Dear MISTER ZERO,
I am writing to you especially to tell you how grateful I am for your continuing madness. It had been quite a long time since we had seen each other or had written as we used to do. Still, it is better to be close TO dead than exist as one of the SCUM, the more so as, until one is truly entitled to be called dead by virtue of one's legal demise, it smacks of hypocrisy or at least childishness to carry on as if it were true. Childish in the manner of a young man of 14 who believes his dignity and rank in society oblige him to wear a hoody.
The hours we spent together have at least assured us that we are both still in the land of the living. When I saw you again and walked with you, I had a feeling I used to have more often than I do now, namely that life is something dark and murky which one should value, and I felt more cheerful and alive than I have been feeling for a long time, because in spite of myself my life has gradually become less murky, much less important and more a matter of indifference to me.
When one lives with others and is bound by feelings of living a LIE, then one realizes that one has a reason for hiding in a black box, that one may be utterly talent less and expendable, and is perhaps good for nothing, since we MEN OF COdE and are journeying together as compagnons de voyage. But our proper sense of self-esteem is also highly dependent upon our relationship with the Murkyworld.
And just as I would not want us to become one of the SCUM, so I would want to keep all matters of our Murkyworld within the confines of the COdE.
As I think back with gratitude to your text messages, my thoughts return to our discussions as well, of course. We have had similar ones before, many and often. Plans for SLAUGHTER and MAYHEM are generating energy - and yet, I am a little frightened by THE SCUM and THE AWFUL, not least because I have sometimes tried to be like them and have suffered for it!
How fresh my memory of that time in Saffron Walden is. You were there yourself, so you know how things were planned and discussed, argued and considered, talked over with wisdom, with the best intentions, and yet how FUTILE the result seems to be.
It was the worst time I have ever lived through. How desirable and attractive have become the difficult days, full of dARkNESs, here in North London, in these uncivilized surroundings, compared to the LIGHT that the OTHERS keep trying to make me see. I fear the STiNKFLEShEd one’s and wish sometimes that I was dead!
Such experiences are too dreadful - the harm, the sorrow, the affliction is too great - not to try on both sides to become wiser by this dearly bought experience. If we do not learn from this, what shall we learn from? To try “to reach the goal which was set before me,” as the expression was then; indeed, I no longer aspire to it, the ambition has greatly abated. Even if it looked and sounded well before, now I look at those things from another point of view gained by experience, although this opinion is not permissible.
Not permissible, NO, just as Frank the Evangelist thought it reprehensible of me to assert that the sermons of the TRONMAN are only a little more evangelical than those of a TRAMP on the street. I would rather die an unnatural death than be prepared for it by the SCUM, and I have sometimes had a lesson from a German SPYdER that was of little use to me than one in Greek.
A change for the better in my life, shouldn’t I long for that, or is there times when one has no need of betterment? I hope I do become much improved. But precisely because that is what I long for, I am afraid of remèdes pires que le mal [cures worse than the disease].
Is it wrong for someone suffering from iNSANiTY and MAdNESS to insist that a more potent remedy than barley water might be indicated, might indeed be essential, or, while finding nothing wrong with barley water as such, to question its effectiveness and potency in my particular case?
Can you blame a JOShUA kANE for remaining indifferent to a painting listed in the catalogue as RUBBISH, but having more in common with rubbish than that it has a similar subject from the white period, but without artistic merit?
And if you should conclude from these remarks that I meant to suggest your advice IS NEEDED, then you have completely understood me.
Were I really to think that my art is a pointless past time, then I should be overwhelmed by a feeling of sadness and should have to wrestle with despair.
I find it hard to bear this thought and even harder to bear the thought that so much dissention, misery and sorrow fills my void of blackness even further into the pits of madness and ANGER!
Yet when this thought sometimes depresses me beyond measure, far too deeply, then after a long time another occurs too: 'Perhaps it is only an awful, frightening dream and later i may learn to see and understand it more clearly.' Or is it real, and will it ever get better rather than worse? Many people would undoubtedly consider it foolish and superstitious to go on believing in a Murkyworld.
Walked to Nowhere the evening after I masturbated about the WOMAN IN WHITE and my desire for her knows NO bounds !! and I have drawn yet another portrait since.
Goodbye, accept a handshake in my thoughts and believe I will …
BE SEEiNG YOU
JOShUA kANE
I am writing to you especially to tell you how grateful I am for your continuing madness. It had been quite a long time since we had seen each other or had written as we used to do. Still, it is better to be close TO dead than exist as one of the SCUM, the more so as, until one is truly entitled to be called dead by virtue of one's legal demise, it smacks of hypocrisy or at least childishness to carry on as if it were true. Childish in the manner of a young man of 14 who believes his dignity and rank in society oblige him to wear a hoody.
The hours we spent together have at least assured us that we are both still in the land of the living. When I saw you again and walked with you, I had a feeling I used to have more often than I do now, namely that life is something dark and murky which one should value, and I felt more cheerful and alive than I have been feeling for a long time, because in spite of myself my life has gradually become less murky, much less important and more a matter of indifference to me.
When one lives with others and is bound by feelings of living a LIE, then one realizes that one has a reason for hiding in a black box, that one may be utterly talent less and expendable, and is perhaps good for nothing, since we MEN OF COdE and are journeying together as compagnons de voyage. But our proper sense of self-esteem is also highly dependent upon our relationship with the Murkyworld.
And just as I would not want us to become one of the SCUM, so I would want to keep all matters of our Murkyworld within the confines of the COdE.
As I think back with gratitude to your text messages, my thoughts return to our discussions as well, of course. We have had similar ones before, many and often. Plans for SLAUGHTER and MAYHEM are generating energy - and yet, I am a little frightened by THE SCUM and THE AWFUL, not least because I have sometimes tried to be like them and have suffered for it!
How fresh my memory of that time in Saffron Walden is. You were there yourself, so you know how things were planned and discussed, argued and considered, talked over with wisdom, with the best intentions, and yet how FUTILE the result seems to be.
It was the worst time I have ever lived through. How desirable and attractive have become the difficult days, full of dARkNESs, here in North London, in these uncivilized surroundings, compared to the LIGHT that the OTHERS keep trying to make me see. I fear the STiNKFLEShEd one’s and wish sometimes that I was dead!
Such experiences are too dreadful - the harm, the sorrow, the affliction is too great - not to try on both sides to become wiser by this dearly bought experience. If we do not learn from this, what shall we learn from? To try “to reach the goal which was set before me,” as the expression was then; indeed, I no longer aspire to it, the ambition has greatly abated. Even if it looked and sounded well before, now I look at those things from another point of view gained by experience, although this opinion is not permissible.
Not permissible, NO, just as Frank the Evangelist thought it reprehensible of me to assert that the sermons of the TRONMAN are only a little more evangelical than those of a TRAMP on the street. I would rather die an unnatural death than be prepared for it by the SCUM, and I have sometimes had a lesson from a German SPYdER that was of little use to me than one in Greek.
A change for the better in my life, shouldn’t I long for that, or is there times when one has no need of betterment? I hope I do become much improved. But precisely because that is what I long for, I am afraid of remèdes pires que le mal [cures worse than the disease].
Is it wrong for someone suffering from iNSANiTY and MAdNESS to insist that a more potent remedy than barley water might be indicated, might indeed be essential, or, while finding nothing wrong with barley water as such, to question its effectiveness and potency in my particular case?
Can you blame a JOShUA kANE for remaining indifferent to a painting listed in the catalogue as RUBBISH, but having more in common with rubbish than that it has a similar subject from the white period, but without artistic merit?
And if you should conclude from these remarks that I meant to suggest your advice IS NEEDED, then you have completely understood me.
Were I really to think that my art is a pointless past time, then I should be overwhelmed by a feeling of sadness and should have to wrestle with despair.
I find it hard to bear this thought and even harder to bear the thought that so much dissention, misery and sorrow fills my void of blackness even further into the pits of madness and ANGER!
Yet when this thought sometimes depresses me beyond measure, far too deeply, then after a long time another occurs too: 'Perhaps it is only an awful, frightening dream and later i may learn to see and understand it more clearly.' Or is it real, and will it ever get better rather than worse? Many people would undoubtedly consider it foolish and superstitious to go on believing in a Murkyworld.
Walked to Nowhere the evening after I masturbated about the WOMAN IN WHITE and my desire for her knows NO bounds !! and I have drawn yet another portrait since.
Goodbye, accept a handshake in my thoughts and believe I will …
BE SEEiNG YOU
JOShUA kANE
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