Letters from Oggy

In my latest attempt to recreate the frame of mind I need to be in to write the Santa Cruz book I went into the forest near Jones ave and built a plastic tarp lean to and with the flies and mosquitoes buzzing in my ear wrote the following letter home from Oggy in Santa Cruz to his mother. I think I'm onto something. I have to transcribe it because no one will be able to read the handwriting. The difficult part is holding back the pessimism that was not present for most of my time in Santa Cruz. We were changing the world and it felt right to have a team of people defending individual liberties and talking about the constitution and civil rights. So, Oggy has to be optomistic, which is forcing me to be optimistic to capture the same voice I want Oggy to have. While at the same time keeping the farce just to the edge of believability. Did it work? I forgot to use trash as the piece of paper since I only used recycled writing material. If anyone has letters from me during this 1993-1995 period it would help if you could scan them. And send them to me. I know I wrote some priceless descriptions from the woods. The trouble was that I was in a Hunter Thompson phase and started to exaggerate everything so they aren't historically accurate but the original letters will help me remember what key moments stand out. The Tweaker invasion is sort of true. I love that my handwriting perfectly fits this style of letter. This looks 100% authentic to me but it's more like 5% true. Still, it's a relief to find some outlet that works and I find entertaining. Any dull moments in the book can be rescued with letters like this. To the mayor, to friends, to presidents, dead people, parents, wolves. The variations are endless as well as the...AH! A whole series of conversations back and forth between the mayor and Oggy. That's a winning idea and actually happened. I have the mayor's blunt response to philosophical lectures on ecology. So funny. Signed by the city attorney, who also responded to my 40 page motion to dismiss an infraction ticket. "Mr. Bleacher's argument is devoid of substance." Perfect.
"Dear Mayor. What do you mean humanity is better off with inventions like the steam engine? Are you crazy? Look around! The Ohlone Indian tribes probably wouldn't agree with you, if any had survived the genocide enabled by the steam engine. They lived in perfect harmony on this same coast for thousands of years and we have..."

oh, so funny. That's really the kind of juggling act I'm aiming for. A letter to the mayor written on used bakery wrapping paper.


Dear mom- Hi! How are you? How are the cats? Do you remember that one stuffed mouse that Lois used to play with? What happened to that mouse? I remember I had it in my treasure chest after Lois died and it smelled like her. I loved Lois. Where is she buried? I think if I have time one day I will find that stuffed mouse and put it with Lois, if we can remember where she is buried. Was it the forest? Probably the back yard. I may have a map in an old journal that will tell the exact location of her grave. If you could look for that journal I would appreciate it.

You remember the girl I told you I met? Well, we're in love! She really understands the importance of ecology and natural habitat preservation. So we built a cabin in the forest just like I always talked about doing. I'm planting beans and we've already grown some tomatoes but the foxes or wild rabbits and woodchucks ate them before we could make a salad. Oh well! All animals have to eat. Isabelle knits in the evening using the candles for light while I guard the area. There are these roving bands of drug addicts called the Tweakers living out here too and they have invaded and stolen our furniture before so I have built a perimeter alarm system. Ha ha!

So we're safe + happy. I haven't spent any money in three months which I feel is important because it's going to help slow the environmental destruction that the United States is causing to wolf habitat. Isabelle also feels strongly about protecting the wolf.
The only thing I need is the location of that stuffed mouse that Lois loved so much. It's in my journal (the location) and I think that is where I usually keep it in my old tree house out by the river. We're all going into town next week for a big rally and socialist solidarity rally for imprisoned political prisoners. Should be important and revolutionary! Say hello to the cats. Love Oggy!
P.S. Don't send me any money because it's really hurting the wolves.