peter, been down here in new orleans for about a week now-- death in the familia. the funerals are f f f funny down here blue. its all swamp so all the coffins are above ground. it's june now so the alligatorsa are out full tttthrottle. i tend to love it. i tend to love it when there's blood on my fingertips. what else what else. i ve got a head full of bright white hair, kinda the color of sand/snow now and i did some big job that paid some big money so that's why i've been down here longer than expected. with all this extra money im thinkin about buyin a house in my hometown... daddys got a new gun and mamas still at the bar and gramma's sewin a new confederate flag but new orleans is part of my fiber, chu know ese. goin back to nyc tonight... johnny and i are drivin up as soon as the sun sets. gotta get back this nihilist hippie movement i've found myself oh so part of... i've been livin in the third dimesion but enogh about me let's talk about you. can i get you anything, any requests... i do seem unamused but out of sight doesn't ALWays mean outta mind..
still here for a bit more, jackal
po/s: was in london for a couple of days about a week and a half ago and we were drivin around. there was this british kid we picked up-- thought we had the same taste in music. your for lovers single fell out of my bag and the kid started taunting me about how he could pretty much guess you had listened to music for a year, played guitar for 6 month and wrote your lyrics the night before the show. i told him he was ignorant-- you are quite the revolutionary-- a minor miracle in music and he just laughed and said "well im in a band too but its not like the Liber REd YOUTH Dynasty Brigade fuckin tines" so we threw him out of the car-- in the middle of this super busy highway type street... he was dodging the cars like bullets it was fantastic... wish you were there... wish you well, wish you knew.. see you, jack
heya spacegirl, glad to hear yous well or seems so more than before you melancholy thing. I think I saw your face in a magazine, but it must have been a dream because you came to life and kicked me real hard in the shin again. So you're back in the swamps? I'm all at war with the demons but I think I'm winning. My mum clobberred me and I just finished a week clean - had a livener this day - and now must away to a monastry or so to try and come to terms with this raging fanatical monster that gives nothing and just destroys toys deploys all spirit for misuse abuse and oddly bouts of astonishing spectrums of infinite introspection squalor rage merciless self preeninglong servile chord progressions and restless melodie
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confessions: I am sick oh rose art I though aint. It has taken awhile but is a big deal for someone of my 'casional whimsical frivolie to admit to a sickness, as I am as fragile as a rock that crumbles softly into the sea, astonishing seas of tears tearaway at the dawn. I'll gasp at a backward glance and the kind of Trance that bewitched myself and 'alas the road to ruin' is the road I HAD chosen. But why not change and at the risk of setting myself up for an almighty rotton fall, why not be freed at last? Am I preaching. To myself, to you Jack, and all Arcadie's cybertwitchers. Infinite faith have I in love and music, and fuck it all I have plans for myself yet. My friends have given me everything and and and and and
9.30pm Heathrow tonight wave me a little goodbye, because part of me will never be coming back. I was given ten seconds mostly
to live if I carried on at that rate. I have some strength god knows from wherein me to be bothered about sharpening up on the old browns front. Bang bang this little toy soldiers in no mans land and stuffing into his tight pockets all well wishes and tokens of love to power the cause. I want to live, and want to be fit for the second albums airing. I saw Mick Jones, Carl, John and Gary (we played) last night and I know I can mangle out all the creases and live out further my grandly Arcadian dreams and dear divine adventures all albion's sons and daughters