My lover is an obstacle. Many think I must overcome him but I do not want to overcome him. I don’t remember my dreams, but once I was in the ocean & it was blue like what a bomb feels & above me two whales swam lazily & I could see how every muscle worked in their bigness & their singing was the biggest door creaking on the biggest rusty hinges & also the biggest & most beautiful boy sighing the biggest sighs of receipt. I think this is why I like the universe & books & roots & computers & mountains & riots & the-river-after-it-rains: I don’t go much for beauty without condition—everything impossible is part of me. My obstacles are true commas.
Dear Mr. Riddick,
There is a “bring your parents to class” day coming up at one of the schools where I teach. (This is a two-part question.) Can you give me some ideas for impressing these parents? Are they all ready for this?
Yours, Vin D.
I am a big fan of your acting-films & your shinejob. I am sorry to hear about the passing of your totemic friend, Paul Walker. It may be some relief to you to know, though, that I have uploaded Paul Walker’s consciousness onto the internet & he continues to live on as the website you know as www.bassfishin.com. And also the parents of your students, I have uploaded their consciousnesses to the internet as well, even the ones who are still alive, even the ones who do not know that they are the parents of your students or did not actually parent or care for your students. You can find their consciousnesses at the website www.bassfishin.com as well, but you might need to click around a bit to find them. The website is a little confusing & I can’t get ahold of the site designer. I’ve been emailing him but he hasn’t been emailing me back. Do you have email? I love email. It is like three stones I keep in my mouth to grind solid food into a digestible paste.
Very Truly Yours,
I don’t always know how to talk to people. I tend to just talk. Most letters I’ve ever written that were any good were mostly monologs to someone I had some sort of feelings for or another. Most letters I’ve ever gotten that were any good were about the same. There are people in this world I can relate to and also people I can’t relate to. Anyway I have this problem where I just keep reaching out past the point of it being a good idea and I don’t know why?
Dear This Guy,
I am going to answer your second question first: when you reach out your arms push out so far that your bones dislocate from the joints, your fascia disconnects from your skin, your skin disintegrates into a million red mites, but this is not past the point of it being a good idea. A good idea is one that clumps up in the gravy. A good idea makes the dressmaker shake. The more you decompose the better of an idea you become. Bodies are bad ideas. Reaching out is only the first step to becoming a lakebottom. Which ties directly into your first question. You have not been talking in any recognizable way—You have been eating at Little Caesars. To relate to people better you need to start eating at someone more relatable, maybe Outback Steakhouse or Chipotle or Sears.
Very Truly Yours,