two things happening there in that letter the first half is a cry to leave the planet and reunite with the creator an unraveling of the stones left in our path to alter our steps outward and upward the viral conquest and the second half is a trip down memory lane stimulated by the fundus disappearing up the attic hole in the roof
the parameters of the communication were unclear to me from the beginning but i think i get it now i needed a quiet moment and confirmation to what precisely i am paying attention the hints what is the code i had not bothered with the code worthwhile for the uninitiated i see vale but you did not really need them but when you want to be playing with children have ourselves outside of our element nothing of the flourishing conversation here just enjoying the citiness of the silly deptford indeed reading oak barrel singabout
i will give the other flats amongst all the quartered leased to london fields already rented out to industrious insects postering the sea to sell anything sip on wine
no but you do not have to if you do not want to there will be ways to live without your precious if you really want to just depends on how much you need the rest of us and what decisions the collective make sounds like propaganda to me well sure it is a friendlier form of motivation than a gun to the head each and every decision is a social one a slight alteration of the contract a give and take a to and fro every move is a trade with market influence take a bet on it
long lines of unsuccessful scops and gleemen lead to a flicker in the dark seen once at life and again at death leaving an ashy trail of bards and minstrels the poorest of fools feel alive sat beside a fire grandmother downs her uppers to get her dancing again come down child you need not be so high
just got to go turn the chicken light off nighty night my dear hens
not enough of the book buying back into reading whatever has got your goosebumps up in an incredible luscious curve you know the bloody meridian has me running aground shipwrecked putting the bottle down a part time teetotaler not a serious drinker a sip a taster and sometimes carried away with the crowd on a session a bender nothing like trouble steering ever so slowly away from these bad habits a risk of the industry an occupational hazard
a record of experience the subjective experience for the ages put a capital to it make it male make it absolute make it authoritative teach it to others put it in the curriculum make it compulsory have them recite it burn it onto the back of the retinas into their hearts have them bleeding and dying over it the many misinterpretations there can only be one singular record of all experience this is it we are all coming back as each others migraines
an absolute obscurity to be writing at all let alone with all this antique technology are you not using the intelligence no matter how real we have been using the intelligence for millennia what is missing is the stubborn staying power and the audience intelligence does not exist for itself there is always intention and instrumentalisation
letters not intended for me but thrown into the mixed bag to let me in on another voice as if i were eavesdropping these are the thoughts i share with such and such how i present the self to that other what i think they think of me fulfilling expectation creating a character continuing the story sharing little disappointments in the direction life has taken or weighing up the decisions cannot carry everything all the time not farming in north london no more time has broken my knees
not enough typewriters not enough discipline the problem here is not the machine but the flesh not the tools but the maker there is plenty here to be working with plenty to be getting on with chainsaws in order put last years birch into shape for the heating of a cave this winter time to bring in this years oak for next years winter and so on and so forth until the flesh collapses under its own weight no more heating no more felling moving onto something else the trees can have me they do a better job of it
next time fork out even a little more for something a little different living up the style wherever does all this money come from hard work too hard work just not spending it putting it in the wallet for those occasions where i need to bleed for the comfort of getting out into the unknown we have to work back up to trust make the effort find a little common ground and wherever and ever amen control yourself dirty little secret why did he come here does not let go i am not sure where he is going to an absolute uncertainty the emotions are there just hard to read from the skin punishes those slip ups alert active listener letters of great work under the tune of a piano concerto and a growing acquisition of experiences
edit the grand mess into several billion individual religions the private religion the do it yourself religion the colour by numbers belief system diversity diversity diversity understand our misunderstanding no one can be right if everyone is wrong
tinkering on the upstairs machines down at the local watering hole free of charge just hoping to get them ticking in time operating in series the same model coming off a factory production line winning awards if they stay at it within a life appreciation from the other because that is what some of us need not getting enough at the right time or too much junkies the lot of them without the fix a violent volatile vindictive member of the pack to be thrown overboard mulched into the ground eaten alive or all three
misplaced letter i have a forwarding address a call to continued correspondence just the type of provocation i enjoy have people talking an exchange of perspectives we can all learn we will never know it all
within the comfy surrounds of the home soft edges warmth light security letting the guard down the intoxication sets in loss of control again wandering perception wandering mind wandering body safe playground not wanting to run around simply avoid choking on own vomit such a stench comes from these poetic methods
the old man becoming cut out cliches an attempt to fold oneself once more than everyone else a little different to be a character outside of the dividends and beginnings payouts and pay-ins of the everyday keeping the lie alive tell me why it is cheaper to have it shipped from halfway across the world than made next door in house across the road and i will show you inequality fabricated globalised extorted
two and two fifths take the weekends off twelve days to completion twenty complete works a year or a letter every two weeks from a to z alright craigy i will knock out an alphabet book next week goal set then i will mull over the twelve day twenty work exercise thereafter the moonths thirteen months four weeks to every full moon thirteen books chapters poems stanzas line pages songs pick a form and complete within four weeks a collection of 13 a collection of 26 a collection of 20 there are the next three years all planned out in which order?
if you cannot see what i have stolen then i have done it well made it my own messed it up so badly misused so as to make it unrecognisable my own coming from nowhere but the self propagating machine the original source material drink from me it would be easier for me to tell you what i have not stolen yet you tell me stealing is a verb undoable
a narratorial nonsense i am writing to you building the story up slowly over time as it comes the life as story the story becoming life not a diary closer to a journal a collection of letters the notebook but always you in mind in room to whom i am speaking and listening conversing in conversation just a part of a conversation nothing whole in and of itself put it together with the other parts a giant jigsaw puzzle for the faithful