Dear Raymi,

I suspect that I’m like many of your regular readers. My eye was initially captured by the quirky, semi-naked photographs, but it’s the nigh-on incomprehensible streams of consciousness that keep me coming back for more.

There is something irrepressibly self-absorbed about your pictures. It looks at times like you’re trying to climb into the camera in order to get closer to yourself. They seem ridiculous, childishly coquettish, but more than a little haunting, too. The way it seems to me, anyway.

On reading your recent entry on the hateful e-mails you’ve received lately, I wanted to know what they actually said. I read the Comments that people had made in response to your entry, but found their bland encouragements cravenly sicophantic(sp?).

Frankly, I can see why someone might be riled by your writing style. But accusing you of considering yourself “fucking special” seems to me a little like calling Jack Kerouac self-indulgent. I can’t think of any way to qualify that assertion, but there it is. Of course you think yourself extra-special, why else would write a blog? The excuse of the self-indulgent tirade is entertainment. I find you extremely entertaining. Keep it up.

I hope your medication is treating you well.

Regards,

Tim

I live on a chain

and you share the same last name,

as a joke,

I sent a bottle of whiskey,

as you choked,

I knew it made you feel dirty,

And I was waiting over here

for life to begin,

I was looking for the new thing,

And you were the sunshine

heading my front-line,

I was alone,

you were just around the corner from me.

Time alone is good,

I spend my days in the city,

Dirty neighborhood,

you know youll never convince me,

So I sold the town away,

I couldnt wait to forget you,

I was killed in half a day,

I hadnt time to regret you

she turned away what was she looking at

kids are different today

when it gets dark i tow your heart away

there is nothing you can do that can’t be done

the summer sun set a vicious circus when shadows held the world in place but today i felt a chill in my apartment’s coolest place

and if you get to a falling star you’ll only see my reflection

i look at all the lonely people

i definitely live in an alternate universe. what day is it? it’s friday. it’s friday? yes.

look at him working, darning his socks in the nite when nobody’s there.

don’t be fooled by the smack that i talk i’m still i’m still raymi from the blog

see the bluuuud on all my fingers. that’s because i am hardcore. i’ll put them fingers in your bitchmouth, bitch. anyway. i shotgunned a bottle of water yesterday. i stabbed it with a pencil and drank from the hole and thought this is dumb fuck this and left it there for someone else to spill water all over themself thought more of it dumped it out and went on my merry way.

hey dude i’m political and i write just fine and yes those sadphony girls write very nicely and deep down they are big racists to the extreme. i already don’t care so shut up about it.

i sweat tons when i sleep and when i wake up my hair is so curly and wavy and dumb and i’m like where was i? my dreams are just retarded. i had to be on a train or a bus and i was running for it and when i got on everyone was foreign err i was foreign to them and such well anyway it was all very weird and i don’t feel like getting into it so, so.