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Dear CINDY,
WOW, I mean THANKS SO MUCH for your letter. It just got me so JAZZED!!!!!
I mean, just, God it was AWESOME, so so AWESOME and YES! I do get tired sometimes after a race, but then it makes me feel so ALIVE you know? Do you? YOU KNOW? I just feel GREAT! I’ve never felt so GREAT!!
But thank you for asking me that and THANK YOU SO MUCH for the gift. I LOVED the texture of it so much and the way it felt against my skin that I may HAVE slightly DESTROYED it by stroking it so hard and SO MUCH. I stroked it to pieces. But I still LOVE IT! Even in PIECES!! PIECES!!
Cindy, I mean, like YES!!! You are the BEST!!! I could just cycle from here in Colorado over to you in New Jersey RIGHT NOW! Because I am so JAZZED that you wrote to me.
Oh man, you hear that? Oh man, I feel a bit weird. OK, I better go outside CINDY!!
You RULES!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lance (JAZZED)
POPE BENEDICT XVI’S HANDOVER NOTES (#ulink_3730a6a0-439c-54df-997c-9f4ccaaf1ef3)
28th February 3013
To his Divine Holiness the Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the Vatican City State, Servant of the servants of God.
Francis,
Buddy, I hope you like shitstorms – because your life just became one.
OK, the van’s about to come and pick up my stuff, so I’m jotting this down quickly …
Get your order in now for some new vestments. Not tomorrow, NOW. I’d expected some fresh ones to be waiting for me when I started, but all I found was an empty closet. And that stuff takes ages to get made up. I’ve left you a couple of spares in the closet by the vestibule. You’re way skinnier than me (you know you are!) but they’ll do in a pinch.
The cleaner comes on Thursday mornings and you do not want to be there when she comes. She always wants something blessed. There seems to be a never-ending amount of paraphernalia. She tried to get me to bless one of those mini Pac-Man games; you know, the hand-held ones, for her grandson. I was like, ‘I can bless that thing all day, but it’s still lame. Unless he’s been in a coma since 1989.’ I didn’t actually say it, but y’know. You’ll get stuck with her all morning if you don’t run off and hide somewhere.
The window you have to wave out of is in the little study bit. You might know that already but no one told me. First Sunday I was wandering around like Our Saviour in the Wilderness trying to find it. And the Cardinals aren’t a bit of use. Great at ring kissing, lousy at directions.
Nuns. Get used to them. They are everywhere, all the time. If you need some ‘alone time’ lock the door. They have special powers or something and just appear when you least expect it. And they don’t say anything, they just stare at you. It’s creepy.
You’re going to be asked a lot of questions about Dan Brown. Do yourself a favour, read The Da Vinci Code. I know, I know, you thought your trials were over and now you’d be on easy street. But honestly, every state function, visit overseas and post-Mass warm down there will be endless theories about it. People think they’re being cute asking you about it. They are not. And you’ll have to watch the movie too I’m afraid. It’s different. You can probably skip Angels and Demons. You can thank me later.
The password for the PC in the office is BONO_101. Don’t ask me why, it was that when I arrived. The IT department might have changed it, in which case good luck. It’s easier changing water into wine than getting an answer from those guys. You need vouchers to use the canteen; I left a few in the desk drawer. God knows why they still use that system. I tried to get it changed – you’d think I was converting to Judaism! The uproar! So anyway, it sucks, but there you are.
Think that’s it. No idea where the keys to the Popemobile are. I never knew and no one would tell me. HR should be in touch about your pass. Though they’ve probably sent you an email about it, which you can’t access without your pass, as I found out to my cost. And they tell you that you can’t take your picture again if the first one is terrible, but you can, I promise you.
OK, have a blast! Drop me a line when you’re settled.
Benedict
P.S. A few people will probably ask if you shit in the woods as well. Just ignore them.
WILLIAM BURROUGHS REWRITES THE SWIMMING POOL RULES (#ulink_46882b7b-5f5a-5dec-83ef-abef09877b93)
No Running – Unless it’s shit running down good wholesome American legs, forming oily pools of thunder down amongst dark gray tunnels of hopeless, stubborn rectitude.
No Pushing – Because no one likes the pusherman, firing beautiful dreams into dead undersea veins, charred inside like the mind of his degraded and decadent client. His gray, invisible specter that infects his pleasure on the dullest and the damned.
No Acrobatics or Gymnastics – Or the stacking of young malleable flesh on flesh, building a queer ladder to the stars, leading to my waking life, where I sit totally alone.
No Shouting – You never want to attract the attention of the Controller, lest he lets the drip-drip of technological assassination, decontrolling him or herself from some unspecified central point that haunts the horizon like some blood blister left too long to rot.
No Ducking – Certainly not ducking the empty smell of many years, tied into the deviance that can only come through boredom and the parasitic craving that must be fed though a paranoiac insanity of hopelessness.
No Petting – No vetting, no fretting, no bedwetting. Cut off all biological necessity, it will only make you hard and unsound. Sadistic faces beaten with spiritual famine, hell bouncing off the walls, sickness welcomed like a damaged organism.
No Bombing – We need to suffer to show that we are alive and feel that needless, dead-eyed pollution that atrophies and seals off the seductions of the skull.
No Swimming in the Diving Area – Hanging off the board with our ghost fingers, the pink blood filters releasing the odor below you, waiting for you to drop. Above you your enemies circle, waiting to control, like a stuffed animal with glazed eyes bearing down from the wall of a gentleman’s club. Below a pool of savage, distended insects all with the face of a burnt nun.
No Smoking – You enter the Smoke Shop and then you see them. Princes of the spirit, arbiters of pang, bureaucrats who equivocate the past, judges who pass sentence on your future, Gods of Zogoth with fiery temples and split, bitter eyes, doctors turning disease into customary abuse, sick children playing with the larvae at their feet, scientists infecting that larvae, the shrill crone beating you for the rent, the bland, majestic soothsayers tearing up your dreams of death and the stiff, sharp seductress squatting over you with their jutting bones and insect ecstasy. Trunk rental available at the snack bar.
A MODEL WRITES TO AUGUSTE RODIN (#ulink_d839a751-6b28-5fa4-9332-e4adeddfd620)
12th July 1889
Dear Monsieur Rodin,
This is the lady who recently posed at your studio for your sculpture ‘The Kiss’. Do you happen to have the name of the other model that posed with me? I have some sort of blister that has appeared on my upper lip and I think I may need to get in touch with him.
Warmest regards,
Sophia
LOU REED WRITES TO A TELEVISION PRODUCER (#ulink_ef6342ba-d595-5b68-9d06-2f905abf5bd9)
8th March 1975
Hey Barry, Barry.
Great meeting you at Andy’s the other week. You said if I had any ideas for the TV I should drop you a line. Well, I was just sitting here at Max’s Kansas City with some friends and we came up with a dynamite idea for a show. Sorry for writing this on bar napkins, wanted to get this down while it was still fresh in my head.
So, here’s the idea – BLADIAC!
I play a hard-bitten New York Cop in a leather jacket called Lou Bladiac who investigates New Wave crimes in the music industry. Bladiac don’t take no shit and plays by his own rules, while also playing some sweet guitar licks.
You know I did ‘Walk on the Wild Side’? So I know quite a bit about the noir stuff and the dark side of life. Well, imagine that song in a TV cop show format. And get this, at the end of each show Bladiac can sing a song about the investigation (which I’ll write and perform). Something like ‘It was the drummer who did it / he just went ahead and did it …’ You see, I just came up with that off the cuff. Imagine how great it would be if I’d put some thought into it. Wait … what … what? Hold on Barry, someone’s shouting at me … what? Yeah, I said about the song …
Sorry Barry, so yeah. And Bladiac is handy with a blade, hence his name. That’s his main weapon in fighting crime, he uses a switchblade. He don’t kill people, just stabs them up a bit before arresting them.
What? Hold on, Rachel’s yelling something. No, we said we weren’t having the Indian Spirit Guide. No! That’s dumb. Oh great, now he/she’s crying …
Forget all that Barry, so yeah Bladiac goes undercover and gets in with all these New Wave groups who are doing crimes or are having crimes done against them. He uses disguises and he’s a real one for the ladies. And the dudes. He has a female alter ego called Shofanna who’s completely convincing. And he has a real great car. And I mentioned the knife thing, right?
God, sure there was more to this than that. Lemme think. Bladiac. Cop. New Wave. Blade. Shofanna. Car. Song at the end. Yeah, guess that’s it.
Oh wait, guest stars! Yeah, we can get tons of guest stars and people to be in it. I can ask Andy, he loves TV. Maybe he can be the police chief or something. That would be pretty funny. Bowie can be like a snitch. No wait, Iggy can be like a snitch, maybe Bowie can be like a jewel thief or something. Then I, like, stab him up and arrest him.
What did you say? I’ll just have a gimlet. Yeah a gin one, they’re always gin. Shit, stop distracting me, I keep writing this shit down. Sorry Barry. People keep distracting me. I look really good as a cop. I’ve got shades and leather jackets, so we can save money on that. And I’m good at playing the tough guy (and the opposite in Shofanna’s case). Think this will be a total blast. Put a record out at the end of every season with all the songs I’ve sung about investigations. Bladiac! I came up with the name first.
Lou Reed
P.S. Wait, what? What was that? Oh sorry Barry, that wasn’t about you.
JAMES JOYCE’S OUT OF OFFICE (#ulink_ccbe7ad3-b6fc-579c-88d8-4136e61b1679)
ORSON WELLES’ SUGGESTIONS FOR THE TRANSFORMERS: THE MOVIE (#ulink_355e2e8c-7305-5ce5-acc2-ea4eccad9ee0)
11
August 1986
Dear Barry,
Thank you so much for selecting me to play the role of Unicron in Transformers: The Movie. I have read the script and absolutely love it. (It’s a sort of Lear in space wouldn’t you say?) If you would indulge me, I have a slight addition I would like to make to the dialogue provided. I feel that a brief soliloquy, just prior to Unicron devouring the moons of Cybertron and, as a consequence, Jazz, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, and Spike, would more clearly frame his state of mind. Please consider the following merely a suggestion.
What do you think?
Yours, Orson
EXT – SPACE – NIGHT
On the point of exhaustion, Unicron turns to his vanquisher Rodimus Prime.
UNICRON
(Weakly)
It’s good to see you Rodimus. You and I aren’t heroes you know, this galaxy doesn’t make any heroes …
Look down there … Would you feel any pity if one of those Autobots stopped activating forever? If I offered you Two Zillion Quazseks for every Autobot that powered down would you really, old man, tell me to keep my money? Or would you calculate how many Autobots you could afford not to transform? Free of Space Tax, old man … free of Space Tax. It’s the only way to save money nowadays. Oh, Rodimus Prime, what fools we are, talking to each other this way. As though I would do anything to you – or you to me. You’re just a little mixed up about things … in general. Nobody thinks in terms … of Decepticons or Insecticons. The Autobot Matrix of Leadership doesn’t, so why should we? They talk about Quintessons, and the Lithonians. I talk about Jazz and Windcharger … It’s the same thing. They have their plan to destroy Cybertron and its moons … and so have I.
(Fading)
I still do believe in the power of Transformation, old man … I believe in Skywarp and Megatron and all that … The powered down are happier powered down. They don’t miss much here … Oh Rodimus, Don’t be so gloomy. After all, it’s not that awful. Remember in Cybertron, for thirty parsecs under the Decepticons, they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed, but they produced Soundwave, Scourge, and Starscream. In Ceti Alpha Seven, they had brotherly love. They had five hundred Zantrells of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The Scorponok. So long, Rodimus.
[He dies. A hero]
A LETTER FROM A WISE MAN (#ulink_2db991d9-6759-565c-ba23-36a26026356e)
10th January 1AD
Dear Balthazar,
Hope you got back OK. My journey home was a total nightmare. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say I’ve had enough of camels for a while.
Wow, that was some crazy trip wasn’t it? Sort of started out as one thing, then ended up as another thing altogether. The three of us really went through something, right? Weird times.
I don’t know about you, but since I’ve got back and had a chance to think about stuff, I’ve got to say I’m still not altogether sure what went down. Obviously it was a total blast to be out with you guys on this madcap adventure, but on reflection, I’ve started to have a few reservations. Especially about that whole stable/baby scene.
I mean, we didn’t really check these people out before we started bestowing gifts on them did we? Feels as if we all got a bit over-excited with the whole ‘King of the Jews’ angle and lost our heads a little. Just having a bit of distance from it and thinking about it rationally, it seems to me, looking back in the cold light of day, to an impartial observer it could seem as if we just handed over a large selection of luxury items to a bunch of vagrants in a barn.
Now, I know we thought they seemed really holy. But maybe they were just really happy? After all, one second they’re bunking down with some farm animals in filth, then we pitch up and start handing out goodies. Perhaps I’m being paranoid, but is it too crazy to think we’ve been taken for a ride somehow? I mean, that star and the trumpets and all that glowing? It doesn’t really add up. We were out in the sun for a really long time, I think we may not have been in the best state of mind to be making those types of judgement calls.
You know, I’ve known you for years, so obviously you are above reproach in my book. But how much do you know about that Melchior guy? I mean Melchior – is that even a name? Of course he’s a wise man – we’re all wise men and it takes one to know one. But being a wise man doesn’t preclude you from also being a con man. Do you think he could have been in on it with them? He was in a bit of a hurry to get away afterwards and I’m just going to assume it was Frankincense in that bottle. Could have been anything. Can you vouch for that guy?
I know we all wanted it to be real. Who doesn’t want to discover a godhead at that early stage? That’s a real career booster. But I realise now that I’ve ended up with nothing to show for it except an empty shelf where my Myrrh used to be. Which wasn’t the easiest situation to explain to the wife. Now it’s not just those folks who are sleeping in a barn.
Anyway, I guess what’s done is done. But I think maybe we should try to keep this whole thing under wraps as far as possible, if we can. If that story gets out there, I’m not sure people are going to think that we’re all that wise after all. But then, what are chances of that happening, right?
Happy Hanukkah,
Gaspar
A DOCTOR WRITES TO LOU GEHRIG (#ulink_c6c4e1ae-1109-5101-917d-2cba3be3235b)
19th June 1939
Dear Lou Gehrig,
Your test results have now been returned to us. It seems you have been diagnosed with ‘LOU GEHRIG’S DISEASE’. This could be really bad or possibly really good. Either way you should probably pop by the office.
Best,
Dr Schmidt
TWEETS FROM THE 1965 NEWPORT FOLK FESTIVAL (#ulink_38633e7d-b944-5d99-8a09-fa7e70f26c3c)
@pseeger
Good morning. It’s a beautiful Sunday and we’ll have some great tunes from Blue Ridge Mountain Dancers, Cousin Emmy and Bobby Dylan #Newport65
@Ginny
Hey! Anyone got a spare ticket? Love Peter Paul & Mary! LOVE! Just gotta see them #PPMForever
@BuddyBoi
Got fucking mashed at Bikel’s gig last night. Threw up outside some dick’s tent! Psyched for Maybelle Carter. Already drinkin’ #Newport65
@BeatBoy
Heard a rumour The Weavers might do a surprise show. I’ll lose my shit if they show up. #Newport65
