Dear Allen

Autor: Dominika Ożaroska, Gatunek: Proza, Dodano: 09 marca 2011, 21:10:08, Tagi:  remiks 2011 dżungla stany zjednoczone pedalski melodramat

" Dear Allen,


I'm afraid that both you and your mother would have been worried for not hearing from me  these past weeks. But my  situation here has become a difficult one. I've been officially accused of murder by the army. Billy Bradshinkel got to be such a nuisance I finally had to kill him. And if I were to be killed, Allen, I would want someone to go to my home and tell my son everything. Everything I did, everything you saw... Because there is nothing I detest more than the stench  of lies.  And if you understand me, Allen, you'll do this for me.


I remember the last time I saw Billy was in October of that year. We had driven out into the country to hunt squirrels with my .22 single shot, and walked through the autumn woods without seeing anything to shoot at and Billy was silent and sullen and we sat on a log and Billy looked at his shoes and finally told me he couldn’t see me again (notice I am sparing you the falling leaves).


‘But why Billy? Why?  I've tried your ways. I've had a job since I was thirteen years old. Making a living was never a real problem for me.’


 ‘The problem is all I see is misery and darkness. The trees here are in misery and the birds are in misery. I don't think they sing they just screech in pain. Taking a close look at what's around us, there is some sort of harmony. There is the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder. It is not that I hate it. I love it, I love it very much. Life is great. But love is against my better judgment.  It's judgment that  defeats us.’


‘Of course we are challenging nature itself, and it hits back, it just hits back, that’s all.’


 ‘Well I can’t explain it to you.  Let’s go back to the car.’


Then we got back in the car and turned the lights off and I said, ‘Let’s again.’ And he said, ‘No we shouldn’t.’ And I said,  ‘I'm so pissed l could kill you, but I'm not going to’ and by then he was excited too so we did it again. I wouldn't see anything erotical here. I would see fornication and asphyxiation and choking and fighting for survival and growing and just rotting away. I ran my hands over his back under his tuxedo shirt and held him against me and felt the long baby hairs of his smooth cheek against mine and he went to sleep there and it was getting light when we drove home. We drove back in silence and when we came to his house he opened the door and got out. He looked at me for a second as if he was going to say something .


‘Everybody got chicken. That's what happened.  l've tried and tried to make it here in this fucking world... I think it was a mistake that I was ever born.  We can't even get into a second-rate hotel. I mean, a second-rate motel, you dig ?  They're scared, man.’


 ‘They're not scared of you. They’re scared of what you represent to 'em. What you represent to them is freedom. Oh, yeah, they're going to talk to you and talk to you and talk to you about individual freedom. But they see a free individual, it's gonna scare 'em.’


‘Well, man, it don't make 'em runnin' scared.’


‘No. It makes 'em dangerous. Don’t ever tell anybody that they're not free, 'cause then they're going to get real busy killin' and maimin' prove to you that they are.’


‘You know, this used to be a hell of a good country. I can't understand what's gone wrong with it. They  train young men to drop fire on people. But their commanders won't allow them to  write fuck on their airplanes because it's obscene! ‘


Then he turned abruptly and walked up the flagstone path to his house. I sat there for a minute looking at the dosed door. I put my head down on the wheel sobbing and rubbing my cheek against the steel spokes.


I awoke before dawn, and put my boots on. I took a face from the ancient gallery  and walked on down the hall. I went into the room where his sister lived, and then I paid a visit to his brother, and then I walked on down the hall, and came to a door...and I looked inside…


…Then I drove home feeling numb.


I spent months uncovering and accumalating evidence. When absolute proof was completed, I acted, I acted like soldier. In Guayaquil I dragged the Peruvian Consul out of his house after office hours so I could get a visa and leave a day earlier.


There are many moments for compassion and tender action. There are many moments for ruthless action, for what is often called ruthless. But many and many circumstances, the only clarity; seeing clearly what there is to be done and doing it directly,  quickly, awake... ,looking at it. I worry that my son might not understand what I've tried to be. It’s like a curse weighing on an entire landscape. And whoever goes to deep into this has his share of that curse, so we are cursed with what we do here.


 I would trust you to tell your mother what you choose about this letter. As for the charges, I'm unconcerned. I'm beyond their lying morality. And so I'´m beyond caring.


Love, Bill


PS.: I took a bus to Cali because the autoferro was booked solid for days. Several times the cops shook down the bus and everybody on it. I had a gun in my luggage stashed under the medicines but they only searched my person at these stops. Obviously anyone carrying guns would bypass the
stops or pack his guns where these sloppy laws wouldn’t search. All they accomplish with the present system is to annoy the citizens. I never met anyone in Colombia who has a good word for the Policia Nacional."




William S. Burroughs “Yage Letters”

F.F Coppola, M.Herr, J. Milius “Czas Apokalipsy”

Harmony Korine “Gummo”

Wypowiedź Wernera Herzoga z filmu Les Blanka “Burden od Dreams”

D. Hopper, P. Fonda, T. Southern “Easy Rider”

Jim Morrison “The End”

Komentarze (2)

  • dobór autorów wyśmienity ;)

    • . .
    • 10 marca 2011, 08:11:02

    Szkoda, że zabrakło jakiegoś tłumaczenia.

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