Dearest Omar,
How I miss you! There is no man here who can match your dark, grizzled handsomeness. How I miss the smell of your finely trimmed beard! How I miss the sweat on your thighs. As you know we started off in the Alsace—A wretched country I hate most of all for Strasbourg, our point of inimitable departure into unforeseen adventure. I thank God that I live in a time of advanced deodorants and antiperspirants; although I feel that the very unkind people of this land do not share my love of such modern amenities. Not only do they smell, but they also leer in the most unagreeable ways, especially on Bastille night when too much alcohol and cocaine takes the very notion of orientation in their fair Europe from their head to their cocks. How many times must a boy ask, “ Which train to Mannheim?” before he gets an answer other than, “I’ve got your Mannheim right here little piggy.”
Alas we found our train and after much scrubbing and pricking of, to my dismay, quickly grown eyebrow hairs, we were on our way north into the great Prussian lands. My colleagues desired to go straight to Frankfurt then on to Hamburg, but I insisted that we stop in the greatest of all cultural centers on the face of God’s musical earth: Darmstadt. In this city I felt my true greatness, my dream of perfection in the abstraction of my own life in terms of numbers in rows in feeds in data streaming from my all too overactive musical mind, come into full fruition. I spoke only in matrixes relating one word to eleven words and systematically working out in my head each permutation for the appropriate response. Oh, you would have shrieked with joy at my creative responses, yet my colleagues only laughed a curious, rather uncomfortable laughter when I replied to their quarry about a good place for a beer and some victuals: qwerty uiooopasd fgghhhh jkkkl zzzzzzz xcvbnm: those cretins are about as used to hearing chords without dissonance—meaning, as you know, my love, there is no such thing as dissonance anymore––as they are hearing words without vowels (which I quickly discovered they were not) Imagine, my sweet, how they must be so limited and unsatisfied in sexual intimacy if they had not practiced and did not understand fucking without vowels. You must remember our first night of passion, our deepest lovemaking: ghhhhhtp ghtp ghtp ghtp thp thp thp kffffffkth lllllssssssss ssssss sssssss ffffff ffffffff btKl FLK FLK FLK FLK FLK WWWWWWttth th th th th nggr nggr nggr nggr nggr nggr nggr nngrr HHHHHHH fck mch fck mch FCK MCH FcK
How tenderly you uttered those consonants. How tenderly you penetrated my vowel center without ever stooping to take from the very center you despoiled with your love.
All my love and good luck with you interview,
Marco