Erns Erns Erns,

Pleasure is what I seek...pleasure. But I am not sure what it is, in a sustainable fashion. Are you? How and in what manner are we meant to approach this? Questions, questions questions. Maybe that is the answer. No its not. That my dearest of friends is rubbish, questions just bring answers and progression to another equally banal conundrum. Pleasure brings rewards - itself.

Why did you quit? Tell me more. Why did you walk away like that? I understand the fears, but I dont understand a man like you walking away, not like that. Odd I must say.

I saw the pleasure of Laura, blonde and lithe and sparkling smile today, married you know. To an Architect, last of the true professions. Smug git. He should be a doctor, do something worthwhile. I fear my sentences are losing any form, if in fact they ever managed to affect one.

It is late, night night my friend.

Erns,

This madness returns and I know you get it too, you are happy i guess -I hope- its the only thing that gives me hope; you, how you can be happy. You and Nila. You and Nila happy, it must be a wonderful thing, but you are a better man than I. I guess.
The Fuzz in the head, the doubt of the mind, its a scary feeling, a tormenting. Then the body of the girl. A welcome break. An obsession. How easy to ascertain, yet so hard, at one time. But pride goes and you find you have been hit by so many townies fists that it no longer matters, you turn around and spit and laugh and touch his girlfriends ample breasts, she likes it and so later on you fuck her in the park near the local nightclub, and that feels good. The smug fathers who poke at you with pointy public school fingers, you wrap their precious little girl up and make her wet and sweat and forever changed and she is ruined ever so slightly. She is such a pretty girl, such a wonderfully charming specimen. She is better now. You wouldn't know what I mean would you? would you?

Ernie old friend,

I am feeling lonely, someone I have loved has left, I am not sure the course of action. I have made choices that are confused and constantly (by me) questioned. I keep talking and as i talk the ideas disappear. They are vibrant and strong until...until-I say them out loud and someone lets them in, at that point they have no will to live any more. I must learn to bate my breath. To tie my tongue.
And at the age of 28 I realize I am a spoilt brat, in so much that I want in life I expect it. All the people I like also are. You are the worst of us all Ernest, surely you are the worst.
Tell me more about the trip. Do you feel that you are closer to anything? Tell me, are you finding the experience invigorating?

Dear Ernie,

Hang overs they last too long. Come downs they last too long. I never learn the simple things - you must eat. You will feel like this again.
New years eve, always a day of disappointment...is this a given? No I refuse to believe it, I refuse, but so far I am proven wrong. Curious I watch the days. Its unhealthy to eat alone.

So we have a meeting today, me and Finnigan and the man who will soon put the hat on our songs and clothe them. We drink half pints of Bitter in the Owl and Pussycat, he hears triggers and layers. Never remove childish enthusiasm. Always intrude on childish enthusiasm.

I am starting to feel human again, almost there, if I can just run the last few yards. Stuck in those days when the world feels owl-shaped, a life you don't even have is hovering and you float inside it. Shaking.

He has a face of his son- it is strange to see; you know it but its not what you know. Life, but not as we know it (oh dear).

Don't rest Ern, don't rest, we may still get there.