Authors, Writers, Publishers, and Book Readers

Since I last spoke to you, I've been under a constant barrage of criticism and negativity. And if that statement seems to beg your sympathy, believe me it's real purpose is only the proclamation of life as I find it today; that is, how I am living now with those who are my artistic comrades and equals here on the north bank of our city's river.

And I have mammoth responsiblities here. I'm the de facto leader of a large (and still growing) entourage of creative minded people who now exist here just across the river from the southside. And, oh yes, the southside is where all the old prejudices and false suppositions of years gone by are still held by some - yet, also influence others. And no, they don't like people with anti-establishment sentiments there. And they're suspicious of anyone who earns a living in any other fashion than employment in the local factories. And they cast a quizzical glance at anyone who doesn't like beer and cigarettes; and who, in their estimation, may not substantially revere established religions. But don't take that incorrectly please; I believe in the Triune God just as much, or perhaps even more than they do.

Still, it's like I'm constantly doing two figurative "things" simultaneously. First, I'm on some sort of apparently eternal carousel from which I'm afraid I'll never get off - not even after my death. And second, it seems as if I'm an eternal soldier fighting in some sort of symbolic wars which also, I'm afraid to admit, seem destined to continue forever. And thus, in that fashion, I plod on here. And today I'm offering you this update of sorts.

Those here from our northside enclave who participate in the performance arts are doing well. And for that, I congratulate them. And the same can be said, I believe, for those who do creative painting here. Some of our people's recent "productions" have simply left me breathless. Yes, they are that good!

Yet, our area continues to falter in the arena of literary composition. And the fact that the phenomenal book "The Same Tapes" remains unpublished is, I fear, a dark mark upon us here. But then it's a much sadder reality for all those who might have read a book which, I'm absolutely certain, they'd have had no way to prepare themselves for in advance; and which, frankly, might have altered their outlook on life from that point onward.

And "The Same Tapes" has been brought to the attention of, and has been rejected by some very respected literary names. In other words, Joseph Same's book hasn't exactly set the isle of Manhattan on fire - though it's been there. And Joseph Same has received considerable flak for the false moniker he used to author it, but people, believe me, if you could ever read it, you'd know why his real name must remain unknown.

But Rashon and John continue to work on the book they've named in honor of one of the four divisions of mankind, i.e. "The Students Of The Highway." And hopefully now that we know what actually happened to Amber and Renni, that book may soon be completed.

But I'm also concerned about my friend Charles Platt, or Corzer, as we refer to him here. I fear the life he's known after his discharge from active service in the United States Marine Corps has not been what he or anyone else expected it would be. And since he's returned from Paris, he's been moping about here. Simply, he's not the same young man we knew before we sent him to France to search in vain there for Amber and Renni. But he told me he will attempt to document his experiences of the last few months. Yet, sometimes I wish I could simply "seal" Charles and Valerie as a couple for eternity!

But for now, I'll end my latest words to you. In about another two weeks or so I'm going to post a few words Corzer gave me since his return from Paris. They concern his exploits there. Oh, he must have fallen in love in the city of light! Years ago I always scoffed at such concepts as heartache and heartbreak, but seeing Corzer now convinces me that such emotions are very real.

And I've also determined, lest anyone doubt the excellent writing abilities of Rashon Feyl and F. John Surells, to post a short chapter from their book "The Students Of The Highway." That chapter, written by John, is entitled "Dog Barking In The Distance." And oh, I found it haunting! It seizes control of one shocking moment, and freezes it there in our perceptions forever. God, I wish I could write like that!

So, I hope you've enjoyed reading my update, and that you'll also enjoy the two upcoming posts I've promised. But remember, they're copyrighted, and they'll appear separately in intervals of roughly two weeks each. Until then I hope I'll remain your friend. Nevertheless, you know I'll always search for only all that's helpfull and real.

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