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Dear Josh --

It's Thursday. Oh fuck, as soon as I sat down to write you I had to go�
jerk off -- one minute please -- see what you've done to me?! (Am I�
complaining?!)

I won't mail this letter until I hear from you in Detroit. If you're�
gonna be back in Seattle within only 2 -- 3 days I'll send it there. 

Well I got back to SF, and instead of the usual ``Yay! Back in San�
Fagsicko!'' and relief at being back, it was like\dots{} OK, I'm here.�
Instead of seeming fresh, it was stale. Val picked me up, late, cuz�
she's fallen totally in love with this boy Ajax (his actual name). I�
got them out of bed. It was funny, I now have a better sense of what�
Dina was going through. They were very boring, and you couldn't talk�
to them at all.

Deke was busy (in the middle of a new \$3DB, he was showing Cosmos how�
to use his computer (by the way, he successfully repaired his own�
computer and swapped components around to get it to work!)); he's�
gonna call me tonite. I then fell asleep until 5PM. I dreamed about�
you (you even looked like you). I forget the dream now. My body ached�
for your to be here. After I got up I fucked around for four hours,�
then walked to the Mission and ate a burrito. I kept running into all�
these people on the street I really didn't want to talk to. Stayed up�
til 3AM, tried to sleep. Nope. Mosquitoes too, dozens of the little�
fucking vampires. Fell asleep about 530AM.

A lot of the things that were annoying me (stressing me out) about our�
house when I left, expanded to the point where they have pissed off�
everyone else. The house went to shit. Diaper Dave's dog is still�
shitting and pissing all over, and has been all over the house�
shedding sneezy hairs. Stacy hates Craig (the other guy) who avoids�
her. The kitchen turned into a scumhole. Diaper let this homeless 
bum-man ``help'' him fix his motorcycle (which he bought from Valerie,�
in pieces, and has done everything wrong with it since he bought it)�
and shower in our house, etc. He's a total fucking pig, and apparently�
mumbles racist etc stuff not so clear that you'd simply call him on�
it. 

Then today this guy (Tony) dropped by to visit Diaper Dave and Craig.�
He's fucking gross. On his way out, he burns a big donut in the�
driveway with his scummy motorcycle, roaring loud, burning a big black�
ring into the pavement and making a huge smelly cloud of tire smoke. I�
was FURIOUS! I ran out of the house, grabbing on of the motorcycle�
parts that D.~Dave chronically leaves laying around, and THREW it at�
Tony while he's doing this. I ran out and got in his face and YELLED�
at him told him to GET THE FUCK OUT NOW! NOW! Muttering obscenities,�
he left. Our neighbors were all out. What a fucking mess. I almost got�
in a fight!

D.~Dave and Craig are not very civilized, unfortunately.

Greta called. She's coming back from NYC 4 August. She has three�
boyfriends. 

Valerie and Mark both said, all you need is a couple of hundred bucks�
to move here. No one they knew had moved here with more than that.�
Money to eat, etc. Bad news: Val sez that it takes 3 -- 4 months to�
get money from the airlines after you fill out all of the forms, etc.�
Good news: plan on getting \$1250 (their maximum) if you do it right.�
You gotta ring up \$2000 or so in that suitcase, in items that cost�
under \$100 each (over \$100 you need receipts\dots), and they'll pare�
it down to their max. She's got it down. Details later!

You were right -- postcard from Donna. Also a letter from Teg (BUNDLE�
OF STICKS). 

I know this isn't much of a love letter. Or a sex letter. If anything�
I'm more in love with you. I want you to fuck me silly. NOW. I don't�
feel really connected to stuff here. It's weird -- I'm having a hard�
time describing us -- you and me -- to people. So many things changed,�
mainly in my own head, that it's not the same here, now. OK, things�
will be different you here vs.~me there; here I have shit I have to�
do, lots of distractions too, and the time thing will therefore be�
different, and you will be in a new place, with lots of things�
actually worth exploring. It should be a good change though.

But anyways -- I want different things now, than when I left. Being�
out of here for six weeks not only de-stressed me, it let me see some�
things I don't like, and need to change. Fido stuff. I'm not going to�
Dallas. I'm gonna stop upgrading my Fido/FidoNet program. Many of the�
house-related things that stress me out are actually not my doing�
(though of course as you might imagine some are\dots) and instead of�
letting them get to me, I'm gonna deal with it at the time it bugs me,�
instead of letting it sit. Like D.~Dave and his dog. Tony the bum-man.�
Even if it pisses people off. Tough luck!

I want to go on a short road trip to the desert this year. I've gone�
as late as near-Halloween before. Mid-October is probably good for me�
(money\dots) I'm gonna do more things I {\it like} to do!

I miss your touch so much, I cannot tell you how much. 

Look for broken automobile taillight plastic for me, from Detroit?�
Sample enclosed. I found more last night walking around.

I'm gonna have to look for work soon. Bummer. I talked to my lawyer�
friend, who's doing my taxes (and hasn't finished them yet, aaargh).�
He's got a self-help book on bankruptcy, and sez I can probably do it�
all myself. Especially since mine is so simple. 

Speaking of self-help books -- your maternal parental unit obviously�
{\it needs} that basic coming-out info in that damned book. Fuck, what�
she did to you was {\it mean}. 

Speaking of books, bell hooks' book is {\it great}. (I think I told�
you that.) It brought home to me what I have been wanting to do for a�
while -- consciously build the underpinnings for a weirdo culture�
(ours of course!). Her black feminist model is fucking great. We�
(Shred of Dignity) have always more or less consciously done this�
anyways. Bay Area punk stuff is more or less this. In the sense of�
intentional I mean, not necessarily with any decent theory behind it.�
It is what was behind our households idea of moving to New Mexico was,�
to build a thing around which we could form an actual intentional�
community (not so grandiose as Susan's Arc-ology place though).

Well I'm gonna stop now. I'm rambling. I need to talk to you and touch�
you and writing is all I get to do. THIS SUCKS. I love you muchly and�
miss you continuously.

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PS: Did I tell you I love you.


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