4-12 Just a short note of my humble apologies for all this mish-mash, but I can't seem to avoid considering your considerations while trying to write anything that may have even the slightest of chances of getting through to Jadene, 1rst & 4-most because of her recent example; which, appar-ently had something to do with you & mom also. Therefore & in that light, I feel some obligation, yet, to continue to include copies of what I send her to you 2 as well, so (I 'tell' myself) that discussion can broaden its scope enough for change to have a chance to occur. Widening horizons gives the fairest of (seeming, to me) chances for the best perspective. So I hope that you can accept, at least, this most recent—the 3rd--one-page letter I 've sent—donation toward the accomplishment of that which we all so-earnestly seek, & in the spirit of seeing you kept informed; & that so maybe your next responses can, in some way that is your own, compliment what I have already sent to her. I haven't yet even begun to begin transposing what-all I told you in last letter that I've written more slanted toward being for Jadene's eyes-only. There is much sympathetically-explanatory in those writings that I know will—or at least I feel ought to—ease many of her worst fears, somewhat; and also lessen the urge, or the intensity of it, anyway, to relapse . . . & find ways to appeal to her own individual and particular mindsets, give a patronizing wink and a nod to philosophical mindsets with which I know Jerit disagrees with for this & these moments. I think that only the positivest of forward-thinking has even any hope of getting through. And I'm not talking about getting through to her about how horrid any other subject matter may seem-to-demand your foremost concentration of effort on, because this is a tear-down, and not a build-up. Build-up: We gotta build-up, right? & not dump tear-down type stuff until she's had time to recover & get past this phase & then maybe becomes more open to some of our more 'liberal' views, let alone the radical ones. Let us leave them for later & after Jadene grows up a little more. Under our combined efforts, we may actually have some chance of releasing this old hat decayed material for once and for all, if we really put our minds to it & will it so! More than just good luck seems required. Somehow we've got figure out to lubricate her brain & surrounding biological material with some nice warm perfectly-scented oil & rub it in ever so gently—& don't let her rinse it out with propylene glycol based shampoo afterward either. “Tenderly, so tenderly: gently the wind of love blows...” I wrote in a song once; & this is how I believe we have the best chances for seeing the poor dear feeling more comfortable with her images of us; feeling welcomed & welcoming us as we would welcome her easing up of the emotive, &, in future, treating us with the same amounts of a little-more-respect that she also must obey, if we are to have much hope of successfully-bridging the oft-times-seeming chasm that seems to restrict us from just always being able to warmly hug & comfort each other in solidity-of-spirit, which ought to soothe everyone's discomfort with each other, or images that each of us hold about how and who each other appear to be to them (& me), but alas...... Oh dear: I'm lapsing toward negatives here, & so will close this accompanying letter w/copy of letter #3 to Jadene regarding the (now hopefully no-longer-current) recent letdowns that her letter of late-March implied, & which gave a braveheart old college try to unravel things in our family further—as maybe she feels that it must before re-raveling attempts can hope to succeed? when the obvious route lies otherwise-directed, if I say so, anyway, to myself & no one else in particular than you gadflies on this wall of my study/ studio from whence I construct & type & print & edit, then re-print; & sometimes even do more editing & final re-printing for to finally feel that I have it right enough to mail, & in hopes of not embarrassing myself too much with too poorly-thought-out stuff, where rich prose-like sense is called for to gently but securely, schmoosh into the faces of my mailing list-of-3—& the copy for my own personal archival collection. It's all there. Every and any thought that I've had since 1980 until the present, in private conversation with myself, about any and all forms of subject matter. It's all there; millions of words in four dozen diaries and a half-dozen bound copies-of-letters I've sent; poems I've written; books I wrote; the pissed off moments and the ecstatic ones, plus lots and lots of memoir type utterances and collected/ assorted ideas and senses and feelings and observations on multiples of subject matters-of-interest and speculation. It's all there. And: It's all in there, indelibly scribed.
At rest while I try to get past this all & back to re-doing my book some more.
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