“The Story made the last page of the next day’s newspaper. Witnesses said they’d seen a “madwoman with two paint-bombs suddenly appear.””

Philippe Djian’s “Betty Blue” Translated by Howard Buten

‘T’isnt beauty, so to speak, nor good talk necessarily. It’s just It.

“Mrs. Bathurst,” Traffics and Discoveries (1904) — Rudyard Kipling

Letter to Anna from 2001, August [X]

Subject: Stay subjunctive, it’s going to be hard. Do we embrace our problems or shield each other? It will get easier. Protection? It will be there—on terms out of my control.

Anna

It’s been strange without you. No, not strange: horrible. It’s really fucking horrible. If I can’t convince myself I’ll be seeing you soon I’ll go mad. How will I reach you if you need me?

Can we really do this? We are doing this. It’s how we stay together. It’s the only way we stay together. Together. We’re mad. This isn’t normal, Anna.

You’ll know what to do. But what if I need you? Will you know what to do?

But I need nothing from you but to know you are there (yeah right)—and for you to know I am there.

This is so hard.

I know where I’ll be. You’ll have me exactly where you need me.

In the corner of your eye. I’ll be behind you when you’re alone.

If you want my touch, you’ll feel it.

You’ll hold out a hand, and I’ll take it.

Your head, I’ll hold it.

Your body, I’ll lift it.

Will we spend as much time thinking about how each other’s world will develop, as we do our own. Will it?

I’m going to have to let you in to my world for this to be real. I’m going to need to feel you here as I write about you—imagine what you feel as you read it—Will I be able to feel you though? At least more coherently than I do now. Fuck, I’m all over the place. You’re everywhere. I’m going to have to get better than this. It will get easier—I need to know how you do it; or are you in the same mess as me?

Like I am right now. It’s like butterflies, it’s physical. Will that develop?  Get worse? Maybe my internal voice will start to sound like you. I could think of worse things. You’re already in my head, my head might as well sound like you too. Totally normal behaviour!

Perhaps, but I do know the embrace of a beautiful mind.

But what of its fragility?

Will I break you in my imagination? Will I break myself? You’re stronger than I am. What if I break us both?

You are real. I’d have to break the two of us. Nah.

You’ll not be broken; I won’t let you.

If you feel broken, let me be your guide.

Take my hand, my love.

I will keep you safe, you just need to believe I’m there.

I’ll write without doubt, I’ll make it real. It has to be real. We’ll share our damage, take it, it’ll shield us both.

You’ll need to save your love if you are to be perfect.

Trust your wants and needs.

Mine is infinite.

Tonight, I will hold you close because I need to.

It will be perfect.

—JustD

*Josh Hernandez’s, ‘Where moth and rust destroy’ (https://www.instagram.com/mad.charcoal/)