re: a quick note

Kate,

Just wanted to say 'Hi.' I called and talked to your cats. They didn't say much, but I guessed they were probably listening.

I will write more later, as now I really ought to eat something. I went something of 24 hours without eating, from Sunday noon to Monday noon. I did not sleep much last night, as I went to bed after 3 in the morning and woke again at about 8. So I am running real exhausted. It doesn't bother me much, as I'll eat when I eat and sleep when I sleep. I hope you don't think I am an idiot for this nonchalance regarding my physical and mental health. I have done a lot of unorthodox things. I once stayed awake for over 3 days and if the weekend hadn't come, it would have been more. I couldn't stop writing. I would write for a long stretch that I knew if I did go to bed at that hour, I might oversleep. There was a period, '89 or '90, when I would write many thousands of words over a weekend and hated when the weekend ended, but counted the days till the next one. My mind just never shuts down. I used to ramble all over the country, walking from state to state, and sometimes walked several days before I came to a place I could rest. But out there walking, I would write my novels (in my head) but lost them to the frailty of memory. Not long ago, I woke into a day unexpected. Before noon, I had the framework for a story. By evening, I stitched elements of some past ideas and some new ideas, and by midnight I began to write. I wrote till 7 am and had the full story and went to bed. It was an unorthodox time. Perhaps I have been making up for a childhood in which I hardly spoke. I left all and found something unique: me. Except for when my 3 sisters where there, I was my only playmate. I made up worlds and populated them. They were likely the people I wished were there to love me and to know me. I became a man not knowing I had these original ideas. I started to write even more and saw everything I was. So I was not afraid to stand before the public and say, I have a voice and it can speak. However, I would stand behind my manuscripts, as if the stories and poems were my protector, my talisman. I would think: if she could just see, through my words, that I am not nobody and can be loved. I wish to believe that I can be loved not because my words create me, but because I create my words. Or maybe loved anyway just because I am.

Now I am less hungry and want to write and write all this to you. I want to show you a heart on the verge of transcending to some place it has never before been.

It is possible to remake the world out of the image we have in our minds. If you truly believe something extraordinary is about to happen, then you only need to give it the time and it will happen. I know how this all seems like a dream; however, what I don't know is how you dream; I know so little about you; I want to fade into your dream with you.

There is nothing false here. You can never be hurt by me, because I have to allow it before it can happen. There may times, in the beginning, I run away from you, hide. I can see myself doing it but having little strength in stopping it. Know this now and know it then: it will be nothing I am saying about you. Don't let me run. I am asking you to communicate with me and recognize the fears within me. I don't want you to be someone I have to get over because I was afraid to let you love me. Let us always regain the will to talk with each other. I would like nothing better than to watch time age you into the more wonderful person you will be. You will never be without me, if this is what you want.

I once wrote in my journal that I see myself at the top of a tall mountain and no one is there to share with me the view, and then I am drowning and no one throws me a line. I want to show you what I see and what I've been seeing all my life. I don't want to sit at the top of a tall mountain alone. I want to take you there.

Someday I want to embrace you and kiss you. Reality is how you create it: it can be everything or nothing. You are my lifeline. You are my Duchess in shining armor. Can I turn away from that?

Love,
John