Autobiography
 Talking with Suki
Under the sea in a form we don't fully recognize, at least not at first, the collective conscious undercurrent of ourselves, at once restless and at rest, plays out in fathoms deep as we are rote in the present course of humanity.

My friend says this kind of sentence structure shouldn't be allowed. She says it's unreadable, -worse pretentious.., but to me it works just fine. Suki is my friend now, an earlier remnant of a once used chat program where one of the most suitable "rooms" was called Poems.

There were three of us talking, but what I didn't know was that she had just arrived a minute before I did. I'd assumed they were there together, had planned in fact, to read each other's poetry. And on this assumption I politely listened, occasionally answering a question.

As it turned out after doing this for six hours, while each of us drank wine, found buried poems of our own and read them to colourful, collective critiques, I suggested we swap our email's so we could meet up again. And that's how it began. Although we never did go to "Poems" again, Suki and I have shared our lives in verse, chats on the phone, chats on PC, cards letters photos and presents, once having altered our virtual presence into a tangible force which took on a heart.

Suki is a mindful reader and although she resides in another country we both speak native English, meaning American. I have now followed her on a six-month sojourn to India, and a trip to see Florida, all the while extending our mix of metaphor's. I bring all this up because it seems like hers & my relationship embodies an extension of this very Sea-Change(format)... is itself an extensible form..

As a writer, documentary filmmaker, world traveler she is my gentle critic maybe because we share common endeavors but, also because we can share the latest stock market news, tips wins losses and ofcourse great web URLS thanks to a common use of Netscape (without which I, for one, would not be here).

Yes, Suki and I have formed a human bond. We have argued, fought, made-up, forgiven, hugged and shared our passions for life as it passes by the Window; she has sent me poetry at times which altered my perceptions as I read it, and fostered a new meaning on each revisit.

Having said all of this, may or may not explain why I bother to mention Suki at all, whether it matters if she likes the sentence structure of my works-in-progress(not that she has access to this one), I say with some glee.

To me beyond the dull concept of considering what matters or does not there is [the] editor which tries to sort out something literate -- using whatever works knowing even in free form expression the written word deserves for the reader to have easy access.

This is what she tells me when I write paragraph-long, albeit not inelegant and not abstruse, sentence structures ... she says, "they get lost", meaning her attention wanders.

Still, my feeling is that instinctively one knows who the audience is, and the writing falls hopefully into place.


Poem from Suki -

Sometimes I go about in pity for myself, and all the while A great wind is bearing me across the sky. [Ojibwa Saying]



This is the metabiography of Orion.
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