Sun, 24 Mar 1996 23:46:31 -0500

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My Friend,
Ah the smell of battle. It warms the warrior
heart. And I do love it when you talk Kipling
to me. Where does the WAR! quotation come
from? I read The Man Who Would Be King last
night. It brought back a lot of scenes from India.
If only they had stayed away from women. =

That's what's brought out the sharks on the
net. They think I have insulted Lois and the little
Oedipus in them is howling like bloody savages
before a British calvary.
My grandfather was in the British calvary in
the Boer war. He was captured and briefly =

occupied the same cell from which Winston
Churchill had just escaped. My grandfather
soon escaped, as well. I've got a picture of =

him sitting on his horse- maybe in India, maybe
Africa, looking like someone Kipling might have
known- not necessarily the Friend of all the World.
Today we went to Atlanta and saw an
exhibition of Pre-Raphaelite paintings.
Incredible. Tonight I've been watching a wall
of forests fires approaching our house. They
are about half a mile away now. The flames
are destroying the woods I go for my walks in.
We've decided to take a few clothes and
the family pictures if it gets to us.
There is nothing between us and the
flames now but a few firemen and some very
dry woods. So if you do not hear from me
soon, assume my computer is gone. Carry
on the good fight- Till the sinews tear and =

the hearts break and the little savages hang
themselves in their stupidity and relativism
and intellectual cowardice and know the =

desperation that their patients have felt for all
these years, awaiting Oddyseus' return, while
the pretty people rape Ithica and her house. =

It brings tears to my eyes to imagine
Penelope's joy, and George's final rest.
About the recent postings. I love it. Devi,
John, Duane (is he a cow doctor?), Tim
and others, are howling naked =

around the fire. Now they say I am a
Terrorist; A Devil, a Cult Leader! These
guys clutch at anything they can. They
must be furious and scared and very vain.
I am still amazed that they think I have
launched this war in search of their pity. =

I want them to look the truth right in the eyes: =

and see the flames on the ridge a half mile
away. To see that they are small men.
I wonder how my grandfather felt charging the
enemy on that horse. He walked away from a
small fortune in South America,- where my =

mother was born. He owned a business =

in Chile and trained race horses in =

Vina del Mar. My mother grew up going to =

balls thrown by the Chilean aristocracy, =

where people still danced waltzs. He returned
to England for the second world war, as an =

old man, to fight with the home guard. =

Within a few years my mother was a factory =

worker in a Mississippi slum and the old =

man was dead.
I recall a twelve year old just down
from the Khyber Pass. We passed him
as he stood beside the road, shaking his fist,
draped in bullets and holding a rifle from the
days of Kipling. I almost felt pity for him, but
I did not, in the end. I have loved that noble =

soul of Afganistan to this day- though he is =

probably long dead, having held for the =

approaching flames and vanished. =

Bach has been playing on the radio. Now its =

Ulysses' Gaze; something by a Greek
composer. I did a corresponding regressions =

study on Bach. Converted the notes to numbers.
The analysis showed that Bach did not
derive the flow of notes from past to present, but =

from future to present. He pulled the notes of the
prelude along,. like the twinkle in our eye before
the burning bush, with pure clarity reaching out to =

us through a window in The Formless. =

A red glow crowns the dark horizon out my
window. Flames lick the sky. True friendship =

is a wonderful thing, my friend. Live well.