a letter to Ishmael... following the previous letter

My most beloved and esteemed companion and friend, Ishmael,

Tonight is the 10th of June.

I had promised myself that I would not write to you until I got I reply to my last two letters and yet, I fear that if I don't speak now, in the heat of the moment, that it will be lost in the rushing of the current...too much will change. Yet, life is the constant build up of energy until change occurs.

I am where I ought to be.

Grantsburg is filled with a wonderful energy. The people in Grantsburg are so filled with life that the air is electrified. Artists are drawn like moths who are unable to escape the allure of a light bulb.

I drove to Mad-town with my new (and already close friend) Amelie. She even announced her amazement that within a week, we are friends...simple as that. (Background info. She is the young lady who roomed in my father's house last summer and who you briefly met. My father has taken her in as something of a surrogate daughter.)

Ironically, the other friend I seem to have found is my father's new housemate...Dan. My father has told Dan that if he touches me that he will break his legs... This leaves me feeling rather irate with my father. I do not like having my choices of men dictated by my father. He lacks reason when it comes to protecting me. I am glad that we no longer live in Chicago. If we did, I would not put it pass him to join the Mafia in order to protect me...Mind you, this is a bit of an exaggeration but not much.

Dan has chosen my father as his new father symbol. He has turned looking for an intellectual father- figure into a vocation. He wanders all over (a certified transient whose ambition is to own only what can fit into a shoe box...the rest "stored" with people scattered all over the country. He "lent" me a stack of books to "store" indefinitely with the only stipulation being that he have access to him.) Walking into his apartment, I was immediately introduced to his bookshelf. (Well, I introduced myself to it really.) I was delighted to find a numerous of oooh and aaah inspiring titles...not to mention a few that I already own (some which are the same print no less!)

Dan slings drinks at a local bar (insert name which used to be another name.) Plays the piano there. He also substitute teaches in a nearby town. I wanted to hang out with tonight partly because he is rather good to look at but also because I sensed that he is someone I am supposed to know. However, I also hung out with him because my father wanted to forbid it. He would have if I was younger... Thank you for helping me develop a spine!

I am going to be banging heads with my father ... intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. My relationship with my father will be rough for awhile. He claims that he has accepted my adulthood. Yet, he is resentful and hurt that I... (insert the transgressions of youth.) He is carrying the guilt that his marriage failed...he transfers this guilt unto my mother. I am very much like my mother. I enjoy my privacy unless I am given unconditional acceptance. Without that acceptance, I can not disclose without a sense of wanting to protect that which I hold sacred...my autonomy.

Speaking of which, I got a tattoo tonight. I have the Chinese symbol for "human nature, feeling, compassion, and sympathy" on the nape of my neck. I know that you don't approve...my father neither approves nor disapproves (or so he claims to my face.)

Back to Dan...he is not you. My initial reaction turned into an appreciation of who he is. I kept thinking how I would like to share the experience of taking an intellectual walk with him. I am as madly in love with you as ever. I often tell you my emotional status...more so than I do anyone else. It makes me feel vulnerable to be emotionally honest and lucid about speaking about it. In telling you I love you, my words have often been tinged with a bit of nervous self-consciousness. I personally revel in the peaks of emotion which loving you has caused me but I also realize that in the "politics" of relationships, I am granting you a certain amount of emotional power. This is where trust once again becomes an overwhelming factor.

Here are a few gems which I have collected:

The following were newspaper bits stuck into a small leather bound book,

Selections from Robert Browning, which could be stuck into the pocket of a shirt...

"Prairie Dusk"
"The peaks are purpling in the west;
The prairie trail is dim;
And here and there a lonely light
Twinkles around the rim."


"In Lighter Vein"
The following questions were reported to have been put to the applicants for a job:
"How long is a piece of string?" and "How far can a dog walk into a forest?"
From one bright youth they received as answers:
"A piece of string is twice as long as the distance from the center to either end,"
and "A dog can only run halfway into the woods; after that he is running out of the woods."
~no author given

Pause...Sal is making the act of transcribing a bit too much effort. He is reminding me that in our unspoken pact, I am required and entitled to bestow him with affection and in return, he is taken care of and nourished. In the realm of my cat life...Ana is behaving difficultly. I love her. It is hard for me to judge her with the severity with which you judge her...(sigh) I must let things be as they will be. I can try to guide the stream but it, ultimately, will choose its own path, eh?

Dan had word magnets on his fridge (ones like yours but smaller.) With his words he had composed the following poem:
"Beneath diamond visions
Shadows of a gorgeous picture
A goddess delirious for a moment
A delicate moon playing with the water
Blue language
Shine without a drunk worship
Whisper."

Wow, eh? To top it off, he played some incredible jazz music. The edge to the evening which gave it a surreal edge was that he was packing up his things in preparation of living with my dad. Not only that but the fact that he has chosen (and my father has chosen him) MY father to enact a father-son dialogue. He, however, has had the luxury of choice as well as the ability to be more removed from the interaction. A distance which provides for a more honest discourse...I need to learn how to utilize such distance. Then again, I am young. I bring up my youth because I need to remember not to be self-righteous beyond my years. Humility is one of the hardest traits to understand from within. It requires the individual to be "outside" of one's self or rather, to removed from the ego.

Once again, the issue of trust re-surfaces. In order to feel non-ego involved, one must break away from needing acceptance but acceptance should also be present in an unconditional form.
Morning's first shades of light are beginning to filter into the room. I have spent most of the night in the midst of pontification and conversation. I will end tonight's writing with a quotation which I found on a letter hung up on a wall:

"Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth, I ask not for good fortune, I myself am good fortune.
Henceforth, I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road."
_spoken by Uncle Walt in "Song of the Open Road"

I have a strong sense of being connected to you at this moment. Birds fill the morning air with their songs of morning. The cats restlessly wander around the house anxious for the new day to start. Sam howls at the door as if to beckon it to open before his command. My computer informs me that 5 am has been reached. I have yet to sleep and already, a new day is unfolding. As said before, my mind ached to speak to you. To freeze a moment of fluctuation into a picture to be examined and re-examined as the whirl of the now becomes the clarity of the past.
My voice upon the paper seems to me to sputter at points...I shall endeavor not, however, to directly tighten my writing to you but rather simply let my thoughts air themselves as they occur to me. Through disciplined output, I intend to be able to place my thoughts into a more succinct and hopefully, succulent form.

adoringly yours,