Mahalo
by writeyeranezine
An email written to a friend in “hostile territory” that an email server wouldn’t allow through. Published here as “an echo off the far wall”, as The Hotelier may put it.
COMMUICATION ATTEMPT #2
Apologies once more for the silence in the void, ‘tis not for lack of will or psychic connection, simply space, time and these peculiar things called “emotions” reeking havoc with one’s being. I’ve been thinking of you. I have also finally acquired a grail.
Twenty years or however long after first introduction at your masterly hand, I’ve finally stepped aboard the mothership and own a physical copy of Maggot Brain on 12” vinyl. Having my first spin on a dreich Saturday afternoon with no United to go see or work until later, I drift into another time and space, another wavelength, and I understand things I wished I did long before. Ten weeks deep into twenty years or more of theory, my heart is opening. Praxis > theory. Who knew?
We remain afloat on the east coast, Dundee resembling somewhere more akin to Leipzig, or maybe further east, on a daily basis. It’s set to become a “FREEPORT”, as the fascists turn this island into Singapore or whatever money laundering enterprise these maniacs have in place to rob us blind. On the positive, general strike moves ever closer. All empires die.
I trust Mother Earth has nourished ye from her womb, if not the situations of your current employment and emotional satisfaction. I echo the restlessness ye referred to previously, a general malaise, mortality, a dawning, cosmic waves gathering. One cannot define exactly but something in my stomach has shifted, my soul moved, and I’ve felt your wisdom recently.
My dreams have changed. Where once there was only space for fear, violence and aggression, I’ve been dreaming of protecting the same white horse over consecutive evenings for weeks, when retention of images has occurred. What would Einstein say? Probably advise flipping the record over.
I think I told ye Peggy G died. If not, I’m sorry, but he did. It’s been awful and I feel a shell, bereft, the lingering sound of an octave chord sustaining at high pitch, delusions of grandeur shattered only by the horrors of our shared reality. It may be a salutary lesson in grace, or the death of fear. Maybe both, who knows?
I hope yer familial status is somewhere in the regions between happiness and communicative, as far as I understand these concepts to hold meaning at this time. I FEEL ye but Pearl Jam addressed something about the state of love and trust in some song they ripped from Neil Young once. I don’t trust Eddie Vedder. I trust you.
Once more into the breach, doctor.
With love.
END COMMUNICATION
WREAKING JOY “demo” is MTAT145, replacing a canned project, and is out now for free/pay-what-you-want download above. They play their first ever show on Sunday (tomorrow) with ENDLESS SWARM, BELOW THE NECK & ASSIMILATE at Rad Apples for JCHC.
xdkrx
Write Yer Ane Zine 