Dear Jazz,
At a time when every known (and those less so) celebrity has been compelled to produce a book, autobiographical or otherwise--and yes, I'm currently reading an Ethan Hawke novel (gasp!) entitled Ash Wednesday--I regained my Muse. By now, you may have seen my recent poetry. If not, do check out the staccato, tangential, and stop-go ramblings at http://babblingpoetry.blogspot.com.
Now as to our recent cyber conversation. We were, as is typical, one-upping each other with witticisms, yet I could sense your misery almost as if it was emanating from the keyboard. But I do understand where you're coming from. I do know how it feels to drudge through the daily routine. How of itself, each was trivial; yet, after a time, they coalesce to form a dreadful personal incubus. I myself am surrounded by clods with whom any meaningful conversation would be impossible. It was fated that I be doomed to a life where provincial stupidness, consummate laziness and lack of imagination abound. Yes deary, sometimes it does feel like life is sucking honey from a thorn. (Louis Ginsberg) But I have aways been a pluralist or an eclectic, seeking the best in all types and seeing the good in all things. There's just so much perpetual neuroses that a person can take. So for now, I proceed pursuing the even tenor of rural ways. It's as fascinating as the Monkey Habitat. And I say that with absolute contempt.
Now back to the witticisms of yesterday. I felt I haven't teased you enough so I'm giving you a peek of our collection of books. Just a few I deemed to showcase out of 2 boxful. These of course will be under your care soon. But it would all depend on whether you finally come up with fare to come home or I get a VISA to go there. For now, salivate.
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