I talked to Jane Reynolds the other day. (Of course, you know that)
Remember Jim, Jane’s husband. He and I went to see Gogol Bordello in Portland (Of course, you remember him.)
It seems like yesterday, but it wasn’t. It was 2016, and he died in 2017! Shit. (But of course, you know all that.)
Anyway, Jane told me that after Jim died, she’d sit down at her computer and write him an email. Then, she’d go to his computer, log in, read the email, and write a reply. (All of which, of course, you know.)
She said:
The email conversations were so wonderful for me. I didn’t have to think of his response. The response just flowed…. he was “talking” to me….
So I started to write you. And I’ve been doing that. (Of course, you know that. How could you not know that.) And you’ve been writing back. (Which certainly you know. How could you not know?)
Then, I decided to write this blog post. And I started. But then I got distracted. (Which you would predict even if you didn’t know.)
Then, I decided to ask you to write a blog post as a guest writer.
(I know, I know. You know. I know. You know because I’ve written you emails about all that. And if I didn’t, I will. Or if I don’t, it’s because I don’t need to because you are a part of me, and you live in me, and you know what I know, and you have for a long time.)
(And yes, you know that.)
Anyhow, I’m writing this post as a set-up for your post, which I have invited you to write and which invitation you have already accepted.
I will edit your blog post as I edited all the stuff you wrote when you were at Pacifica, the Bairn Trilogy, and your book of poetry, Portals.
But of course, you know all that.
I’m signing off now. I’ll ask Jane to review this post to make sure it’s OK. (Done. And she approved. And, of course, you know that.)
And I’ll ask the you-within-me to take another look.
I love you,
(Of course, you know that, too.)
M
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