All This Time, On And On I've No Regrets, The Sun Still Shines, The Sun Still Sets, The Heart Forgives, The Heart Forgets
--"All This Time", Tiffany
When I first started writing letters I imagined that they were going to be breezy pieces of fluff. I always thought of letter writing as something casual, something done when you wanted to jot down the lighter aspects of one's day. Indeed, my first letters to people were never more than one or two pages long. They seldom delved into anything personal and, more often than not, were truncated as to never reveal anything too personal about myself. The last thing I wanted was to bore somebody to death with the inner workings of a part-time friend or even an acquaintance. I thought those kind of revelations were best left to face-to-face conversations or, at the very least, telephone calls.
It took writing to people like Jina and Margaret--two of my very first pen pals, you might say--to really get in the spirit of letter writing. Jina especially brought out the worst aspects of my letter writing prowess. My letters to her started innocuously enough. I believe my first letter to her was at most five pages in length. In it you won't find anything scandalous. Most impressively, you won't even find anything you couldn't find at a basic read-through of my resume or biography. Everything was factual in those first letters--likes and dislikes, what I was doing that day, what I did the day before. It was a far cry from the hundred page monstrosities I would come to write her and others. I don't know that was my basic m.o. for writing letters in those days. I didn't know why I was so afraid of opening up on paper with what I've pretty much never had a hard time opening up in person about. I suppose it had something to do with the permanence of a letter--something to do with the fact that once you set pen to paper all the world potentially gets to read it. I was afraid of my words being used against me someday, I guess.
Somewhere along the way, though, I lost that inhibition. Around the time I met Breanne a year after I met Jina my letters to people started becoming more revelatory. I started opening up more. It wasn't a conscious decisions. The transition was seamless. I would run out of things to describe in my day so my thoughts would turn inward at some small sticking point that couldn't be explained in physical terms. I started jotting down more questions that didn't have answers. Conversely, I started jotting down answers to me that nobody had even asked before. It was the beginning of a different kind of me, someone more comfortable placing my whole self before scrutiny. I wouldn't even sugarcoat it that much; I became someone who enjoyed sharing myself through my words at every opportunity.
In that impetus was born my desire to start this blog, which is a strange thing to say, because, if anything, I think I'm still quite guarded when it comes to what and what I don't share here. I mean--I divulge a lot of information through my posts here. Some would say more than a hundred people share in a lifetime. Yet for me letters have always been where I've laid my soul bare the most. I haven't had a lot of practice in recent years since the number of individuals still writing old-fashioned letters to one another has decreased dramatically, but; remembering back on some of the letters I've written to Jina, to Breanne, even to Margaret or Heidi; I shared far more in the guise of a missive than that of a blog post. For although a letter is supposed to be more casual, I think it's this familiarity that allows me to share more. Obviously, a blog post is catered to sharing with everyone and their neighbor. That trains your mind to write a certain way--even when you share, you share with the knowledge that everyone will have an equal chance to read it someday. A letter's different. A letter is directed towards one specific person with a specific set of knowledge of you. You use more of your information about your audience than you would in the writing of a blog; you care more because you know the set of eyes reading it. As much as I'd like to think I know my audience here, I don't know enough to imbue my writings here with specificity. As personal as I become here, these writings will always be unfocused ramblings in context.
A letter, though, a letter is a mighty thing of precision and directness. It's a thing of beauty because it is a gift given from one soul to another. Sure, you might do a lot more good in the world by contributing to charity, but that will never beat the feeling of giving one person directly something dear to your own heart.
That's why I've petitioned my good friend Miss Slicks in Canada to take up the mantle of letter writing again, to become penpals, because, as much as I love writing my blog, I love the tactile feeling of holding a letter in my hands more. I love being able to rip open a letter or package more than I love pressing a button to open up an e-mail. I love reading letters upon actual paper than a 13" monitor. I love seeing the weathered lines of a piece of paper that has crossed hundreds if not thousands of miles to get to me rather than the same boring and old white space here. Goddamn, I love the impatience of not getting a reply right away if only because it builds anticipation.
And, above all else, I love being able to share things with another person I know because they want to know me... and not because they might have stumbled onto this web page through a random search on Google. I love extending that piece of me fully intentionally and without remorse or regret. I love sharing my life or as much I know of it up until now without reservations.
I love seeing my life translated into words and only meant for one other person... and then maybe opening up the floor for discussion after it's already began it's journey across two countries. LOL
----
3707 xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxx, #x
slicks xxxxxxx
post office box xx-xx
skead, ontario xxx xxx
canada
Dear Slicks,
March 5th, 2009
I have just gotten home after a lively night spent with my cousin and his co-workers drinking at this local place called Mai Tai's. I like going there because they have this awesome Happy Hour that lasts from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. where a pint of beer ends up being 3 bucks a pop. And I'm a person who can drink tons of beer.
Actually, though, as you may or may not know, my favorite poison of choice is bourbon. I don't know when it is exactly I first tried it but I do know that it is the drink that most makes me feel like I'm a sophisticated drinker--as if that means anything (lol). I don't know--drinking beer is all well and good for dinner. I even like if it's going to be a relaxed night of talking and chilling. Yet when the mood calls for me to get good and fucked up, bourbon is the number I call for a good time.
That's why I'm looking forward to this trip to Kentucky this summer. That's where the bourbon is born and lives. It's almost always a good thing to be in a place where you can get free tours and samples of the liquor you enjoy the most. As some might say, that's a no-brainer.
The other reason why I'm looking forward to it is because I get to visit one of my favorite people in the world (after you, of course, Miss Slicks), Miss Toby. She's kind of like my niece and my apprentice rolled into one. She's a tad younger than you. At last reckoning she'll be seventeen come this October. However, she's a lot more intelligent than I was at that age. She sure as hell is a lot more into worldly concerns than I've ever been. To tell the truth, even though she professes to have an admiration for me, I've been a big fan of her since I met her. I sometimes like to hitch my wagon to people I think will become famous, powerful, or influential someday and I have a definite feeling she's going to make a name for herself someday--as if Toby isn't already a name that sticks out in one's mind.
It also doesn't hurt that she's fairly cute with two sisters that would fit into that description as well. I always liken them to their own version of Charlie's Angels, except they're all brunettes. LOL Three cute sisters in a row; it's like a weird version of a slot machine hitting the jackpot. LOL
The only problem I forsee going over to Louisville is that I might be too attracted to Toby. And that's not something I can act on until a few years from now when she goes away to college perhaps. I don't know what it is about me, but I've always been attracted to younger girls who are refreshingly smart, intelligently funny, and overall a pleasure to be around. That's the pattern I developed with my best friend Breanne--who is by far the smartest, funniest, and the most pleasant person I've ever met. I met her when she was thirteen. I liked her even then. And that was a horrible wait till she got a little older for me to be able to actually feel comfortable enough to do something about it. Ever since then it's like, since B. and I turned out so well, I've been trying to replicate the pattern. Get to people I like when they're young, hopefully make a good impression on them, and then use that connection forged while they were impressionable to instill a new deeper, more romantically inclined connection.
It's not like I'm in any position to do anything about it now. But I can't help feeling that I'm setting myself up for something in the future that won't be the same as Breanne and I. Toby isn't Breanne and the difference in our ages is a lot more dramatic. I don't know how I feel about it all yet. I know she likes me, but I think it’s more of a professional relationship. I don’t know if that can be turned into something less professional in the future. I’m kind of hoping and not hoping something materializes at the same time. Last year when I visited for a few days, nothing of much consequence happened. I'm curious to see what develops while I'm staying the week as I will be come this June.
Not to mention I'm also interested in her older sister--the one not getting married (get your mind out of the gutter, Slicks). She's much wilder than her younger sister. And the fact she's a lot closer to me in age makes seeing both of them a double opportunity. I hate to think in those terms but I almost feel like if I strike out with one there's always a back-up there. Granted, I don't know Faye as well as I know Toby. But I know her enough to make me believe it wouldn't be that difficult to get to know her better.
But it is getting late so I shall retire this letter for another time.
March 7th, 2009
I watched The Watchmen today. After all the hype and after all the attention the adaptation has drawn, I still think the story holds up. Not only is it as every bit exciting and mature of a plot as it was in the graphic novel, but I think seeing it up on the big screen only adds to the action sequences. I don't know about most people, but when I read the graphic novel I always pictured the fights and the stunt sequences shorter than they were in the film. Maybe they just expanded upon them to flesh out the movie, but they really enhance the violent nature of the main characters and the people they come across. In that regard I think the film comes out ahead of the print medium.
What also struck me was how the story's message of it taking violence to end violence still seems prevalent in culture today. 1985 isn't that long ago, I know, but I'm amazed at how little the world has change in those almost fifteen years. Here we are, almost two decades later, and the world is still seemingly on the brink of collapsing under the weight of its differences. There still isn't a lasting measure of peace in the majority of the world and we're still seemingly distrustful of what the other side of the globe is up to. There's still this mentality that we have to prepare ourselves for the worst because that's exactly what is looming on the horizon.
Granted, both the graphic novel and movie go to the extreme to exploit this idea. However, the thought that it's going to take something cataclysmic to unite us still resonates with a lot of people. A lot of people believe things have to get much worse in a hurry, something has to go horribly wrong all at once, before everyone will see what a dark path we're headed down. It doesn't take men in tights fighting in Antarctica, nuclear missiles destroying the Eastern Seaboard, or, yes, giant squids, to know that. And maybe the movie has it right. Maybe it's going to take an engineered catastrophe to provide the solution. At the very least the film seems to say that it's going to take people of conviction to accomplish this task, people willing to sacrifice their ideals, their philosophies, and even their own lives to get the job done.
Conflict is in our nature and it takes a lot to fight against our nature.
March 13th, 2009
Sorry it has taken so long to actually finish up this letter. I had originally intended to send it off on the 9th, but I feel it needed some additional zest. I don't know where this mystical zest was supposed to originate from, but I felt that what was required.
I went out drinking again last night. This time it was with my cousin's old college buddies. It's sad to think the bulk of my social engagements these days, outside of my gaming commitments and the rare times I can Rilo Kiley, is limited to those times I go out with my cousin. All my friends have moved away from me or were already away from me to start out with. I think the last friend I had who lived close and was all mine to call my own was Ilessa. Since she moved to Philadelphia almost a year ago, there's nobody I really can count on to go out to eat, to the movies, &c... like I used to.
Maybe that's for the best.
I'm kind of a picky person to begin with. I possess a skulking suspicion that if I were to ever connect with someone enough to go out with them all the time it would involve them having to look past a lot of my issues. It would either involve that or maybe my actually having to bend on a few of these issues. That's something I might not be ready for at this time, if ever. I've gotten curmudgeonly in my old age and changing myself is a far more difficult task than asking someone to change for me. It would have to be the right person who provokes me into changing and quite possibly it might have to be someone I already have some sort of relationship with already.
In fact, I think I might be cutting the line off pretty soon. No new people. The only people I want to get to know are the people I know already. LOL I'm putting up the closed lane sign like they do at the check stand at the supermarket.
Oh, I really do think you should be professional assassin. With your insane knowledge of chemistry, you’d make a wonderfully adept hitwoman. Or, at the very least, you could assist me in my pursuit of one of the finer shadow arts should I ever decide to take up that particular mantle someday. I could be able to call you up and ask you what the best mixture to dispose of a dead body would be and then you could tell me. Or perhaps I might need to know what the best poison would be to take care of average-sized, average-height Hawaiian, you could tell me that too.
Something to keep in mind.
Oh ‘twell! I think that is all. I’m trying to get the page count as not to overwhelm you. I thank you for your time and look forward to your next correspondence.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
When I first started writing letters I imagined that they were going to be breezy pieces of fluff. I always thought of letter writing as something casual, something done when you wanted to jot down the lighter aspects of one's day. Indeed, my first letters to people were never more than one or two pages long. They seldom delved into anything personal and, more often than not, were truncated as to never reveal anything too personal about myself. The last thing I wanted was to bore somebody to death with the inner workings of a part-time friend or even an acquaintance. I thought those kind of revelations were best left to face-to-face conversations or, at the very least, telephone calls.It took writing to people like Jina and Margaret--two of my very first pen pals, you might say--to really get in the spirit of letter writing. Jina especially brought out the worst aspects of my letter writing prowess. My letters to her started innocuously enough. I believe my first letter to her was at most five pages in length. In it you won't find anything scandalous. Most impressively, you won't even find anything you couldn't find at a basic read-through of my resume or biography. Everything was factual in those first letters--likes and dislikes, what I was doing that day, what I did the day before. It was a far cry from the hundred page monstrosities I would come to write her and others. I don't know that was my basic m.o. for writing letters in those days. I didn't know why I was so afraid of opening up on paper with what I've pretty much never had a hard time opening up in person about. I suppose it had something to do with the permanence of a letter--something to do with the fact that once you set pen to paper all the world potentially gets to read it. I was afraid of my words being used against me someday, I guess.
Somewhere along the way, though, I lost that inhibition. Around the time I met Breanne a year after I met Jina my letters to people started becoming more revelatory. I started opening up more. It wasn't a conscious decisions. The transition was seamless. I would run out of things to describe in my day so my thoughts would turn inward at some small sticking point that couldn't be explained in physical terms. I started jotting down more questions that didn't have answers. Conversely, I started jotting down answers to me that nobody had even asked before. It was the beginning of a different kind of me, someone more comfortable placing my whole self before scrutiny. I wouldn't even sugarcoat it that much; I became someone who enjoyed sharing myself through my words at every opportunity.
In that impetus was born my desire to start this blog, which is a strange thing to say, because, if anything, I think I'm still quite guarded when it comes to what and what I don't share here. I mean--I divulge a lot of information through my posts here. Some would say more than a hundred people share in a lifetime. Yet for me letters have always been where I've laid my soul bare the most. I haven't had a lot of practice in recent years since the number of individuals still writing old-fashioned letters to one another has decreased dramatically, but; remembering back on some of the letters I've written to Jina, to Breanne, even to Margaret or Heidi; I shared far more in the guise of a missive than that of a blog post. For although a letter is supposed to be more casual, I think it's this familiarity that allows me to share more. Obviously, a blog post is catered to sharing with everyone and their neighbor. That trains your mind to write a certain way--even when you share, you share with the knowledge that everyone will have an equal chance to read it someday. A letter's different. A letter is directed towards one specific person with a specific set of knowledge of you. You use more of your information about your audience than you would in the writing of a blog; you care more because you know the set of eyes reading it. As much as I'd like to think I know my audience here, I don't know enough to imbue my writings here with specificity. As personal as I become here, these writings will always be unfocused ramblings in context.
A letter, though, a letter is a mighty thing of precision and directness. It's a thing of beauty because it is a gift given from one soul to another. Sure, you might do a lot more good in the world by contributing to charity, but that will never beat the feeling of giving one person directly something dear to your own heart.
That's why I've petitioned my good friend Miss Slicks in Canada to take up the mantle of letter writing again, to become penpals, because, as much as I love writing my blog, I love the tactile feeling of holding a letter in my hands more. I love being able to rip open a letter or package more than I love pressing a button to open up an e-mail. I love reading letters upon actual paper than a 13" monitor. I love seeing the weathered lines of a piece of paper that has crossed hundreds if not thousands of miles to get to me rather than the same boring and old white space here. Goddamn, I love the impatience of not getting a reply right away if only because it builds anticipation.
And, above all else, I love being able to share things with another person I know because they want to know me... and not because they might have stumbled onto this web page through a random search on Google. I love extending that piece of me fully intentionally and without remorse or regret. I love sharing my life or as much I know of it up until now without reservations.
I love seeing my life translated into words and only meant for one other person... and then maybe opening up the floor for discussion after it's already began it's journey across two countries. LOL
----
3707 xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxx, #x
long beach, ca xxxxx
united states
slicks xxxxxxx
post office box xx-xx
skead, ontario xxx xxx
canada
Dear Slicks,
March 5th, 2009
I have just gotten home after a lively night spent with my cousin and his co-workers drinking at this local place called Mai Tai's. I like going there because they have this awesome Happy Hour that lasts from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. where a pint of beer ends up being 3 bucks a pop. And I'm a person who can drink tons of beer.
Actually, though, as you may or may not know, my favorite poison of choice is bourbon. I don't know when it is exactly I first tried it but I do know that it is the drink that most makes me feel like I'm a sophisticated drinker--as if that means anything (lol). I don't know--drinking beer is all well and good for dinner. I even like if it's going to be a relaxed night of talking and chilling. Yet when the mood calls for me to get good and fucked up, bourbon is the number I call for a good time.
That's why I'm looking forward to this trip to Kentucky this summer. That's where the bourbon is born and lives. It's almost always a good thing to be in a place where you can get free tours and samples of the liquor you enjoy the most. As some might say, that's a no-brainer.
The other reason why I'm looking forward to it is because I get to visit one of my favorite people in the world (after you, of course, Miss Slicks), Miss Toby. She's kind of like my niece and my apprentice rolled into one. She's a tad younger than you. At last reckoning she'll be seventeen come this October. However, she's a lot more intelligent than I was at that age. She sure as hell is a lot more into worldly concerns than I've ever been. To tell the truth, even though she professes to have an admiration for me, I've been a big fan of her since I met her. I sometimes like to hitch my wagon to people I think will become famous, powerful, or influential someday and I have a definite feeling she's going to make a name for herself someday--as if Toby isn't already a name that sticks out in one's mind.
It also doesn't hurt that she's fairly cute with two sisters that would fit into that description as well. I always liken them to their own version of Charlie's Angels, except they're all brunettes. LOL Three cute sisters in a row; it's like a weird version of a slot machine hitting the jackpot. LOL
The only problem I forsee going over to Louisville is that I might be too attracted to Toby. And that's not something I can act on until a few years from now when she goes away to college perhaps. I don't know what it is about me, but I've always been attracted to younger girls who are refreshingly smart, intelligently funny, and overall a pleasure to be around. That's the pattern I developed with my best friend Breanne--who is by far the smartest, funniest, and the most pleasant person I've ever met. I met her when she was thirteen. I liked her even then. And that was a horrible wait till she got a little older for me to be able to actually feel comfortable enough to do something about it. Ever since then it's like, since B. and I turned out so well, I've been trying to replicate the pattern. Get to people I like when they're young, hopefully make a good impression on them, and then use that connection forged while they were impressionable to instill a new deeper, more romantically inclined connection.
It's not like I'm in any position to do anything about it now. But I can't help feeling that I'm setting myself up for something in the future that won't be the same as Breanne and I. Toby isn't Breanne and the difference in our ages is a lot more dramatic. I don't know how I feel about it all yet. I know she likes me, but I think it’s more of a professional relationship. I don’t know if that can be turned into something less professional in the future. I’m kind of hoping and not hoping something materializes at the same time. Last year when I visited for a few days, nothing of much consequence happened. I'm curious to see what develops while I'm staying the week as I will be come this June.
Not to mention I'm also interested in her older sister--the one not getting married (get your mind out of the gutter, Slicks). She's much wilder than her younger sister. And the fact she's a lot closer to me in age makes seeing both of them a double opportunity. I hate to think in those terms but I almost feel like if I strike out with one there's always a back-up there. Granted, I don't know Faye as well as I know Toby. But I know her enough to make me believe it wouldn't be that difficult to get to know her better.
But it is getting late so I shall retire this letter for another time.
March 7th, 2009
I watched The Watchmen today. After all the hype and after all the attention the adaptation has drawn, I still think the story holds up. Not only is it as every bit exciting and mature of a plot as it was in the graphic novel, but I think seeing it up on the big screen only adds to the action sequences. I don't know about most people, but when I read the graphic novel I always pictured the fights and the stunt sequences shorter than they were in the film. Maybe they just expanded upon them to flesh out the movie, but they really enhance the violent nature of the main characters and the people they come across. In that regard I think the film comes out ahead of the print medium.
What also struck me was how the story's message of it taking violence to end violence still seems prevalent in culture today. 1985 isn't that long ago, I know, but I'm amazed at how little the world has change in those almost fifteen years. Here we are, almost two decades later, and the world is still seemingly on the brink of collapsing under the weight of its differences. There still isn't a lasting measure of peace in the majority of the world and we're still seemingly distrustful of what the other side of the globe is up to. There's still this mentality that we have to prepare ourselves for the worst because that's exactly what is looming on the horizon.
Granted, both the graphic novel and movie go to the extreme to exploit this idea. However, the thought that it's going to take something cataclysmic to unite us still resonates with a lot of people. A lot of people believe things have to get much worse in a hurry, something has to go horribly wrong all at once, before everyone will see what a dark path we're headed down. It doesn't take men in tights fighting in Antarctica, nuclear missiles destroying the Eastern Seaboard, or, yes, giant squids, to know that. And maybe the movie has it right. Maybe it's going to take an engineered catastrophe to provide the solution. At the very least the film seems to say that it's going to take people of conviction to accomplish this task, people willing to sacrifice their ideals, their philosophies, and even their own lives to get the job done.
Conflict is in our nature and it takes a lot to fight against our nature.
March 13th, 2009
Sorry it has taken so long to actually finish up this letter. I had originally intended to send it off on the 9th, but I feel it needed some additional zest. I don't know where this mystical zest was supposed to originate from, but I felt that what was required.
I went out drinking again last night. This time it was with my cousin's old college buddies. It's sad to think the bulk of my social engagements these days, outside of my gaming commitments and the rare times I can Rilo Kiley, is limited to those times I go out with my cousin. All my friends have moved away from me or were already away from me to start out with. I think the last friend I had who lived close and was all mine to call my own was Ilessa. Since she moved to Philadelphia almost a year ago, there's nobody I really can count on to go out to eat, to the movies, &c... like I used to.
Maybe that's for the best.
I'm kind of a picky person to begin with. I possess a skulking suspicion that if I were to ever connect with someone enough to go out with them all the time it would involve them having to look past a lot of my issues. It would either involve that or maybe my actually having to bend on a few of these issues. That's something I might not be ready for at this time, if ever. I've gotten curmudgeonly in my old age and changing myself is a far more difficult task than asking someone to change for me. It would have to be the right person who provokes me into changing and quite possibly it might have to be someone I already have some sort of relationship with already.
In fact, I think I might be cutting the line off pretty soon. No new people. The only people I want to get to know are the people I know already. LOL I'm putting up the closed lane sign like they do at the check stand at the supermarket.
Oh, I really do think you should be professional assassin. With your insane knowledge of chemistry, you’d make a wonderfully adept hitwoman. Or, at the very least, you could assist me in my pursuit of one of the finer shadow arts should I ever decide to take up that particular mantle someday. I could be able to call you up and ask you what the best mixture to dispose of a dead body would be and then you could tell me. Or perhaps I might need to know what the best poison would be to take care of average-sized, average-height Hawaiian, you could tell me that too.
Something to keep in mind.
Oh ‘twell! I think that is all. I’m trying to get the page count as not to overwhelm you. I thank you for your time and look forward to your next correspondence.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Labels: Letter, Privacy, revelation, Slicks, Tiffany
posted by mojo shivers @ 12:42 AM
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