(Another of my letters to you from Seattle that I found)

 

5:27

 

Another early morning at the YMCA. Woke up the morning of the 4th at 7:00 AM to mow lawns, pull weeds and rake leaves for four and one half hours - got home in time to shower, pack a lunch and head off to the YMCA to work a 3:30 PM to 6:00 AM shift which I am not at the tail end of. Feeling washed out, dopey thinking about everyone I’ve ever loved. And I smile. The big fucking warm fuzzy - lucky that I had these people in my life. That they allowed me to participate in their sordid existence’s. I think about Bellingham when I worked the parties in such perfect flow that I had become pure energy. Of moments stealing intimate secrets from unsuspecting fools on park benches, lecture halls, university dining hall dishrooms. Heart to hearts woman to woman possible only by way of estrogen fusion that only X chromosomes know how to do it to it. Cozy memories of lazy hours lying under covers on top of crumb-filled sheets while somewhere on some other planet a professor was lecturing to virginal coeds.

All-absorbing hugs, full body slams, or just brushing past someone in a crowd of strangers - this is what love is waiting for. So happy, happy I am when I think of these things for experiences are best enjoyed after they’ve aged. The present has ways of trying to block off too much unadulterated ecstasy to prevent overload. Maybe not though... BE HERE NOW!? And she composes another letter that the reader will never be able to understand no matter how far he’s traveled.

Just got off the phone with you. This is my attempt at how I feel now - a collage perhaps:

 

HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW

 

I hate you when you tell me who I am

b/c I believe you.

I have to have something to BELIEVE

in order to create.

To believe, one cannot doubt.

Doubt is next to guilt one of my

greatest abilities.

When I doubt I am weak

When I am weak I’m useless as tits

on a boar.

Today I felt good - perhaps a bit

tired

And now I want to cry

For your dreams that are not mine

That should be mine?!

You tell stories about grandiose

events, ideas

And I talk about the child

who looks at everything every details

gather information Specifics

It’s hard to pull weeds when everywhere people are planting

flowers

Ah, yes, and Shrubbery. Yet there are some who feel that if someone

didn’t pull weeds the flowers would perish.

 

 

6:26

 

Well, J. Dove, I started another letter for you but I seemed to have misplaced it somewhere amid the measly material belonging which mark my trail.

Things here at the YMCA are most interesting - talking to George about street life, God, Marx and Security for the First World. An elevator ride with a few stoned dudes from Texas. Went sailing the other night - no wind, but I spent most of the time in the lake being towed around while drinking a beer. I wasn’t so much worried about keeping my head above water as I was the beer. Spent a wonderful sunny evening riding around with Roxy on the back of her Honda Passport. Me with no helmet and a scanty sundress. We roamed the town looking for a place to rent. I doubt we’ll move in together since I had planned to live with Jackie + 2 bdrm places will be easier to find than three. Pete got me a pair of hand pruners and a wee leather pocket to put them in. It was my 6th month with the firm. I guess they were the gift rather than a raise. Guess I’ve been coming to the conclusion that social work just isn’t my field - at least not now. Although I do enjoy working here at the YMCA. One more cup of coffee....

It’s 2:45 AM and as you can tell by the lack of paragraphs in this letter, it’s getting late and as a result I’ve kicked into a free write mode. So, why have I been so happy lately? Perhaps it’s the sun, or the relaxed posture I’ve taken on my vocation situation, or perhaps it is b/c I am in love. I love being in love: There is no remedy for love but to love more - Thoreau. I guess what I enjoy most is being in love but not being in a relationship + that’s the story on my infatuation at the present time. And would ya know it: It’s another writer.

Oh, well, some day I’ll get wise and fall in love with an accountant or stockbroker + live happily ever after in a world of plastic...Nah, let’s hope not.

Started reading Charles Dickens Great Expectations. You know, I never thought Dickens would have a sense of humor, but he does. My friend from England, Matt, is in the States, I saw him in downtown. He’d finished up his first year at boat building school + now he’s here to hang out with his girlfriend Shanty. Tomorrow night Stephanie and I are taking our aunts out to the newest comedy club in town. Steph and I are hoping that they (our aunts) will hit it off and become friends. We’re both concerned about their lack of extracurricular activities. Thanks loads for the care package. I’ve been listening to Blue Valentine for the last three days..

Well, enough for now. More later.

Love

Estrelica