|This letter was found on the street in downtown Chicago. |
A wendseday (I'm not going to even try to explain what I was trying to spell that word in the state of mind that I'm in. Its horrible, like the feeling of being trapped in a viscously slow moving maze of glass where you can see the end but can't think of how the hell your going to make it. Only two days till I get to see your beautiful face and stare hard into your velvet eyes, how they shine like distant constellations piercing light through the cosmos, delicious, divine,diva from the planet Funkasphere of the third jive, left, step, dive to my tender arms gentel pixie, dive on in (These thoughts keep me sane and somewhat focused but all in all I'm through with this place. It's been amazing while it lasted but this time apart is too much. I don't want to get good at this. I want to be in your general vacinity for the rest of my dying days on this lonely planet. I shall never again leave my princess charming, my native warrior, my Goddess of Love, my best pal, never again )) evening; I'm making soup.
Soup went down like hard gruel.
That black pen sucks smelly bums! Phew!
I'm making a mixed tape to be listened to the next time we are alone in each other's warmth. It is intended to accompany one of the most wonderful and spectacular aspects of our love, an act that reaches deep into each other's souls, languid gyrations, spiritual seance of movement, touching bodies intwined flux mad rhythm, vines climbing to the new moon of harvest. Yes my love, Dancing, one of the cornerstones of this cosmic bond we hold. (Maybe my sentences are getting out of hand but it feels right and pure when I wright to you. I hope it all makes some kind of sense? Why am I asking that question? This is silly! I know you support everything I do, but make sure you tell me if my stuff starts getting stupid. The core of my expression is that I love you madly!