I removed the e-book because I was just messing around and learning the process, and so to those eight people who bought it, send me an email at andrew.h.kuharevicz@gmail.com and I’ll send you a free physical book in the mail of More adventures of a dying young man book a. It was only a test and there were some obvious mistakes. I’ll make it up to you, but I guess it doesn’t really matter because it was only two bucks, and what can you get for two bucks these days, exactly, a cheap brew. That’s what those words were. A cheap brew that tasted good enough. Anyway, here’s some new material that will be found in Notebooks & Three-Dimensional Boxes Writing from the years 2005-2013, and I’m really excited about this new book. I’m having a bit of fun again working with old spontaneous prose. After this one is done it’s back to the straight fiction and dead writers. Vacation has been more productive than normal, but I just want the holidays over with, having a celebration on Wednesdays in the middle of the week just throws everything out of whack. lol. whack is a funny word. Peace. thanks for reading.
Henry Miller…this is really the mutation of your art, this is really your America, and so back then…finding your Tropic and your Cancer, your Black Spring and your Air Conditioned Nightmare, and when they found out they went and be done and be gone and off they were as they went by boxcar and these kids and these orphans of America ended-up as west as you can go without swimming in the pacific, and some of them ended up at the Golden Gate Bridge and some said it’s a wasteland and killed themselves because…just so many reasons. Some of these young people became old people and were ugly when they forgot and became the same ol’ mere material of things and I think it was only the thought of death which killed them…but I don’t know because I’m not them…but empirically thinking it seems like they ended up falling in love with defeat. And Henry Miller, I hope I don’t die like that… No… I won’t. You wouldn’t die like that. You wouldn’t die happy because you knew that the fight would never be over, but back then they lost their cool, and the kids and the beat and the maggots forgot and some of them were cowards and they lacked the courage that life asks of the writer and people tell me that you’re dramatic (me) and what the fuck does that even mean because life is dramatic I tell them, that’s my retort to their lazy self-education and maybe I shouldn’t use so many bad words but I get mad and people need to take life seriously, and after all, these are only bad words and not real bullets but this life… LIFE is important. Make yourself happy and be real and create above the future art and just please live because this is all you get, and why not? Why be anything…and that’s what they found in your words Mr. Miller. They found a reason to live and then some traded your words after they traded old testaments for yours and then some of them fell for Zen and then hated Zen and then started universities after they dropped out of universities, and some became judges after they were judged, and some of these writing sons and daughters of yours said they were going and they did go, and then they became men and women and owners of shops and then they forgot how it was a struggle and they didn’t bother to tell their children how they made it and how hard it was, and holy shit brother man this is some new kind of joy they found, and that’s what they said…crazy love like a Buddha squirrel on a warm winter day… and they did all of this after they found your words and went and traveled all the way from the Brooklyn Bridge and in the cold hell they came from New York City and some of them left ma and pa alone in dead small towns and ran away from home to discover (as it turns out) that many of them only left old love to find new love which was really only the memory of the old love which they ran away from in the first place, and I’m positive that they were in love with America because of you and they ended up at a place that is in grave scientific danger of falling into the ocean. HA! Seriously Miller, and I aint kidding when I say and type to you old dead man that I’m told this could happen and did you know that the end is near and that some bloody bad times could go down in an hour or two and it’s weird because the truth is very weird, and I’ll tell you what’s going on and the last Governor of the State of California was an action figure (toy) that was called the terminator (a killer robot)…and this isn’t no joke, this is real life and I’m serious Miller that it’s a fact that he was a time traveling robot and really put the fear in my head when I was a kid. So…I woke-up in the backseat at a drive-in movie-theater to the visuals of bloody cops and pumped shotguns while he was asking for a boy who would end the machine-human war. The governor was shooting at kids and he only had half a human face because his skin was only a shell of a real man, and I remember that I asked to go home and was told to go for a walk and so I did. I walked around a cemetery that was located next to the drive-in, and it was a long walk and I looked at the monuments of the dead during the last week of august and the leaves were already brown and the earth smelled good, and so I just walked an entire double feature and I wasn’t even ten yet but it didn’t matter because I felt like I was eighty years old, and as I walked and looked at the sky the cemetery was the most peaceful place on the planet. I was so sick of the violence and that’s why I started reading and looking at words and thank you dead man, because you always gave the reader a choice.
Adventures In American Writing 