An accident. I wrote the first chapter to any book I may be writing. I was writing a letter. Then there it was. No genesis. Or forethought. Just existence. Four pages of writing. Sure they need rewrite. Expansion on a few ideas. Clearing up of some images. Tinkering. An accident. Thought I’d farted. Turns out I shit my pants. What a beautiful sensation. Both in act and reflection. Though to be honest I did not know what had happened until a day later. Then the words escaped. Before the thought even fully solidifies. JACOB, I WROTE THE FIRST CHAPTER TO MY BOOK. And I felt like tears. High five. All right. YOU’RE GOING TO BE FAMOUS ONE DAY GUY. I KNOW IT. As much as I want to prove I can do it. To myself. To my father. To anyone who ever told me NO. But when I had the look at it. When Jacob held it there for me to look in the face. My own face. I got scared. Just wanted to be left alone. How to prove myself, without anyone finding out. Nirvana. Since I’ve spoken to you last many things have happened. Most notably a prolonged absence from writing. Just couldn’t. In any form. Not even postcard. Same with reading. All the outward signs pointed to depression. Though the inside didn’t recognize the signs. Periodic anger. But not depression. Now the book and writing are back. The problem is time. The reading cuts into the writing. Writing into reading. Can’t do both at once. Maybe it’s just the summer. I’m alive again. Less sleep. More eats. Rage is back. Rage without anger. My whole body crawls with excitement. Every moment possible. Anything. Then again it could just be that I think I’ve finally gotten rid of the girl I was seeing. What a pain in the ass. Wouldn’t leave me alone. Then she goes so far as to stop seeing her girlfriend, to be with me. She’s just too boring. Nothing for mind or body. Every moment wishing someone else was with me. Or no one. Any but who was there. Not the way it’s supposed to be. But she wouldn’t go away. Now I can play again. Everything. Don’t worry about her calling. Showing up unannounced. Nice legs. Nice chest. Leave those. The rest can go away. Sorry. You were interesting for a month or so. Then I realized. Possession is such and evil thing. I want to play. Not with her. So I called Eileen. Asked her to move here so we could not grow old together. Wayland. 3000 light years away. How ashamed would Dr. Hennesey be that I came from her school? Recipient of the prestigious. Coveted. Presidential Academic Fitness Award. After refusing National Honor Society. Because the induction. Or was it initiation? Ceremony was at an inconvenient time. Saturday morning probably. Apathy and inertia have brought me here. I’m the happiest man alive. I can’t help the smile when I think of my classmates. And in my mind I see them. Monuments to their own demise. Lobotomized automatons. Conducting somnambulistic rituals of Sysiphian labor. Drooling rabidly to accept Pavlovian gifts to ulcers and failed marriages. To Buffy. Or Hunter. Dreaming slave dreams. Of matching outfits. Place settings. And children. In whose play you can hear the Death roar of the violence of the separation from Love. The BMW to drive to the office. Because the boss will never give them that promotion if he saw them driving a Caravan that they use in real life. Subjugating their lives in the pursuit of an ideal which they had no active role in formulating. Or even in accepting. The material world defining worth. Instead. Last time I checked. The material world is inanimate. As such incapable of any action. Especially assigning value. Slave mentality. Sacrificing your life so that your children can have it better. How christian an attitude. Give up anything that feels good for something better that you will never know you attained. I don’t know. I just don’t understand. I’m under the impression, this is my life. You don’t understand because you don’t have children. Aha. There’s a reason for that. No extra baggage. Change the way inertia acts on me. Active inertia. Can’t stop on my own. Have to keep moving. To stop would be to violate a law of Nature. Don’t ever fuck with Nature. How can anyone not do what I have done. Present is too short to skip to the future. Even the shitty parts are awesome. It’s Life. Better than any drug I ever tried. Or maybe it’s the freedom. Realization of all the promises I made myself as an adolescent. An animal alertness.