Thought upon reading — me fucking too. Wrt my on stuff.
Oy like to let it gob — just throw itself up, in a way And think of it as Angels threading, bleeding, bobbing sobbing robbing — lobbying.
Writing is why I am doing this. Because he bothers — he bothers to (seriously) talk about it. And will a letter answer if he so chooses. What a lovely “crime.”
I like to think about writing sometimes as The Perfect Crime.
Personally find my own angels to be difficult creatures. And those of others to be highly contagious as well.
Which find to my surprise is what appreciate about it the most. IT (neuter for Angel Hair) allows ITself to spread. To be transfigured by IT, search through, pursue…
Every sentence becomes like a beautiful little horror show, a beauty marker, a ball of string, a gag, a sweet transgression, etc. that needs to become acquainted with itself — and that takes time! Loads. Forever…