Ape Suit Cinema

Somewhere in vicinity of 1956 I became old enough to drift away from 

my family's house to begin shaping my own life.  At ten years old I had

no concept of what that was to find out who I was / what I would be as

the years began.  I just knew I had aged enough to explore streets and

the city that my parents had taken residence in.

If in looking back now, it was The Eagle Theatre that adopted me

took me into writing / old time movie serials / movies 

none of that experience ever left my mind or blood

~especially those screen exhibitions that held images of 

gorillas / apes / savage men surviving outside society.

as years passed away from my childhood

all of those impressions and images became just memories

an occasional sharing of talk with others

who had been where I had been.

~oddly~

~ sublimitly ~

I still held this peculiar desire to be just as all of them were on big screen

one imagine haunted my life 

a morsel of a dream that I would want to be that someday

it seems a bi insane now

but

being a gorilla ~ that's what it was 

Just passed my 69th Birthday in May

that being a warning sign

that if there is anything left needed to be experienced

it better be day by day ~ minute into minute

just crossing into September taking some of those dreams out of memory

making it some sense of reality

bought two anthropoid masks in the last two weeks

have one more

 on the way through postal services

becoming an ape is a rough learning curve !

only wear the masks on coming to my computer

very rarely step outside the front door to snap a photo or two

of my alter existence

~thing is ~

have been living in isolated parts of South Canaan, Pennsylvania

deep into farm country with cows and chickens 

farmers that aren't quite redneck; but, will shoot anything baring fur

remnisent of any kind of animal outside being a cow

~so~

I have become something of a closet ape 

coming out of hibernation

exhibiting inbred mannerisms of an ape

in privacy of a home that just accepts weirdness

for whatever it is

within my interpretation of I and I as ape these days

it's just an extension of my need to keep writing

just to keep feeling something

never keep going back to repeating anything

~so~

for now

I reside within the ape hood of my mind

waiting to see what that way will bring out of my mind into words

August Hawthorne and Canaan Lancaster are the tentative birth names

who will take on most of the writing responsibilities vacated by

E. Aubrey Andrews at completion of his nineteenth novel

~ THE RESIDENT `

It took almost a year 

to get my car back on the road after relocating to Pennsylvania

it may take another six months

 to map out locations I need to accommodate publication of my books

seems to be an appropriate time to sacrifice

still have to organise pages to the past four novels

print them out on appropriate paper before I can get them bound

don't know where the writing

 under August and Canaan's hand and mind 

will guide me ?

thinking one or two books might just be collections 

drawings taken from my archives

another volume or two might be pictures and poems 

can't predict until those days come to ravage my mind

The Resident seems to be at crossroads

the centre of the book

all I need are seven to nine days of intense obsession

raping my mind for every road it can take

have no doubt the book will be done

just can't force it

nothing I've ever written seems real 

until

it's taken out of my hands

until

it's that voice inside me incessantly talking about strange things

that I would have no knowledge of on my own

I still believe that I am no author

just

the transcriptionist for someone outside me

I write for them

I am awed / mystified / envious / excited

that I am the only one to know of their travels

privileged to be their unconventional confessional

that they believe in with no distrust or reservation

maybe that makes me a biographer rather than an author ?

tend to like restrictions if there are any left in me

~ biographer ~ ?

~ no ~

there is no written acceptance in the book world 

for what I am

~ Confidant ~

seems appropriate for foreign ways I've captured life in writing

what is it

the man who collects butterflies behind glass frames

~ A Collector ~

I suppose that is and has been what I am

It seems remote to be concerned that Canaan and August

won't approach writing in the way I did

I don't know how I will handle that moment of separation 

when it comes ?

I think that I might just walk away from whatever last book has 

my credential attached to it

~allow~

that what August and Canaan do 

is

a parallel or extension to what I was

they will have met / seen / been with different people in their lives

that I could never conceive of

I suppose there will be vague references in their writings about

the connection of them to me

~seems that it shouldn't matter to me what they do

when they separate ~ go their own way

~guess~ ?

ultimately what I should do is to be

the end The Resident 

where there will be no place to go back to

+

that might also be the way of the last 18 books

close them down with an ending no one escapes from

but

I really don't want to be forced to go back

don't want to execute my past

~ so ~

when those last E. Aubrey paragraphs are written

I will walk away from the daylight of those words

close the door behind me

forget that I had ever existed in any step or word of those books

close down the past

see if I can't exist as August Hawthorne

be

symbolically 

Canaan Lancaster 

as if I had never been born into anyone else but them

intrigued premise to see if I can do that .