letters to a friend: part I

Dear Screams,

Well, I officially have no one to talk to now except for you and my best friend Rosalind who lives far away and my cats who don't speak my language. That's alright. Who needs human companionship? I've decided to denounce humans all together as pathetically weak at best and pathetically evil at worst, and I'm fully siding with nature in that eternal war. And, by the way, when I sat down with nature to go over the details of our alliance, we decided that we're taking music with us. Humans can't have music despite being its creator. Music, nature and me against the rest of humanity sans Rosalind who I'll accept as neutral. Alright, were taking wine, too.

Fine! So, I'm too nice of a person to become outright hostile. Crawling into a hole is more my style. I know operation drop out was supposed to start a few months ago but I got side-tracked by hope: a teaching job that has now ended. So, operation drop-out is now back in full swing. I only have to fake it just a little bit longer in order to support my nasty food and shelter habit. Today I've started practicing, though, by purchasing a disconnection device. I think it's called an MP3 player but I was never good at identifying different species of horrible technologies. I've found it really helps to keep one firmly embedded in one's own head. The apathetic traffic doesn't seem so contemptible when Mahler is blasting in your ear. Tearing apart the turtle-lynching holes of a plastic six-pack holder that some asshole left on the pavement is much more dramatic during a Brahms symphony. Yes, despite my rock n roll roots lately I've just been blasting the classical.

Look, Screams, it wasn't my choice. I tried to operate in this farcical tragedy of errors that humans call technological progress or civilization or whatever, but I just keep getting shit upon. I can't do it any more. I'm tired. I was cursed with a recalcitrant brain that just wants to sense and feel and love and create all of the time. I've had it with human indifference and human frailty. To this end, I guess I was fortunate enough not to be born into abject poverty or a warzone, but unfortunate enough to be born into a society that doesn't seem to value the things that I value.

 I have to go find my home.

I'll keep you posted, Screams.

Love, Lara.