Friday April 20th 2007, 3:02 am
Filed under: All Letters,Hate Letters

To the midnight mania,

It was burlesque Goth night at Miss Kitty’s palace of pleasure. Bjorn invited the whole gang to come out and experience this dark and devious establishment. When we arrived at the palace, which looked nothing like the title suggested, Jon and Arturo pulled out their bag of mushrooms and engorged in a magical trip full of psychotropic wonder. Since I was driving that night, I declined to indulge in the pleasures of hallucination, however my plan was to enjoy the dance floor with a few drinks in me. Inside the palace was a complete surprise to me, considering the walls of the palace; videos of men fucking other men, women sucking men off and women sucking women off filled my visual frame. I couldn’t help but to feel stimulated by such erotic imagery. I began to realize how long it had been since I’ve got laid, and the reasons why I have not, as of late, had that kind of physical pleasure in my life. And of course, I then thought of you. You were to be my eternal source of pleasure, not just physical pleasure, but mental and spiritual pleasure as well. You being my partner, I meant that you were the other half of me that could give me what I needed to continue life as a fulfilled individual. But as we both know, these were mere fantasies of thought when juxtaposed next to the truth and history of our marriage. I wanted your pleasure, yes. However, at the time, I was uncertain about certain things: you wanting to please me, your need for pleasure yourself, the delicate balance between pleasure and comfort and my ability to accept such pleasurable states of being from you. The more I think about our pleasure dynamics, the more curious I get about how blinded by pleasure I must have been to not see these uncertainties as a flaw in our system of love. We were flawed Mindy; I’ll be the first one to admit this fact. But these moments of imperfection were natural and normal; they were to be expected. No system is flawless. However, every system has ways of operation that convert flaws and blemishs into desired beauty marks. These conversions are not easily accessible and individuals have to work out the details of the equations, but once a formula is set, any problem can be solved. Jeez, I sound like the geek that I am. It’s no wonder why you dumped me. And yes, that is how I perceive our break up. You threw me out of the apartment because I wrote a letter that said you are an emotional coward and that I didn’t marry out of love. Those inebriated lies got me kicked out, broken hearted and numb to the world. All senses of pleasure have ceased to exist for me. Not even Ms. Kitty’s palace of pleasure can cheer me up. I am a sad, numb, lonely boy, trying to reestablish some sort of pleasure-factor in my life. And even though my heart is still with you, my mind hates you. Logistically, I’m jealous of your ability to regain your sense of pleasure so quickly after our break up. The unfathomable intrigues me, and therefore I torment myself by answering your calls, questioning what you’ve been up to and how you’ve been feeling. And even though I can predict the general sense of your response to my mundane questions, it still shocks and hurts to hear how well you are doing. As time goes by, I become more lonely and depressed; my pleasure system is malfunctioning, just like the way our marriage malfunctioned– it’s falling apart from the inside out while the seams still stay attached, until the very end, when there’s nothing left inside to hold myself together.

-The seamstress

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Wednesday April 18th 2007, 1:20 pm
Filed under: All Letters,Hate Letters

To my schizophrenic disgust,

After thinking about my love for you, a wave of frenzy and anxiety grabbed hold of my thoughts and those feelings, once lovely and kind, turned into disgust and jealousy. We spoke on the phone today for approximately forty-five minutes. The spectrum of conversation ranged from family politics to contemporary this-and-that’s. But most notably, we discussed whether or not either of us had been dating. My response to your question was “no” which is the truth for the most part (if I exclude the one instance of oral sex and the kiss from Lola). However, when I asked you the same question, “Have you been seeing anyone?” you gave me a vague reply of “Not really.” You then furthered my suspicions of your lone interests by stating that you still have a hard time being alone, and that this was something you were going to work on. What kind of bullshit statement is that? You know damn well that you’re never going to give solitude a chance to allow yourself the opportunity to contemplate. You spend your time with other people, and fuck them if you have to, so that you can sponge your way through life, never giving the moment a chance to reflect upon itself. If you didn’t have your profession, I’d go as far as saying your mental capabilities for dialectical thought and post-moment consideration are nonexistent because of your infatuation with another person’s presence. The reason you fear loneliness is because you bore yourself with your own monologue. However, your one saving grace is that you have a wonderful cognitive database for veterinary practices, and therefore I know your mind is not always mush. I’m feeling jealous right now because of one phrase you told me over the phone. You said you had been hanging out a lot with your mathematician friend Chris. First of all, he has the same name as me, and therefore I have a prejudice towards him for this reason. Secondly, how dare you replace one Chris for another Chris? Am I a swappable item that needed an update feature? Maybe he has better features than I do, like a nicer nose or a bigger brain. For whatever reason, I don’t like the guy, and I especially don’t like hearing about you not being able to be alone, or about you always hanging with your friend Chris. The quality of our conversation began to decline after you revealed to me your friendship with Chris, as I found myself wanting to get off the phone with you. Although I was superficially pleasant to you when we said our goodbyes, a rage of energy was racing through my body, as I could feel the deeper psychological implications this knowledge had done to me. My first inclination is to go to the liquor store and buy a bottle of sauce to drown my anxiety. However, it is mid-day and I would feel even worse if I chose to enact upon this desire of escapism. Most likely I will go with my second impulse, which is to escape through dreams. I am going to go lie down for a nap to hopefully calm myself down. I hope you and Chris are happy when you are together, and sad when you are apart. Hey, at least it’s better than the reverse of taht statement, which is how you and I exist.

— Anxiety.

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