Thursday, December 12, 2002
Making Waves In The Bathroom
I take that back. I will hold forth with nothing of importance to impart. Below is a letter I sent last Friday to a friend attending UNLV. I was attempting to begin a correspondence, but I was bitterly disappointed by the one-line reply I received.
Are you even still reading, Dave? Write me back properly and show some moxie this time, old boy. Let it not be said that email has butchered the concept of formal written communication. I intend to buy some stationary to write letters from now on, as the electronic method seems to inspire apathy and laziness in many cases.
I must also include a cowardly disclaimer that this letter is rife with hyperbole and exaggeration. My ego does not swell like a broken ankle. I was merely vying for his attention via colorful entertainment.
Hello there you degenerate bloodsucking heathen,
I have decided to become a Writer when I grow up, and I have been sharpening my mental knives of late in preparation for the carving of the great glazed goose that is Amerika. What an awful sentence. I have far yet to go, as you can plainly see. I will not be deterred. In the vandal's act of plucking the feathers, I may during some crisis have need of reliable legal counsel. If you have intestinal fortitude and obnoxious gall enough to make Proclamations of Righteousness, I hereby elect you to be my lawyer. I am, after all, the majority stockholder in the corporation of me. Fuck, I sound like a self-help book written by Donald Trump. Fuck. I have also decided to begin and maintain correspondence with anyone brave and foolish enough to reply to my letters.
I have begun by chronicling my adventures, which has then lead to wallowing in morbid despair and self-pity, which has then led to ranting about our backwards provincial culture. I hope you'll find it entertaining, and I hope it provides you with plenty of material with which to torture me during your next visit. I am in dire need of roasting, for my ego runs rampant and my head is beginning to swell like a boil on Rush Limbaugh's pasty flaccid asspile.
You may pass the link to your criminal college cronies, (alliteration is cheap and lacks subtlety, I like it) but please refrain from sharing it with the unfortunate podunked souls back home here in our sad hopeless little burgs. Certain friends and acquintances have thin skin and I wouldn't like to be billed for the varicose results. There are now almost five pages full of this stinking garbage:
(link to old journal page removed 12/04)
Be sure, if you dare, to write me back some ginsu commentary, be it commendation or condemnation. I greatly desire to read of your adventures desecrating nuns and tattooing satanic slogans on ripe virgins. Orgies of gluttony and excess are restrained and uninspired here by scarfs, parkas, and churches, so I must live vicariously through your exotic and filth-slathered Las Vegas debauchery.
6:36 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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