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 c l i m a t e c o N t r o l stuff the mailboxes and night repositories against my attempts to insert flat evidence of my belonging here. i’m as sick of wanting to get in as i am of wanting to be heard. i was born with one of those faces that say trust me, you don’t want to hear it. Bad enough listening to myself, who needs you to confirm the news? my climate’s not suitable for growing the fruit expected of your tree and i see you have no patience for experiment. i’ve misunderstood great men in useful ways in the natural course of an alien life, so why would i quarrel with locked doors? ...

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