Thanks for writing.
Things are much the same, but different, of course. You know how that goes. I hear that the kids down in New York are now putting hubcaps around their necks. New York City is like one megaton watt light bulb that never burns out. It’s one of the reasons I had to get away, I hope you know. All that unwanted attention.
Around here, it’s dark at night. Black as the period at the end of this sentence. It’s the way nature intended. Nighttime is when people get overtaken by no-good thoughts. I hate to speak so plain, but we’re all monsters.
You ask me why I live up here, it’s because I’m afraid of roller coasters.
All the people,
hurtling through space,
It’s not the machinery that scares me.
It’s the machine makers.
Don’t get me started on water parks, an invention Dante surely missed illustrating in his comedy. The modern world is one horror after another, what else would you call a skyscraper? The elevator was surely conceived to transport sinners between rungs of hell. It started with the copier machine and now they’re cloning sheep. I’m not shifting the blame, but sometimes I could see why she did what she did.
But who am I to question these things?
Things are okay. Considering…
There are wolves up here. I don’t mean to change the subject, but it’s pretty cool. I thought it was worth mentioning.
My satellite dish gets channels from three different states and Canada. I watch some shows from time to time but their names escape me at the moment.
I never have to talk to anybody.
The peace of a man,
idling in nature
alone in solitude —
how he yearns to tell
somebody about it.
But not me. I go weeks now without talking to anybody. Can you imagine? My cell phone was glued to my ear back in the city. I must have spoken to fifty people on an average day; between the doorman and the taxi driver and everybody at work and the bagel shop and on the street and at home and everywhere in between. Hello. Hiya. 15th floor please. Yes, I’ll hold. No, I don’t want cream in my coffee. Did you see the game last night? I’m sorry about your loss. Two tickets for the 10:15 show please. Thank you. You’re welcome. All that shit.
The neighbor down the hill moved away so now I let my horse graze in his yard. I bought a horse. Can you picture me owning a horse? The reporters are the only folks I see, now and then, rummaging around and snapping pictures. They can’t seem to let it go. I don’t know what they want to see.
If anybody asks: I’ve let it go…
The other day I was way up high on the mountain when an eagle came down from the sky and dropped a dead squirrel five feet from me. It landed, not as you’d expect, with a hard thud, but with a wet, slushy sound. Anyway, that’s what gifts heaven delivers for me these days.
You see I haven’t lost my sense of humor.
The winters are cold. I don’t care what they say about global warming. The other night my fingers turned purple. They looked like little figs. I have to chop up some firewood today. It goes so fast.
Don’t worry. The mountain is doing its best to take care of me. As long as my satellite doesn’t go out I’m all right. There’s a lot to think about.
Give my love to your Mom. Tell her I’m sorry, but just because I want to forget, doesn’t mean I can. Bring her magazines.