29/6/11 5:01am
Shawna!
Remember the letter I sent you from the future? I found it in my bedside drawer exactly where I last left it! You can probably divine what came next in the sequence but I'll tell you anyway: I read it.
This letter that I made for you out of gratitude and warm contemplation of your friendship...It was also written to me for this moment (29/6/11 5:06am) and geographic location (Kra 4a 25c-14, Bogotá, Cudinamarca, Colombia, SE corner room) and light (no natural light, table lamp pointed toward the wall to create giant shadows) and I will guess there's more that I am not yet able to perceive.
The seed of what I'm about to tell you sprouted in my head the other day with the assistance of Beethoven's 9th Symphony and then Damien Rice's "9 Crimes Demo" while I was sitting on the edge of the 4th story window watching birds, watching clouds, watching shadows, watching wood grain swirls on the floor, watching dirty scuffed leather boots. But all it did was poke its head out, I suppose so it could get some manic sun, and gestate and wonder and grow. But here it is...
I am in Colombia and I am in prison but...I am not in a Colombian prison! The prison is my mind. We are all imprisoned by many things. That voiceless immobility dream. That all-ending-before-it-even-started impotence hesitation. The enchanting cream revolution in the Ti Amo coffee cup. And knowing and feeling this with the birds talking here in the early, waking morning is some kind of liberation. A child right before recess. That's the tingling swarm I'm talking about. The sprout is now a stem with a minute leaf and growing.
It is now 5:31am and that means nothing. Time. Tenses. That shit is Siddhartha's river. I know you are in China right now opening your eyes with Brian. My DNA , my mind, we intuit our DNA partner progressing. And you too. I feel it. Ask him. He will tell you. Life has sped up and production has begun. No better time to end this than now.
Smile,
Andrew
5:46am
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