A wonderful day really, since I've receieved yet another installment from my good friend Casey Vachon (who can outwrite me ANYday of the week, although I, unlike him, do not even remotely consider myself a writer). My old college chum has the unique ability to see directly through me and can expose the hidden truths in my life with minimal effort, and implicitly states that I'm not all that tortured. The delusions of granduer which have manifested themselves vis a vis The Daily Rice are illuminated through my posting of our correspondence... If only I could remedy his antipathy to capitolization.
hey michael,
oh my word! it seems that contact with the world outside is not in fact the instigator of all life's problems; there's many a slip twixt a cup and a lip. i've been out of touch for a while it seems. i went home (montana, which it turns out is actually more wyoming) for the holidays, intending on staying one week. on day number two my brothers and i went to play basketball. i rolled my ankle as i've done a thousand times before, but this time i did it just right. long story short, with one surgery down and one to go, i've been at my parents house for about a month now and have to stay another month before my next surgery. please bare in mind that this is happening to me at a most inopportune moment, and has successfully destroyed all my quasi plans for the future; oh i remember now...
but that my case; i have to shamefully admit that i deplore it. but it is giving me a chance to do a lot of long overdue reading (and yes, i think i've always recognized your self diagnosis as a romantic egotist, i'm just not sure i'm quite convinced of your dedication--amory is very dedicated to his cause ((bare in mind also, it seems to me (((in my admittedly limited experience))) that the well-learned tend to detest amory and the fitzgerald that wrote t.s.o.p.--but i of course admire him as well, as i think all of like condition [paranoid nostalgic wanna be schizophrenic, or maybe just perceptive] do--i'm losing track of my train of thought now, i apologize for the digression...and even a little guitar
before i forget, for the time being i can only be reached at cvachon@ku.edu do to computer complications of living in the middle of a giant volcano long overdue to explode and destroy the north american continent
i've ditched the idea of grad school for at least one year. i've finally apparently reached the age when i can simply no longer push aside the overwhelming feeling that i'm entirely wasting my life, and at this point grad school qualifies as just that. my primary objectives at this point are to get as low as possible and then get through my first marriage and divorce. what about you? in a vain attempt to peruse the chronicles of michael rice for an email address (you're really outdoing yourself), i noticed you've come to a proposed crossroads of sorts? something about a big change?
shouldn't you be about done with school now? well, let me know what you're up to. i must admit that my mind is turning completely to mush here. i believe it's a combination of the altitude, solitude, chronic depression, and syphillis (the tamer of souls, as i like to call it).
thanks for the reading suggestions, i'll be sure to check them out, as i (for the first time in my entire life) seem to have nothing but time on my hands (it's incredible how destructive that is in every sense--as far as i've seen at least). my suggestions? i'm venturing somewhat on a faulkner kick, as well as a return to some classic romance, such as the three musketeers. if you've never read the sun also rises you should check it out. anyhow, this has become uncharacteristically long and i'm getting paranoid.
Best,
Casey
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K.C.,
All you need tell me of yourself is that you still are; for the rest I merely search back in a restive memory, a thermometer that records only fevers, and match you with what I am feeling myself. The days of my manic depression, ill-fated isolationist sojourns, and extreme emotional vulnerability are still in full swing, though I imagine you've slightly more control of your life (of course I didn't set the bar all that high now did I?).
On with it then: your emails leave me reeling... What coruscating flights of prose spliced with poignant commentary on the state of our hearts. You see right through me it seems.
While I imagine you can understand my initial shock regarding the apparent fact that Wyomingians have basketballs (I swear I thought they never progressed past Mancala) it seems safe to say that you'll never comprehend my more extreme shock that they even have hospitals as well. I'm sorry your injury has destroyed all quasi-future plans, but that's life, no? Life seems to be what happens when we're busy making other plans.
So it seems you’re on a self fulfilling nose dive of sorts. Admirable, admittedly. But I'm duty bound to point out the uncanny similarity it shares to Kierkegaard's auto-destruction, albeit not as pious I imagine. How is that area of your life these days? I'm a CS Lewis/existential/Pascals Wager mystic to be precisely vague.
Yes, I should be about done with school by now. But dear Casey, I implore you, no criticisms of my chronic inability to finish what I started (it's endearing I'm told-though not by the parental units). And after all, if anyone can understand the unspoken elation and boundless joys of the autodidact it’s you. But do the means justify the ends? Sigh… The education of a personage is not to be truncated, which is not to say that instead it should infinitely idle. Somewhere between those poles is where I tread water these days. And yes, the water is warm.
Syphilis, eh? That does seem like it would put a damper on things, although judging from your state I’m not sure how much damper things could get. I’m sure somewhere Fracastora, in a flash of inspiration, is adding verse to his poem (1530) “Syphilis, sive Morbus Gallicus”.
In regards to the myopia ridden literary half wits that detest This Side of Paradise I am filled with sorrow for their poor taste. I always appreciate the kind words when you vaguely parallel my life, or ethos perhaps, with the incorrigible Amory. I’d be lying if I said you weren’t my Monsignor Darcy. What I'm saying is never feel as though all is lost.
Don't let yourself feel worthless; often through life you will really be at your worst when you seem to think best of yourself.
Admiringly,
Michael
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