My friend has returned. He’s here visiting.
I’ts been too long a time that he’s been away.
We, at this very moment are doing what we would normally do,
with the correct stimulation at hand, and the desire to write.
This was a while ago, even before he started this blog,
even before I started to draw seriously.
We wrote late into the night, and then into the next day,
and then into the next night, and so on and so forth.
We’re doing that now.
My friend moved away to the big city,
some time ago, leaving this town with a wound.
But then others have left as well, havn’t they.
Some return. Much to the satisfaction of the cadre.
I have friends I havn’t seen in years now.
It would be nice to see them again.
Some are in Hawaii, some in Oregon, or someother such place.
Some are where I know not.
All roads lead to Brattleboro.
That’s what they say.
Brattleboro Vermont, home to tweakers, vegetarians, nudists,
and an incredible assortment of individuals.
Trapeeze artists, regular artists, glass blowers, corn holers,
cow tippers, frizbee flippers.
We have hoboes that return to Bratt this time of year,
a dirty green black combination,
that must be by embracing soot.
The Morris Dancers return to Brattleboro, every Memorial Day, like the swallows returning to Cappistrano.
A bunch of dandies they are, singing sailing song, drinking to excess at McNeill’s,
then go out, get the street closed down sothey can dance their little dance,
with their jangly bells, and little white hankerchiefs. They do indeed look silly.
There are some funny laws, or should I say non-laws,
such as nudity. Some kids last summer or prehaps the summer before started hanging around Harmony Parking Lot.
Soon, old wrinkled farts were soon spotted prancing about in thier bestest birthday suits.
If you want to, you can still walk nude here but it will cost you 100 bucks.
Dr. Phil came here to see if there were any marketable aspects that he could elicit.
What a dope. Hollywood doesnt apply to Bratt.
We are immune.
We have the oldest mental hospital in the country,
it’s called the Brattleboro Retreat.
It seem that they open the doors late at night to let some of them out,
cause we here do have a seriousproblem with people that just dont seem to
understand the concept of reality. The water in The Connecticut River has been known to run north on occasion,
I have witnessed that myself just last year. Damnest thing.
In Brattleboro, around the turn of the 20th century they had here The Water Cure.
Several establishments that proclaimed that our water, out of some specific wells could cure all manner of ailments.
They are gone now, but are they really?
I lived in an apartment building right on top of one of these water cures, on Elliot St.
That’s right downtown for people not from around these parts.
In any case, I belive they left some unfinished buisness in my building.
There were happenings in that building that you would just not belive.
Just ask Dexterity, Absinthe Eve or prehaps Xela, and they would tell you gentle reader,
that some of the goings on in that building would make you think the place was haunted.
Oh sure, I may have over imbibed on ocaision, remaining so thoroughly fucked up that I might have hallucinated some of it.
Then again, this is Brattleboro, and many unnatural things tend to happen here.
It is good to see my friend again.
I have another friend that moved away,
all the way to that other coast.
He returned to visit a year and a half ago,
and just before he left, as we were sitting around my drawing table, I turned to reach for something,
and having turned back I saw a white rock {coral}. It had, as they all do, in my rock collection, natural holes right through them.
I had had on another stone, removed it and put the new one on. I still have it on. It’s never been off.
Thank you my friend.
I have a website with a few of my more recent drawings on it. It ’s www.drawntomyart.com
Hello to all my old friends out there. I miss you all.
PS Make sure you give Mike e a ration of shit for not writing this himself.
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