well hello to my beloved kinsmen and token Basque-in-law.  tonight i have
set aside Ralph Ellison to send a brief missive to all y'all in the hopes
that it may atone for anything bizarre which may have occurred in the most
recent communique.  i vaguely recall some coherency at the beginning, but by
four thirty in the morn God only knows what was written.



mother are you listening to that tape?



not a whole lot to report on the itinerary front, though i hope for a
gathering on either Easter weekend or the one after.  does that present a
problem for anyone?  let me know por favor and be quick about it - tickets
muy inflexible will be purchased as soon as i hear from a woman in ye olde
boston towne.



wrote said woman a love letter the other day - nay, the other week as it
took about five revisions - and just now my heart is in my throat as we are
waiting for the reply.  never, never reread a love letter - how could what
must surely be the #1 rule of writing those things have been unknown to me?



upon recollection it has occurred to me that my older male siblings did not
learn me jack shit about the amorous side of life - pitching woo and goin'
courting.  thanks for nada, boys - your collective inattention left me in
the rather hapless position of having to make a study of mack daddy murry
trying to smooth talk danna, and strangely enough it was none other than the
Paternal Unit who imparted the most influence on me.  so basically that
letter reads like pops talking to Arthur and borrows heavily from the time
he tried to talk my ass into going to the palo pinto county prom with candy
hodgkins.



makes us just about cringe out loud even fourteen years removed, that memory
does.  yuck.



well next month am headed to guam for a few days of fun in the sun with an
ozzie mate and a new yorker.  not the most exotic locale, but should be
packed with enough randy nubile nipponese lasses to bring out the sexual
Tyrannosaurus in yours truly.  yeah baby!



so sad about tom landry, but not quite as sad as watching phil collins make
a laughingstock of himself in that absurd super bowl halftime show.  john,
you used to make excuses for him, but i will stomach them no more!



by the way, has anyone actually received an email from the Great She-
Elephant, or does she just read them?  since when did the path of passivity
suit you best, camille-san?  for pete's sake turn off the petula clark
record, stop watching the stock market channel as if something immediately
discernible is about to happen, stub out the ciggie and give a holler!



well there is a whole lot more to say but i reckon it just might be better
done in a matter of weeks in person, face to face, mano a mano

and soul to soul (SRV!)   and so it is until then, sans the comfort of the
bosom of my clan, that i remain much like the proverbial dog without a bone,
the gook without a bowl of rice, chico without the man and a pimp without
his bitches.  see y'all soon - miss y'all heaps



rollina


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