dearest ernie,

i saw that you wrote a letter to someone named katie and i got insanely jealous because i thought you found someone new to write letters to since we had a falling out or whatever you call it and all and then i realized that the reason you can’t type is because you still don’t have glasses.

i find you refreshing too. i wish i could talk to every person the way i can talk to you, but it’s okay that i can’t. you are more than i could ask for.

“No I don’t think that I’d call it that but we’re in something and while normal people in normal relationships would find it really helpful to be using words I jus don’t think it’s going to happen for us.” i don’t think we’re in a fight, but you’re right, we’re in something.

i’m glad you did some things with other people. have i met this girl you don’t think i’d like? you’re probably right. those people must be in the majority. she’s lost….you know, i feel lost. “And whenever we’re done I feel dirty and less and like I’ve lost something.” “I’d like to stop spending time with her but it’s one of those things you don’t realize is happening until it happens.” you don’t know how much i know how that feels.

i think you should do an inventory of yourself. i would, but i’m too scared of whatever conclusions we might draw.

you’re doing way better with typing than you did in your last post, even if you couldn’t spell my name. i know what it feels like not to be used to seeing your face. you should get some new glasses, though. you’ll feel better. it feels way better when you can see.

let me tell you about what’s been going on with me. friday night, i went on an acid trip that opened my subconscious to me like a hole. last night, i told someone something i’ve never told anyone before in my life. something big. something not pleasant. i think me saying it has made it real and i don’t know how i feel about that. i didn’t get out of bed until after 3. missed 3 classes but i didn’t care and i still don’t. mia came back while i was staring at myself in the mirror in my pajamas and my bandana still around my head but i told her nothing, and when she asked me if she can do anything to help, i said no. her mom’s here again, so i’ll be alone tonight. i feel like i have this hole blown open in me and i don’t know how to feel. i’m in class right now, but i think i’m gonna go back to my room soon. ironically enough, i’ve been participating even though i’m not in touch with reality right now in the least. i’ve been incommunicado with everyone which could be good and it could be bad, but i think i need to be alone right now. plus i get the feeling that if i told this to anyone else, they wouldn’t understand the magnitude of this thing for me, and that makes me feel worse too. i told colin, but i feel like if i told anybody else, they wouldn’t believe me or they’d laugh or they’d tell me it’s not so bad.

i’ve been thinking about how a few months ago, you said we should go camping in november and how it’s really cold.

i have a black comforter. come over. i’d like us to be alone soon.




This girl….

Dear Girl who called me “this girl,”

I never said I wouldn’t do your interview and let me clarify something. Just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I don’t care about you and it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still do anything for you and it doesn’t mean I feel about you any differently. Nothing could ever change that. Also, if you still want to do this, I promise I will answer anything you want in as much detail as you want, because I really don’t care who knows what about me anymore, as long as they don’t talk to me about it, but I think I can even make my peace with that.

I’m not sure how long it’s been November either. Everything’s been slipping through my fingers. I can’t let that happen to anything else. But I know I will and I know I WILL.



one mind, infinite bodies.

I went to a restaurant with my parents and my brother on Saturday night and I saw some words that made my mind stop right in the epicenter of the world-soul.

We all ordered green tea to drink. They gave us honey to go with it and they served it all up in four silver teapots and gave us clear glasses to drink out of and we took pictures toasting with them as if they were beer mugs.

My mom said something along the lines of, “This is really phenomenal. What kind of tea is this?” and she checked her label and said some words I didn’t believe and I looked at my wrapper and it said



The last time and the first time I ever saw these words and stole them and drank them was in a tiny diner last September. It was nighttime. We were on our way home from the White Mountains. Me and my brother and my dad. We were starving, supposedly, but as soon as I got my food, I couldn’t eat a bite of it. My dad made a whole thing of it. It was the fourth of September and I cried in the booth and I cried on the way to the bathroom and I cried in front of the mirror and I couldn’t match myself to the girl in the mirror, this would never happen to her, this would never happen to her.

The only thing I felt



How on earth did you find me in this time and place.

Everything is ephemeral but memory is





Waking Up in Wherever You Want

“The game of closeness and distance is fascinating: Mary’s gaze appeals to the beholder emotionally, but her right arm draws the figure to herself, creating distance.” (Buccholz)

“The startled facial expression on the infant Jesus is difficult to interpret. It likely has to do with the painting’s original location on the high altar of San Sisto in Piacenza. Directly across from the image of the child was a large crucifix. The Christ child was thus looking at his future— the crucifixion preordained by God.” (Buccholz)

I know what it feels like// to be cut apart// like an animal// I can’t do it ever// again


Why don’t we make a parody of the Great Gatsby

Dear Eireann,

I know you’re dying to not talk to me for years, but let’s not let it come to that. I would hate that. I hate that. Why are you dying to be so removed from everything? It kills me because I used to do that and I guess I still do and it still kills me.

I am quite convinced you said Gatsby. You called me Zelda, too, but that’s no matter. I’m really not willing to give this matter up.

You’re wrong. Atoms are atoms. Also F. Scotty Fitzgerald is dead and I can do what I want. I’m glad I hit Myrtle. I hate Myrtle. That bitch stole my money and she went to Chicago. Besides, the most important thing is the illusion. If you believe your dead deer is Daisy enough, maybe it will be. I know that’s not what you said, but I’m trying to illustrate my point, and you’re just going to refute it again, but I feel better when I don’t make sense.

My day had some turn-around for me as in I felt unbearably shitty and now I feel quite the opposite and it’s weird. I’m a little fed up with everything. Also, I don’t care if you don’t like that I stole your sign-off. Why can’t I pay some homage.
Why am I even in Poland in this universe? Also, fuck off,  I would have read your book long before I found it in my mailbox. Don’t say things like that. (Edit: unless it wasn’t published yet, but still a “secret book,” in which case I completely understand and I take it back.)

If you come over, we can go get coffee and not drink it and be sleep-deprived together. Stop acting like the world has taken something like that from us. It pisses me off.

I love it when you say “Don’t say shit like that” to me. It just makes me keep wanting to say more shit. Shhhhiiiiiittttt.