifty five times in the last

three weeks what's

the chance? Now?

Cry dirge into

endlessness drips

soaks in shirt pant cuffs

gathering.

Sea-foam shoes

shoes in hand. Running

flick salt water up/down

rooster-tail back.

Marriage, its home, is dying. Belong displaces

all material reminders dead

I the water of life

and fear, is returning

going to see the

reality of….

An Alien my hometown

Conditioned. Thirteen thousand into

red brick wall. Easier, for me. I think.

No further recollections of [happiness].

Throw yourself to life preserver nobody's thrown. Save thy

preoccupied ass with

drink, women, song.

Thy entire providence

the first place I care

to land.

Pain leeching into the water

life waters, that 80-something percent

osmosis. How do the living dye this

empty color?

walking in sand-time-sun doing its dive

park cold, frozen fingers grasp

oblique handlebars pointing

any which way. Reckless

shivering endangers

not fully-articulate

spit flies

and tears still.

Looking at people sagacious

in houses, drenched with blue shoal light

flickering walls

and ice box full

compartment empty

catching stray

isolation. A-priori

substance fill gas tank half-empty weigh

losses not gains. Hiss teared platforms, endanger inner gyroscopes-no

possibility we'll slide all its way down! Better to have and love,

next candy bars. Women. Men-fat sassy with

internal neglect. Rotting insides out umber

realization

Note

The man

so attached to himself

he blames his mother. She's in a wheelchair, cobbled with memories of

light-footed dancing. Lite fantastic, Bell and her balls. Not a day goes by… Son thinks she blames him! She isn't sure at all. About anything.

Under the silent bridge where

water flows down

not up

The man whose

life's summer drains through Venetian blind

community of elicit, in those jagged razor lines

etched on his face. I wince,

the barbarous encoded-his essential list of

preoccupation from

self

I must

demythologize his red alcohol nose

his physiology wracked with

painful recondite grimace

a paint-caked history under

old abandoned canvas. His boosterismic

wrysmile converging with

face

down-turn lies

the fog-strewn

forbidden inner continent the

sewer of thought segue forging

his time's new monetary gaols Have you seen the statistics yet? No I

haven't. Well then!

The women,

old burnt-out drunk poets at Café Trieste

where 'The Beats', dove

downhill

told me:

There is no de-colonizing this mind. His poetry collides with his real world drunk images, braiding long-pause-cagey dot-dot-dots with true-life realisms and paper-clip asides. His monody hypnotizes sterilizes minds infected with fast-paced cause and effect. His sub-convulsive moments slide wet steel rails, screeching ominously permissible fantastics.

Took me five or six minutes to realize

the formal recital was over.

I felt sorry for him/her.

Why so glum?

Impious ferocity

dear sister

dear brother

I've sown plaintive yells

in vain, unsaid desires

of herself

Alone. And mirrors

run for cover. Grasp any ring thrown.

My friend,

A foremost quality of genetic kiss

Attention Deficit Disorder, is disorganization

lying awake-states of constant-forgetfulness. Alas, all the phone numbers

escaping with scribbled brown bags, so whenever you call me...

leave your number again. Because the full moon finally strikes-and I am feeble, and bloody as hell. Tomorrow I will drive famous a-capella divas to Saturday, and Sunday's 2-C-U, unless ballet-boy plagues me with oh-so succulent invitations. I am incurably weak with his sweet poison. I much prefer you, for we have things in common I never share with him. But heart's twisted malignancy! I've abandoned whole aeons figuring its says and does… beating, and hurting, with every thud.

If only there were heart-lobotomies! To find happy oblivion from my torrid agonies of love! I'd do it Today!! Right now! To think of the splendor, the serenity-

the sheer stupidity of such an act!

She wired me,

I wired her back.

She wired me again.

I wired her back

Like high-tech

phone machine.

Touch base:

Touch back

your turn.

Ditto,

boytoy

Because, as you know, "Madeline [Gleason] died of despair. What all poets die of."

Courtesy Mary Greer-

Women of the Beat Generation.

She told me day after a-capella escape

I'm inebriated with confused fucked up man-mad

neurotic crazy Out of My Mind

life. I take Bach Flower remedies, and

don't care about Ballet Boy any longer didn't

wet myself with self-destructive longing dint really

give flying shit I

panicked. Outright.

What will I mine to find

creative juice? Where now, my artistic catharsis? that

never quite resolves? I must like

being so fucked up. And I can't believe I'm admitting this

to me / you.

Newmoon

stops taking

its remedy.

Sign on

RevRomance: Smooch!!!!!
novelink: Hiiii!
RevRomance: I just sent you a funny thang in the mail...How ya doing?!
novelink: I was just having a 3-way
with Seattle and Japan
Pretty good--how I iz, that iz.
RevRomance: Are you IM-ing them? K I will check...
novelink: One's still on line. The other went to bed.
novelink: But I've finished talking to both of them.
RevRomance: Are you in a cafe?
novelink: Nope. At home
RevRomance: I just came back from a hottub/massage place
novelink: shoot! That sounds better tan-good.
novelink: Are you liquid?
RevRomance: Yah...I have been in dire need of TLC...liquid?
novelink: so the water did the rest
RevRomance: Like a flowing 'New Age' fountain? You gave me plenty last night :-) novelink:Glad you thought so. It was nice having you over. RevRomance: Oh I see. (Even if you didn't fuck me)
novelink: Am I allowed to?
RevRomance: I don't think you want to.
novelink: Thought you were in the lose respect frame-o-mind RevRomance: You think I am too fragile.

You fear I might become attached to your
sleeve...
novelink: Nope. Not in the least.
RevRomance: REALLY
novelink: You, of all people, should exhibit some other behavior. I think.
RevRomance: Other behavior? Like what?
novelink: Not what women usually do.
RevRomance: So I am projecting onto you then?

novelink: No, I don't (didn't) think so.
novelink: Do you?
RevRomance: I sense something holding youback
novelink: Yea. Probably intimidated.
RevRomance: No way! Not by me!
novelink: But at first it was because I
could tell you snapped into some
other mode when sex got involved,
and I wasn't really interested in
that place. Now, you seem
different.
RevRomance: Vulnerable perhaps?
novelink: Perhaps. Why wouldn't I be intimidated by you?
RevRomance: Cause I am a WIMPETTE!
novelink: you would be intimidated doing something with me, that I'm a near expert at.
novelink: Wimpette? You?
novelink: I don't believe it.
RevRomance: Do you think I am a
sexpert or something? I am still in
diapers!
RevRomance: Here this:B-R-A-V-A-D-O
RevRomance: I meant HEAR THIS
novelink: You gotta be kidding. You've
had five times more experience than anyone I know. I call myself an
rookie motocyclist too, but I've ridden untold thousands of miles and
done it since I was 13
novelink: So in a sense, I'm not a
rookie. I'm an expert, because I'm
still alive.
RevRomance: But my heart is a virgin
Brock...Doesn't that tell you
something...
novelink: If your heart wasn't the
way it was, I never would have
called you.
novelink: Beauty isn't inexperience
novelink: inex-peer-ience
RevRomance: Can you rreally see the
shape of my heart?
novelink: Not the shape, but the feel.
You see---I can see it. Other people...
theirs is hidden from view. I have
to thrash around, and avoid the
defenses to get a glimpse

of their soul
novelink: But your heart comes through your eyes
novelink: so the feeling can be seen
RevRomance: I stand naked. I have worked on undressing my soul for
centuries...I'm glad you have open eyes
novelink: Naked is the only way to be.
RevRomance: Skyclad and free...
novelink: Cover up only when it gets weird, or better yet, leave. So you can still be naked.
RevRomance: I won't hide anything I feel anymore...I used to be so good at it. I am
raw now.
novelink: Me too. I spent a whole lifetime hiding the truth... for what? It gets stale, when its not flying.
novelink: But it's hard, too.
RevRomance: Yes. It hurts to be so open at times...

but it's worth the agony endured.
novelink: tootrue
RevRomance: Life is terminally passing...we
have to live with full integrity...
novelink: Anyway, the agony is the stripping away of a shell we painfully wrought, for this future.
novelink: And in this future, we see it's not only superfluous, it's dragging us down into a morass of
the rest of society.
novelink: Who hid.
novelink: and died hidden
RevRomance: Bravado for breakfast...it's not so filling anymore
novelink: Dieters food
RevRomance: I want the meat and the muscle!
novelink: Why not? Action is better than thinking. 'Meditation' is strength, and using the body well meditation.
novelink: I do some of my best thinking using my body for things it loves to do. Bravado is the same
thing as hiding.
novelink: Not much of a workout.
RevRomance: Darn right!
RevRomance: And speaking of bodies...
novelink: Yea?
novelink: yours is tired?
RevRomance: Since it is a gift and a sacred pleasure to own one...
novelink: Bated breath!
RevRomance: I would like to thank you for cuddling so nicely with me...
novelink: My ultimate pleasure.
RevRomance: It is refreshing to meet
a real gentleman for a change!
novelink: Why thank you. I'm trying to remember the last time I was called that.
RevRomance: You are! And I think it's
wonderful that you have prevented us
from having sex...
novelink: ....
RevRomance: I fell wholesome for the first time in my entire life!
RevRomance: feel...
novelink: WOW!
RevRomance: I mean it!
RevRomance: Innocent in your arms...
novelink: I see an American flag waving mom's apple pie
novelink: and am very honored
novelink: No kidding
RevRomance: Now if that was not your intention, well than please forgive me...
RevRomance: But that is how you make me feel...
novelink: forgive you for...? I didn't really intend to do anything but feel a connectedness.
RevRomance: Yes...you have done a
fantastic job of keeping me off your cock
so that could be allowed to unfold...
novelink: It's good to feel strings pull, and listen to the music afterwards
novelink: Whatever it soul-nds like.
RevRomance: It has been a challenge for me...
RevRomance: Not to fuck/suck/or saturate you with sex...
novelink: You didn't make it seem too horribly hard. I'd venture to say, you were of the same state of mind,
without my influence. novelink: In other words, you were ready for something different.
RevRomance: Indeed!
novelink: Thus, take your bows.
RevRomance: You have helped a lot!
novelink: All dancers dance together.
RevRomance: You impress me with your ability...
novelink: to miss-type words in an interesting way?
novelink: Kidding
RevRomance: Excuse me?
novelink: nevermind
novelink: you were saying?
RevRomance: Will you ever
RevRomance: let me?
novelink: yes! let you what?
RevRomance: Be careful what you say
YES to!
novelink: K now I am K-refull
RevRomance: saturate you with...
RevRomance: SEX
novelink: saturation is such an
intriguing word. One would
be a fool not to enlighten
the body with a 'saturation'
in this short life.
RevRomance: yes...
RevRomance: ah hum
novelink: throat flex prep to saying...
RevRomance: intimated?
RevRomance: or is it intimitated?
novelink: yu mean, intimidated? Intimate is a ....
RevRomance: Spelling badly tonight.
RevRomance: Yes...you got it!
novelink: Jung thinks there is no "miss"spelling. Only the soul escaping through fingertips.
RevRomance: Does this topic make you a
wee bit nervous?
novelink: not really. I mean, it's not
normal conversation, but neither is a
time-delay computer hookup
RevRomance: I can change the topic if you prefer?
novelink: Intimidated by not
"performing" up to whatever virility
standards you have acquired, no doubt.
RevRomance: Oh is that what scares ya!
You are VIRILE you don't have to act it!
novelink: Metaphors---I can take a
corner at ninety five miles an hour,
hanging off the seat
novelink: that same corner would kill
you at fifty. Because you haven't done it as much as I have.

RevRomance: Lay some heavy speed on me!
novelink: But the reality is---I now see---the bravado is the measuring stick. the CONNECTION, is the unseen, non judgment non "performance" part.
novelink: In other words, you'll get the same rush at 40mph that I do at 90. and vice versa, because it all happens simultaneously in the realm of heart.
RevRomance: Okay...so then in non-metaphoric language you are saying:
novelink: Most sex is non-conductive,
so it gets all fucked up with speed
and distance records.
RevRomance: I like a man with a slow hand...
novelink: in the sense of conductivity--or soul interplay.
novelink: This is an interesting line. (of thought 4-me)
RevRomance: Ummm...soul interplay...I like that!
RevRomance: So in other words...you want me just for my SOUL!
novelink: your body's pretty good too.
RevRomance: But that is not what amuses you on the deepest levels...
novelink: You're right. Basically, the soul is the most interesting part of people.
RevRomance: You are rather Tantric I take?
novelink: Not formally.
novelink: But I do try to get to the same places, no doubt.
RevRomance: If you are grinding your third eye into my soul and not my
pussy...I'd say you were pretty Tantric!
novelink: I'm tantric then. I've always been more motivated by 3rd eye than crotch.
RevRomance: WOW!!! I'm so glad I asked!
novelink: But part of that was probably developed

as a method of self-protection.
novelink: Why are you glad you asked?
RevRomance: Because I thought you were not
sexually attracted to me...
novelink: Hmm. Really? Because I
didn't/haven't jumped the bones?
RevRomance: Yes. As that is what I am accustomed to.
novelink: I'm sorta strange, in that way. Not a "normal guy".
RevRomance: I will gladly share my soul if that is what you like..
novelink: You already do, to a large degree.
novelink: Non-verbally.
RevRomance: Well I didn't do it consciously...Now I am hip to your M.O.
RevRomance: Tantra all the way!
novelink: OK. Why not?
RevRomance: Perhaps we can do a workshop together?
RevRomance: And master the finer techniques of the art...
novelink: I'd be interested in what that entails. Do the workshop people actually dust off virgin hearts, or cover up twisted lusty bits?
novelink: Methinks latter, in their deceit.

novelink: Unbroken hearts are rare.
novelink: But who knows.
novelink: Starnger things in Marin, have happened.
RevRomance: I don't know. Used to think that Tantra was for aging slow people too tired to fuck like rabbits...
novelink: Might be true. But fucking like rabbits is... more touted than fun.
RevRomance: Me likes humpty dumpty!
novelink: more fun than profound
RevRomance: TRUE
novelink: Trick:
novelink: Make the fun profound
RevRomance: Yup?
RevRomance: Hard one!
novelink: joke?
RevRomance: ?
novelink: hard one
novelink: you know
RevRomance: I How i know!
RevRomance: 2 AM
RevRomance: You got school tomorrow?
novelink: Girl, I gotta clean the kitchen up... burnt a pot. And my elbow's sore as hell. Yup--got school. Gotta do a paper too.
RevRomance: Yikes! Get to it then!
novelink: Tha'talottawords for: Time to Skeedaddle.
RevRomance: KOKOKO...Thanks a mill!
novelink: Likewise.
RevRomance: A Big THIRD_EYE KISS TO YA!
novelink: KKKKisss

RevRomance: Greetings stranger!
novelink: Not me no stranger.
novelink: My computer is barely working---screen keeps shutting off-

-I may lose you at any time
RevRomance: oOOOOOOOOOnnooooooNOOOOOOO!
RevRomance: What's the matter?
novelink: Luck keeps us together
RevRomance: Are you having fun yet?
novelink: Yes-- the fun and synchronicity is beginning.

Very hard to go back to my old apartment though.
RevRomance: Darn! You might be out for days this time of year!
RevRomance: Your apt.?
novelink: The very
RevRomance: In Seattle?
novelink: Where I so recently lived, with wife etc.
RevRomance: Why is that?
novelink: Why is what?
RevRomance: Yes...why?
novelink: Fuck if I know, but I do, too. Long story for in-person rendering.
novelink: Strange though, seeing my things on the shelves

like they always were/are
novelink: knowing I don't belong there anymore.
novelink: Woeful.
RevRomance: Makes you feel weird, huh?
RevRomance: Why don't you belong? You are married?
novelink: Theoretically. Separated would be a better word.
RevRomance: I am sorry to hear that...
RevRomance: I hoped she would instill great joy in you...
novelink: I told you about this---wife the doctor, etc. At the restaurant with eggplant smothered in garlic and buddha delights
novelink: where we had the lovely meal post-snooze
RevRomance: Yes...but you also said you are very close
novelink: She may yet--I haven't seen her yet. But it is hard to imagine much melancholy won't outfall
novelink: melancholy--I always misstype that word
RevRomance: Well just speak the truth of your feelings to her
RevRomance: You deserve happiness...
novelink: Tis true, and I do speak the truth----but people are sometimes afraid to hear it.
RevRomance: It's most important that we be truthful to ourselves first...
novelink: That's really the root of all evil, where fucked up situations, and swirling unidentifiable emotions are concerned
RevRomance: We must handle the sword of integrity
novelink: without being too badly lacerated
RevRomance: Name thy truth...then cry outloud!
novelink: Inner crying too painful/
novelink: better to externalize/cleanse
RevRomance: Yes better to howl to the heavens! just got your mail!
novelink: tidy little delivery of electrons, proclaiming deeds well done
novelink: fun had
RevRomance: Ahhh...thanks!
novelink: and sheets rumpled
novelink: Thanks for them, by the way!
RevRomance: I will be going to Hawaii in Feb.!
novelink: Good for you! I'm excited for your journey into ...
novelink: The Twihawaii Zone.
RevRomance: Just talked more to Bobby...he is upcountry in an isolated paradise. says i can stay as long as I like!
novelink: Hard to beat that. Nothing better for the soul.
novelink: ....about to birth music
RevRomance: Eat right out of an organic garden...walk around the house naked! I told him he was my muse of music..
RevRomance: He wants to put a band together, tour etc...

novelink: I bet he liked that!! (the muse comment) Shoot---Hey girl, gotta get

on the phone about this errant computer,

before whole thing

shuts down…