konfessions of a bradbury kollector: writing soundz (wordz by alfred balcon)

still remember the first bradbury words that went into my soul.

it was a book about burning books (in the future).

a pure revolution in the making.

erudite explosion like a volcano out of control.

a dark carnival.

texture.

oh so much texture.

like sound and vision.

u were the teacher.

i was the student.

from that moment on, i started collecting all that you have even written.

every collection of short stories.

every novel.

like a hungry vampire hunting for fresh blood.

everyday.

everynight.

everything.

collecting. reading. writing.

my own literary creations enhanced by your everlasting talent.

zen in the writing.

at last, my life had a meaning.

and then, on june 5, 2012,

while I was still listening to the echoes of your ground-breaking career,

your voice went mute.

nuthin’.

zilcho.

nada.

typewriter shutdown.

life shortage.

anybody home?

fuck all.

total blackness.

and sadly, the word empire that u provided structure for,

that u have once built for us, apostles, with your own tears, blood and sweat,

should never ever be the same again…

another black day without you.

i dream of the day that I will finally meet with u in the afterlife.

yours truly,
alfred

-30-

Muzik pairing:

Warm Leatherette / The Normal