I KNOW YOU THINK Im wasting my time. Youve made that perfectly clear. But Im dug these very important lunar hostility studies. And its not you wholl have to leave the warm safe capsule. And dip a toe into the threatening lunar surround.
I am still wearing my yellow flower which has lasted wonderfully.
My methods may seem a touch irregular. Have to do chiefly with folded paper airpla pres?ent. But the paper must be folded in the right way. Lots of calculations and w about edges.
Show me a man who worries about edges and Ill show you a natural-born winner. Cardinal Y agrees. bus himself worried, the Admiral of the O Sea. But he kept it quiet.
The sun so warm on this sed porch, it re?minds me of my grandmothers pla Tampa. The same rusty creaky green glider and the same faded colored vas cushions. And at night the moon graphed by the s wire, if you squint.
The Sea of Tranquillity occupying squares 47 through 108.
See the moon? It hates us.
My methods are homely but remember on and the apple. And when Rutherford started out he didnt even have a detly heated laboratory. And then theres the matter of my security check -- Im waiting for the gover. Somebody told it Im insecure. Thats true.
I suffer from a frightful illness of the mind, light-mindedness. Its not catg. You shrink.
Youve noticed the wall? I pin things on it, souve?nirs. There is the red hat, there the book of in?strus for the Ant Farm. And this is a traffic ticket written on a saints day (which saint? I dont remember) in 1954 just outside a fat little town (which town? I dont remember) in Ohio by a cop who asked me what I did. I said I wrote poppy?cock for the president of a uy, true then.
You see how far Ive e. Lunar hostility studies arent for everyone.
Its my hope that these. . . souvenirs. . . will someday merge, blur -- cohere is the word, maybe -- into something meaningful. A grand word, mean?ingful. What do I look for? A work of art, Ill not accept anything less. Yes I know its shatteringly ingenuous but I wao be a paihey get away with murder in my view; Mr. X. oimes agrees with me. You dont know how I envy them. They pick up a Baby Ruth er oreet, glue it to the vas (in the right place, of course, theres that), and lo! people crowd about and cry, "A real Baby Ruth er, by God, what could be realer than that!" Fantastic metaphysical advantage. You hate them, if youre am?bitious.
The Ant Farm instrus are a souvenir of Sylvia. The red hat came from Cardinal Y. Were friends, in a way.
I wao be one, when I was young, a painter. But I couldnt stand stretg the vas. Does things to the fingernails. And thats the first place people look.
Fragments are the only forms I trust.
Light-minded or no, Im. . . riotous with mental health. I measure myself against the Russians, thats fair. I have here a clipping datelined Mos?cow, four young people appreherangling a swan. Thats boredom. The swans name, Borka. The sentences as follows: Tsarev, metalworker, served time previously for stealing public prop?erty, four years in a labor camp, strict regime. Roslavtsev, electri, jailed previously for taking a car on a joyride, three years and four months in a labor camp, semi-strict regime. Tatyana Voblikova (only een and a Komsomol member too), tei, one and a half years in a labor camp, degree of striess unspecified. Anna G. Kirushina, teical worker, fine of twenty per t of salary for one year. Anna objecte