or the whereabouts of james thomas whitworth. no, it isn't that i dont want any contact with anyone right now; no, i
have not fallen off the face of the earth; no, you haven't done anything to make me mad. i am too far gone to write three
separate letters and i am not going to say anything personal so you can all have the same. i was listening to radio two at
work last night. and someone was talking about a chap called jeff buckley. i don't know who jeff buckley is but someone on
there described him thusly; "jeff cannot be summed up in just one sentence". that is what i want. i do not want to be predictable.
but i want neither to be always unpredictable because there is a certain predictability in that too. a mark will be made.
i don not know where. i do not know when. i do not know how. but i promised myself last night that it would be so and i keep
my promises, even those made to myself. if i have ever promised any of you anything and have not delivered then tell me and
it will be put right immediately. it is storytime now. some of you may have heard it so you can either stay or ignore me.
i already know you are still there so on we go. you may have read this tale somewhere already, though i doubt it. i saw my
future when i was five years old. i was lying in hospital, on the very brink of existence. not the most cheerful of places
as i recollect. not that i was scared. i didn't have the necessary powers of perception to know what in the slightest was
happening. i do however remember one distinct and distant dream i had. and it occasioned my solitude more than once. time,
of course plays no role in such proceedings, or as they were, preceedings. people often say how, when they have near death
experiences, that their whole life flashes before them. since i was only five at the time i can only say that either nothing
worthy of note happened in those years or that i blinked and missed the flash. what i do remember though is seeing what was
to come. my future didn't so much flash as play in perfect colour before my eyes. every character was visible. the colour
of their eyes. people whom i had never met but could now look forward to meeting, and have subsequently had the pleasure of.
none of them knew me of course, but i recognised each of them. i was drawn to them. there were reasons for each. some of those
reasons are yet to be revealed, but the most important ones have shown themselves in all their glory. glory it was. glory
it still is. do they know their roles in my life, as i know it will turn out? do they know their significance to me? or to
my destiny? does the one who will turn out to be the hero know their fate? i am not asking that you believe that, i would
not expect anyone to but it is true. i do not deal in lies or wasted time. they are both attributes of the idle mind. and
mine has been going a million miles an hour for as long as i can remember. strangely, the result is that i never know what
i am thinking or sometimes even where i am. mentally or physically. i have to really concentrate and that does not come easily
all the time. when the mind works that fast and often without focus, the thoughts and effects are all but meaningless; passing
in a flash and most not even registering. but, when the mind moves that fast with the necessary focus to which all the attentive
nerves contribute, then the effects can be devastating. for better and worse. tasks are accomplished, problems are solved
and so on and so forth, (as my old old jewish english teacher used to be rather fond of saying; bless that mr. fligg and his
ever-precariously perched yarmulka). anyway, i digress, (that will not be the last time, by the way; you have been warned.
i do not have the slightest clue where this is leading so seatbelts should be worn at all times). speaking of which, how is
old misty pearl doing? good? ahh, grand stuff. excuse me a minute. for some reason there is a gentleman outside my window,
upon a rather tall ladder, washing said window. we never had a window cleaner before. i just have to let him know that his
work is for nothing because he is not getting a penny from me. maybe if he had asked first i may have been kind enough to
let him but now. i do not like people making assumptions, least of all about me or taking liberties against me or taking me
for granted. frankly, if he gets any money from this house he is nothing more than a common thief! simon tells me now that
he will be coming every week. charming. i should be in bed damnit. i do not need being woken up by a fucking stranger! i do
apologise, ladies present and all. although it is a good example of how much my mind wanders, of how my mood changes randomly
and how annoyed even the slightest thing makes me. also, i would rather not have people hounding me. i get enough of "do this,
do that" at work without people demanding to know where i am. you honestly want to know where i am? i do not know. unless
you mean physically, in which if i am not at work i am in bed, though very rarely asleep. now, if you mean mentally, well,
that opens a whole host of avenues which we could stroll down. though i guarantee that no answer lies at the end of any of
them because for an answer to be found then a question would need to be asked and to be honest, "where are you?" is far too
vague. and everyone thinks they know why i do what i do; why i work so much and why i slowly kill myself as you put it. ha!
surely there is only one reason. it is so obvious that to question it would be foolish. the reason why i am doing so much
is so that other people do not have to. of course there are various other selfish reasons and one not so selfish but ultimately
unrealisable (albeit the foremost). but yes, that is why. and not so much because i am so thoughtful of others, but because
i do not trust them. because it will not get done. example; last sunday night, i sorted every single letter that came into
our office between half past ten and half pat two. every one! and why? because people are so bone idle. none of this really
accounts for where i have been though does it. this will though. i have been thinking. yes, for the last however long it has
been, i have done nothing but think. when i was supposed to be asleep i was thinking. at work i was thinking. on the way home
from work was the worst because i was not trying to do anything else and my mind wandered in so many directions and sometimes
a little too far. there were smiles, there were tears, there was anger. and all three were very specific to one major point.
change. i do not like change. i do not want to accept change on any level unless it is necessary and for the best. but i could
not convince myself that the changes i was reviewing in my head were for the best. i am sure you all know what i mean by changes.
things are not the same are they? it hurts to say that. there is an actual, real, physical pain inside me when i say that.
and it bloody hurts. i do not think it necessary to go into them. but, i would like to say a few words about them as a whole.
first of all, i know absolutely nothing about anything. that is not a admission of ignorance, i genuinely know nothing of
what people commonly term 'life'. how could i? i have been so dam sheltered my whole life. only in the last two years have
i actually done anything for and by myself. and i cannot even believe yet that i did those things. or said those things. those
are what trouble me most. if i had known better then a lot less would have been said. or to put it a different, and infinitely
better, way; things would not have been so obvious. the reason i made the promise to stick to truth and keep said promises
is because there are so many that i have not kept and that i regret breaking even if those to whom i gave my word do not know.
is it possible to be too honest? or does one have to be specific to be too honest? told you all i would digress again. i may
not find my way back next time. honesty is one of the most difficult things to manage. i do not want to hurt people. i have
changed things irreperably already with my honesty. i am always honest, but only to a certain point. at that point, i just
stop. i do not start to lie or deceive, i just stop. and if it leaves things hanging in mid air then that it the way it has
to be. am i making sense? is any of this? or am i wasting all our respective time and therefore only extending the control
of the idle mind? the devil take all this thinking! endlessly going around in circles! the laziness of repition! i am sick
of it all! you have all read crime and punishment, i think. it is indeed a favourite of one of you, yes? i remember little
things like that. and one of you did also quote from fyodor's masterpiece the following text addressed to me. and how right
you were. something about a new life at a price or something. that is right at the very end of the book is it not? yes, but
there are far more passages nearer the beginning and throughout that act as all too familiar descriptions. almost like memories
to me. quite unsettling, quite. worrying about me is forbidden. i am allowed to worry about you, but not vice versa. now i
feel arrogant for assuming that you do worry. does anybody know what i want? of course they do. you do. you all do. but i
have made a promise. and for me to keep such a promise involves sacrifice. a sacrifice which might seem pointless to everyone
else, but to me, having seen what i have seen and knowing what i know, (both from my story earlier on), it is much greater.
but, and this would please our mutual friend candide, it results in our little confined world being the best of all possible
such places. and also, i have already lost so it makes no difference and rick danko so heartbreakingly sings.