I am lucky enough to receive an email now and again from Willie Smith. If you have ever received an email from Willie Smith you will know what I am writing about. Willie Smith’s emails are pure art. I print them out and stick them to my wall and when I am down and depressed I go over to the wall and reread an email. I keep telling Willie to do himself in, cut his throat, swallow a huge amount of poison, stick his head in the oven, tie a piece of rope around his neck, I tell him to jump from a bridge, do the Martin Eden butterfly, do the Virginia Woolf waltz, do the Hemingway shuffle, do the Mishima quickstep, the Plath foxtrot. Before I started telling Willie to do one I had him send me a whole box of chapbooks, signed of course. Each chapbook is stored away in a bank. I dare not touch them. I had my wife type out each poem and story and place them in a folder. She did a great job. The folder is next to my bed, atop of Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy. Before sleep I always have me some Willie.
If you need entertainment in this world lacking in entertainment I advise you to seek out the little white man living in Washington State. You will find him on YouTube. You will see the little white man perform. At first you will be perplexed. But prophets are always perplexing, that is why they are prophets.
I have a clock on my wall. I watch it all the time. It is going backwards. I am waiting for year zero.
Paul Kavanagh’s ‘The Killing of a Bank Manager‘ is out now, priced £7.99/$12.99.