wrap it tight. Youve put me into a horrible quandary. God damn it, Carol. God damn it. Whoa. Im sorry. I wonder whether you hate me. I dont hate you. Listen. I just got in. You want to talk with me, but not tonight. Its too late. Ive contracted with Mind Design Inc in Sorrento Valley. Through StarTemp agency you know. If you can come out to Yes. I know where it is. Which lab? Thirty one. Midmorning? Ten. I dont hate you, Martin. Whether I should I dont know but I dont. Well talk. They said brief farewells. AXIS replays had lost their charms and he shut down the screen with a curt Off. With some guilt he understood that his shaking was not from moral dilemma; there really bad been none from the moment of the offer. He shook because of eagerness and excitement.
In white society every black is a trained bear. Thats how I feel at times even with my white woman who shows not the slightest sign of thinking such. Does she Love me for being the one black male writer given a chance to shine in USA this generation? One per, an old law. The greatest taint of all is the taint left by history on my own soul. 1 cannot Love her; I see her with scarred eyes.
11 Richard Fettle returned to his shade apartment by seven oclock, hoofing slowly up crumbling concrete and steel stairs. He brushed aside an abundance of brown and yellow banana leaves intruding into the second floor landing, slipped his smoothworn brass key into tricky lock and greeted the cheap ten year old home manager on smoke stained fireplace mantel with Its me. Only me. Welcome home, Mr. Fettle, the manager croaked. + Once did not recognize me. Raised a miserable stink. Pd didnt come. Neighbors checked in though. Take care of our own. He made himself a cup of coffee and sat in a chair he had made twenty years before to give to his A comfortable chair the last he had of his handicrafts. Gave it to his He glanced briefly at a slate, noted some articles in todays Shadow Rhubarb he wanted to read, finished his coffee and wondered what he would do for dinner. He wasnt hungry but the body must. Truth to tell he was depressed now, decompressed, all the stories told to all who mattered and nothing but his own thoughts not good company at all. + Roughed and not deserving cut that refrain and bear down on your past you bastard + Your wife + Your wife, gave the chair to her. Not the time to think those thoughts, however. Richard closed his eyes and leaned back, the chair expanding under him footrest up back tilted arms inclining, friendly. + Why he did it. Madame de Roche thinks not crazy; a natural. Why then. Brilliance getting Emanuel down they say they say. Deep depravity coming up sicking up foulness like a dog. Bubble of evil in still waters noxious gases. Poem in that. Nothing worth bothering with. If not depraved not crazy then rational. Thinking all the time; planning. Form of expression. Expression of true brilliance stretching beyond human morality limitations. Did it for his art to see what he would make himself into. Kill himself as well as them; sure as hell he has no life to return to. Murderer murders twice. Kills two for each victim. No. Kills himself only once; murder once and its enough youre done for deep therapy enforced maybe not even you left when you come out. Wanted to go through that maybe; kill be caught be prosecuted and therapied deep therapy... Come back new Goldsmith. See if poet survives that. Like scientist a personal experiment. Richard tightened his eyelids until his nose wrinkled. + I am a simple man with simple wants. I want to be left alone. I want to forget. But forgetting was not possible. He had half an impulse to open all the nets and LitVids on his slate and immerse himself in the propagated facts but he resisted. The simple knowledge was enough; multiple murders, likely by the man Richard admired most in the world. Somebodys coming, the manager rasped. People walked by and the manager was never sure whether to express concern or not. The door
In white society every black is a trained bear. Thats how I feel at times even with my white woman who shows not the slightest sign of thinking such. Does she Love me for being the one black male writer given a chance to shine in USA this generation? One per, an old law. The greatest taint of all is the taint left by history on my own soul. 1 cannot Love her; I see her with scarred eyes.
11 Richard Fettle returned to his shade apartment by seven oclock, hoofing slowly up crumbling concrete and steel stairs. He brushed aside an abundance of brown and yellow banana leaves intruding into the second floor landing, slipped his smoothworn brass key into tricky lock and greeted the cheap ten year old home manager on smoke stained fireplace mantel with Its me. Only me. Welcome home, Mr. Fettle, the manager croaked. + Once did not recognize me. Raised a miserable stink. Pd didnt come. Neighbors checked in though. Take care of our own. He made himself a cup of coffee and sat in a chair he had made twenty years before to give to his A comfortable chair the last he had of his handicrafts. Gave it to his He glanced briefly at a slate, noted some articles in todays Shadow Rhubarb he wanted to read, finished his coffee and wondered what he would do for dinner. He wasnt hungry but the body must. Truth to tell he was depressed now, decompressed, all the stories told to all who mattered and nothing but his own thoughts not good company at all. + Roughed and not deserving cut that refrain and bear down on your past you bastard + Your wife + Your wife, gave the chair to her. Not the time to think those thoughts, however. Richard closed his eyes and leaned back, the chair expanding under him footrest up back tilted arms inclining, friendly. + Why he did it. Madame de Roche thinks not crazy; a natural. Why then. Brilliance getting Emanuel down they say they say. Deep depravity coming up sicking up foulness like a dog. Bubble of evil in still waters noxious gases. Poem in that. Nothing worth bothering with. If not depraved not crazy then rational. Thinking all the time; planning. Form of expression. Expression of true brilliance stretching beyond human morality limitations. Did it for his art to see what he would make himself into. Kill himself as well as them; sure as hell he has no life to return to. Murderer murders twice. Kills two for each victim. No. Kills himself only once; murder once and its enough youre done for deep therapy enforced maybe not even you left when you come out. Wanted to go through that maybe; kill be caught be prosecuted and therapied deep therapy... Come back new Goldsmith. See if poet survives that. Like scientist a personal experiment. Richard tightened his eyelids until his nose wrinkled. + I am a simple man with simple wants. I want to be left alone. I want to forget. But forgetting was not possible. He had half an impulse to open all the nets and LitVids on his slate and immerse himself in the propagated facts but he resisted. The simple knowledge was enough; multiple murders, likely by the man Richard admired most in the world. Somebodys coming, the manager rasped. People walked by and the manager was never sure whether to express concern or not. The door
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