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Letter: January 13, 1963

Letter: January 13, 1963
Letter: January 13, 1963

(Page 1)

 

Sunday, Jan. 13, 1963

Tamara:

            I write you this letter not because I am in the mood to, but because I can think of nothing better to do.  Most of my letters will be, consequently, more valuable then this, the first.  However, I want you to keep all of them, don’t lose or destroy any, and when you leave home I want you to give them back to me.  You may be surprized [sic] to see how they will show my development.  I know this because I have often kept a journal, and looking at it later was please to see myself unfolding with its pages.  It’s very interesting.  But enough of this semantic nonsense.  Bullsh*t.  Bullsh*t, bullsh*t, bullsh*t.  Did you even feel like uttering some expletive over and over?  I know you have.  One thing you should know:  I will never put exclamation marks at the end of sentences.  I may feel like making a wordless point of putting something like this: !!!!!!!!, but I think that

(2)

an exclamark at the end of a thundering, angry sentence sort of detracts from the sentence’s power.  My exlamatory [sic] sentences have their exclamarks built in, and there’s something faintly phony about having to emphasize your emphasis with exlamation [sic] points.  So remember that.

            Looking over this letter so far (well, not rereading it but mulling it in my brain), it seems to resemble the beginnings of many of my unfinished novels. I am a lion at heart, I guess, but honest in soul. If you know what I mean.  What I mean is that I am honest lion.  An honest hypocrite. No.!!!!!!! (Now I’m all caught up in a semantic tangle); even worse, ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ (not i’s but upside down question marks. (?). (I ((love (((you ((((dear(((((madly))))))))))))))).(!)_

[handwritten in blocked letters]

            I (Rather) pREFeR thiS TO oRdeRED, everYDAY pRoSe, Don’t YoU(?), HaLLeLuAh to tHe  ImmORTaL e.e.cuMMINGS!

(3)

[free-form on page] But seriously, darling, don’t you think this sort of writing is much more fun to read than regular prose that just runs across the page, like this.

            I have invented picture poetry. For example, turn over ———>

(4)

[saxophone shaped; in script] tenor saxophone chiming golden in the sun how beautiful it sounds; you agree?

(5)

            Isn’t it fun to be unselfconscious?

            Love (shubop)

            makes (shubop)

                        the world (shubop)

            go [scribble] (shubop)

[hand-drawn graphic]

I

ON

LYH

OPED

EARTH

ATYOU’L

LREPLYT

OTHISLET

TERIMMED

IATELY ! ! ! ! ![1]

your foul weather friend who loves you,

Lester


[1] Translation: “I only hope dear that you’ll reply to this letter immediately!!!!!”

 

 

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The ideas and opinions expressed in the writings of Lester Bangs or those of his scholars do not necessarily represent the views of the Grossmont Cuyamaca College District, nor those of the individuals responsible for the acquisition and archiving of these materials.
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Last Updated: 08/19/2016

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