moving on up...

Wild day at work. And thus a terrific opportunity for me to completely lose my voice and resort to using a tone that can only be defined as part cabaret telephone actress (read: breathy), part hollywood slasher monologue (read: 'the call is coming from inside the house!' or, more accurately... 'RED RUM RED RUM RED RUM'). Yikes.

Had a date with myself at Barnes/Noble. Spent half an hour trying to find two specific things... found neither of them... but did manage to find a fantastic Donald Hall collection (excerpts soon to be featured here, I am certain) and this marvelous little number called Other People's Love Letters. Think found.com meets postsecret with a little more organization and author permission slips.

I.
Am.
Obsessed.

Am most impressed by the variety of 'letters' featured, from the syrupy honeymoon sap to the raging break-up emails to the dear-johns to the sign-the-divorce-papers-already to the sext messages to the elementary doodles to the letters to deceased lovers. I'm telling you, this is completely engrossing.

That hopelessly dangerously devastatingly romantic side of me (the one I don't like to admit I have) is going wild with the creative possibilities behind these mysterious and essentially anonymous pieces. Who are these people? What happened to them? Under what spell or constellation did these events occur?

I'm completely inspired... both as compulsive letter-writer and dreamy letter-recipient. I'll end with a few shared stolen thoughts...

_________________________________

What I Want

Tonight, there are two things I want.

The first thing I want is a park bench.
Wooden, weathered, solid, comfortable.
And with a view. Doesn't have to be of the
ocean. Could be a simple garden.
Or a squirrel in a tree.
Would you sit next to me, on my park bench?
Would you take my hand and help me
watch that squirrel?

The last thing I want tonight: you.
You and me. You, me, and an entire day
for us to spend together,
any way we choose.

____________________________________

The man of your dreams,
perhaps not
maybe just one of the
many that have fallen
but for now I am
ridiculously happy
to be the one who
curls himself around you.

____________________________________

Dear Lindsey,

I am so hating men right now.
Mart dumped me, because I lost my mind and had a weak flashback moment with Miles. Then I dumped Jim for Aquaman. And then, Aquaman dumped me for his beach house (not kidding!). He actually said "I only wish I had met you after the summer." ????? What's that supposed to mean?!!????

My feelings are so fucking hurt. I feel it in my arms and legs. It's like my blood is sad. I feel so stupid for having hope, for letting myself feel things for him, for calling when he wasn't calling back. Total humiliation.
I hate feeling so weak and so vulnerable.
I hate that I miss him, that I miss Mart. I hate that I am alone.
I hate that I made him into a superhero he was not (He dives for ship wrecks and he has a delicious body, but he is NO aqua man.)
I hate that I bought him jumbo bags of peanut M&Ms because they were his favorite.
I hate that I want to sleep all the time.
I hate that I even thought for a second about not moving to new york because
of this.
i hate that i will see him in the gym.
i hate that he doesn't want to kiss me.
i hate that i called mart this morning just to hear his voice, just to hear
him say he misses me.
i hate that all i want to do is read lame magazines and watch daytime tv.
i hate that every time i cry over one boy it is like crying over all of
them again.

________________________________________