10/9/2021
My dearest Ashley Bunneh,
My dear love, there has been, in this universe, such a short period of time, that, in order to relate to you what I have learned would take lifetimes. We are all such miniscule beings, but we are all singular points through which the universe experiences itself. I know that sounds complex and difficult to fathom, but it is really so simple, that it would take an eternity to imagine.
I'm sorry for that. I am sure that, if you were to become obsessed with the ideas that I have explored, that you would comprehend, like I have, that we are, you and I, and all others, from the simplest existence of crystalline granite, to the most expansive beings like that of solar consciousnesses, and even those more difficult to perceive than these (which are impossible for most to realize, like that of squirrels and the Portuguese, the weirdest and most beloved of beings throughout the universe, according to one divine comet that I met once at a dilettante ball. Wish that you could have been there, but I digress).
As it is, I can't give you much but the faintest descriptions, but I shall try, because I want for you to taste even the least of the flavours I have been given host to. Please, forgive what may seem incomprehensible, since I can barely give description to that which oozes beyond our shared vocabulary, indeed, our shared sensory linguistics. Words are so limited, and specific, that if I were to relate to you the orgiastic sound splays of the orchestral physics of the beings called, "Penguins", of which you are surely familiar, you would easily confuse the concepts of ORGASM and KNEES, with SHARK/SEAL/ICE and PEBBLE/PREMISE/REJECTION as the same things.
My love, I am not even sure if you will receive this letter. The surface that I am writing upon is made of fire, and tends to change it's form from moment to moment. I have, in fact, erased several lines already, as they were mucked up by the "ink" that I am attempting to use, the liquid diamond ichor blown forth from the breeding holes of beings that you might interpret in English as "Star Carrie", or, in less nefarious terms, "Slug Sex Slave Brunette Ooze" (I think that the best phrase to relate to this concept is, "Lubricant Leia Not Safe For Jedi Brother", but I am not sure of an exact translation.
In any case, the first thing that I can relate to you, is that the universe is made up of imaginary patterns, interpreted by biologic chemical blobs of goo. By that, I mean, unionized hormone puppets. They are usually collectives of uncountable beings known as "cells", which, through an interesting process of impossibly democratic proxy decision making, also called, approximately, "worst-case-creative-evolution". You and I are blobs like this. Yours, of course, is much prettier than mine, but blobs are not as capable of choosing their forms without first giving up intellectual fuel to such things as knobbery and glamour. I of course, have little of both, but that is why I am single. To be sure.
Either way, my letter runs long, and you are likely short on interest, so I will leave off for now, dear beloved being of glory, and if you should like me to continue with my attempts at sharing my experiences of the dimensionally questionable poop that reality is made of, then please send me a coded message via the conversation frame that you call, "SMELLING/SEEING/EATING-SPEAKING-KISSING-BREATHING ORIFACE HOSTING User Interface (FACE?) LEXICON (Book?) Blather (MESSENGER). It would be my greatest pleasure to continue this process of love-making, since time, being a poor-man's coat for the process of "Unending Experience, Neither Here Nor There, But That The All At Once Need Not Be Singularly Momentous (Time?)", it gives little to no object to creative interactivity, and I am about to "PLOTZ", as the "Great Teacher" JESUS BEN PANTHERA" may be quoted as grunting to his lover, "MAGDELENA". (There is a French Genealogy which claims to be the result of that PLOTZING. I was married, once to one of their adherents.).
Much love and gooey joyousness to you,
Your Lost in Sweet and Salty and Crispy and Pinkishness,
Oobert (Robert with an O) Octavia (The O)