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Date: Mon, 05 Aug 2002 16:42:29
Subject: End Blue
From: berto_alto@tank20.com
To: susannenbreone@aol.com

Dear You,

Well . . .

I should say first that I understand

about you and Skip

Love it aint easy

and escape is even more difficult

Skip might surprise you,
he might surprise all of us
he might even surprise himself

I wish you a great journey

All our paths will cross again

in some time

and I'm *so proud* of you

for finally getting out from under that boulder
you called a job

I hope that you'll send me
some of the photos you take
on your travels

You're probably curious . . .

 . . . about what happened to me

Which version do you want?

The Official Version? (the "Haldol" version)

The Sentimental Version? (the "Dulcinea" version)

or the Truth? (the "Truth")

The Official Version

About three weeks into my imprisonment
in the tower

*just kidding*

about three weeks into my "treatment,"
as the dopamine levels in my brain

got . . . well . . .  balanced

and I realized
that for much of my life
I have been having hallucinations and delusions

This has to do with the trauma I experienced early in life

when my father

who I respected loved dearly and so on

would come home and abuse
my mother, brother, sister, self et cetera

and then.


as if a switch had suddenly gone off in his brain
he would come into Ernesto's and my room

and read to us from Don Quixote

even though
moments before
he had called us such things as
bad worthless idiot and so on

. . . our father reading those adventures
in a sweet voice full of humor

So . . . .

When I experienced the recent

I cast myself back knightly
into the dusty plains of Spain
(actually, Italy)

Until one morning
Haldol worked its magic et cetera

and I realized
that I could no longer
retreat to the tale end

*sound of falling eye-scales*

and I found myself in a hospital
surrounded by others' demons

and I realized that
I'm only a deluded old gent from La Mancha
after all.


I saw ERNestO jeffie and J*E*S*S*I*C*A
this week. Yayyy!

We went and saw the Cubs game at Wrigley

Ernesto and I had a great time
bonding over shared
"illnesses" "impulses" "predicaments"



We drank a beer called "Old Style"

ate a pizza called "Lou Malnati's"

we *laughed out loud*

I taught Jeff a few Blue Company moves

  how to protect himself

just a little bit

from the forces of evil

I realized that
no matter what happens or
where I go next I
shouldn't lose track of them
or even my sister Olivia

 . . . who is praying for me right now


The Sentimental Version

After my last message to you
from back in the 14th Century . . .

Our Captain Regine
hunkered us around her
to explain that our mission,
all along, had been to delicately influence
the cultural echos
of the color Blue itself . . .

(whilst the 14th c. red-cloth-guild
was bribing painters to paint the Devil blue;
and the blue-cloth-guild
was bribing painters to paint the Devil red)

 . . . to support certain 21st c.
blue corporate logos and valuations.

My mind was blown ---
I thought I was the marketing guy
supporting Blue Company's
the Blue Company
was enforcing my blue marketing!

When suddenly . . .
Our Captain Regine was captured by security
and, presumably, axed.

Well, after SKIP DIED and
so many of my other FRIENDS DIED
and REGINE was gone . . .

 . . . you might say . . .
that my mind

. . . well . . .

kind of. . .  blew.

I flipped.
I flip-skied.
I flip-o-roonied.

Instead of fearing for my life
I put the fear of blue in others.

Instead of running from security,
I stalked security.

I found the security guys
--- the ones who killed Skip --

and I isolated one

and I'm not proud of this

and I slit him

and I have wicked nightmares now

and I found my own hands red

and I put on his suit
and took his place
and shipped back to the 21st.

Because I needed to be with you.

and when I got back
I discovered that your heart had been taken

by your Regine

and I flipped so hard I broke.

Thank God Skip
my silly compadre

brought me to the tower
I mean hospital


I saw in the paper today

that Edward DuBois,
Regine's cousin,
has been commissioned
to do a memorial sculpture

in Manitoba
it's called

"The Blue Angel Descends from Heaven with Grace
 to Gather and Avenge Lost Souls"

I don't know how what that means
or how it will look
but I like the way it sounds
a construction crane descending
on spread aeroplane wings
breathing fire in a snowy field.




Susanne, we live in a world between worlds.


Think about what has already happened here

in America

in the world

in this century

before you tell me that there is

no escape

no way back

no alternative
in which things might have changed


"progressed" differently

Don't worry 'bout me.
I can certainly function in this world, I can
put on a suit, carry a briefcase, I can

market professionally.

But the *truth* is that everywhere I go,
I see *both* the world that is now
*and* the world that is now-in-then.

The truth is
this world we try to share
is only one of many possible worlds
built on stumbles from the past . . .

A butterfly farts in Borneo
and *everything* in this century
turns out differently.

Is this *my* problem?

Am I insane

Just because I've smelt the mildew
and campsmoke and gnawed the roast weasel
of that other world
that is out (t)here

*right this fucking minute?*

A keystroke away?

(Big Secret: you don't even
need a machine to get there.)

Dear You,
The *truth* is that I

loved you once


I want to go back there

where we left off

make a couple adjustments

so that maybe
you and skip and jeff and jessica and ernesto and darlene and all the people
I care about

won't have to read headlines
like the ones we've been seeing
all summer long.

The *truth* is
that they lent me history books
in the tower and I read all night.

The *truth* is that I
am going back there
to rescue Regine
and us
and a few other things.

Sure I'll probably



I'd rather try to make a few changes
than to stay in this time, in this awful time

so blue


I'll be back

 . . . probably.

See you "then."

Your friend,