Hi Kathy. I miss you. When I first saw you this was about your age. Yea you looked like this. Your reading was the best I ever heard. The absolute best. Downtown in Detroit I think maybe at the DIA. Or was it in New York? I know I bought one of your small xeroxed books from you that had to be in New York. And I bought The Adult Life of the Black Tarantula at The Strand I think, the day I was in there looking for a rare book of Stanislaw Lem. I got a bunch of copies of Rodrigo Rey Rosa that day all signed.
Your reading got me totally spaced out. I heard what I thought I would never hear. The sincere confessions of a completely free woman. A completely free person. I was shocked I was thrilled I thought you should be and never could be utterly famous. Almost every sentence spoken in that sonorous comforting voice made me trust and believe. I admired you as my honest to god big sister I thought your books to be diamonds thrown on seas of shit.
Ah here's what you looked like that first time. I felt inspired by you to say anything to say everything to be unabashed honest gentle and careful. I wanted to write like you. Funny to say I felt proud of you. I wanted to enlist I was fit I was ready shoulder to shoulder. We would march down the yellow brick road though I of course was the Cowardly Lion. I would follow you anywhere. Let's go.
But then, just then everything crashed. You were sick. You went to Mexico. You were gone and then so horrible to believe you were gone forever.
And now you are ensconced in the memories of all sorts of pc new age feminist non-feminists.
Young kids. Well that's a good thing. We needed you and you gave us a new life. Or at least opened a path we could take if we trusted love and had courage.
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