A LETTER TO ABERNATHY
Now you are totally far out. Whatever your peers at work think of you, if they could see you now in your living room like this, you know theyd shut the fuck up about you behind your back. Whenever they had free time to gossip, you, as the subject of ridicule, would become obsolete. You are golden. You are a beautiful child of light, a self made man springing from the underground well of knowledge, a little of you spilling out of the ancient and pedestrian tourist trap fountain that the public sees, while your greater gift lies undisturbed beneath the square and filthy city streets. Stoic and stoned and still, unmoved with feet like golden gravity boots, stop taking your pills and watch those around you crumble through the clay up to their hamstrings. Skipping over the bullshit like a stone "Why you act that way?" Racism, poverty, funding for the arts, the myriad of problems over seas and far and away, do you feel or care about them now? In a modern society where the ebb and flow of concern over the individual relies on how much he/she spends or how symmetrical your face is, when youre suspended above it all like this, all golden and creative, does anything your girlfriend say make a difference? Do you really love your wife?
If our ancestors could see how much we pay the government and the state each year just so we have a place to eat, shit, and fall asleep every night crying, they would go back in time, kill themselves and cut out the middlemen. Both of us know this, but I think you must've forgot so Im telling you in slow drawn out fashion and right now youre floating on a lily-pad in a gifted childs painting, in deep meditation, all yellow light and butterscotch gum-drops, while outside, art becomes more and more convenient, ultimately accessible and simplified into offhand gestures. Your shining thoughts seem like jewels to you, but they lie limp as fractals and numbers, words and meanings that will never see the light outside your head. because your depressed and being a pussy. So dont you feel grateful for this exercise,something useful and solid and meaningful and not just words but actions, and detail, and visions that border on the brink of entertainment? A self made man, a patron of the arts, a bloated old windbag full of pisses and farts. I know what you think of yourself and how others perceive you, and for the first time anywhere in the world, they actually match up. But I love you.
Relax Abernathy, for no one else but you. Dilladano said he was over at your place and you were mean to him and called him a fairy. Hes had that coming for a longtime, huh? I recall one time when I asked you about a specific friend and why it was that you were so rude when he introduced himself and how I would make a note of it never to become your friend. You said that you didnt need anybody and that friends didnt mean shit to you.
Decades on and thousands of cut-throat decisions later and you turn pussy and break down in public at work, losing the waning respect you had among your workers. If I didnt call they wouldve put you in the nuthouse. Look, I know things are rough right now and you feel blue. I feel blue too. Everyone does, Abernathy. remember the vacations we took, how high we got? we should do that again. amen to that.
Rest in peace and Ill see you when you come back......