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Here's one:
Hi there!
Just a little visit to let you know again how much your encouragement means to me. The urge/need/desire to write something meaningful is an increasingly merciless hag that has been riding me for much of my life, despite the fearful, haunting spectres of past doomed attempts, my utter lack of discipline, my incessant and well practiced avoidance techniques, and all the other obstacles and diversions I daily place in my own path. I have little to offer save a particular point of view and a modest knack for expressing it in an amusing way, but that point of view seems to demand expression resistlessly and relentlessly. It will not let me be, and now it has what it wants - an attentive audience. No matter that audience is perhaps sentimentally inclined (or perhaps feeling obligated by simple kindness) to be supportive - someone is at last listening, and apparantly listening appreciatively. It feels goddam good to write something worth the reading; even better when the effort is acknowledged. I count your compliments and comments as sincere, and cherish them as tasy and nourishing morsels. So thanks again for being my loyal reader, even if circumstance has roped you into it.
It remains somewhat disconcerting to me that my most creative work in recent months has taken the form of e-mails, but the format allows me to do what I so far seem to be best at - brief, emotionally charged (often angry) outbursts of prose flavored with grim humor and a (realistically) pessimistic take on the possibilities for this planet's dominant species of mad monkeys, peppered with four-bit vocabularia (I think I just made up that word) and two-bit obscenities. Hell, I"m having a good time. If, when I've gone to wherever grizzly old bastards like me go in the end, all that's left is Rene Bouchard's mammoth anthology of "E-Mails From My Old Man," well, that's better than nothing.
I never know what may induce a burst of writing (I rely far too much on unaccountable visits of inspiration), so any suggestions/ideas you may on a whim wish to offer might be greeted gratefully; any criticisms accepted graciously (or with whatever grace can be mustered from my limited resources). A friend recently asked if I thought there was a connection between the rising popularity of vampire fiction, beginning more than a century ago, and the rise of aggressive and unfeeling corporate culture, resulting in a fun exploration of the distinct parallels between these twin soulless, blood-sucking entities.
My epic (and very personal) examination of the meaning of horror films, "Castle of Naked Screaming Delirium," still holding (since before last Christmas) at 126 pages of breathlessly exciting narrative, reclines on it's shelf like the yet-to-be-assembled corpse parts on Colin Clive's laboratory slab - waiting for the expected arrival of just the right missing pieces (like that big, gooey brain labelled ABNORMAL), and, with the assistance of Mother Lightning, to rise up and walk. The premise, in essence, is that we Need horror stories because they tell us truths about ourselves that we otherwise deny or hesitate to approach in any other conext, yet which beg (nay, loudly scream) for recognition. I am not, quite obviously, the first to note this, but, again, all I have to offer is my own unique perspective and style of expression. Of course we can't help making and watching horror movies: we are a race of fucking monsters and we live in a world we have transformed , through our own intransigent selfishness and vanity, into a global nightmare of a horror movie.
So much for sweet-talk.
I richly enjoy these conversations or communications or savage rants or whateverthehell they are, and look forward to whatever is next. Love and regards to all...
wildbill
forever...
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