The Paros Commune of 1971
This was written and left unpublished before the majority of human beings on this planet were inhabiting their current bodies. I was heavily influenced by the writing of Richard Brautigan at the time, whom I very much enjoyed reading. But then I had heard, apparently before the fact, that he committed suicide in the wake of his commercial success. So I decided not to pursue a creative writing career at that time. I thought I would have more time to die on my own. Oh wait, that’s what he did. I guess it wasn’t the writing that killed him. It was time. Anyway.
So I wrote this more or less as my friends and I experienced it in Greece, on the island of Paros, in the Aegean, somewhere on the great circle of history running through the Sorbonne from Europe to the US and back again, sometime between March of 1871 and now, during which time we also got together in a ski cottage in Vermont and read the work. Then I put it on a shelf, unpublished. So I am still alive.
Now that I’m getting some age on and am less concerned about death—or its consequences—I’ve been thinking of offering it to a mass audience. But then I was also thinking about serializing it as weekly offerings. That way commercial success won’t come too soon—maybe in two years—well, maybe there should be daily offerings. There are very many, very short chapters, maybe over a 100, and there is not nearly as much time left as when I wrote this in 1973—well, except for eternity, and there’s plenty of that. Okay, forget about the serial. Just one big dump. The Paros Commune of 1971. Buy it and leave me a message, maybe.
Thanks a lot, Richard, you dumb ass.