by compound complex 123 Replies latest members meetups
Dear Sylvia and goldensky (will PM you soon),
Just a brief hello and thank you. My brain is smashed from lack of sleep so I'll not try to chat now.
But I really appreciate your reading and commenting.
Yes, there's more.
Will the unnamed brother remain nameless? What did a good father do or not do to endender such hatred in his younger son?
Love,
CoCo
and the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain filled me thrilled me with fantasic terrors never felt before
so that now to still the beating of my heart I stood repeating tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door
only this and nothing more
I love that line Poe wrote it so perfectly you just feel the terror rising and than you stop yourself and go wait its just someone knocking at the door and than it begins again.
Yes coco, with your love he will recover
CoCo's writing "style" is subtle, deep, well structured. Leaving the reader wanting more.
As a blind man, whose thrist is not quenched, hears the drip, drip of the tap, searches with vigor for the source, we the reader await the time, with vigor of mind and imagination, the next instalment. Also, I believe CoCo's writing stris with in us a desire to place pen to paper as well. For me it does, what about YOU?
Dear friends, Nancy, wasblind and Quentin:
I was so happy to come home from a tough day at work and find you awaiting me! The words used to express yourselves are absolutely lovely. You have inspired me to dig in deeper and stay for the longhaul.
Love and affection,
CoCo
He is a rare and precious find in today's sometimes rude and ruthless world.
Indeed.
I love CoCo's writing style, which is not usually the style of writing that I enjoy. But for some reason, his words are an art form.
(I also secretly envy your ability to race to the computer with your 'inspiration' screaming at you. Am still having trouble with my own 'racing urge'.)
Tammy
Dearest Tammy,
You are a sweetheart; I am not worthy.
Believe me, this my race last night to the computer was the first time in a long time. Somehow this bout with Poe meshed for me; no earlier attempts fore bruit. Whether the term is outmoded or not, I couldn't care less: manic-depressive. I can write obsessively, the ideas flowing, then the well runs dry - nary a drip remains. At such a moment there is no ink in this writer's inkwell.
Ebb and flow ... ebb and flow....
Be patient with yourself.
Love,
CoCo
Errata data:"Let me makes something clear at the very outset."
Editor at Large
Vincent, my dear Vincent. You are so sad.
You did all you could to ease Dad's way. You were always there for him, at great expense to yourself. He is gone now. You must focus on the moment. On yourself. On me. I am your little brother and I need you. You were away serving your god when I was little and didn't have you here at my side to lift me up when I fell, which was often. I got into some stuff that I might not have if you had been there to say no to my temptations. My delicious temptations. You would have intervened, you would have stuck up for me when I was bullied into doing things I shouldn't have but was scared to say no to. But it was so delicious after I stopped being scared. But you should have been there for me. You should have!
Our parents were there for me when you were away. Of course they were. They loved me. They were giving. Despite that all important fact, however, it was you I kept thinking about and why couldn't I be as important to you as your religion or your mother or your father. My rational mind has all these family ties and obligations sorted out neatly and logically. I can be totally objective, clear and cool in my reasoning. Then my heart starts beating a tattoo, louder, louder until my skull starts pounding and I grab my head at the temples and want to say 'get out of my head, Vincent!'
You are here now with me in the family home. Just us two, just us. I can see you at this moment while you sit on the front stoop, smoking another cigarette, staring into the sky toward the god you say has abandoned you. You have me now, I will take care of you, I will be your companion. You can rest and be free of burdens - at last. Taking care of your father became too much for you. You would never say no or I've had it or I'm putting you in a home. That was you. Not me by a long shot. Please come out of your mourning and see me and my needs, the needs of a little brother whom you abandoned when he was tender and vulnerable and at the mercy of adults who knew better when I didn't.
He is gone now. Your father and your unremitting doing and caring for him are finished. He went away and will never return. I slipped in to see him that last day he was here on earth, when you were in your room. That was okay, you needed a few moments to yourself. He smiled when I walked in but seemed a little uncomfortable in his chair. He didn't complain. Like you, never complained. Never uttered a word. But I could see he needed another pillow. He said no, I'm all right, but I said I really thought he did. He got a little restless, but I really knew he'd be more comfortable with another pillow ... another pillow. He got a little restless ... he got a little restless ... but I gave him another pillow, another pillow. It was so beautiful. He was so peaceful. I was with him when he was restless no more ...
He was so peaceful....
But I could see he needed another pillow. He said no, I'm all right, but I said I really thought he did.
He got a little restless, but I really knew he'd be more comfortable with another pillow ... another pillow. He got a little restless ...
he got a little restless ... but I gave him another pillow, another pillow.
It was so beautiful. He was so peaceful. I was with him when he was restless no more ...
He was so peaceful....
Once when I was taking Zoloft for my depression, I distinctively heard a voice telling me to do that very thing to my mother. I stopped taking them forthwith!
CoCo, you da man!
Syl
