Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Oh Georgie. I am getting such mixed up emotional feelings as I read your letter. I do not know if you are wanting to stop writing to your Anna. Surely this cannot be your intending? I am filled with a terrible sadness at such a thought.

You are sounding to me like your little brain problem (which you call the depression) is most severe at this time. Be hanging on in there, as you English peoples are saying.

I urge you utmost to reconsider the wisdom of lifting up the heavy boxes of iron made stuff such as fills the shelves of these Doing it yourself places - you may be giving yourself the hernia. This is very painful. I know this since Sven get himself in such condition - although not through lifting the heavy boxes. It was this unfortunate happenstance that decide him to change from being actor to director of movie.

Also I forbid you, if you love me, to not be taking up the occupation of Mr Adams, and driving the buses. This is not because of age – No. It may be satisfactory for Mr A to trundle bus along leafy Illinois lanes, taking kiddiwinkles to school, but not for my Georgie to drive these vehicles along jammed up little roads what Romans build when they only had the horses, and marching soldiery. Such roads not good for juggernaut lorries and trucks – especially when driven by crazy foreigners like what now come from Latvia and Romania, and other such careless places, and speed reckless along like there was no tomorrow – which probably will not be, for them.
This does not mean I am racist.

I know my Georgie is easily led – have I not been naughty girl and led him often myself (little joke). But this never mean getting mangled in road rage crash.

I think you are still in need of loving - an orgasm a day keep doctor away! But if you cannot be getting same at this time of being then make with the exercise what gets the endorphins going. For example briskly walking in fresh air. I would also suggest the swimming but your public swimbaths are full of unclean youth who urinate in water save getting out to go to lavatory. Lazy buggers.

Please consider carefully points I make, and do not be silly boy – else Anna will come over there and spank George.

(I think I come over anyway and do this, eh?)

Oh, I cannot find in dictionary word ‘apiligies’. Did you mean apologies?

Worrying for you.

Anna

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Apoligies

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My dear Anna

You are right. I have been most tardy in replying to your posts. It is just that sometimes I don’t know what to say: I feel overwhelmed by your exuberance, your zest for life. Don’t ever change.

And please don’t think I do not appreciate your letters – they cheer me up enormously. And yes, I do need to ‘get a grip’ and I wonder if I should be concentrating on that instead of doing all this writing.

I have always thought of myself as a writer (Optimist that I am), but what are words? Just symbols. You live life – I write about it. And maybe all my energy is being dissipated in thumping a computer’s keys, when I should be getting out there and doing it: Life I mean.

I was thinking: if I got my act together and found a place of my own, maybe took some sort of job - even if it is only stacking shelves in the local DIY store - I would feel as if I were doing something.
I admire Mr Adams for his bus driving. (Do they really spit so enthusiastically in America?)

I am sorry this reply is somewhat muted.

But don’t worry: I’ll dance again!

Thursday, September 24, 2009

OH NO. You have Scotland person for therapist? This is terrible. These people are barbarians. This is why your ancestors build Great Wall of Hadrian to keep out these savages. This is what we are told in boring history lesson at school. Also we learn men often times wear skirts with something called ‘sporan’ which is furry pouch thing hanging at their crotch. I think this is because they are wanting to pretend they are women. Why they want to do this I do not know, because next thing they are running around fields tossing their cabers (big log). Such strange people.

When I was in England I meet one such Scotland person who come from capital of this rocky barren land, which is called Glasgow. I could not understand one word of what this person is saying. For all I know he could be the alien what has landed in space rocket ship.

Another thing about this dreadful place Glasgow – everybody has same name of Jimmy (all men I mean). This must be so confusing. Also I read in newspaper that they kiss by butting each other in face with top of head.
And you are telling me you have a person from such place as therapist!

What is it with you English that you employ so many people from backward countries in medical services? Is it because they will work cheaply (like Polish plumbers)?

If you not careful you becoming backwards country yourselves. When I read about these people what have been living in such squalor in Calais just hoping to stow away to England, I am thinking, are they crazy? Are they expecting to get jobs as doctors, or nurses or even therapists? Perhaps they not so crazy after all.

I am sorry you have head in whirl and that bitch of landlady is kicking of you. Though I do not understand about album and photo. This is not making sense to me.

I am also sorry Sven give your name to police but but do not be too hard on my brother,he has not had easy life. Also I think you exagerify danger of them finding you. You need to be more strong in yourself Georgie. You are right, it is humiliating to be always doing the ducking and the diving - you are not water fowl (little joke).

I am doing much to improve myself and have bought copy of this book by person called Roger what contains all different kinds of words which basically mean the same thing but which slightly different. This is called Thesaurus. It is brilliant. How one man can write such a book is
astounding me.

Also I have been reading Mr Adams writings (www.sparrowchat.wordpress.com - I think that is it) which is giving me a broader view, perspective, outlook, understanding, of the world and such goings on, like I am not getting from you. (not that I am critical of this)

And another thing, why is it always taking you so long to reply to my writing to you? It is almost a week since I write before I get a reply whereas I get my bum on seat and reply to you right away – or nearly right away depending what I have got on at time.

I am sorry to be sounding so tetchy, cross, irritable, annoyed, angry at you but it is that time of month… you know - when rent is due. I am no longer living in my home town which is the beautiful city of Stockholm (although you never ask) because the cost of the living is so high and cause me to move to smaller town of Nynashamn which is fishing port and so plenty of sailors. I have understanding with person who own flat (which is over bakery) who is named Petar, and we usually able to come to some agreement about rent if things are difficult for me, being no longer in adult movie business as I told you.

I have not yet had time to try laying hen on its side to see if it looks like map of Australia, though why this is important to you I know not.

I think that perhaps you are needing to get a grip upon yourself – if you will pardon me for saying so.

Anyway I still love you and I too am wishing I was there to comfort you. Maybe soon, eh?

Always your Anna

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

"Another suitcase in another hall"?

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Did you know that if you lay a hen on the ground it looks like a map of Australia? You have to turn it through 180% and lose the legs, but it really does. Now I think this is more than just coincidence, but I must leave this interesting line of study for the moment

Oh, Anna, what am I going to do? I know the police are not very bright but after that little incident at Hendon Tube Station. They have got me on their database. And, if you remember I was released into the custody of my brother Hector so they will have Myra’s address. They will go to see her and say something like they are concerned for my safety (the police will not hesitate to lie if they feel it will get them somewhere) and ask it she knows my present address. Innocently she will direct them to No 29 Arcadia Close. And I will have my collar well and truly felt.

It’s funny when you think about it, crime keeps the police in employment, just as doctors depend on disease; the clergy’s stipend is the ‘wages of sin’ and the pornographer… well, where would he be without sex?

In ‘Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance’ the author’s son says to his father, “You’re not very brave, are you?” To which his dad replies, “No, but you’d be surprised how smart I am.”

But what if you are neither brave, nor smart? No, I am not talking about me, but that cowardly, wooden headed brother of yours.

I am not blaming you Anna, please don’t think that.

But I am tired of all this running, this “ducking and diving”. It is so humiliating. Why should I have to live like this? Especially since I have done nothing wrong. I don’t even have the bloody videos. But of course the police won’t believe me.

I have a corn on my right little toe, and it hurts. Also I have arthritis in my finger joints and in my neck.

You can see the state of mind I am in by the disjointed, fragmented writing, so unlike my usual lucid, elegant prose.

But I am not going to give in. And if I do run I will not run far. For one thing, I have appointments with my therapist – who, by the way, is not from one of the hotter lands, she is Scottish. And I am hoping to sort something out with her. She has asked me to do a ‘Time Line’ of my life, from birth to the present day, indicating significant events (especially those which caused trauma). I am amazed how illuminating it is proving. I won’t say I see a pattern emerging but I certainly see where the concentrations of trauma occur. But I will say no more of this since it is between me and my therapist.

I have had a difficult couple of days on the home front. A photograph has disappeared out of one of my albums. I am pretty sure I have not removed it but when I asked Gwen if she had seen it she kicked off: accused me of accusing her. I was doing nothing of the sort. It left me feeling strangely depressed, and also doubting my own reality. But I must not do that.

I have a lot more to tell you, but my mind is in a whirl. I wish you were here to comfort me.

Thinking of you as I sit here in the library.

George

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Dearest Georgie.

It is with great joy that I read the words which are coming up on my computer screen from your far away septic isle.

I cannot tell you how much I fear getting news you are in some Insensitive Care Unit in one of your National Health Hospitals what breed super bug MRSA. What is it with you people who once conquered world and now cannot stop the spread of bugs in place where people suppose go to get better?

And another thing. This therapist what the aforesaid National Health People is providing so. please tell me she is English. Now this is not racist – so let us not get into such murky waters – but how can person from hot land (which I know mainly staff your hospitals) understand the subtle brain problems what people like you have. I mean no disrespect, but feelings and emotions are very difficult to communicate when culture is different.

Like I will give you a for instance. These foreign people have great big families what all live together. They do not enjoy social mobility (how’s that for technical term, eh?) like what we in West do. So maybe they have old mother, or even ancient grannie living in same room with them. So how can they understand when you say, I need to shove my mother into home or else I will go mad because she is so stressing me out man, and this why I am taking the Valium and maybe overdose on it before long - if I don’t do old cow in before this. How can they understand what is essential cultural difference, eh? How can they understand that your mental condition is being caused by family, when they hold ancients in such high regards?

I am sorry to go on to such lengths on this sad topic and so… now for some Good news!

Sven has given up of himself. He says prison better than living outside in this dangerous society which is England in the twenty first century. (Even as boy he was softie).

Anyway he goes to police station and says he wants to handle himself in. And though he expect to be taken to cell and beaten with truncheons, this does not happen. Instead he is given cup of tea and told he is naughty boy! Can you imagine?

Then head policeman come in and say they going to deport him, which is fine by Sven. But when he ask can he have his videos back, head policeman says – Don’t push your luck son. (This policeman not old enough to be Sven’s father but it seems this is term of endearment often used by British police towards persons in their care.)

Also policeman says videos needed for evidence so are at present safely locked up in his house. He also ask my brother if he have other similar type video. Sven tells him he does not but that you have six.
But do not worry, Sven don’t give policeman your address (because he do not know it), he just give him your name. So no worries there then.

Oh, and in case you wondering about Big Winston, he does not give up of himself because he have steady, respectful job as bouncing man at nightclub in Purley.

I advise you should keep away from this place Purley because Sven tell him many unkind things about you, and Winston is very fond of my brother. In fact he want to share home with Sven and very upset when Sven leave him to go to police station. But my brother promise to keep in touch and say he will invite Winston over when he get job and somewhere to live. Sven is giving up the porn business, he say everyone at it now, amateurs what put videos for free on internet is killing the industry.

Anyway I say to my brother – okay, fine, you come back, but do not think you are living with big sister. I live only in small flat now with one bedroom, and no you cannot sleep on living room floor because I like to entertain gentlemen sometime (as I tell you Georgie, no relationships – just the sex) and a brother would be in way.

But let us not dwell on such matters. Let us talk only of me and you, my displaced across the sea lover, and dream about the time when we are coupled once more. Oh, and do not be thinking what I say to Sven applies to you. No, when you come over such gentlemen as may be accessing me at the time will be told to sling their hook. (I remember that saying from when Georgina tell you to do the same).

Do not leave it so long this time.

Your Anna

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Postscript

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I would just like to say a thank you to Matilde Bonaparte for enquiring after my health.

Sorry it has been so long

Oh Anna, where to start. I have made several attempts to write to you but just got nowhere. The fact is, I have been a bit depressed. I know you don’t like that word and I, too, think it is much over-used, but what else could I call my mental state: Melancholia? (That was the term before someone thought of ‘Depression’) or how about Glum? No? I have tried to get the compilers of ADSM to recognise the diagnosis ‘clinically fed-up’, but have got nowhere. So let’s settle for your ‘slight problem with the brain’ – I like that.

As to the cause, well, it is certainly not because of the threat of Sven and his outsize friend; you can tell him I am prepared to meet them any place, any time, on my own. I don’t need to bring a friend. In any case most of my friends are women – mind you, I think Myra would be more than a match for Winston! I have always got on better with women than I have with men. I have a couple of male friends, but they are more acquaintances than mates.

Come to think about it, I have never really had ‘mates’, the way some other men have. I had school friends of course, and work colleagues (some of whom were friends). And people at university. And when I joined the Air Force, I remember the drill sergeant telling us ‘Don’t have mates – they get you into trouble' But of course I did have friends.

But I have never had ‘mates’ in the sense of: ‘I’ve got a mate who can get you that wholesale…’ ‘My mate’s a plumber, he’ll fix your lavatory…’ ‘Me and my mates are going on a fishing weekend…’ Also I don’t have a ‘local’ (for those outside the UK that is a public house, or a bar) where I am a ‘regular’, and a member of the pub quiz team. Perhaps the two go hand in hand: a local pub, and mates.

I think you are partly right in ascribing my ‘slight brain problem’ to lack of love. But I also feel trapped and powerless. Frustrated in my attempts to achieve my goals. And that is not good. I have not been sleeping very well, and the other night I got up and made myself a cup of tea. I took it and sat in an armchair – and immediately fell asleep. When I woke up the tea was cold.

Anyway, today I visited a therapist. I have been on a waiting list for six months. I will not say any more, except that I am hoping that these sessions will be what I need. I am more positive now.

The roofer came and fixed the roof.

I know you worry about me when you read things like the conviction of the three barmy bombers. But don’t. You are right when you say MI5 will keep the lid on things.

Gwen has been reading a book by Stella Rimington, the former Director-General of MI5. She was the first woman to hold the post and the first Director-General whose name was publicly announced on appointment. I understand that when she retired from MI5 in 1996 she became a non- executive director of Marks & Spencer. (Gwen said, “I bet shoplifters were shitting themselves.” – she can be rather vulgar)
I don’t know who is in charge now but I am sure he has his finger on the pulse of terrorism – and a boot on the scrawny neck of Islamic Militancy.

Yes, I do remember that time in the orchard when there was more than Coxes Pippins on the floor. I thought my wife made a quite unnecessary fuss. But there you are, you see: only child – can’t share.

Write soon

Your George

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Georgie - You have not been responding to me and I am concerned for your health and safety.

Please let me know you are well and fit.

Anna

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Oh My Georgie. I am feeling compelling to write again so quickly because I see on the television about those three Moslem extremities who seek to blow up the airplanes. Good for the MI5 people who catch them with trousers down, making their bombs in quiet English street (such as could be in Chingford or Hackney) and I bet they also on Social Securities – the scroungers.

As I look at ugly mugs on the television I think how they managing to do such a thing? They look halfwits! Like they just escaped from lunatic bin asylum, and could not blow up football, even.

Anyway they now will be bunged up in chokey for which they deserve. Only problem being there still others in the Pakistan who will try to do same. And Afghanistan. What a shithole. No wonder they are pissed off living in dump like that with only goats and sand - which get in all their crevices and make them itch like fuck (serves em right). They just jealous of us, that is what I think. Even though stupid man in frock who make video is banging on about what Britain has done to him and his fellow Moslems. Get a life buster – I shout at the television set. Of course he will get life now! Little joke to lighten mood, eh?

As you know, I am not racist - I have romanced with men of all shades and hues – and I believe everyone entitled to their religions, however stupid and backwards. But not when this causing them become making bombs in plastic bottles to blow up airplanes. No way is this excusable.

Seriously Georgie, I am worried for your safety because
your tiny island do seem to be getting on tits of lots of sandy countries. Even though Mr Brown seem jolly nice chap – despite peculiar facial problem.

Now we in Sweden just mind own business. We don’t invade anybody. Keep the low profile, like the gnomes of Switzerland. (Though we do not make those bloody silly cuckoo clocks). And we control the immigration. Which is where you make mistake by not doing.

Also you too soft with all these people you let in. For one thing you should be like French and not allow them wear that burkha thing where you can’t see face and don’t know if they man or woman – or what they got tucked up their skirt.

Anyway I think it best you do not use airlines for the future. Except you might be safe on Pakistani Airline – do they have one?

I think I will have to come over there to take personal care of you. Luckily we two are only a train ride apart, living in civilised part of world as we do.

Anyway, do not get too paranoid. I have every faith in your MI5 to keep lid on things – and kick many more hairy arses into the can.

I am not political person, leaving this to others who know more about such things. Each to his own trade, is what I say. After all, you would not expect Mr Brown to be able make porn film (would probably be bloody boring if he did)

Keep yourself safe for Anna

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Oh Georgie. So good it is to be hearing from you and knowing you all of a one piece and no ill has befallen from brother Sven and big Winston (such as Mr Adams is being suggesting possible) but only respiratory infection of the nasal tubes, and slight brain problem.

I think as regarding brain problem this is no big deal since you have been having such trouble since all times I have known you. In my opinion this due to lack of love.

Do you remember when I am first being engaged as au pair, your wife is away visiting mother what suffers from old person’s disease and is going slightly mad? And when she come back she find us in orched (should this be orchered?). Anyway, is place with apple trees and we are on floor in uncompromising position. And she say – what do you think you doing with my husband? And I say – if this your husband you ought to be ashamed of yourself, the poor man is starved of affection.

Later, however, we get on like houses which are on fire because I help her to find her sexuality, which she has been hiding from herself, under bushel, so to speak.

One thing bothering me. This bitch Myra. When Mr Adams talk about girl on motorcycle I am convinced he is talking of she, yet you go on about some ancient movie type film which I never hear of. And I wonder if you are sending me on some wild red herring chase, perhaps.

So what I want to know is have you had bunk-up on pillion with this harlot? If so, I surprise myself that you risk your body by placing in tobacco-stained hands of such a woman. How do you think your Anna feel if you fall off and do damage to your person, like breaking leg or similar. Then requiring to be held together with metal rods and nuts and bolts – like famous motorcyclist Barry Sheene.

Can you imagine what clunking and clattering might occur when we come together in love? It would be like making sex on tin roof – not that I have ever done such a thing.

As regards the sperm donor problem, well that is up to you. I understand what you say about making babies in heat of passion. I have had lots of hot passion but not made any babies – thanks to excellent Swedish contraception methods. But if there was anyone I would like to have the baby of, it would be you, my love – by the passion method, of course.

Do not worry about joke you say you make ‘in poor taste’. I remember you telling me that best jokes are in poor taste. You always make me laugh, I remember. And not at wrong time, like some men I have known.

Loving you in so many different ways,

Anna

Oh, almost forgetting. Sven telephones (he no longer live in Chingford but move to some place called Hackney. Do you know where this is?) and he agree to meet with you. But he is insisting he bring Winston with him, and say you can bring a friend if you like. Let me know what you think.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Life on demand?

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Well, I am back. I have not been well – in body or in mind. ( But is there any difference? No, body and mind are inextricably linked – and don’t let anyone tell you any different, my lovely Anna.)

And, may I say, you would not be feeling so good, if you had gone through what I have gone through – and am still going through

Did you know that Fall Guy is an American term from the world of professional wrestling, which enjoyed great popularity there in the late 19th century? It means, loser, dupe or victim. Many of the bouts were rigged – one wrestler would promise ‘to take a fall’ if the other agreed not to 'go easy' with him. The winner often broke his word and knocked seven bells out of his opponent. In such circumstances the loser became known as a ‘fall guy’.

I have always tried to see the other person’s point of view. Trouble is, the person whose views I have mostly ignored has been ME. Well it won’t do. As the jazz song says: There’ll be some changes made.
Myra put a proposition to me. She is in a ‘meaningful relationship’ with a doctor from the local health centre, who is also a woman. And the one thing that would really set the seal on this blissful union would be – you’ve guessed it - a child.

Now, obviously, this presents certain difficulties. So Myra has asked me to be a ‘sperm donor’. She said, ‘You won’t have to fuck me – Shaz knows how to do the necessary’ (I do not like to swear but those were her exact words) I felt insulted.

Don’t get me wrong; it is not that I object in principle to a bit of the old intra vino veritas (joke, Anna – admittedly in poor taste - I do know the correct expression), if it enables couples to have a child who might otherwise be denied through a sheer biological fluke (and this applies to single sex couples as well).

I am all for ‘interfering with nature’ if that means taking advantage of scientific progress to ease pain and suffering and generally improve the lot of the humankind here on earth – I will let heaven take care of itself. So, three cheers for stem cell research, genetically modified crops… all that stuff. As a matter of fact I think you lot over there are way ahead of us in this way of thinking. Of course – Emanuel Swedenborg notwithstanding - you have not been hampered by centuries of religious tradition (or claptrap) as we have.. But we are evolving - slowly

No, this is more of a personal thing. How shall I put it? I think I would rather feel that I had come into existence as the product of a good fuck (or an indifferent fuck) than a jerk in a jar and a syringe up the uterus. But this is a personal opinion, and has no scientific basis.

Anyway, I said as much to Myra but she said she would have to speak to doctor Shaz about it. I told her to forget it. In any case she was a bit drunk at the time so the whole thing may just another of her flights of fancy.

Anyway, how are you my darling? I hope you are taking care of that lovely long Swedish body, keeping it free of all infections – including the common cold (I have had a stinker, which is just one of the things that I have been suffering from), so that when we meet our bodies may come together like young lovers, fresh, clean and (almost) virginal.

Have you heard from brother Sven? I really am most anxious to clear up this ugly misunderstanding.

Oh, and I notice RJ Adams has posted a comment re ‘Girl On A Motorcycle’. I saw this film on TV – in the eighties I think, although I believe it was made in the late sixties or early seventies. I am a big fan of Marianne Faithful and I found the film most erotic. I also have several of her CDs including ‘Broken English’ which is brilliant.

I can remember my uncle (George) telling me in great detail about the Mars Bar incident one day as he took me to Sunday school. I now know this to have been a complete fabrication – an urban myth, created by an unholy alliance of police and media.
For one thing, Mick and Keith would never have stooped so low, and for another, a convent-educated girl like Marianne would never have thought of such a thing.

I am sorry I have been late in replying. I will make sure I do not leave it so long in the future.

All my love.

George

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Where are you Georgie............................