Volume 9, Issue 5, page 5

7411&e/X'44 q;/,t,eie.2
ever there be of progress in life comes not
thru adaptation, but thru daring to obey the
blind urge... "
Miller, talking about a modern American
contemporary, Jack Kerouac, says, "Where does
he get that stuff? From You! Man, he lay awake
all night listening with eyes and ears -- a night
of a thousand years. Heard it in the womb,
heard it in the cradle, heard it in school,
heard it on the floor of life's stock exchange
where dreams are traded for gold."
Which brings us up to the last affirmation
of the technique presented here: The Subterraneans , by Jack Kerouac, by arrangement with
Grove Press, New York, T- 390, Avon Publications, Inc., New York ;
"Just to start at the beginning and let the
truth seep out..." says this exponent of selfrevelation in "spontaneous bop prosody", complaining later of a paragraph preceding, "No
confession there "...and later reporting, "at
that time work was my dominant thought, not
love, not the pain which impels me to write
this even while I don't want to, the pain which
won't be eased by-the writing of this but
heightened, but which will be redeemed..."
crying... "if only it were a dignified pain
and could be placed somewhere other than in
this black gutter of shame and loss and noisemaking folly in the night and poor sweat on my
brow... " yet making no compromise of self or
with self.
(Signed) BOB ARENTZ, April 5, 1962.

Dear Bob --
I am thoroly intrigued by the possibilities in the quotation you sent from Hans Habe 's
"The Devil's Agent"...

Maybe you, in your auditing wisdom, may have
some ideas of your own which might incorporate
this possibility in an article for The ABERREE.
It could take up other things, too, such as if
we write of past-life experiences and imagine
we're "imagining" the plots and material about
which we write, are we erasing some of our
past lives? Are we undergoing a psychological
change? And if so, are writers more fortunate
than the average person who doesn't indulge in
this type of therapy?
Do persons who keep diaries also tend to
keep down the engramatic content of incidents?
We've just returned from a writers' conference in Tahlequah, at which I quoted from
your letter. Found several in the audience
quite intrigued by the idea, and some even came
up and wanted to read more after I'd finished
speaking. So -- -it may be that you (and Hans
Habe, of course) have an idea worth developing.
(Signed) ALPHIA HART, Editor, April 9, 1962.

Dear Alphia:
The arrival of summertime's Yuletide Issue
provokes this somewhat delayed report (?) on
what progress, if any, there has been on the
suggested article which would expand from the
brief quotation out of the book by Hans Habe.
You asked the editorially pertinent question
so casually that you almost provoked an affirmative, offhand answer, "Sure, it might be

achieved in diary writing, and may well be the
lure that intrigues people into keeping diaries." But this provoked-impulse-answer itself
sounded the warning that it was not a mere
glib and casual query; but rather, inspired a
second question that must inevitably grow out
of an affirmative answer, and an alternative
second question that would automatically stem
from a negative appraisal. First being, of
course, "If so, why have not most, or at least
more, diary writers obtained the catharsis in
the theory and/or technique?" The self-evident
second is, "If not, why not?"
Fairly obvious, perhaps, but as a person
who looks for his own data instead of calling
on the services of Billy Graham or other selfproclaimed sources of information for-whatother-people-are-to-think (in accordance with
their studies, finding, ideas, or practices),
it took me the interim period of time to review my opinions, prejudices, general fund of
information on the subject, etc., along with
my diurnal activities, angers,. frustrations,
petulances, annoyances, etc. And, during this
survey the impulsive first endorsement of the
implication has reversed as a growing awareness modified by my understanding of Henry
Miller's remark that what you write is not important (i. e. whether published or publishable
or not) but only the writing is important. I
came to clearly realize that Miller never wrote
with ulterior motives seeking to create an
effect upon his reading audience, but only to
leave no secrets, of himself and in himself,
unrevealed -- meaning unexposed; and this, essentially, is what the diarist fails to
achieve: Necessary Exposure. (What Hubbard
would perhaps have had in mind when dissertating on terminals.) At any rate, until the
writing has achieved clear-cut recognition, by
purpose and intent, as a directed communication
to a definite receiver or group of receivers
as readers -- (the "secrets" of the "diary" revealed, not hidden, not locked, not secret but
fully exposed) -- I repeat, until then (and only
after what is even kept hidden by ourselves
from ourselves has been meticulously found out
and exposed and the grim facts "faced"; t h e
revelations "confronted" discussed, shared
with a listener either as potential novel audience or a single listener who is willing to
"accept" the communication) -- repeat, until
then there is no transmittal of the emotional
charge; no discharge.

There is an item of utmost importance buried
in the preceding sentence -- the vitally necessary acceptance of the communication without
rebuttal, criticism, explanation, sympathetic
distortion, efforts to correct erroneous
thoughts, etc.

This, in its essence, is also the definitive
analysis of the general failure experienced by
most auditors in seeking to convert Hubbard's
Dianetic theory into genuine data that they
themselves could own by having made it their
personal knowledge thru successful translation