Is I is or is I ain't? Well, I is and I ain't, though what I is and what I ain't wouldn't bear thinking about, much less discussion. Actually, I did reply to your letter in a letter dealing with the on-going (...and going and going but never quite gone) sad saga of Sam who, it seems, has got himself into a stringhopper. This letter was sent to your old chap (apparently retired or dead; to be sadly missed) POB. Perhaps it will be forwarded to you by this General Delivery fellow (what are you doing mixing with this shadowy military type these days?). Or, perhaps, not, I also sent you, via slowboat to China, care of departed Mr. POB, a booklet, The Buddha and Catch-22, which should arrive, if it is to arrive, later than sooner. Let me know if there is any spooky communication between Mr. POB and General D. (What could grey be up to?) If not I'll send another booklet, and perhaps also a repeat of the latest gossip re Sam.
Speaking of gossip, Our Carmen of the Snows dropped me these lines: 'I'm down from my tottery Himalayan perch, umgnificent though it was, but I understand now I can no longer pay the price for getting high off someone else's magnificence, even if that someone is no one -- shades of Ayin (the Non-Existent; her name for God -- Hūm) -- the wrong roof for this fiddler. It's just too bright for my dark Semitic soul.' Ergo, her pan-Asian search for panacea proceeds apace... Perhaps you've got more details?
And you? What is and what ain't. Don't be coy. Your last missive made the most passing of references to some bloody great accident, but (even without the gory details) failed to cover the ground (is that the phrase?) in the least comprehensible manner, leaving me quite uncertain as to what is -- perhaps, though, that makes 3 of us? Are you still in your stump, or have you been uprooted?