Wednesday, April 14, 2010

The White Bear Comes A Knockin'

Seems our lives, as if not already limited enough, are about to be, or already are depending on the bar you hang out in in cyberspace, ensnared in a '144 characters or less' world of no goodness, as I was unable to post to your wall much of anything other than the usual "whatup dog?" which though mildly amusing like a morning rub and tug are not nearly enough to sustain or feed us to the point of providing real heel kicking call a good friend and scream into the phone "Goddamn I'm happy! Aren't you?!" joy, the kind that some of us still claim as one of our rights for the mere fact that we've made it this far. So I figured I'd throw you a note while my able bodied team continues to work out the kinks to our big move to "dedicated servers." Meaning yours truly cannot post freely on his own turf due to CPU overages they claim are due to traffic violations on the information super highway. So here's that ten-year note. Or is it twenty? Either way, it's been a long time. Too long.

For those in the know (readers of the Transcendence Diaries), this is where Fishy reconnects with White Bear, the beer belching bourbon loving bearded bard of infinite alliteration who mentored young Fishy in his college years while he called Atlanta GA home for a few years. And so, after many, many, many years, the reply to the unexpected electronic letter that appeared from nowhere went something like this.

Dear White Bear,
As older brothers go... I've been missing you too; for years my friend. In response to your question, yeeaap (not too long but slightly drawn out) I was wondering the same thing... I feel our spheres are close enough to share a drink or a two-hour chat now and then. (and they don't call me the ambassador for nothing. I find it awfully difficult to not get along with just about anyone truth be told. Not always to my benefit. But certainly to theirs.) I wholeheartedly agree with you on the Kennedys. Thought Bobby was the White Knight we'd been waiting for for decades. Idolize the man. Love but hate the behavior of the dark forces that took him from us, those same forces that now seem to control everything except my left nut, though even that I wouldn't bet on.

In terms of money and fame, I've haphazardly and ironically made a fortune over the years while chasing that ever-elusive dream of stardom seemingly forever intent on ignoring my imagined greatness. Unlike you, I'm not interested in money. Just give me the influence so I can help right the Becks and O'Reillys of the world. I'm glad we're still playing at the same table on that front, but I do lean more toward the "you don't really believe they're working for different people still do ya?" view. David Icke et al. (Oh how i would love to see you laugh that one out in person) But truly I bailed on all those left versus right legends long ago and tend to operate somewhere outside of but in between it all. Some people refer to it as conspiracy theory (which I find fallacious because that would imply something "secret" and there is no longer anything secret about the self-serving cabal of blood thirsty murdering fuckhead bastards that rules all governments of the world at this point.) Others call it libertarianism I've heard, but I haven't had time to check. I just call it being human. Fluid. Bamboo. Never stop researching.

One thing I'll tell ya is that your influence was a great and mighty one on the young Fishy, once known as Ed Hale, then Eddie Darling, then Guess Darling, and eventually the pretentious as all hell Ambassador. Wrote like a mother f*&ker for 20 straight years based on your many deep-voiced mid-of-night suggestions and ended up with a ridiculously over-weighted 5000 page novel series called The Adventures of Fishy, spent eight years blogging from it (based on a suggestion from another brother from a different mother who you might equally enjoy we call G2) to something called the Transcendence Diaries. See it here: Some damn good passages in there. A few I'm actually proud of. And not a year went by that I didn't wonder what you'd think as I pounded those keys. Thank you for that.

By the way. Got married recently. You may remember my hopeless romantic ideals that true love really does exist somewhere out there if we just wait for it that I would occasionally espouse during those obligatory late night talkies (did we actually get college credit for those as you once told me?) Well it turns out that for once I was right. It does. Sometimes it may right under our noses... PLT, better known to readers as Princess Little Tree, had and has been my best friend for over seven years when I finally proposed to her on a row boat in the middle of a lake in Central Park on the sunniest day the Good Lord ever created. But indeed you really do just have to wait for it. I had plenty of just about everything else; so I knew what I was looking for. And you know what it was? (still is...) A "Yes." Something we hear inside that we ourselves cannot muster up no matter how hard we try. One day I hope she gets the opportunity to meet you... I am sure she will consider it every bit the honor that I did way back when.

Very very good to hear from you my brother. Your presence was missed.
E (or F as the case may be)