I was reading “Healing Yourself With Whole Foods” and stumbled across the cure for vomiting blood. Are you ready? Here it is: wait, are you sure you’re ready? Okay, for real this time… Persimmon, the fruit. Unripe. You know what else is good? Shepherd’s Purse (capsella bursa-pastoris), “a common herb that grows wild all over the United States.” And guess what, The United States is where you are. Also good are chestnuts and vinegar (1 teaspoon stirred in a cup of water).

Is it too late to write you a love letter? I don’t mean too late in the day. I know it’s too late in the day. I mean too late in our lives. If it is too late, then you should stop reading. Then pick up this letter in the morning when it’s nice and early. A love letter is what this is going to be, like it or not. I hope that deep inside, secretly, you like it. Which is probably selfish of me.

After our conversation, the night I was about to leave, I found the video we made. I only skimmed through it, but what I watched really depressed me. I realized that I love you and hate myself. You are: the most alive person I know, emotional, expressive, genuine, full of joy, prone to tears, sweet, and beautiful. I am: stiff, unfeeling, inexpressive, contained, inhibited, and quiet. At least according to this video, which doesn’t tell the whole story. But still, in general, I admire your qualities more than mine. I most remember your hair bouncing as you jerked your head to look at me excitedly. I always loved this about you. I miss you jumping up and down in my arms, squealing with joy when something was good. I even miss you collapsing into my arms, sobbing, when something was bad. I miss your highs and lows, but really I just miss you.

Sometimes, like right now, I feel sick to my stomach wondering if I messed up. 

June 23, 2001

[Redacted],

You mentioned that you’ve recently been spending most of your free time writing letters for Christopher, and that those could function as a sort of diary, if you ever went back to them. Maybe I’ll use this letter for the same thing. You’re the closest to a Christopher that I’ve ever had, so you would be a good person to use as a motivation for writing down my thoughts and experiences.

The funny thing about L.A. is that I remember my dreams here. I just woke up, and a dream about you, Christopher and me is just now fading from my mind.

This dream is very much related to what’s been happening to you in regards to Christopher this past week, and my thoughts about it. It would be quite a coincidence if it weren’t. In the dream, I was very flattered that I was important enough in your life for you to share me with Christopher, just as I was in real life when you said that you wanted to send Christopher sections from my email to give him a better sense of who I am.

My clearest memory from the dream was me hiding in the corner of a closet (outdoors), hoping, but not expecting, you to notice I was gone and come find me. It wasn’t really a closet. It was just an open-ended rectangle of hanging clothing, and I was curled up at the very end of it. You did find me. You were laughing and smiling and looking at me expectantly. I looked at you, confused, wondering what you were expecting. Flabbergasted that I was so dense, you told me, while still laughing and smiling, to kiss you. So, I did, and then you suddenly got really worried that I was angry with you. I wasn’t, and I tried to explain in all sincerity that I was perfectly happy, but there wasn’t enough time and you were gone.

June 24, 2001

The reason I started to write just now (I was planning on waiting until later tonight) is that I was looking at my old checkbook that only has a few checks left and noticed how unnecessary the white messy carbon copy sheets still in it were. Since I’ve never balanced my checkbook, there was never any reason to have these sheets, especially now that they’re fairly old. So, I began to tear those sheets out and then suddenly I felt terribly nostalgic. For what, I didn’t know. I tore them out and looked at what the checks were for. It was stuff like Cheapo Discs, Waterloo Records, my credit card payment, and so on. Nothing that should have any meaningful value to me. So, I threw out the CC sheets and was struck again by this nostalgia. I must be desperately wanting to hold onto something, but I don’t know what it is. I know what it’s not — the check stubs.

I once went to a website that analyzed names and told you what type of person you would be if your name were Jo, [my name], Christopher, Stacy, et cetera. I remember reading the description for [my name] and thinking that it was right on. I showed it to [my brother] and he too was surprised by how accurate it was.

I don’t remember what it said now, but I would be curious to see how well it holds up. When Stephanie came back to Austin last semester and we met at Trudy’s, she kept commenting on how much she thought I’d changed. She was raving about how amazing my transformation was. Hank, after I told him about Stephanie’s reaction, was stunned that she thought I was so different. He didn’t see anything new.

I think what Stephanie saw was a side of myself that rarely came out before D.C. and moving into the co-op. I focused on this rarely released energetic, talkative side of me when I met Stephanie again, which made her think that the more quiet, passive side of me was gone. The way I acted with Stephanie when I first saw her again was the way I acted with you when I first met you. That side of me held up all through Stephanie’s visit, short as it was, but the usual me eventually came through the more time I spent with you. Then, when we started spending less time together, I was afraid that it was the side of me that I showed early on that made you like me so much, and that you were bored with who I was when I wasn’t in overdrive mode. Anyway, I bet the website that predicted the type of person I would be still has the right idea.

I tried to open up my blinds just now and they fell. I tried to put them back up, and it was impossible. Looks like I won’t have blinds from now on.

June 25, 2001

When I was skating home today, a blond girl on Barrington street stared at me and smiled. Maybe if I see her again, I’ll think to smile back.

June 26, 2001

I had a purpose with this letter that I haven’t even begun to touch on so far. I’m taking too long and losing my focus. Eh, I’ll get back to it later.

Yesterday, Jessie tried to tell me a funny story about substitute teaching that her brother had told her. She couldn’t do it. She was laughing too hard to talk. I laughed too.

Shing’s three-legged dog is seeming to get attached to me. Yesterday I tried to feed him some tofu that dropped on the floor. He barely ate any.

July 8, 11:16 p.m.

I just had a thought that I was very tempted not to write down. It’s nothing important. I just think that if directors are going to do a remake of an old movie, rather than just doing the exact same story again, they should take the themes and messages of the original movie and construct a whole new story to portray that theme.

Kofi Be strong tell Ali that you dont want her to come Friday it is a trap by the devil she is the devil.

Hell has no wrath like the wrath of a woman scorned.

I didn’t forget what today is.

You really move me. I just wish I was able to look you in the eyes that morning. i was so bashful and pretty much embarrassed at my groupie move. ive never before. and also that i was totally unprepared to hook up with a man that night, and i dont remember all of the details. Shit i musta been lame. Im really classy….ok not gonna send anymore texts, i really never do this, im really wild lately and just glad to let you know a bit more. even if you don’t need to. Love always….This is really the last of my purge, Im a nut. but Im so thrilled with life lately and i honestly thank you.even if you werent a rock star with your pick of girls. i know that other guy was not my man, and im no longer worried. its so simple. its instant. and i dont feel that pressure to make love happen with anyone. ive been kissed by the universe. and there wont be any confusion with my next love…so thanks you kinda changed my life without even knowing me. no more words. peace.

I miss you so much, but I can’t imagine coming back to CU. I enjoyed our time together, but I’m not sure enough about our relationship to be able to move back to a town I generally hated. It’s not “I love you, come back and live with me,” it’s something filled with far more more trepidation. I can’t come back to that. 

I loved our relationship, but there was a lot missing. There was a whole part of me that wasn’t in the relationship because we couldn’t talk on that certain level where love and those other complications dwell. Everyone has trouble there, but for you and I it seemed particularly difficult. Maybe when you’ve loved more people that part will develop, but I’ve noticed some people don’t need it at all. I’m not one of them.

Maybe I’d come back for a relationship, but we don’t even have that. The truth is that you aren’t willing to make many sacrifices…it’s all on me. Sometimes I feel like you are holding our relationship hostage and I think about all the couples I have known that have loved each other enough to stay together even though they didn’t know when they would see each other again. 

It’s not easy being around those people. Sometimes I hope they fail, but in the end I’m just sad it couldn’t be us. 

I’m not coming back to CU. Maybe for a visit, but not to live. I understand if you are angry, but when you broke up with me I wasn’t sure whether or not to stay here. I couldn’t believe it was over. I still have trouble accepting it. But since I didn’t hear from you much I did sort of resign myself to it and I found myself liking it here. 

I know you felt sad that I didn’t come see you more this summer. I ended up sick nearly every time I visited and always felt drained by the situation at the apartment. I sometimes wished I had just sucked it up and come more though, because now it’s all over and we could have spent more time together. I can’t believe you are demanding I live in CU though…if it were Chicago it might be more realistic. 

I don’t want to get over you, but I take some comfort in the fact that I never really forget the people I love. Maybe the ache heals, but what’s left after all that falls away is often the fondest. Perhaps that can be rekindled someday when we are ready.

OK there are reasons why i have hesitated doing what i;m about to do.  first and foremost i didn’t want to do this out of selfishness- i know that you are in a relationship now and i have worried that telling u this shit now- after the fact is a little fucked.  at the same time- u being in a relationship has given me the courage to tell you because i felt like i could handle the rejection a little easier- that and i figure i prob wont ever see you again- not that i see you anyway- but i know that as time goes by- i hear less from you and well u know.  

this has happened to me before- i feel like i do not know how to care for you as a friend without feeling like i’m a little bit in love with u.  i think that maybe i know that in actuality it would be completely unreasonable for me to love you in any romantic sense and i also know and realize that u have done nothing to make me feel like this is ok or that it is something had something to do with- in other words i don’t mean to guilt trip u up or make you feel sorry for me- i would hate that so please don’t.   u have been nothing but friendly with me- actually u have done more for me than i can really articulate in an e-mail.  all of this shit i’m saying right now is stuff that i have been thinking about and again i apologize for this selfish act of sharing it- but i don’t want to carry the burden of this anymore and i know that honesty is always the way to get over something.  plus i don’t talk about this with friends really- well one friend i do- cause it is really hard to explain to/convince people that you feel really crazy about someone who u don’t hang out with and has never really shown much interest in seeing you- that’s hard- that was hard for me to handle a while ago-  i got really sad when i began trying to forget you. it sucked and still sucks because sometimes i have this overwhelming urge to tell you like everything- not this confession bullshit but just like u know- just like share general good news/stuff with you. i really enjoyed u sharing that kind of stuff with me, before.  i felt that i was connected to you by like an invisible energy sometimes. especially with music- music has been a significant aspect to our correspondence and i appreciate all of the stuff you have sent me and all of your insight about it.  i wish that i could have that forever but i know i can’t. 

Draft saved at: Monday, October 11, 2010 11:13 PM

Band rehearsal rocked last night - want to tell you about my struggle to wrest control over tempo away from the guitarists. =)

Not sure if I should feel concerned that I haven’t heard from you in ages, or sad that you don’t want to talk - if it’s the latter, you know, just let me know so I don’t have to wonder. Okay?

But otherwise, can we skype soon? I’m fairly amped up and also eager to hear what’s new with you.

CD arrived yet??

Draft saved at: Wednesday, June 30, 2010 4:07 PM

There is, of course, a whole range of stuff between rigid monogamy and pick-up games, as well as between ‘married sex’ and ‘casual sex’. If you’ve internalized the belief that all sex other than with your one committed partner is ‘casual’ and relies on PUA techniques, then your happiness/productivity calculation is probably right. But if we’re talking about meaningful sex outside of a marriage (committed relationship), with emotionally important partners, I doubt it’s accurate to say it could NEVER up your happiness or productivity quotients. I’d argue that for some (many?) artists and musicians, productivity seems to increase along with intimate relationships outside the marriage, at least up to a point.

admit it. you would love me more if i dressed like this.

now that i’m capable of sitting at my desk and working all day, i actually do so, and at the end of the day, i’m not sure what to do with myself. i don’t want to write anymore. i’ve been dealing in words all day so i don’t necessarily want to read. i make dinner and we eat; i shower, and then… i end up looking online at pictures of the nanoseconds after an atomic bomb is detonated, or reading about different versions of the Ten Commandments through history. Toby sleeps leaning against my feet. i play scrabble and win almost all the time now, which removes a lot of the fun of winning. i’ve started reading graphic novels, which are very interesting. and tonight i thought i would look at what people are wearing, and i ended up on american apparel  being absolutely appalled. there was a drag show tonight but i simply couldn’t muster the interest in going. i’ve seen drag. a lot. i’ve met every lesbian in tucson. i’ve lost all taste for small talk. in short, i’ve gotten very old.