Thursday, November 8, 2007


My celly is raving about is new mattress. I go “it’s a fuckin mattress not a lifestyle.” Sometimes I wonder. Like really wonder Just got some terrific mail and I hope my dear friend you’re ok with my quoting you. “CONGRATULATIONS!" (Elliot Smith just came on the radio so I take it as a yes.) "Named for his beloved uncle. Evan Henry. And Evan is a form of John. Fantastic! He is going to love his magic pony. Why do children love ponies so much? And why do we love giving them? Maybe because they deserve to be blissfully happy, cherished and celebrated. Congratulations!” How could I raise a complaint ever. Such a wonderful dear friend. Thank you. & Elliott on top of it. Earlier I was hit sideways & here is what I was writing…. Rick Springfield on the radio & the most blissful letter. One I will use (above) so perfect. Strange. Take my freedom. Place me in a cement shrouded cell & my friends knock on my head, “John can we come in and play” & we do. We come into this world naked & leave clothed-realistically & metaphorically. When Rick Springfield sings there is only one woman for me. & when I read magic pony I only think Evan Henry. Point being we are vaults. Treasures of our own divine. Magnificence. The architects of our own internal destinies. & friends? Friends are the ones we invite in. Serve tea & cucumber sandwiches. Glass of whiskey. You get the picture. Let’s redecorate. I got me some fine-ass friends. Funnier than fuck & wiser than the mountains. & mountains can’t speak. They just hover. So wise. Zen wise. Tao wise. Slap yr thighs wise. So let’s play some spades. Talk some shit & help that one out of the dark. Elliot Smith case in point.

So my other letter is from a terrific musician friend. He tells me his uncle comes over, his birthday and they go for a walk. See his X (hard) then runs into my family – Noah, Amanda, C & husband and Evan Henry & I quote “the baby is beautiful and new borns are normally disgusting”. So my friend & uncle keep walking. He says “ I was just writing a letter to that woman’s x-husband”. What a riot. Small world and a good one at that he then goes on to say “maybe we’re all in a wet cell” implying we’re all guilty of something. He also mentions he’s listening to Siouxsie & the Banshees. Was just describing to a friend yesterday, Evan’s nickname as a youth was Siouxsie Sue. He also adored them.

He goes on to say perhaps he should do a “prison retreat like me”. It does wonders. But there is a lot of take. But plenty of gain. This radio is so great. Hearing songs I thought I forgot. Been writing & reading. Got To Kill a Mockingbird & Sita by Kate Millett. Love her work. Rain fills the rest of my moments. Getting a master ready for Kill(ing) time. Hopefully will be done within next 2 weeks. It’s something I’m writing. Here’s 2:

On a Sunday
for Evan Henry

grief became

wild dog

you’ve just
given me
a 2
x 4


to walk
one’s path

bramble clover asphalt
all gather

mine carry melody
sound of


No comments: