Dear Mr. Echo,
12 years have passed since my last letter to you. It has been a long time, my sweet Mr. Echo. It has been a very long time, hasn’t it? My dear Mr. Echo, I am troubled today, times have changed, maybe even for you. Have you changed your mind so much, have you written new songs about the change in time? Do you still wear your hair ratted out, died in black to match your clothes and make-up? Do you still burn candles and read poetry? Have you stopped the boozing and picked up the Prozac dear Mr. Echo?
Where have all your followers gone? Where are they now, 12 years later? Are they stuck in tiny cubicles grueling over the blurry eyed hours, sifting through piles of paper work, and thinking of old memories. Pogo-ing around in the mosh pit, dying their hair and ripping their clothes in rebellion. Answering the phone and talking to their nagging waves and friends about coming to a BBQ on the weekend after the bills are paid and the groceries are bought.
They left you, dear Mr. Echo. They forgot about you and took the first car out of town. They abandoned you and your Bunnymen, Mr. Echo. They forgot who they were, who they worshipped, and went on with their lives, without you. How sad. Are you sad Mr. Echo? I am sad for you, really I am. Are you depressed and want to drink blood and cut yourself? I think you do. What the mind thinks of when one is so depressed, so sad that his followers fled the scene. Your name is slowly loosing meaning, isn’t it, Sweet Mr. Echo…has your ambition left you, have you gained weight from all the hard liquor? Has your tummy out grown your black jeans? What are you wearing these days? Tommy hill fighter, Gap, Tommy Girl? Go figure! I am sure that you have not forgotten who you use to be, how you looked in all that shimmering black, while you listened to Bauhaus in the late evenings over a thick copy of Anne Rice’s Vampire novels, My Mr. Echo.
What do you read now? I think you should read Alice and the Looking Glass. It’s a great book with a lot of meat to it. Chow on it, it will fill you up and make you whole again. You’re looking mighty thin and frail, almost transparent. Are you disappearing in the mirror? MR. ECHO, are you just an old repressed memory of who you use to be?
I will write more often, so you won’t disappear from my mind. I wish you well, Mr. Echo=
12 years have passed since my last letter to you. It has been a long time, my sweet Mr. Echo. It has been a very long time, hasn’t it? My dear Mr. Echo, I am troubled today, times have changed, maybe even for you. Have you changed your mind so much, have you written new songs about the change in time? Do you still wear your hair ratted out, died in black to match your clothes and make-up? Do you still burn candles and read poetry? Have you stopped the boozing and picked up the Prozac dear Mr. Echo?
Where have all your followers gone? Where are they now, 12 years later? Are they stuck in tiny cubicles grueling over the blurry eyed hours, sifting through piles of paper work, and thinking of old memories. Pogo-ing around in the mosh pit, dying their hair and ripping their clothes in rebellion. Answering the phone and talking to their nagging waves and friends about coming to a BBQ on the weekend after the bills are paid and the groceries are bought.
They left you, dear Mr. Echo. They forgot about you and took the first car out of town. They abandoned you and your Bunnymen, Mr. Echo. They forgot who they were, who they worshipped, and went on with their lives, without you. How sad. Are you sad Mr. Echo? I am sad for you, really I am. Are you depressed and want to drink blood and cut yourself? I think you do. What the mind thinks of when one is so depressed, so sad that his followers fled the scene. Your name is slowly loosing meaning, isn’t it, Sweet Mr. Echo…has your ambition left you, have you gained weight from all the hard liquor? Has your tummy out grown your black jeans? What are you wearing these days? Tommy hill fighter, Gap, Tommy Girl? Go figure! I am sure that you have not forgotten who you use to be, how you looked in all that shimmering black, while you listened to Bauhaus in the late evenings over a thick copy of Anne Rice’s Vampire novels, My Mr. Echo.
What do you read now? I think you should read Alice and the Looking Glass. It’s a great book with a lot of meat to it. Chow on it, it will fill you up and make you whole again. You’re looking mighty thin and frail, almost transparent. Are you disappearing in the mirror? MR. ECHO, are you just an old repressed memory of who you use to be?
I will write more often, so you won’t disappear from my mind. I wish you well, Mr. Echo=
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