Thursday, April 23, 2009


A beautiful spring morning, birds chirping and road construction crews doing their morning stretching routines. The younger members cut their calf extensions short to start oiling their concrete saws. They are anxious to start the season off, these cacophonous heralds of spring.

In a dark room, shutters pulled, a shaking hand puts down a handkerchief and reaches over to the end table for a thick, aluminum pen.

Dear Editor;
Thank you for your concern over my well being, or at least that is what I ascertained from your letters inquiring about my tardiness in providing answers. I have returned to my base and am currently recovering from a nasty spell of some sort of tropical ailment. I understand that the questions are piling up and I will turn to them as soon as I recover.


Wednesday, April 8, 2009


A Sienna colored photo of a woman looking away from the camera but thrusting a daisy at the lens asks:

Will I ever forget this guy? Seems like the only way is to be angry and I don't like myself much then.

Darling, I am sorry that it has taken so long for me to get to your important question. As you may know, I have extensive training and proven experience in a broad array of disciplines, from Greek poetry's use of iambic trimeter to the horticultural practices of middle lattitudes Soviet era farmers and the political result of those practices. I have tuned my mind in such a way that in normal circumstances my acuity is greater than Thich Nat Hanh and The Dalai Llama combined (measured on the Lowendahl Acuity Scale).

As you may also know, I am currently on a business trip. There is an important piece of equipment required for high-level answering which I need to replace. I landed in this steaming city a couple of days ago. My initial inquiries into my important equipment cost me a few days of inquiries in return from some certain specialized law enforcement personnel. I was quite impressed with their diligence. This city's youth are certainly in perfect safety from those who would encourage them to selectively misuse interesting substances.

As you may have collected from the previous post, I have not really been feeling myself. At times I am quite collected. On some days, such as today, I rise here in my open air thatch hut to the sound of melodious bird and monkey song. I take in the air and stroll down to the local market to make a breakfast of local fowl and monkey. Perhaps a little fruit. Then I spend the days continuing my inquiries into specialized equipment.

On other days, such as yesterday, I wake terrifically early to the growls of the nocturnal predators kept at bay by irregularly fired propane cannons. I reach my sweaty hand out and grip the corners of the sheets and gauge their tensile strength with three quick tugs. After recording that number in a base 5 system developed by Buckminster Fuller's nephew, I attempted a complex origami piece with the sheet, ignoring the lack of the necessary rigidity of a cotton sheet.

It is a vain way to start the day, as you can imagine. Yesterday it all went downhill from there. I found myself splitting a meal of Mission brand macaroni and cheese, augmented with some imported feta, with a retired political figure no longer welcome in his homeland. His conversation was not as interesting as you may think, what with his breadth of experience. He is a bit of a broken record. "The uninformed masses require a strong hand..." blah blah blah.

So thank you for asking this solitary, selfish question. Thank you for asking of me, a man on a mission to raise the level of public discourse to include the seams and knots that connect all disciplines and issues, a question about your personal issue whose relevance to others would be only extrapolated in an exceedingly unscientific manner.

In addition, it is fantastic for you to ask me a question which I can be pretty sure you have already answered. That in fact, it is not a question but a postcard to the world that lets us all know that you have broken through the thick crust of daily life and are experiencing deep feelings, largely unadulterated or moderated.

So, in answer to your question, it is not truly possible for the human mind to forget. It merely catalogs items to rarely used links. This man of yours will eventually be relegated to small corners of your memory. Memories of this gent will only be brought out in reference to Serge Gainsbourg and shallots in a certain context.

Getting to this state, as columnists who specialize in this sort of advice tell me, takes time. Until then, you have a rare opportunity to exercise emotional thought over premeditated socialized action. I recommend following that where it leads. Should that lead to public acts of rage, then so be it. Any police record generated from an act of pure emotion is absolved in my book.

Go to it. I personally have to get to it today; it seems that a lady in the next village knows of a relative who is capable of fulfilling my order, so off I go to have a meeting.