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(Thurs.~23 July)

Josh --

\dropcap{G}to your letter and the photos today. Fuck! They are much�
better than the last batch! Your letter was the hottest, period. No�
one has ever written me like that before! 

The timing was funny too, in a strange sort of way. (I have to get�
over this idea of ``coincidence'' -- things seem to be lined up on�
purpose sometimes\dots) My mother has been working on all the shit our�
family went through, from the time she was a kid on through our�
immediate family's childhoods. She's kinda obsessed with it, though�
not in a bad way. She's recorded over 5,000 (five thousand) of her�
dreams\dots

Anyways, she sent me a package of stuff in May, that I did not read�
until last night (Wed.) as it's usually so heavy I set time aside for�
it. A half dozen dreams, plus some of her remembrances from when she�
was a kid, and from when I was a kid. Scary shit. Pretty fucking awful�
sicko child-abuse in her family, and in ours too. 

To make a far too long story far too short, she wrote about some stuff�
I had put out of my mind (my father's crazy anger, beatings when I was�
a kid, etc), sexual abuse by my grandmother (to me) that I don't�
recall (though I have had grave forebodings about her and other things�
I'll tell you in detail sometime) and suchlike. It did bring back�
really old unpleasant feelings.

So just for cosmic contrast, I get your incredible fucken package the�
next morning! It made me laugh out loud not because it was funny, but�
because I was so happy. 

The juxtaposition reminded me of how reserved I am in expressing my�
feelings. Nothing awful, just in general afraid to say how I feel (and�
even to feel it sometimes) and out of practice too\dots

\bigskip
\dropcap{W}hich brings me to my point I hope -- how fucking much I�
love you and like you and desire you. Even if I don't always make it�
as clear as I'd like to. I carry pictures of you around with me. I�
look at them at the bus stop or anywhere I have a minute and when I�
see you, a wave of pleasure burns through my head. It makes me smile�
uncontrollably. I want you here now! 

Your letter was almost as hot as the pictures. I carried it with me�
all day and read it a dozen times. I wish I could find words for the�
things I like and love about you. I admire you, for what you are and�
the potential I see in everything you do. I feel naked and incomplete�
sleeping without you. I am proud to know you!

I too wish you were here, no matter what I'm doing. Just walking to�
the store with you. I want to show you all the fun places I know, and�
just live with you. 

Sometimes it feels like our meeting was arranged somehow. I mean�
beyond your calculations on me, which flatter and make me endlessly�
happy!) Some grand cosmic conspiracy has made it impossible to live�
without you. 

Knowing that you're there even though far away keeps me happy (though�
desperate to touch you!) and makes me feel somehow distant from�
everything around me. Not in a bad way though; actually the opposite. �
Sort of a solidity, knowing you love me and constantly remembering�
little things we've done and will do again -- and more.

My body aches for you all the time, especially at night when I'm in�
bed. I imagine you coming up into my bed as I'm sleeping. Curling up�
with me, or tying me up as you like. When I jerk off, I want to cry�
from the intensity of how much I want you. I have to restrain myself�
from telling everyone over and over about you! (When Valerie saw the�
pictures you sent, she said ``Shit, you two {\it are} made for each�
other!'' Fucken-\circleA{} right!)

\bigskip
\dropcap{I} didn't think ahead, to send you a letter in time for you�
to get it before Sunday in Detroit. Hopefully this will get to Seattle�
on Saturday, and be waiting for you in Seattle when you got back. I am�
not going to Dallas (FidoCon '92). Someone from FidoCon wrote me�
(electronically) and I told 'em the story -- \$\$\$. A minuscule�
possibility they'll buy me an aeroplane ticket. Probably not though.�
Even if so, it's only one weekend.

Scot and Erika from Santa Fe are coming here last week Aug./first week�
Sept. They are amazingly cool and pleasantly weird. I wish you could�
meet them! 

Teg will be here 10 August or so. He did a really fucked up thing --�
in BOS \#6 ran sex-with-children stuff, amongst other things. I mean,�
none of it is cruel, exploitative or awful, that's not the problem.�
What is a problem is that it's blatantly fucking illegal, and if he�
gets busted (almost likely) a lot of people will go with him. He's�
also making enemies, by being excessively righteous. He drags peoples�
personal shit into his zine (rude!) and worse, is, as Deke puts it,�
setting up control systems that will drag him down. His once 
tongue-in-cheek ``TEG is the center of the universe'' poking at�
egotistic systems has passed un-funny and is getting scary. I wrote�
him a letter and told him to take me off his mailing list. And that�
he's still my friend, and I look forward to him visiting. I'll have to�
call him too, to let him know I'm pissed only about this one specific�
thing. Sheesh.

Richard Loranger will be reading some damn thing with Hakim Bey (aka�
Peter Lamborn Wilson) 11 August or so. I wish you were here, as if I�
needed a reason.

In my post-Seattle FidoNews editorial, I noted in passing that I'd�
outgrown my Tandy 200 (that horrid little computer I was using). So my�
friend Dick Gladden from El Paso (the retiree friend I mentioned I�
visited? The ex-GM employee with the Mormon wife?!) wrote me�
(electronically) and said, I want to buy you a laptop computer.�
Because he says he has had so much fun with FidoNet, and hasn't�
contributed much to it, and wants to do this for me. I told him he's�
totally nuts, but if he insists\dots{} and I'll owe him one and that�
he'll most certainly get kosmik brownie points.

I had forgotten just how hectic my everyday life here is. No matter�
what time I get up, I'm never ready to do anything before 11:00. Then�
I can't call biz types 'til 1:00. Then usually someone calls me with�
some thing. Like yesterday, Tim Pozar (my computer co-conspirator)�
sez, there's a ``How to use the Internet'' class for the KPFA radio�
staff; do I want to come, both to learn about the Internet and see how�
it's being taught. Sure. So I called up Deke, who I'm trying to get�
connect to stuff (I guess ``mentor'' is the right word\dots) We went.�
About 12 people in the group. It's held in a spare U.C.~Berkeley�
classroom. When we arrive, Pozar introduces me as the implementor of�
the FidoNet. Awed silence. Hmm. Half way through they asked me to do a�
10 minute talk on it. I got to say ``anarchism''. The KPFA (lefty�
liberals all) actually laughed. Jerks. So there went my day. 

Tuesday, my friend from the Saskatchawan Telephone company (don't�
laugh, they write nice checks) called and said, they want more work�
done on this project I did for them. More money! Plus, we're gonna�
talk about doing yet another project. These are totally sweetheart�
jobs -- I know the guy, he's totally cool (a FidoNet person), the work�
is right up my alley (communications stuff), plus since the checks�
come from another country (Canada), there's no taxpayer ID stuff, I�
can completely and safely avoid paying any taxes! Scam time! So it�
looks like I have a source of money for the rest of the year. 

Today I did the same morning routine, made one biz-type phone call�
(busy line!), then met Richard Loranger for caffeine. We yammered�
until 5PM. There was a sick pigeon in the caf\'e. Apparently it walked�
in by itself. It was hungry and thirsty, and people were feeding it�
all day. It was completely unafraid of people. It jumped up on the�
couch, and chirped at us, walking around and around us, climbing up on�
the arm of the couch to squawk in our faces. It wanted our undivided�
attention. When you held your hand out to it, it squawked extra loud�
and gently pecked at your fingers. It was a filthy bird. It would not�
go away until you completely ignored it, then it went over to some�
other people and repeated it's now successful routine. It let this�
ugly guy hold it and it just talked even louder. He eventually took it�
home in a box after feeding it yet more bread. (I fed it some cloudy�
water made by pouring water into my old latt\'e cup. Yuck.)

Both Deke and Richard also said, no, it's not usual for people to just�
walk up to you and start talking. I swear, I thought it happened to�
everyone. Of course a half dozen people (half of them crazy) visited�
us in the caf\'e. Plus, I apparently know a lot of people. No wonder�
I'm so annoyed and distracted all the time.

\bigskip
\dropcap{I} still and again want you here. For all reasons and none at�
all. I have to stop typing now, before I go completely crazy thinking�
about you. At least during the day, I take short breaks thinking about�
other things. It's not just horniness, it's everything else too. 

My mind feels plugged up tonight. I drank too much coffee. I want to�
stop (I won't say ``complete'') this letter so I can get it in the�
morning's mail and hopefully to you before Sunday. Maybe I'll walk�
down to Tire Beach and the Toxic Golf Course, my favorite place in Sn�
Fagsicko right now. I want to make out and fuck you there!

Funny -- I haven't built the altar for you, and right now I don't want�
to do it. Because it just doesn't seem like you're that far away. It�
seems like it would mean you are inaccessible. Besides, I've got�
pictures of you everywhere. Not good enough of course. 

I miss you more and more. I love you. 

OH FUCK you won't have a phone in Seattle! Well, call collect if�
anything ever comes up. I wish I could say call collect any time, but�
I'm too broke\dots but maybe once a week? If you can call from�
someone's house I'll call right back. 

I miss you love you miss you love you unceasingly\dots


\bye
