From: “wind for the sail-boat” Add to Address Book
To: memorabilia23@ yahoo.com
Subject: i’m too tired for this shit
Date: Sat, 02 Feb 2002 19:46:19 -0800
But i’m going to try it anyway
going to stand in a dark room
head against the shoulder of some strange man i do know
as he listens to me tell him about my feelings towards dark rooms and
europe’s penchant for cramming in the sex and cutting out the intimacy.
the back room of the argos
and i’m talking about down stairs
behind the drag-curtain of the brick wall
has two red lights that pulse like a heart beat
perhaps a heart that is dying…
… or some strange alien parasite
as it sucks out yr life.
perhaps i was just feeling that way
very tired
very tired!
good to see the moon is shrinking
fuck
why is the moon so beautiful?
“you know the sun is sometimes
eclipsed by the moon”
i remembed tonight while in the bar
bear?
kissing someone
and thinking of how the ego can be subjugated by desire&emotion.
i was very happy about this correlation
and thought of flies on walls
a
n
d
mostly bar flies.
beautiful occasions
sweet and subtle scottish man
name of my father
but much more in his heart
————- in his innocence
————- in his truth
yeah, looks much better without glasses
yeah, mouth would be less sharp
soft and fuzzy
but..
i kept trying to tell him there was no need to be nervous
but it guess i was judging him the whole time
sometimes i cannot help it.
however
i cannot tell you all about it
just these little bits
coz the walk home can take forever
even if you’re not stoned
oh
and the bit about thomas
which i am glad to remember now
german man
after i left
being too tired
i found him in the eagle
and played a game for a minute or two
and then stepped into place where i must needed to be
and it is about being strong and desirous
definately, they really respect that
that turns them on
fire turns on a city of wooden houses
but not too much…
german man
i could met him
could run into him
happy to have made the connexion
i love massage
“thank you for these things”
happy to have played the course
and grabbed the goal
and asked and recieved
yes
thank you
beautiful nipples and cock and face and eyes
beautiful eyes
beautiful furriness
beautiful furriness all over the place
a dime a dozen, i guess
so, beautiful skin too
but soft blond fur?!
well, it’s quite nice, Germany
thanks
now abba will sing me to sleep
on my long walk home.

From: “wind for the sail-boat” Add to Address Book
To: memorabilia23@yahoo .com
Subject: lamb and love
Date: Thu, 31 Jan 2002 18:39:47 -0800
love and lamb
something to feed the horses
long expeditions
spinning on
and our
into the evenings
long expectations
long shots
well
it’s not all in the chance
and i cnanot say it’s skill
i cannot explain it
let me try and tell you about it
i walked
o fuck
i can’t even say down
i walked around.
round
down
into to the cellars
up to the attic
looking
i was looking
my most common experience here is people asking me
“what are you looking for?”
before i gave away my bag
they were always asking “what’s in the bag”
“follower of rashnish?”
something cranberry
clean out this piss
‘ what am i looking for?
good question.
but really, i’m not looking for anything.
i’m just walking
just seeing
just hearing
dancing with
working with
playing… not searching
not looking for it
being there. . . ‘
something like that
but i have to be careful what i wish for
and i know for a long time now i’ve been doing my best to avoid wishes
no
desires
no
dreams
no
Drama
yeah, drama.
but all that land of good intentions isn’t going to get me far
not when i leave the door of oppurtunity open for me to waltz through
into
wherever.
i found myself in a house
i found myself in drama
somepeople
that’s what they make with their lives
i know the score
of the whole piece
know all the moves
well, of course i could learn more
but
not right now
not like that
ugh.
lessons
images
reflections
fucking freaking out
talking like a maniac
like me
a thousand times doubled.
but that’s not the point
i’m just telling you that i am walking back into the world
not to get lost in it
no
thanks
but
no
but to experience it
i will not be what others are
i will be what i am
whatever that is
and what i grow into
have to be with other people
and know that they fall in love
know that older men want “boys”
know they want children
no
not babies
no
sons
kinda
fertile fields
places to plant their seeds
grow a-new
especially in an earth they know is beautiful and virile and creative
already
merging
companionship
yeah….
i got caught by the moon
on maandag
moonday
bathed in the light
“undo”
bathed in the sound
missing the meaning?
in a park
after leaving the arms of Hans
[“father”]
wanting to be in the arms of one
sleeping
warm
flesh
flesh
warm
loving
sharing
wanting
yes
this is drama
well
living
honesty
where did this come from?
not the honesty bit
but this emotions
this long-lost morrissey dream
“and as i climb into an empty bed, oh well: enough said”
gene sings
“don’t turn the light out and leave me: this bed feels cold and empty”
and in the past i…
fear ful of sheets that took my heat
how many times did i say that?
how many boys have i turned away?
but it was this moon
it was the end of the day
and it got me
so i know
i know the yearnings of the heart
the mind
the spirit
the ego
“take me home”
“Give me a home”
“be my home”
ugh
hungry.
i walked the streets
last night
tonight
and the night before, even
stopping many times
pizza does not satisfy
falafal is good, but…
showarma is what i need
and need
feed and feed
eat many of them in an evening
dripping with curries and onions and grease
tonight
it was good
i was all night looking for he
he
who i found last night
took my eyes off the moustache
yeah, i love these guys
but they seem to all wear cologne
and spend most of their time in dark corners
it’s as if all my standards don’t hold up here
tonight i was looking for him
and didn’t find
and didn’t find
but found Jan
and went off to go home with him
just to clear the stage, i guess
coz riding the bike together just wasn’t working
so i made my way to walk home
but decided i needed a showarma first
coz the pizza just isn’t satisfying here
and gravity pulled me back to the bar
the date was made for
and i walked in
and saw him
and we both just stopped and smiled
approached
well
besides jack daniels and jaggermister
the rest is just a story.
it is time for me to sleep tonight.
i have had enough lamb
enough sacrifice
the story?
the story about masks…
perhaps i’ll tell you about it sometime
just ask
i will flesh out these tales as the days progress
good night, babes.
love
…dominick–>
…vyne~~>

From: “wind for the sail-boat” Add to Address Book
To: auxarq@.com
Subject: Re: Thanks…
Date: Fri, 25 Jan 2002 09:40:13 -0800
the night unfolded nice
found a library to quite myself away in and read my book
play with my beard…
went to the internet cafe
and ate a bon bon
while typing type typing
so the Web was alcohol and kids
chatting
and being un-gracefully hit on by a big ole brute from SF
of course
is this what i ask for?
or just one of the things i’m open to?
it was fun
they all went home
SF with a trick
martijn with himself
catching the last tram
so i walked up stairs and looked through the meat
stood in a corner
my favourite album
well
one of the millions:
Dead can Dance: “into the labrynth”
could have been nothing more fitting
but i just stood and watched
a small conversation
a man gave me a sache of tobacco
smoke smoke
bon bon full on
alcohol
duuval
ugh
when i walked down stairs
saw a beautiful boy with a full red beard
very kind
but when he kissed me
i felt my virtue taken from me
how much they would like to stuck me in their web
suck me in their web
but last night was not the night
i am not so sexually silly as i once was
and walked home
light rain and cold night air
the occasional stop
at a place to get shwarmas
plates of veggies and lamb bits
GRRRIN
and that was very nice and all
and the second one i ate there
and walked out with out paying
forgetting
the man yelled “FRIEND!?”
and i turned back around and dug out some cash
‘ oh sorry sorry sorry ‘
onward i walked
home
crash in my dell
very nice
yeah
no coffee today
no coffee tomorrow
by sunday
i should be somewhat chill
[grin]
i will see you then
when?
right
i’ll call you at about 10:30
thank you, dear boy
i enjoyed running around with you greatly
felt like two kidds
and i went back to waterstones and got that CD the boy Marco made for
me
what little joys
and joys
and joys
[laughs]
see ya
and the forest
soon
…dominick–>
…vyne~~>

From: “wind for the sail-boat” Add to Address Book
To: dreamwill@.com
Subject: dreams and other stories
Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2002 09:17:26 -0800
will…
a few nights ago i was staying in Egmond on Zee
woke
from a dream i had
laying next to my Leo
dream-scatter
my mother
face down in the grasses
next to the van
you walk behind it
i cannot see
but come around and see you there
kissing the back of her neck
look up at me
shy and somewhat shocked…
you come up with a smile
my father approaches
full-on military gear
he’s got a few knives tied to certain spots
gun in a holster
and large automatic rifle in his hand
“i’m not hunting, i’m scouting out the land”
i feel he’s lying to me and approach him like a lover
searching for a kiss
but grab a knife and pull it from its sheath
hold it against his throat
‘too much precaution can get you killed, daddy’
and i realized then
my pronounced antipathy for my father
as he is representing the man
who was your lover
and lives on your land
there he was, as if he’d never lived there
with a possee and munitions
looking for how he can exploit the land
hunting and farming
i don’t know what
you were part of my family
abused by the father.
groggy early-morning by the zee
leo got up
we had a coffee down stairs
and he headed off to church
and i walked along the sandy beach for a few hours
sand blowing into all of my crevices
snot flowing from my nose
forced out by the wind and the cold
kicking up the sea foam in my large black boots
blowing into nothing in the wind
past the galloping horses
and the sand that had dried
lifted from the surf
blowing across the beach
like spirits
i followed it up to the dunes
over the hill
all the little farms
the town in the distance
i walked my way back
through the very-old town streets
past the museum of warm impliments
churches telling me the time
tourist shops seelling travel goods
from far off lands
i’d been too
people looking at me like a curio
but when i got back down to the beach
a group had gathered there
filled with families and dogs
a woman walked out of the café
and spoke in dutch for a while about something
and everybody
smiling
walked down into the sand
unleashing their dogs on the ocean
yapping and nipping and running around
[i always like seeing dogs free and playful among their community]
i watched them
and a man walk past me
my eyes followed him
a face like yours
but long and full grey beard
gold hoops in his ears
but eyes searching like…
i walked over and stood next to him
in his leather jacket
and gaze far-off
he turned quickly and headed into the town
i never know when it’s alright to approach a man
even less sure in a country i am foreign in
but the guest you suggested i meet up with
fate has decided to align me with
Martijn
is also the friend of some Bryan i met in San Francisco
in my few days before leaving
looking for a belgian man
friend of Leo
Valentijn
waiting waiting
bryin, bar-tender of the eagle
chat chat
and “you should meet this friend of mine in amsterdam
tall and
i send everybody of interest to him
you’ll love him”
so when i emailed him i mentioned you and dennis
and he said
“you already know my west-coast family”
so
i will deposit leo at the airport tomorrow and call martijn and see
when i
can actually meet him
there you were in my dreams
and thought i saw you
a man who reminded me of you
down by the sea
checking in on you
forest and water
how are you doing?
…dominick–>
…vyne~~>

From: “momentarily on the wire” Add to Address Book
To: scottbear@ak
Subject: …gracefully
Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2001 01:42:11 -0800
Scott
i love you like a brother
i mean
i still want to have sex with you and all that
but i feel i’ve known you so long
[still…, i would like to meet you]
the last time you and i had a talk about the well-being of your body
you were mr bear alaska
[ i think ]
and going to the gym or something
now
physical excersise is great
BUT
weights need to be balanced by streatching
and diet is very important
blah blah
i always recommend Yoga
i always recommend walking barefoot
these two things are essential
now
when i say “yoga”
i don’t necessarily mean going to classes every day
i studied it for two weeks
and have been doing it ever since on my own
but i was a weak and skrawny kid
so when i hit puberty i learned about pushups
and have been doing SOMETHING ever since
sometimes i forget for weeks on end
and my body suffers for it
but eventually i pick it back up again
yoga means “union”
it’s the act of making yourself one with your body
it sounds funny
but when you start doing yoga your body will hurt a lot more
because all of a sudden you’re using it in ways you haven’t for a long
time
and places you can’t even reach will be sore
but if you listen to the soreness
it is just your body speaking to you
in fact
what you’re feeling now is just your body talking to you
listen to it
streatch out
watch dogs and cats
streatch like they do
play like children do
these things are very alive
and have not forgotten this
have not pretended to be “human” by some strange standards
they listen to their bodies
and the world around them
and do what they need to do
follow suit
listen to yourself
it’s amazing
i’m ok at it
i’ve still got a lot of learning
there is the body
and thoughts
and emotions
and actions
and god
[or whatever, spirit]
they’re all trying to come to balance
it is for you to help them all focus
then life is just peachy
but til then
it’s work
[grin]
so i live
but i enjoy it as best i can
it’s living
right?
check out a book called “the ancient secret of the fountain of youth”
by peter kelder
it’s rather small
[get book one, they’ve published it with a companion volume you don’t
really
nead unless you got extra time and money for it]
and was first published in 1937
so it’s right on the tip of america’s health crayz
but it’s a great biginning yoga practice
that is more like calistenics
so it’s good for your whole system
and fun too
and has some tips about the other areas of health as well
ummmm
i’m heading off to hawaii now
i would love to come see you
but i’m going to europe just after the new years
and don’t know when i’ll be back
i need to wander there
find some things….
i will
of course
always want to visit alaska and visit you there
and
eventually
i will
and when i see ya i’ll teach ya some yoga and attune you to reiki and
give
you some medicine balls and cook you kitchari and make you tea
until then, it’s up to you
take care of yourself, beautiful
be well
[HUGS]
love and warmth to you, kid
…dominick–>
…vyne~~>

From: “he must have been named damian” <cookthief@hotmail.com
To: cookthief@hotmail.com
Subject: the rumi stuff once sent to robert
Date: Tue, 31 Oct 2000 20:46:52 GMT
MIME-Version: 1.0
X-Originating-IP: [4.54.137.172]
Received: from 4.54.137.172 by lw4fd.law4.hotmail.msn.com with
HTTP;Tue, 31
Oct 2000 20:46:52 GMT
SOMETIMES I FORGET COMPLETELY
Sometimes I forget completely
what companionship is.
Unconscious and insane, I spill sad
energy everywhere. My story
gets told in various ways: a romance,
a dirty joke, a war, a vacancy.
Divide up my forgetfulness to any number,
it will go around.
These dark suggestions that I follow,
are they part of some plan?
Friends, be careful. Don't come near me
out of curiosity, or sympathy.
TALKING IN THE NIGHT
In the middle of the night,
I cried out,
"Who lives in this love
I have?"
You said, "I do, but I'm not here
alone. Why are these other images
with me?"
I said, "They are reflections of you,
just as the beautiful inhabitants of Chigil
in Turkestan resemble eachother."
You said, "But who is this other *living*
being?"
"That is my wounded soul."
Then I brought that soul
to you as a prisoner.
"This one is dangerous,"
I said. "Don't let him off easy."
You winked and gave me one end
of a delicate thread.
"Pull it tight,
but don't break it."
I reached my hand
to touch you. You struck it down.
"Why are you so harsh with me?"
"For good reason. But certainly not
to keep you away! Whoever enters this place
saying *Here I am* must be slapped.
This is not a pen for sheep.
There are no seperating distances here.
This is love's sanctuary.
Saladin is how the soul looks. Rub your eyes,
and look again with love at love."
TWO FRIENDS
A certain person came to the Friend's door
and knocked.
"Who's there?"
"It's me."
The Friend answered, "Go away. There's no place
for raw meat at this table."
The individual went wandering for a year.
Nothing but the fire of seperation
can change hypocrisy and ego. The person returned
completely cooked,
walked up and down in front of the Friend's house,
gently knocked.
"Who is it?"
"You."
"Please come in, my self,
there's no place in this house for two.
The doubled end of the thread is not what goes through the eye of the
needle.
It's a single-pointed, fined-down, thread end,
not a big ego-blast with baggage."
But how can a camel be thinned to a thread?
With the shears of practices, with *doing* things.
And with help from the one who brings
impossibilities to pass, who quiets willfulness,
who gives sight to one blind from birth.
*Every day that one does something.*
Take that as your text.
Every day God sends forth three powerful energies:
One, from the sperm of the father into the mother,
so growth may begin.
Two, a birth from the womb of the ground,
so male and female may spring into existance.
Three, there's a surge up from the surface
into what is beyond dying, that the real beauty
of creating can be recognized.
There's no way to ever say this.
Let's return to the two friends whose thread
became single,
who spell with their two letters
the original word,
*BE.*
B and E tighten around subjects and objects
that one now may hold them. Two scissor blades
make one cut.
And watch two men washing clothes.
One makes dry clothes wet. The other makes
wet clothes dry. They seem to be thwarting each other,
but their work is a perfect harmony.
Every holy person seems to have a different doctrine
and practice, but there's really only one work.
Someone listening to a millstone falls asleep.
No matter. The stone keeps turning.
Water from a mountain
far above the mill keeps flowing down.
The sleepers will get their bread.
Underground it moves, without sound, and without
repetition. Show us where that source of speech is
that has no alphabet. That spaciousness.
Where we are now is a narrow fantasy
that comes from there, and the actual, outside world
is even narrower. Narrowness is pain,
and the cause of narrowness is manyness.
Creation was spoken with one sound, BE.
The two letters, B and E,
to record it,
came after.
The meaning of the sound
and its resonance
are one.
There's no way to ever say this,
in so may words! And no place
to stop saying it.
Meanwhile, a lion and a wolf were fighting. . . .
THE BLOCKED ROAD
I wish I knew what you wanted.
You block the road and won't give me rest.
You pull my lead-rope one way, then the other.
You act cold, my darling!
Do you hear what I say?
Will this night of talking ever end?
Why am I still embarrassed and timid about you?
You are thousands. You are one.
Quiet, but most articulate.
Your name is Spring.
Your name is wine.
Your name is the nausea
that comes from wine!
You are my doubting
and the lightpoints
in my eyes.
You are every image, and yet
I'm homesick for you.
Can I get there?
Where the deer pounces on the lion,
where the one I'm after's
after me?
This drum and these words keep pounding!
Let them both smash through their coverings
into silence.
TALKING THROUGH THE DOOR
You said, "Who's at the door?"
I said, "Your slave."
You said," What do you want?"
"To see you and bow."
"How long will you wait?"
"Until you call."
"How long will you cook?"
"Til the Resurrection."
We talked through the door. I claimed
a great love and that I had given up
what the world gives to be in that love.
You said, "Such claims require a witness."
I said,"This longing, these tears."
You said,"Discredited witnesses."
I said, "Surely not!"
You said, "Who did you come with?"
"The majesstic imagination you gave me."
"*Why* did you come"?
"The musk of your wine was in the air."
"What is your intention?"
"Friendship."
"What do you want from me?"
"Grace."
Then you asked, "Where have you been
most comfortable?"
"In the palace."
"What did you see there?"
"Amazing things."
"Then why is it so desolate?"
"Because all that can be taken away in a second."
"Who can do that?"
"This clear discernment."
"Where can you live safely then?"
"In surrender."
"What is this giving up?"
"A peace that saves us."
"Is there no threat of disaster?"
"Only what comes in your street,
inside your love."
"How do you walk there?"
"In perfection."
Now silence. If I told more of this conversation,
those listening would leave themselves.
There would be no door,
no roof or window either!
BONFIRE AT MIDNIGHT
A shout comes out from my room
where I've been cooped up.
After all my lust and dead living I can still live with you.
You want me to.
You fix and bring me food.
You forget the way I've been.
The ocean moves and surges in the heat
of the middle of the day,
in the heat of this thought I'm having
Why aren't all human resistances burning up with this thought?
It's a drum and arms waving.
It's a bonfire at midnight on the top edge of a hill,
this meeting again with you.
CONSTANT CONVERSATION
Who is luckiest in this whole orhcestra? The reed.
Its mouth touches your lips to learn music.
All reeds, sugarcane especially, think only
of this chance. They sway in the canebrakes,
free in the many ways they dance.
Without you the instruments would die.
One sits close beside you. Another takes a long kiss.
The tambourine begs, *Touch my skin so I can be myself.*
Let me feel you enter each limb bone by bone,
that what died last night can be whole today.
Why live some soberer way and feel you ebbing out?
I won't do it.
Either give me enough wine or leave me alone,
now that I know how it is
to be with you in a constant conversation.
*
Friend, our closeness is this:
anywhere you put your foot, feel me
in the firmness under you.
How is it with this love,
I see your world and not you?
*
BUOYANCY
Love has taken away my practices
and filled me with poetry.
I tried to keep quietly repeating,
*No strength but yours,*
but I couldn't.
I had to clap and sing.
I used to be respectable and chaste and stable,
but who can stand in this strong wind
and remember those things?
A mountain keeps an echo deep inside iteself.
That's how I hold your voice.
I am scrap wood thrown into your fire,
and quickly reduced to smoke.
I saw you and became empty.
This emptiness, more beautiful than existance,
it obliterates existance, and yet when it comes,
existance thrives and creates more existance!
The sky is blue. The world is a blind man
squatting on the road.
But whoever sees your emptiness
sees beyond the blue and beyond the blind man.
A great soul like Muhammad, or Jesus,
moving through a crowd in a city
where no one knows him.
To praise is to praise
how one surrenders
to the emptiness.
To praise the sun is to praise your own eyes.
Praise, the ocean. What we say, a little ship.
So the sea-journey goes on, and who knows where!
Just to be held by the ocean is the best luck
we could have. It's a total waking up!
Why should we grieve that we've been sleeping?
It doesn't matter how long we've been unconcious.
We're groggy, but let the guilt go.
Feel the motions of tenderness
around you, the buoyancy.
["some forget it is just as cool to be awake as it is to be asleep"]
["the dead can, indeed, dance"]

From: horsestorideon@hotmail.com
Subject: lives waiting to be continued [ – pragmatism, not idealism – ]
Date: May 29, 1999 2:29:34 AM PDT
To: paganbear@hotmail.com
like standing on a corner
waiting for the buss
[yeah, if it needs to be like that
, what?]
got this thing
he said
he needed
on his
out – side
yes, and
just arrived in town
i had to drive
and last day
hitch hiker
bad responses
[on my part]
and there’s trevis
[who, even now, freaks out in front of me
preparing to cry
laughing (like a scream)
with my hand on his belly and over his mouth
and my heart against his back]
who keeps laughing
my kitten
[he’s a cat too]
he’s my little sun
my little fire-ball
burst into flames
he’s got red on
; little hairs on the sides of his head
that it’d put in braids
[like you did to me]
and he’d taken them out
all frizzy
and badly burn
he blows up
and it’s hard to see people explode
-i’d like to see him make some pretty colours
and i’m very tired
and this kid i know from NYC
[i met him there: he’s from Santa Rosa, California]
is a virgo
and he certainly is.
phew.
flew to see me for my birthday
[first, you know]
beautiful drive.
it’s time to write
and walk
and work it out
yes yes
WAKE UP
it’s time for dominic to start living again
so,
wow
wanna run?
i spent time with some trees in the red-woods
told me to jump from tree to tree
and the birds screamed my names
and i skipped
and clicked
and my legs said
‘sad’
as i was so lazy
as i was driving too much
and it’s time to start moving
without the metals
without the external tools
ah
our little
world shaping
projects
[what else is there to do for a sculpter ( medium:reality ) ?]
got work to do.
i think it would be better if you could call me on tuesday
and either around 10am here
or 10pm here
if not
try monday
and we’ll just hope i’m around
[have ta do stuff with the kids]
i’d love to talk to you
[ov course]
and i will.

From: sowinski@netdirect.net
Subject: your letters
Date: November 9, 1997 09:44:10 PM CST
To: horsestorideon@hotmail.com
I haven’t responded to any of the letters I have gotten form you or the
people on the mailing list because I don’t want to interfear. All of the
writing is so beautiful. Though everytime I read something form you I start
to cry I love listening to all of the thoughts you put out. I know they
are not full of joy but no-one in the world is full of joy so why should
people pretend? I will confess I did not read all that has been sent to
me. My problem was I had to go on the most mind numbing retreat of my life.
It was a full weekend of church camp, so I could be comfirmed. All to make
mom happy. I know i should not do things to make other people happy, but
there are only a few people in the world that i would really like to try to
make happy. One of those people is mom. I think she has earned some form
of happiness.
My problem with myself is, sometimes i find my self not carring either way
about my decissions. you may not think that is bad but I don’t want to
lose myself. I haven’t been to a dog show in about two months. I really do
miss it. But more than anything I miss my job working for Doug in OKC.I
miss my friends form Texas, Arizona, Nebraska and all those other states
they came form. I really don’t have anything worth while to say. I think
I am too stupid to carry on a good conversation with you. I need to read
more and listen to more music. But i do have to say the last Tori concert
I went to, Purdue, was the best of the two concerts I have been to. The
other concert was Tori also. I haven’t gotten the new U2 CD yet, but I
would like to know if they are going to come anywhere close, also I would
like to the Beasty Boys in concert.
Any way I really don’t want to bore you any more than this.
I really do love you and i miss you a lot
kari

From: exit2k@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: Houdini
Date: November 7, 1998 1:38:31 AM EST
To: afw10@columbia.edu, mrvisible@worldnet.att.net, sowinski@inetdirect.net, sejohnst@midway.uchicago.edu, shorning@willamette.edu, gbrennan@willamette.edu, emcgarry@willamette.edu, gdelling@willamette.edu, and 23 more…
if he rose
we were all sleeping
and it was a long, long time ago
there was a land
which must have been green
and soft and wide and not flat
and there must have been rivers.
(the rivers were green
and they were like faces spread across the hills.
i had almost forgotten when he came to me.)
there must have been sunlight when he rose
which he rose into, shining. He was big,
then, he was Huge. He came from the water’s edge,
seeking life.
he was born an explorer.
he was a born explorer.
he was an explorer born.
He asked questions. there were people in the cities.
He was green.
He asked questions. there were not very many good mirrors.
He hadn’t seen enough colors to be sure
where he was.
there was a family.
we’ve forgotten who. it wasn’t important.
He was green. he sailed across the land
and forgot his feet in a cave somewhere.
they live underground still, and you can hear them
traveling across the nation, asking questions,
Have you seen him?
Have you heard his name?
They’ve all forgotten we were here.
Have you loved him too?
We belonged to him once.
he crosses the sky in a red chariot
drawn by fire. he calls to us below,
but not by name. we hear him and we thought He is singing.
he hasn’t seen the ground in days. he is going
sun-blind in the too-high. it was a sad story
the way i told it. it was different then.
they build monuments to feet.
they hear him calling.
i’d grow roots, would that be blasphemy?
the trees are green.
the fires are yellow at the edges. orange is the color of insanity.
i’ve been singing, lately, to see how it feels.
i feel they would hang me if they knew.
he’s like art. he’s often misunderstood.
so many people are.
he came from the water.
he never saw the gills, the fins, the
translucent skin.
if he came closer
i know i’d see his blood moving.
How are you?
he never listens.
not in the sky. he’s like God that way.

From: scoobear
Subject: Fridaynightinmichigan
Date: November 7, 1998 1:29:22 PM CST
I wonder how everything has become
so complicated and distressed
I wonder about things that
need no worry
for there is nothing that can
be controlled
only dealing with what is
I think about things
that have no meaning
or is it that they just
have no meaning to me
anymore
I just spent an evening with a view of my past
a view of what my future could be
and a view of acceptance of unhappiness
and it scared the hell out of me
for if I’m not careful it could be me
and don’t ever want that to happen
A wonderful man
in a screwed up life
with all the things that should
make him so happy
but instead
is sad and miserable
has no concept anymore
of what it is like to
enjoy life.
Trapped in a world of corporations
never wanting to be there
Longing for the past
(but denying it)
Buying toys,
computers
crystal
china
having Cars bought for him
Like a new BMW sports car
that he named Baby
finding joy in these things
and not being able to accept
that he truly is a sweet
and loving man
Nice house on a lake,
is a dump to him
as the 18×32 foot pit group won’t fit
Moving from the big house of the past
and into the life of the present
with the past always right behind him
trying to cling
but trying to end.
Thinking that life
is no more than this
things
things
things
and that people are
there when he needs them
to fulfill the empty feeling
that is there when his lover
lies next to him and wont touch him
Loud fights, cruel words, no apologies
Two people living in a single world
that neither can make into their own.
standing in opposite corners
of a boxing ring
round one
two
three
Always punching
at least
then you feel something
and something is better than nothing.
Trying to explain friendship
caring and loving
only cold puzzled blank spheres
stare back
Begging
pleading
asking why would you
and if you did would you leave
would you hurt me
would you hold me
We went for a walk around the lake
Icy chill blowing thru us
sitting on the dock
holding each other
I listened to stories of pain
rejection and life as he lives it
Why does he stay?
Why do they both stay?
Caring for someone has to be something
Given… not asked for right? Or am I wrong.
As I tried to explain this to him
saw his eyes empty, fill with tears
He says that he cares but the lover doesn’t
That he will make it work
when he knows that it wont
for the first time in many years he is
the main breadwinner in the house,
for the first time in his life
He is in control,
but he isn’t
He is just controlling and holding on
to an existences, not a life
They exist but don’t feel
party hard on the weekend
then come home and don’t talk
lie in bed looking at the freshly painted ceiling,
the same one I was looking at feeling warmth and contentment
He says they pretend to be asleep
knowing that they are both awake
so they don’t have to talk or acknowledge
that neither is happy
neither is content
neither is really there
Maybe it is true
Misery loves company…
But company that is miserable
mean and spiteful
is only misery.
talk about vacations
hotel rooms that are house payments
sports cars… and discontent
this is my World?
We went to a little Restaurant,
The Hightway Inn,
now for you that don’t know the midwest
(or don’t want to admit it, which is understandable)
Small towns here seem to have bread something out of people
some anyway, they have very blank eyes that seem to brighten when they hear
the word FIGHT!… they talk of tractors, of cows or high school football
game from years in the past, things so distant that if you dont talk about
it often everyone will forget that touchdown you made 10 yrs ago that
brought everyone to their feet and won the game, a life that is totally
alien to me… The women wear tight ill fitting clothes from the seventies
that hang over bulges of flesh as only double knit can and the men lear
from behind their tobacco stained teeth, talking of the last wreck they
were in or of near misses and making passes at the waitress while their
wives and kids sit there and say nothing stare at their food eating
contently. Are they happy in their world or do the know nothing more than
the world they live in.
It is deer season here, and the patrons of the Restaurant were a mixture of
hunters and hunted. And I was begining to feel like bambi. A big
waitress with a smile and a slap on the back, for anyone who made her
laugh, bounces over. She is nice but has the look of someone who is
resigned to be in this place and time forever. And you know she probably
will.
She smiles, and I notice a tooth missing, and a fading bruise under her
right eye, Those eyes, they send a chill thru me, they are so sad, even tho
the smile is their… she looked out the window at the sports car, and
smiles…” your car?”
I shake my head, she looks at my friend and he shakes his head. “damn nice
little car there, bet it moves like a bat out of hell” I realize looking
and listening to her that she seems to have a southern accent, which is
strange for michigan… or at least the michigan I am in most the time. So
I ask her, and then the reply explained it all and then some. “No hun,
I’ve lived here all my life, cept for a short time I lived in Angola with
my third husband, who was my first husbands brother….” And suddenly I
was whirling thru her whole life, married 5 times, gonna leave this town
someday and no good old boy was gonna keep her from seing the world… She
knew she was lying but we both smile and laughed with her… And
understand what has happened
I AM ON THE INDIANA MICHIGAN BOARDER…and have inadvertently wandered into
the world of the mich hoosiers… This may not panic some of you for you
really have to experience Indiana and michigan first but together, and
years of inbreeding in these small rual communities, the result is
something out of a Felini movie.
We ate got in my friends new sports car and drove back into the
night….not saying a word for a few minutes then begining to laugh,
knowing that maybe it was the booze or the bud, but we had experienced
something, what we were not sure, and I am still having mixed feelings
about the whole experience, but I know I am alive and survive and must find
someplace where your brother is not also you father.
So tell me everyone… How was your friday night…
Ya hey D. am on my way to lansing for Thai Food…and an evening at the
theater, their is a Russian Opera Company doing a program tonight… then
to a Country Western Drag Show, and dancing. They somehow really don’t
seem to go together but will make for an interesting night, or as close as
it gets in michigan…
Hugs everyone, nice to meet you all
Here’s my webpage!
http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/Heights/4062/
Hugs

From: swebel@U.Arizona.EDU
Subject: how something you were shoving against suddenly gives (fwd)
Date: November 7, 1998 12:34:48 AM PST
To: horsestorideon@hotmail.com
this is for everyone, s’s inspiration, i’m shy it’s your game you’ll all
see, but it’s this guy i’ve had an eye it’s been so long and i want to see
him finally. we dodge each/other. this is stalemate it’s dead fish the
way they float. this silly love call, plumage, something to snicker at–
bit sweet, skull mask for the parade–
———- Forwarded message ———-
Date: Fri, 6 Nov 1998 01:14:06 -0700 (MST)
From:
To:
Subject: how something you were shoving against suddenly gives
way and you fall and your arms’ve grown strong from all the pushing.
then still falling, dizziness,
“I did too much, went too far
with their bodies they were only kissing but
Scott had his hands all over”
on Halloween; the sex part of death.
How are you dying? I haven’t seen you in so
long, I look much thinner and diamond.
you’ll have to excuse i’m already half adream, it’s so late and i’ve been
pushing myself with all this work and play. but everybody is going as
death tomorrow at the parade. that’s what this “is about,” the parade at
6 or 7 saturday night that starts at the Zenith center and goes all
around.
and if we don’t see us there, my rush of school stops tuesday when i hand
in those papers, so that night or sometime soon.
this is forward of me: you’re amazing, we all know that, but your great
wall is amazing too. we could play a game or be abruptly topical
or both at the same time: here’s the rule: formulate as tediously
as you wish a single question to pose to me, and i’ll do the same
for you. (both question and answer reveal lots about you, and
remember, no question is a question in itself, i.e., “huh? what the
heck’s he talking about” etc.)
rewind, good day to you, enjoy yourself. & listen to that sound…do you
hear it?
Scott