Letter Home

02/19/17

Dear Me,

How am I? I miss all the mes there. Something has come up that I need to ask you
all about. I have a chance to go to California. I have a chance to enjoy the beaches. I
don’t think there will be an earthquake. I have a chance to enjoy golf. Peter and Jonathan
and Brother Jonas and Agamemnon are driving to the Sun Spot Motel. I have a chance to
enjoy Disneyland. I promise I won’t get into trouble. Sounds like fun, right? Well, I need
some money. I don’t have enough, right? But I can get it when I get back because I’ll be
working.
Little Nonsense says, “Hey.” He is feeling a lot better than he looks. Yesterday he
skipped gaily out to Peter’s garage for walnuts and when he came back he had the
measles.
Weasel Eyes bought a canary named Ginger and gave it to his new girlfriend.
Ginger died.
So lend me some money, okay?
I can’t live like this. I need a break.
Brother Jonas and Agamemnon are twins. Pretty funny, huh?
The water tower with my name on it is being torn down. Thanks for the paint
anyway.
After the band marched in the boring parade, I paddled across the lake with one of
the oars broken. Paddle, splash, paddle, splash all the way until I couldn’t stand it
anymore.
So can I pay me back when the other me gets back? Can I delay my obligation?
Can I create it with your blessings and delay it a while?
Peter and Jonathan are not twins, but they’re very funny too and bound to be
successful in their own right.
We’re all passing Trigonometry and we’re ready for adventure. Weasel Eyes says
don’t let Little Nonsense ride his bike if he shows up there until he’s over the measles,
which is really funny because he doesn’t know where you are. Dearest me, just tell me
it’s okay to live on me credit a little while. I know you’re not doing any spending while
I’m not there, and you know I always pay myself back, okay?

                                                                                                                      Thanks for Being Me There


Fiction. Modern Abstract Fables.

(First edition, hardcover with dustjacket, 524 pages, $36.50 USD.)



Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days draws from fairy tales, a condescending of a 1938 Social Studies reader for 6th grade, an 1890 handbook on marital compatibility, numerous annoying educational advancement studies, the myths and legends of third-world countries and minority peoples, pulp fiction, a history of carnival side shows, folktales, frequent conversations with Crows, Owls and a wide variety of underground inhabitants, insects and the people who collect them, Joseph Cornell, Günter Eich, Russell Edson, the French Surrealist poets, the Quay Brothers, letterpress printing, and the author’s inability to channel his imagination linearly.

Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.