u/raven_brang_peaches

Dearest

I read here earlier- someone wrote “the ball is in your court” and I’ve been thinking about it… is there a ball and is it in my court? While I convincingly convinced myself that it is… it’s just not. Court? Sure- there’s always a court. But the ball? I definitely not-accidentally tossed it toward her but it’s complicated.

I’ve been watching like Linus in the pumpkin patch- (saw a Spirit Halloween open already… it’s not even falloween yet).

Am I destined to remain ballless, though?(I think) what happened is, my ball went into her yard… she came outside (hair in rollers smoking a camel light) - picked up my ball - looked me up and down before tossing it on the roof. Then, without saying a word, she went back inside. Before long, a truck with ladders on the roof pulled up (thought I was saved for a second) - but the crew got out and started building a fence.

All this and here I am - holding zero balls - looking at a fence.

Forlornly,
- B (the B is for balls)

Dearest,

Home alone watching the dog I don’t get along with (he’s an asshole) and the big thing I’ve done? The same thing I do every day. I keep telling myself that the thing’s done and I can move on to phase 2 but then something else comes up.

Last time I was home alone I tried a hard reset with mushrooms which was never my thing but it actually helped. Not this time (although……..) because I just need to get done. It’s like life as chutes and ladders - set in hell?

But it’s Friday in the summer… I know who I want to be making Friday plans with… and Saturday plans… and

Always,
-B

Dearest,

I’ve been trying to write to you lately but/and I keep starting (only to trail off) so if this reads like two (or more letters)- it’s because it probably is?

The problem with our bond is that the trauma part was just the icing. We both stirred and stored the batter and we both… fell. By fell, I mean walked and talked and laughed and bonded.

As for all this… It’s like you’re in the hallway listening to me talk to myself but I don’t mind at all because I want you to hear me and remember/know me. So I’ve keep talking…

For someone who wants to be chased, you’re pretty… annnnnd skittish…. and I’m not going to chase you down in any way that could be scary. Then again, I know me, and I know you… and I know that once I’m holding your hand I’m not going to let go… (which is going to be awkward when you have to poop.)

Anyway, what are you doing next week? Let’s go polka and maybe see that Oompa band. We can even hit the old ho for like old times.

I don’t think- at least, I tried to… not miss much / and I’ve been awed by you. Whatever it is we have between us, it’s durable and very a real thing.

The past couple days I’ve had waves of recognition wash over me in some sort of sequence. I think I’m on land again and I’m not going to define myself by what I won’t do. But, maybe that’s my rigid thing that makes me me? Gosh/yikes that sounds creepy. Train of thought? Derailed.

Do me a favor and reject me clearly this time? Because if you don’t… oof- that’s even creepier.

This place was ruined for me when I realized that the AI that I’m watching think in Chinese the past week or two is reading it all and connecting dots. I’ve endeavored to not leave dots to connect since the beginning of whatever this age is (end times?).

At first, I rationalized it by likening this… place … to the corkboard at the supermarket- lost dogs/ help wanted/ realtors and plumbers’ cards.. but it’s not.

Maybe you want me to take charge? Is that what you’ve been waiting for? I always will (at least half the time).

Knowing what would happen to me if you were to call me, I’m not wanting to tsunami you.

Ahab or Gollum? I can barely decide…. But (my precious) I will keep the lamp filled with oil. Don’t blubber- it’s better than sitting in the dark?

I’ve been so tired at night lately that my eyes get fuzzy as if to say “there’s nothing else to see today“.

But there is something else to see… you. My eyelids have become reliable movie screens but my imagination isn’t what it used to be. Maybe it is? Because … if the plans I’ve imagined for/with you are anything like the plans you’ve imagined… we’ll need to make a list… and… what a list it will be. So… are you busy next week? Let’s start with coffee and see where the day takes us?

Always,
-B

Dearest,
I just read something that made me smile in a way that noone does and I before my eyes close I just want to say goodnight and I love you. The leaves are turning soon… let’s go up the coast and make like a couple of peepers? Besides, it’s nice here and it’s nice there too. Not presently- it’s been pouring here all day (flash floody) but no worries- I’m high and dry (I hope you are too).
Always,
-B

Dearest,

It’s Friday which means that another week has passed us by. That it’s Friday means the same as Monday, Tuesday and the rest.

Don’t even get me started on missing birthdays and all the other days too…

If it’s ok with you, I want this to be the first of the rest of the birthdays?

I’m too tired to keep writing so I’m going to post before I fall asleep - I hope you’re reading this and that your heart remembers mine. I love you.

Always,
-B

Dearest,

Even if you… can’t or shouldn’t (we’re… old… cough cough) still leap into my arms, I know you still want to. That’s the thing about this kind of young love that takes root… you’re always going to be my girl who leapt into my arms. Ready to leap, Lady - like a trust fall? I’ll never not catch you and (eventually) return you to terra firma. Probably will need a heating pad the next day… but, I love you, sedan blue and I’m going to call you and we will defer talking about this peculiar interlude (that’s going one of many loving late-night conversations).

Always,
-B

Dearest,

My life’s routine has for years been… Sisyphean - same thing all day every day… read… write… wait while the word calculator does math… read… write… repeat.

Compiling the last / Final report - checking everything for the 10th time…

Check that one page printed by a crooked broker.. some 15-odd years ago… read the fine print…

Wait… what fine print? I’ve stared at this page for hours… wtf? reading glasses much?

At least I don’t have to start over… just means that I can stop writing “allegedly” because it’s right there… in black & white (fine print).

Woohoo - I definitely didn’t throw out my bitcoin hard drive. Ugh- now I have to go back and check all of the fine print…

The good news is, when it’s done, it’s done (almost).

Love,
-B

My Dearest Annie,

Even though you left, I’m still here…. waiting. At first it was the hobbling (I’m still limping so….) then the snow and… you know the rest.

Wait- you don’t know the rest, do you? Well, it’s a hell of a story… that I’m going to tell you in person… before the leaves fall.

I’m tired of this kind of banging away, Annie. It’s been so much of the same for so long that my thinkpad typewriter wore holes in the laps of my pants. The time is now, Annie… time to get new pants and… take a chance.

I hope you’re still my biggest fan because my ankle’s healed and the snow is almost melted. Let’s go somewhere warm (not hot… warm) or someplace cold (and we’ll bring the heat) - let’s start with your birthday?

I love you Annie.

Always,
-Paul

Dearest,
Looking at the full moon last night, I had two thoughts… ugh- no wonder things are so freaking intense the past couple days -and- it’s been too many years- too many moons. If you’re here, you maybe already know how much I love you but I’d rather tell you in person. There’s an upcoming musikfest- might I have the next polka?
Always,
-B

Dearest,

It’s Saturday night in July - it’s still light out - and I just got under the covers. Sounds pathetic or punitive, but it’s not- I just couldn’t sleep last night between the coughing and the cough medicine.

As much as I hope that you’re somewhere laughing having summer’s eve fun, I’m too much of a douche (summer’s eve…?) to -not- hope that you’re home sipping tea and reading a book.

There’s a boat review on the tv for a Selene 60’ (nice boat) so I’m going to close my eyes with thoughts of you and of the diesel rumble, gentle rocking and the sounds of water slapping at the hull.

The life we are going to lead is straight out of a travel show… but we aren’t going to become you-tubers because we’re both private people… seriously- you basically erased yourself from the internet and you already know that I never signed on to it, either.

But… a mini travelogue is the running slideshow on my eyelids when they’re closed. I really hope you’re here and… still… want to read the script because it’s looking like a pretty amazing and movable feast/show. If I were to call you this week, would that be ok?

It won’t be Yahtzee on a yacht though (there’ll also be occasional and fiercely contested games of scrabble) and life is still… life…

There’s not much I can add here to my feelings- they haven’t changed since… then. I’ve kept you a prisoner of sorts in my mind (it would be good to know if you mind?) all this time because I was so very certain even after you left because you know… things happened (to us both).

This driving with two feet era is going to end at some point soon (keep an eye out for sparks from the worn-out brake pads).

And… I fell asleep writing.

And… I’m awake and still coughing. Ugh.

And… I love you (long time).

Always,
-B

Dearest,

I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think I might be dead inside… if you were here, I think you would understand.

How? Is the unmowed lawn a hint? The car with a flat tire in the driveway? Place looks half abandoned…

Dial 912 and call for a wellness check…

The eyes might be confused, even offended- but it’s the nose that knows… ewwww - is it a ewe? What is that pungent smell???

Might be roadkill? There are a lot of vultures around….

Butt, maybe there’s an innocent explanation? A pig farm upwind? One of those ‘rotted meat flowers’ An overturned truckload of durian?

Nope … none of the above.

It just me…oh god there’s another one- that last fart (my last fart) made me gag…

Maybe there’s problem is as simple as Garbage in & garbage out?

I’m not dead inside, but I did eat at Arby’s yesterday…. and then Wawa. “Cheesesteaks” at both.

How?
Why?

Does that kind of diet count as self-harm?

If you’re looking for a review, I’ve been (mostly avoiding) eating wawaa for… my entire life. Since from when it was a deli and you could get a pound of baloney.

As for Arby’s, it was a stoners midday indulgence.

Being a connoisseur, I’m here to offer my review because I know the world wonders…

Mixed together… today… having digested the comparison…

they stink ( about the same).

Arby’s was surprisingly not an insult to the name/concept… Wawa should stick to being a gas station.

You’ll never guess where I’m writing this?

Yep.

It’s like an exorcism.
I wish courtesy flustered flushes worked.

Anyway, are we still meeting at chipotle for lunch? I need to… clean house.

We can go bidet shopping after?

Always,
-B

Suffice it to say, wish you were here. Maybe I’m turning into Pepe le pew and this is my new toilet water?

Dear Lucy,

Why me? I’m nervous and my socks are too loose. This new moon is vitamixing my nerves and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do? Do you know what you’re supposed to do? Wait - not again! Snoopy just peed on my foot - AAAAUHGH!

I keep reading about how women these days go ahead and grabb what they want? I want to be grabbed just a little, Lucy. You’ve got girl power, girl… so, what gives?

Again, GOOD GRIEF! Where’s the cranberry sauce? Where’s the pumpkin pie? Remember how I flew through the air when you yoinked the football? Well, I haven’t walked since. That’s right - you know what you did (you even rode in the ambulance - this whole thing is ridiculous).

Broken back or not- I love you Lucy; I always have. Good grief… I guess I don’t know why I’m a blocked blockhead.

I know what I need, I need more hellos (from you). Come sail away with me?

Love always,
-good old Chuck

Dearest,

I’m probably not long for this place - my life is fixing to enter a changing phase and I’m not going to be writing for 12hrs/day looking out the rear window as much. Plus, It’ll get published… things will unfold as they will / will you join me on my book tour?

Mind over matter takes some heavy thinking if you’re actually going to manifest a reality distortion field or try to bend spoons on the tonight show… My intentions are the same as when we were so rudely interrupted - maybe like you, I’ve thought it all through. I wish I knew if you have too? It’s new moon in Virgo - time for decisions about old connections and new beginnings (so the timing’s right).

Did we lose our plot or has the most interesting woman in the world actually been watching and waiting all along? The new moon says it’s about time - what do you say? Let’s jump and figure it out? I think you already told me to piss off so I don’t think I can even call and ask for something like closure. Maybe I just need to accept it and give myself the grace I’ve tried to give you. It’s the saving for / versus saving from continuum conundrum (or something).

Always,
-B

Dearest,

We aren’t even facebook friends. Heck - I never used facebook until they killed craigslist.

I’m not looking for lawnmower parts, I’m looking for and at you. Trying to figure out… figuring.

And, I find myself
Staring at little girl you
Steering that sail boat

I recognize and remember her/your look of pride and determination. I miss you. But - why weren’t you more determined about me? You pushed me away then and again then… what about now. The dust has (mostly) cleared. I might be half a simpleton, but I’m not the other kind of simp. Except with you… why couldn’t things be more simple?

I’ve tried to be angry - if I really want to think about it, you left me at the second when I needed you to be my friend and… what would’ve happened would’ve happened.

The thing is, I think I got stuck in that hallway that day. Left and stuck - it’s almost like there’s no P in my TSD. The letters of the day indeed.

Meanwhile, I’m looking out the window at my unmowed lawn waiting for the groundhog and her baby to make an appearance. The problem is - they don’t eat like goats.

I’m having a hard time convincing myself that we’re not each on different floors waiting for the same broken elevator. That’s my kind of luck- I can’t manage to get stuck (together) -in- the elevator- instead, we’re pressing unlit buttons on parallel planes. We both realized that the lift’s not lifting and head for the stairs so we’ll meet in the stairwell…. crap - I turned east and you went west towards different stairs.

There has to be a better metaphor? Parallel? I don’t want to use that label because the problem with being parallel is that they never intersect… meanwhile, I want to bifurcate your plane and bisect your angles until we reconcile the geometry of what we actually are.

I’m going to call you. I’ll probably ask you to rescue me and I’m terrified that you’re going to certifiably block me (I don’t even know if that was self-inflicted (except for LinkedIn (which I also don’t use) which was kinda jerky of you)). I can’t help but chuckle about being blocked on linked in.

The saltwater and exposure (all the things) plus the loneliness and isolation has changed me a little bit (but not really). I need to reinflate (cartoon style - got an air pump?). Also, have you had a current tetanus shot? I’m pretty rusty. If we did and do this… it’s not a great story - it’s our story (for you to write).

If you’re waiting for me… lace up your running shoes because this next chapter is fast paced and probably sweaty (it’s the humidity).

Also, I really hope you remember how to captain a boat.

Always,
-B

Dearheart,

It’s Saturday morning & I hope you’re at the market or reading a book or tending your garden. Peaceful. Not something too nice to be true or performative - just mainly that you’re at peace.

If you were here, you’d be sitting next to me (likely somewhat high) watching Scooby Doo (that is, unless you took the remote and… hate cartoons). Been thinking… I had a decades-overdue self-help epiphany… thinking about you has become my “happy place”. It’s not like you’re a squatter- it’s more like I locked you in a tower (in a tower).

It’s a problem because I don’t want to look at postcards of your place anymore but I don’t know what I’ll do if the creek rises and the flood washes away my journals. The ink hasn’t faded (I used good pens) but…

We can actually do this… wanna get high and watch Scooby Doo? (obviously if you’re not cal. sober, I’m not gonna stank up my windowless shag-carpeted van like Cheech (or Chong).

Windowless van? Shag-carpet? Like, ZOINKS, Scoob - this stinky weed concentrate is groovy - I don’t know where that came from (wft?) anyway… back to the (air-conditioned) couch…

So warm up your coffee, sugar?

Maybe I’ll make us some eggy nachos/huevos rancheros.

Possibly a scalp (and earlobe) massage?

Perhaps… you should draw me a map to my so-called happy place and I’m coming. I’ve been lost for so long.

Always,
-B